It was 3pm when Willow and her mother pulled into their driveway. The supermarket took a lot longer than they anticipated. Grandma Trisha seemed to read every label of every item three times before finally placing it into her cart. Wyatt was in the driveway shooting hoops with two of his teammates. His friends loved going to his house after practice because the fridge was always stocked and they could pretend to keep practicing while they ate Mrs. Krimble out of house and home.
Mrs. Krimble let out a sigh.
“The boys are here. Thank goodness we went to the supermarket. Oh, and look who else is here …”
Willow glanced over to the steps leading up to the side door and spotted a teenage girl sitting there with a look of grave disappointment.
“Razzel!” she blurted, slapping her palm to her forehead. “Oh, what time is it? I promised her we’d go to the mall this afternoon and catch a movie. I told her to come by at around 2 o’clock.” Willow checked her watch: “Oops!”
Willow hopped out of the car and sprinted toward her friend.
“Raz, I’m sorry, I was at my gran - ”
“Save it. Cave-Boy already filled me in, but he didn’t tell me you would take so long.”
“I didn’t think they would,” said Wyatt, defensively. “I told her to wait, that you would be back any minute. That was …” Wyatt checked his watch and nodded, “… yeah, about 60 minutes ago. But hey, me and the boys kept her company.”
“Company?” Razzel shot daggers at Wyatt. “You call an hour-long discussion about ‘what kind of super power would you have if you could choose one’, company?”
“That again?” replied Willow, rolling her eyes. “Every time they get together, it’s the same thing: sports, video games and comic books.”
Kreb Miller was the first of Wyatt’s friends to defend himself. He was a bit of a slob; always un-tucked, greasy-haired and sweaty and not just on the court; if he walked through a blizzard in a T-shirt, he would still appear to glisten. Nevertheless, he was a fairly good basketball player for his build.
“Scoff, if you will, young one,” he said, wiping his forehead with his Alien Snatchers T-shirt, “but this is a serious discussion. These two cretins do not understand that the greatest power of all would be to read another’s thoughts.” He placed both index fingers on his sticky temples. “By knowing what your enemy is thinking, you can infiltrate any plan of attack, no matter what they possess in their arsenal. If you know what’s coming,” his eyes were bulging with excitement, “you can put the kibosh on it. Hell, you can avert … ARMAGEDDON!”
Razzel looked at Willow, raised both her brows and suddenly exploded into laughter as Willow followed.
Wyatt’s other friend, Tay (short for Taylor), stepped forward and rammed the basketball into Kreb’s mid-section.
___________________________________
Page 11
“No way, loser,” he taunted. “Everyone wants to fly. Come on, now. ” Taylor Centine was a lot cooler than Kreb. He was your typical blonde-haired, blue-eyed jock that all of the girls at school swooned over. He was one year older than Wyatt and Kreb and considered himself the “leader” of their little group. He was, after all, the captain of The Gripnest Gravediggers, their high school basketball team. “If you can get anywhere by flying, think of what you can prevent by getting there so quickly.”
“Well, if that’s your argument,” Kreb refuted, “what about teleportation? You can travel - ”
“How many times do I have to explain it to you scientists,” Wyatt cut in, “none of that matters if you’re susceptible to pain.”
Razzel feigned an impressed expression.
“‘Susceptible’, huh?” she said to Willow. “Not bad for a Neanderthal.”
“Super strength is the only power to have,” Wyatt continued, snubbing Razzel’s sarcasm. “Nothing would be able to hurt you. Not bullets, not knives … not a piano dropped on your head … ”
“A piano dropped on your head?” Razzel had heard enough. “So you wanna be Bugs Bunny now?”
Everyone but Wyatt began to chuckle.
“What I meant was - ”
Razzel cut him off by abruptly raising her right hand, signaling him to stop speaking.
“All of you are wrong!” she said. “Time travel is the best power to have. Wanna know why?” Everyone was at attention. “Because if I could go back in time, I would never have stayed for this ridiculous discussion, and I could get back the hour (she checked her watch) and four minutes I just wasted.” She grabbed Willow’s arm. “We’ve got a bus to catch.”
