The Misadventures of Daria Pigwidgeon (23 page)

“That’s something I’m not sure about myself.” He tells me. “All I know is that I had this urge like I had to be somewhere. I just got in my car and took off, and went right to you.”

“Not that I’m not grateful, because I totally am, but why are you suddenly my protector?”

Finally looking back to me, he shrugs gallantly again.

“I thought maybe you could clear that up for me.”

I scoff at this. If only I was the girl with all the answers. I’m lucky if I can even figure out my own problems on a daily basis. “I wish, but I’m in the dark as much as you are on this.”

Staying silent, he turns away. We both stare at the black television screen, as if there were something important playing on it. At this moment, the screen seems simple, and that’s refreshing. Insane, but refreshing. I know I’m weird right?

“So, who were you running from tonight?” He asks softly.

I keep my eyes steady on the screen as I say, “Not who, what, it was demons.”

“Demons, you mean there are more of you?”

I shrug, and in no way am I pulling off the gallantness of his. “So it would seem. I, ugh, just barely got away from an, an attack.”

His head whips back to face me, “What kind of attack?”

“Don’t worry; it was more of a psychic one than physical. Oddly, the empty street we were on, whatever it was also had the ability of not only fear but compulsion too. It was good you got there when you did, but I could’ve handled it. Eventually.”

He looks confused by the time I finish. I mentally kick myself. So much for trying to ease his mind.

“Wait, ability? You guys have abilities?”

Okay, he doesn’t sound confused. He sounds excited. Not good. I give him a shrug, hopefully it says, no biggie. I see right away that it fails. Time to bring in the big guns then. I really hate sharing time. I suck at this.

“Oh right, you’re a newbie, sorry about that. Cliff notes version, all demons have some sort of ability manifestation that they can use offensively and defensively, most have the latter. I’m not one of those. Mine is more like a protective fog that I push into peoples or demons memories about me. In a sense, it’s like the worlds cheesiest invisibility cloak.”

Grinning like a Cheshire cat, he says “Seriously, that it is just wicked.”

I shake my head and give him a stern glare.

“No, not wicked. Nothing is ever free, and neither is my power. It does more harm than good and leaves like a residual after affect on the person or demons mind. That little bit that I blocked to protect myself, is something whoever won’t get back. It’s one of the reasons I think I was given a second ability. Most only have one.”

“Wait. Can I guess what the other is?”

He is far too trippy like to even try to deter him. So I nod. His grin gets wider.

“Does it have something to do with the way the cash register you were touching burst into flames the other night?”

Oh boy, here we go.

“First, it wasn’t actual flames, and secondly yes. I call that my inner taser. It usually only comes out when I feel like I’m being threatened, and is the equivalent of a static shock. That is, unless I’m giving it a little extra push, then it can be as lethal as a lightning bolt.”

“Damn rabbit, color me impressed.”

He winks at me. I roll my eyes, but I feel a smile tugging at the corner of my lips.

“Don’t be.” I tell him. “I’m about as tame as my kind can get. The other end of that insane spectrum is more like what I was trying to get away from tonight.”

“About that, what the heck happened in the car? Or even in the road for that matter?”

“Honestly?” I ask.

He nods.

“I really have no freaking idea. I thought it was over and done with as soon as I got in the car with you. It took me by surprise, the power of it I mean. That is what you felt. It was trying to reach out to me, but my block kept it out of reach, mostly.”

“What about in the street? Because I have to say that was pretty damn unnerving just showing up in the street like that.”

Yeah, you and me both.

“My guess is that it was some sort of compulsion, kind of like a jacked up version of my own ability. But I can’t know for sure.”

He sits back with a sigh and says “Huh, this is all really heavy, you know that right?”

“Yeah, I know. You’re taking it pretty well though, so kudos to you.” I tell him with a wink, which I’m sure looks like my eye is having a seizure.

“Ha ha very funny, you wouldn’t think that if you could see inside my head right now.” He sends me a mock glare, but I can see that my words of appreciation ring true.

Chance is right about one thing though, this is all a little too heavy for one night. So I say probably the smartest thing of the evening.

“Maybe we should sleep on it then? I don’t know about you, but I feel like I could sleep for a year.”