Wyatt went a bit flush as his sister and her friend walked away. “Oh yeah … well ... if I could go back in time - ”
Wyatt was interrupted yet again, this time by his mother.
“Boys, I could use a hand with these groceries.”
Wyatt stormed toward the car, stewing about what Razzel had just said. He gritted his teeth as he approached his mother’s car.
“Chiklets McFarkus!”
The Fritzfield Mall was crowded, as it often was on Saturday afternoons. It was packed with teenagers who were shopping for clothes, catching a movie, eating ice cream, or just hanging out, hoping to run into some friends.
Willow and Razzel were about to get in line for the movie Razzel wanted to see: Method To Madness.
“I’ve been dying to see this,” said Razzel eagerly as they took the escalator to the top floor. “Can you believe it? Hollywood has finally thought to make a movie about a serial killer who makes the mistake of trying to off a psychotic ax-murderer.”
Willow rolled her eyes.
“Are you sure it’s your turn to pick the movie?”
___________________________________
Page 12
“Positive. You chose that awful drama last month about the kid who finds out his dad was reincarnated as a tree. What was that called again? Stump Daddy? What a yawn-fest.”
“It was called Blooming Hearts, and you missed the whole point on how nature can’t be altered and … oh, never mind. Let me tell you what Grams gave me. You know how she and my grandfather collected souvenirs from wherever they traveled, usually statues?”
Razzel nodded.
“Well,” Willow continued, “Grams gave me this cute statue of … oh crap!”
“Hmm,” replied Razzel, “sounds classy.”
“No, look who’s on the end of the line.”
Razzel looked past the crowd of teens in line for hot pretzels and then she saw them. Shayla Stergus and her boyfriend, Davis Sweany, were on line, waiting to purchase tickets to the same movie. Davis was holding three shopping bags in one hand and a tray of popcorn and soda in the other. Shayla was holding her cell phone against her ear, wearing an expression of complete and utter irritation, as usual.
“So what?” said Razzel at the sight of their least favorite classmate. “Now we can’t go to the movies because they’re on line for tickets?”
“We can go, but can we just wait until they’re in? I’m in no mood for her facial expressions and eye-rolling. Look, we can run into that pet shop for a bit. The movie doesn’t start for another twenty five minutes.”
“Fine, but only because I need some algae disks for my pleckos.”
“What?”
“Food for my bottom-feeding fish.”
“Right. Cool. Let’s go in.”
Upon entering the pet shop, Willow and Razzel realized they had just stepped into chaos. There was a three-year-old boy being carried out by his mother, kicking and screaming, “I want fuzzy puppy! PUPPY!”; a parakeet had gotten out of it’s cage, and a young clerk was knocking over sacks of bird seed, trying to retrieve it, all the while, the shop was mobbed with children tapping, knocking and banging on glass cages and fish tanks.
The two friends squeezed their way through the crowd as far as they could and found themselves stuck in front of a large, open-lid tank filled with an assortment of rabbits and guinea pigs. Customers were allowed to pick up the animals as long as they did not leave the tank area with them. Willow noticed one brown guinea pig had a huge gash on its left hind thigh. She reached in and gently raised it out of the tank.
Razzel looked into Willow’s palm and spotted the animal’s injury.
“What’s with him?”
The young clerk, who moments earlier was chasing the parakeet, was walking past the tank and overheard Razzel’s question.
“Oh, he was attacked by one of his litter,” the clerk responded. “We removed the culprit and placed him in his own cage but the damage is done,” he continued coldly. “If he doesn’t heal quickly, we’ll just have to shoot him,” he added with a demented smirk.
___________________________________
Page 13
“You’ll what!” said Willow.
“Kidding, he’s not a horse right? We would just feed him to the snakes.” The clerk walked away to reprimand a little boy who was sticking his pacifier into the iguana tank.
“What a creep,” said Razzel. “Well, let me squeeze through this sea of people to get to the fish food. I’ll be right back.”
While listening to Razzel mutter a frustrated “excuse me”, over and over, Willow peered down at her new friend sitting in the palm of her hand. He was a short-hair guinea pig, which made his injury even more painful to glimpse. The wound was still fresh and, although it wasn’t gushing blood, the patch of raw flesh showing was quite unnerving. Willow was usually grossed out at such sights, unlike Razzel, but she could not look away from the animal’s grotesque injury.
Poor little guy.
Willow redirected her gaze from the injury to the creature’s eyes. She felt so sad for him. She loved animals and swore that, when she was older, she would fill her home with them.
“Well, I’d better put you down. I hope you feel better,” she said to the animal, slowly lowering him into his habitat.
“Are you talking to it?” said a voice over Willow’s shoulder.
Willow was so startled to be caught speaking to the animal, she dropped him six inches from the bottom of the tank. He quickly scurried away as Willow turned around to face Razzel.
“Great, now you probably injured his other leg,” Razzel teased.
“Well, you scared me. I was kind of zoned out there. Now, where did he run off to?” There were so many similar looking guinea pigs in the tank, running through the cedar chips, it was difficult for Willow to locate the one she was just holding.
Razzel pointed to a chocolate-brown guinea pig.
“Is that him?” she said. “Oh, wait it can’t be; he doesn’t have that gash on his leg. Well, I’ll leave you to find and say goodbye to your new boyfriend. Meet me at the counter. I need to pay for this and then we’d better get back on line for those tickets.”
While Razzel was at the checkout counter, Willow searched through the
rabbits and guinea pigs scurrying around the tank, but she could not seem to
locate the one she sought. Suddenly, a little girl reached in and picked up a
chocolate-brown guinea pig that looked exactly like the one Willow returned to
the tank, but it couldn’t be; there was no raw gash on his thigh. Willow looked
back down into the tank and the other brown guinea pigs were noticeably larger
than the one she was searching for. She glanced back at the little girl who held
up the guinea pig to her mother. Willow squinted to see a small spot of dry blood
on the animal’s thigh, but there was no injury. The little girl smiled at her mother.
“This one, Mommy. I’m gonna call him Mr. Plimplepot.”
Next Chapter
Mrs. Krimble let out a sigh.
“The boys are here. Thank goodness we went to the supermarket. Oh, and look who else is here …”
Willow glanced over to the steps leading up to the side door and spotted a teenage girl sitting there with a look of grave disappointment.
“Razzel!” she blurted, slapping her palm to her forehead. “Oh, what time is it? I promised her we’d go to the mall this afternoon and catch a movie. I told her to come by at around 2 o’clock.” Willow checked her watch: “Oops!”
Willow hopped out of the car and sprinted toward her friend.
“Raz, I’m sorry, I was at my gran - ”
“Save it. Cave-Boy already filled me in, but he didn’t tell me you would take so long.”
“I didn’t think they would,” said Wyatt, defensively. “I told her to wait, that you would be back any minute. That was …” Wyatt checked his watch and nodded, “… yeah, about 60 minutes ago. But hey, me and the boys kept her company.”
“Company?” Razzel shot daggers at Wyatt. “You call an hour-long discussion about ‘what kind of super power would you have if you could choose one’, company?”
“That again?” replied Willow, rolling her eyes. “Every time they get together, it’s the same thing: sports, video games and comic books.”
Kreb Miller was the first of Wyatt’s friends to defend himself. He was a bit of a slob; always un-tucked, greasy-haired and sweaty and not just on the court; if he walked through a blizzard in a T-shirt, he would still appear to glisten. Nevertheless, he was a fairly good basketball player for his build.
“Scoff, if you will, young one,” he said, wiping his forehead with his Alien Snatchers T-shirt, “but this is a serious discussion. These two cretins do not understand that the greatest power of all would be to read another’s thoughts.” He placed both index fingers on his sticky temples. “By knowing what your enemy is thinking, you can infiltrate any plan of attack, no matter what they possess in their arsenal. If you know what’s coming,” his eyes were bulging with excitement, “you can put the kibosh on it. Hell, you can avert … ARMAGEDDON!”