He sits up in a move so fast, that it startles me. My arms fall from my legs, and the limbs slid to the floor with tingles of sleep fading. As I get my barring’s, he jumps up to his feet.

“Shit, right, my bad. It’s late, I should go.”

He doesn’t make a move for the door, and neither do I. We both stare at the other with an air of expectation. What it is, I have no idea, but it’s there. Before I can question anything, Chance is turning for the door and the moment is gone. With nothing else for me to do, I get up and follow him. He has his hand on the doorknob and is already turning it, when he stops to face me.

“Rabbit, one more thing?”

Stopping only a foot away from him, I nod.

“Why were you across town in the middle of the night? Didn’t you have to work?”

Oh, right, that. No way am I telling him my failed suicide attempt.

“Yeah about that, um, can we maybe save that for another time? It’ll take longer than this, and I just don’t have it in me right now to get into it.”

He nods. “No problem. Just promise me we’ll
have
another time. No more running, all right?”

“Definitely no more running, that sounds good to me.” I say with a small smile.

“Good. Go get some sleep rabbit; we got questions that need answers, so gear up.”

Chuckling softly, I salute him military style. “Got it boss, I’ll do my best.”

He finally gives in and smiles with me. His eyes remain dark though, and it only takes me a fraction of a second to realize why. By the time he’s leaning closer towards me, I am already gasping and stepping away as quick as my shaking legs will let me.

“I, I’m sorry, I just can’t….” I say a little too breathlessly.

Stepping out of reach, a guilty and hurt expression on his face (one I have to ignore right now), he offers me a sad smile. Slowly and cautiously, he reaches out and lightly caresses my arm. It’s nothing more than a platonic form of affection, but it stills sends chills running down my spine.

“Hey, don’t worry about it.” He tells me. “We have time. I wasn’t kidding when I said I wasn’t going anywhere this time. Well, nowhere besides my bed to crash.”

“I believe you.” I say in all seriousness.

“I hope so. Sweet dreams rabbit.”

“Goodnight Chance.”

With one last smile, he resumes pulling open the door. He steps out and pulls it closed behind him without glancing back. When I’m alone, I sigh in defeat. Leave it to me to ruin a perfectly good moment. I know it’s stupid, but I feel like I have to be more careful this time. It might not even matter. He was probably aiming for my cheek or something, you know, being polite (how that justifies as polite, I don’t know, so don’t ask). I still have to try though. Being stronger I mean.

Is it too late to make a run for it?

That thought is way too appealing, and I mean that. I don’t have that luxury though. Not now. Not when Chance is apparently having something like prophetic dreams about me. I can’t just skip out on him. I want answers as much as he does and I owe it to him to get them for him, and for me. Even it involves me having to suck up my feelings.

One answer in particular is begging for me to find it. Why isn’t he affected by my ability?

Shaking my head, I stumble from the door and let my quivering legs carry to my bed. Where I crumble onto it, not bothering to change my clothes or pull down the sheets. I wasn’t kidding when I said I could sleep for a year. Shutting my eyes, I can’t help thinking that this is one birthday I’m going to remember for the rest of my life.

A sound that resembles that of scratching metal chains being dragged against one another, calls me out of a dreamless sleep. I try to ignore it, but it goes on for at least another minute. This is long enough for me to have to swallow past my dry mouth. Long enough even, for me to realize the reason for my dry mouth. As it turns out, sleeping with one’s mouth open all night leads to lying face down in a pile of your own drool, and yup you’ve guessed it, dry mouth. Gross.

The sound reaches a crescendo that feels like it’s coming from right underneath me. It stops with an even louder clang that reverberates through my bed and believe it or not, it definitely feels like it’s exactly below me. Wait. Hold the freaking phone. A clanging sound that’s below me? Crap. It can only be one thing.

The garage door.

This can mean that it’s either morning or someone is being very rude by disturbing my slumber. Opening my heavy lidded eyes, I find that my room is in fact flooded with light from the window (Note to self, buy curtains like yesterday). So it’s morning then. With this little bit of knowledge, my fuzzy mind fights with my body’s buzzing urge to get moving. It takes me a moment to figure out why. When I do, a gasp rips through my lips.