Razzel looked at Willow, raised both her brows and suddenly exploded into laughter as Willow followed.
Wyatt’s other friend, Tay (short for Taylor), stepped forward and rammed the basketball into Kreb’s mid-section.
___________________________________
Page 11
“No way, loser,” he taunted. “Everyone wants to fly. Come on, now. ” Taylor Centine was a lot cooler than Kreb. He was your typical blonde-haired, blue-eyed jock that all of the girls at school swooned over. He was one year older than Wyatt and Kreb and considered himself the “leader” of their little group. He was, after all, the captain of The Gripnest Gravediggers, their high school basketball team. “If you can get anywhere by flying, think of what you can prevent by getting there so quickly.”
“Well, if that’s your argument,” Kreb refuted, “what about teleportation? You can travel - ”
“How many times do I have to explain it to you scientists,” Wyatt cut in, “none of that matters if you’re susceptible to pain.”
Razzel feigned an impressed expression.
“‘Susceptible’, huh?” she said to Willow. “Not bad for a Neanderthal.”
“Super strength is the only power to have,” Wyatt continued, snubbing Razzel’s sarcasm. “Nothing would be able to hurt you. Not bullets, not knives … not a piano dropped on your head … ”
“A piano dropped on your head?” Razzel had heard enough. “So you wanna be Bugs Bunny now?”
Everyone but Wyatt began to chuckle.
“What I meant was - ”
Razzel cut him off by abruptly raising her right hand, signaling him to stop speaking.
“All of you are wrong!” she said. “Time travel is the best power to have. Wanna know why?” Everyone was at attention. “Because if I could go back in time, I would never have stayed for this ridiculous discussion, and I could get back the hour (she checked her watch) and four minutes I just wasted.” She grabbed Willow’s arm. “We’ve got a bus to catch.”
Wyatt went a bit flush as his sister and her friend walked away. “Oh yeah … well ... if I could go back in time - ”
Wyatt was interrupted yet again, this time by his mother.
“Boys, I could use a hand with these groceries.”
Wyatt stormed toward the car, stewing about what Razzel had just said. He gritted his teeth as he approached his mother’s car.
“Chiklets McFarkus!”
The Fritzfield Mall was crowded, as it often was on Saturday afternoons. It was packed with teenagers who were shopping for clothes, catching a movie, eating ice cream, or just hanging out, hoping to run into some friends.
Willow and Razzel were about to get in line for the movie Razzel wanted to see: Method To Madness.
“I’ve been dying to see this,” said Razzel eagerly as they took the escalator to the top floor. “Can you believe it? Hollywood has finally thought to make a movie about a serial killer who makes the mistake of trying to off a psychotic ax-murderer.”
Willow rolled her eyes.
“Are you sure it’s your turn to pick the movie?”
___________________________________
Page 12
“Positive. You chose that awful drama last month about the kid who finds out his dad was reincarnated as a tree. What was that called again? Stump Daddy? What a yawn-fest.”
“It was called Blooming Hearts, and you missed the whole point on how nature can’t be altered and … oh, never mind. Let me tell you what Grams gave me. You know how she and my grandfather collected souvenirs from wherever they traveled, usually statues?”
Razzel nodded.
“Well,” Willow continued, “Grams gave me this cute statue of … oh crap!”
“Hmm,” replied Razzel, “sounds classy.”
“No, look who’s on the end of the line.”
Razzel looked past the crowd of teens in line for hot pretzels and then she saw them. Shayla Stergus and her boyfriend, Davis Sweany, were on line, waiting to purchase tickets to the same movie. Davis was holding three shopping bags in one hand and a tray of popcorn and soda in the other. Shayla was holding her cell phone against her ear, wearing an expression of complete and utter irritation, as usual.
“So what?” said Razzel at the sight of their least favorite classmate. “Now we can’t go to the movies because they’re on line for tickets?”