One thought spins through my head, making me dizzy with its motion. I ignore it as I try to sit up. It’s futile, mostly because I’m lying on my stomach and not even I am that bendy. I end up succeeding in scooting (or slithering, depending on how you look at it) off the bottom of my bed. I hear the bang of my knees colliding with the floor before I even feel the pain, but I ignore it, there isn’t enough time to doddle. Why you ask?

School day!

Somehow I managed to
not
set my alarm last night, which is never a good start to the day, ever. Oversleeping sucks by definition, but more so when the over-sleeper is forced to walk to school. And since I
am
the over-sleeper, I have no choice but to hurry up so I can grovel for a ride. Okay, so maybe there won’t be any groveling involved. But there will be some running to catch up with a certain red mustang if I don’t get myself moving faster than this snail pace I have going on.

Jumping to my feet, I spin around to face my vanity mirror and pretty much groan at my reflection. Clearly sleeping in the same position all night does not mean keeping up your appearances. If anything, I look more wrinkled and even frizzier than ever. Oh well, nothing to be done here. Spying my new favorite pink hoody (curtsey of one Ashley Harris) crumbled on the floor, I quickly snatch it up. Slipping it over my head, I make note that it doesn’t smell dirty, so that’s a plus.

Making my way to the door, I struggle with re-fixing the knot in my hair that is incredibly sloppy from sleep. I could so use some anti-frizz spray, but there isn’t any time. When I reach the door, I can hear the engine from the car below roar to life. My hand is just grasping cold knob, when I realize what I’m missing. My backpack, the basic essential thing, that is a must have for any dedicated student who brings home their homework. Obviously I’m not as dedicated as I would have believed, because from one quick scan, my apartment is sans backpack.

I make a snap decision and rip open the door. Without grabbing a bag back-up. I figure it’s not as important, as say, a ride to school. The mustang’s engine is louder down here and I can smell the fumes now too. They are pungent, strong, making my nose twitch as if I were Samantha from Bewitched. That wouldn’t be so bad right now. Seriously.

It’s no holds barred as I rush down the stairs, my steps practically ringing in my ears. If it were quieter in here, I might have heard someone approach.

As it is, I do not.

With the scent of ozone thick in the air I release a screech that resembles a terrified banshee. My inner Taser rushes through me at an urgent pace. It begs me to retaliate from my fear. I quickly dismiss it, but worry about colliding with the person and zapping them anyway. So in a stupid move on my part, I throw myself backwards instead.

Landing, I can feel the wonderful indents of the stairs being firmly pressed into my backbone. Effectively confirming that this
was
in fact a stupid move. Oddly in my irritation, my inner Taser pushes at me again. I can practically feel it buzzing inside me, almost like it feels like I do, no longer wanting to be a victim. Before I can get the drop on my attacker, my eyes flash over them. Hey, it’s better safe than sorry. Good thing too. Because my attacker, that I’m so quick to rebuff for starling me?

It’s Ashley Harris.

“Sweet. Baby. Jesus.” I use my award winning glare. Is it effective in making her smile slip? Not gonna lie here. No it does not. “Get a freaking bell would you!”

And now she is smiling at me. Well bully for her. I highly doubt she’d be grinning if she knew I’d totally zap her if I hadn’t looked first. This almost makes me smile. Almost. Not that she notices my plight though. She simply stands there smiling down at at me in her skinny jeans, a snug fitting sweater, and her long blonde hair lying too straight over her shoulders to be dried naturally.

Besides the obvious embarrassment of being startled and wondering when the heck I became a fashionista, my back is now killing me. Great start to an already presumably horrible day huh? And ooh bonus. My anger has no effect on her. If anything, she seems to find it hilarious. Clearly I’d have better luck trying to scare a kitten from the way her grin widens. Wonderful. Darn perky morning people. This, I am not.

A stinging sensation grates down my back, making me think I might have lost some skin on my fall. I could get up to investigate, but that would involve moving. And I’m rather comfortable at the moment, lying here glaring at Ashley. It’s almost therapeutic, until she winks at me. Why is she winking at me?