“We can go, but can we just wait until they’re in? I’m in no mood for her facial expressions and eye-rolling. Look, we can run into that pet shop for a bit. The movie doesn’t start for another twenty five minutes.”
“Fine, but only because I need some algae disks for my pleckos.”
“What?”
“Food for my bottom-feeding fish.”
“Right. Cool. Let’s go in.”
Upon entering the pet shop, Willow and Razzel realized they had just stepped into chaos. There was a three-year-old boy being carried out by his mother, kicking and screaming, “I want fuzzy puppy! PUPPY!”; a parakeet had gotten out of it’s cage, and a young clerk was knocking over sacks of bird seed, trying to retrieve it, all the while, the shop was mobbed with children tapping, knocking and banging on glass cages and fish tanks.
The two friends squeezed their way through the crowd as far as they could and found themselves stuck in front of a large, open-lid tank filled with an assortment of rabbits and guinea pigs. Customers were allowed to pick up the animals as long as they did not leave the tank area with them. Willow noticed one brown guinea pig had a huge gash on its left hind thigh. She reached in and gently raised it out of the tank.
Razzel looked into Willow’s palm and spotted the animal’s injury.
“What’s with him?”
The young clerk, who moments earlier was chasing the parakeet, was walking past the tank and overheard Razzel’s question.
“Oh, he was attacked by one of his litter,” the clerk responded. “We removed the culprit and placed him in his own cage but the damage is done,” he continued coldly. “If he doesn’t heal quickly, we’ll just have to shoot him,” he added with a demented smirk.
___________________________________
Page 13
“You’ll what!” said Willow.
“Kidding, he’s not a horse right? We would just feed him to the snakes.” The clerk walked away to reprimand a little boy who was sticking his pacifier into the iguana tank.
“What a creep,” said Razzel. “Well, let me squeeze through this sea of people to get to the fish food. I’ll be right back.”
While listening to Razzel mutter a frustrated “excuse me”, over and over, Willow peered down at her new friend sitting in the palm of her hand. He was a short-hair guinea pig, which made his injury even more painful to glimpse. The wound was still fresh and, although it wasn’t gushing blood, the patch of raw flesh showing was quite unnerving. Willow was usually grossed out at such sights, unlike Razzel, but she could not look away from the animal’s grotesque injury.
Poor little guy.
Willow redirected her gaze from the injury to the creature’s eyes. She felt so sad for him. She loved animals and swore that, when she was older, she would fill her home with them.
“Well, I’d better put you down. I hope you feel better,” she said to the animal, slowly lowering him into his habitat.
“Are you talking to it?” said a voice over Willow’s shoulder.
Willow was so startled to be caught speaking to the animal, she dropped him six inches from the bottom of the tank. He quickly scurried away as Willow turned around to face Razzel.
“Great, now you probably injured his other leg,” Razzel teased.
“Well, you scared me. I was kind of zoned out there. Now, where did he run off to?” There were so many similar looking guinea pigs in the tank, running through the cedar chips, it was difficult for Willow to locate the one she was just holding.
Razzel pointed to a chocolate-brown guinea pig.
“Is that him?” she said. “Oh, wait it can’t be; he doesn’t have that gash on his leg. Well, I’ll leave you to find and say goodbye to your new boyfriend. Meet me at the counter. I need to pay for this and then we’d better get back on line for those tickets.”
While Razzel was at the checkout counter, Willow searched through the
rabbits and guinea pigs scurrying around the tank, but she could not seem to
locate the one she sought. Suddenly, a little girl reached in and picked up a
chocolate-brown guinea pig that looked exactly like the one Willow returned to
the tank, but it couldn’t be; there was no raw gash on his thigh. Willow looked
back down into the tank and the other brown guinea pigs were noticeably larger
than the one she was searching for. She glanced back at the little girl who held
up the guinea pig to her mother. Willow squinted to see a small spot of dry blood
on the animal’s thigh, but there was no injury. The little girl smiled at her mother.
“This one, Mommy. I’m gonna call him Mr. Plimplepot.”
Next Chapter
