the store. I never realized that so much lace and silk could exist within four walls. I was getting dizzy. “Take your lunch, dude. I'm hungry."
"Then go home and nuke something."
"No, it's time for your lunch, and I don't want any more microwaved crap filling my belly. Come on, Liz. Please? I promise I'll treat you when I get a job—well, when Mom and Dad let me, anyway."
She actually hesitated. I mean, figure that one out. There it was, a golden opportunity to slack off, and she wasn't taking it? What perks come with adulthood again?
At that moment, a group of four women in designer clothes swept inside the store, chatting and looking down their noses at everything around them. A cloud of horrible perfume, probably four different kinds, surrounded them like a poisonous bubble. Even though I didn't work retail, I knew right off the bat that these women spelled High Maintenance Trouble. I gave Liz's arm, the uninjured one, a sharp tug.
"Let's get out of here, quick!” I hissed, and we did. Liz gave one of her co-workers a quick word, ran to the back to clock out, and then made a beeline to the front door, dragging me behind her. Now that's the spirit.
We went to Dog-in-a-Bun, where I had a turkey dog. Pretty decent, certainly way better than those rubbery horrors that they served during bingo night. Which reminded me—those poor seniors who were subjected to those nasty things needed to pool their resources together and file a complaint or something. I mean, think about it. They were old and frail, and they still had to put up with crap food like that, as if that was society's thanks for all those years of their lives spent working hard and making this crummy world a better place for everyone else.
Back to lunch, during which something kind of weird happened...
The whole time I was with Liz, I didn't feel comfortable, and it had nothing to do with the fact that my sister sat across the table from me, and I had to see those bruises on her arm. In fact, even Liz seemed a little off-kilter. Sure, she was born that way, but at that moment, she seemed in a weirder mood than usual.
We hardly spoke the whole time. I think we spent most of Liz's lunch break gnawing, drinking, swallowing, and squirming in our chairs without really knowing why. Every once in a while we'd meet each other's eyes and then frown quizzically. There was something strange that kind of hung above us the whole time. Like electricity that crackled non-stop but that was also very quiet and subtle. It made itself felt but not enough to be jarring or to make us panic. It was like an anticipation or a lingering dread that we couldn't put our fingers on.
"What's wrong?” she asked after several minutes of this. I shook my head.
"I don't know. I just feel strange. Like something's about to happen, and I don't know what, when, or how. Know what I mean?"
She nodded. “I know. I feel the same. Let's finish lunch and get the hell out of here."
We did and hurried out, but nothing out of the ordinary happened. I thought about it more when I got home after dropping Liz off at the lingerie shop that it was that same feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop. Only this time it was much stronger than before. Much, much stronger.
* * * *
I got on the phone with Peter at the right time. I told him about today—the weird feeling that came over me and Liz, and he took me seriously, bless him. At first I wasn't sure if I could share it because I thought that he'd just laugh me off or tell me that I was just being paranoid or something, but he didn't.
"I learned early on to trust gut instinct,” he said as I fidgeted with the phone cord, wrapping it around my fingers nervously. “Did it feel stronger when you were at different places or something?"
"No. It was pretty steady."
"Okay. I'll tell Trent and everyone else, and keep an eye out. It's been a while since the last attack, and nothing's come up yet. So far we've been busying ourselves with the usual
"Then go home and nuke something."
"No, it's time for your lunch, and I don't want any more microwaved crap filling my belly. Come on, Liz. Please? I promise I'll treat you when I get a job—well, when Mom and Dad let me, anyway."
She actually hesitated. I mean, figure that one out. There it was, a golden opportunity to slack off, and she wasn't taking it? What perks come with adulthood again?
At that moment, a group of four women in designer clothes swept inside the store, chatting and looking down their noses at everything around them. A cloud of horrible perfume, probably four different kinds, surrounded them like a poisonous bubble. Even though I didn't work retail, I knew right off the bat that these women spelled High Maintenance Trouble. I gave Liz's arm, the uninjured one, a sharp tug.
"Let's get out of here, quick!” I hissed, and we did. Liz gave one of her co-workers a quick word, ran to the back to clock out, and then made a beeline to the front door, dragging me behind her. Now that's the spirit.
We went to Dog-in-a-Bun, where I had a turkey dog. Pretty decent, certainly way better than those rubbery horrors that they served during bingo night. Which reminded me—those poor seniors who were subjected to those nasty things needed to pool their resources together and file a complaint or something. I mean, think about it. They were old and frail, and they still had to put up with crap food like that, as if that was society's thanks for all those years of their lives spent working hard and making this crummy world a better place for everyone else.
Back to lunch, during which something kind of weird happened...
The whole time I was with Liz, I didn't feel comfortable, and it had nothing to do with the fact that my sister sat across the table from me, and I had to see those bruises on her arm. In fact, even Liz seemed a little off-kilter. Sure, she was born that way, but at that moment, she seemed in a weirder mood than usual.
We hardly spoke the whole time. I think we spent most of Liz's lunch break gnawing, drinking, swallowing, and squirming in our chairs without really knowing why. Every once in a while we'd meet each other's eyes and then frown quizzically. There was something strange that kind of hung above us the whole time. Like electricity that crackled non-stop but that was also very quiet and subtle. It made itself felt but not enough to be jarring or to make us panic. It was like an anticipation or a lingering dread that we couldn't put our fingers on.
"What's wrong?” she asked after several minutes of this. I shook my head.
"I don't know. I just feel strange. Like something's about to happen, and I don't know what, when, or how. Know what I mean?"
She nodded. “I know. I feel the same. Let's finish lunch and get the hell out of here."
We did and hurried out, but nothing out of the ordinary happened. I thought about it more when I got home after dropping Liz off at the lingerie shop that it was that same feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop. Only this time it was much stronger than before. Much, much stronger.
* * * *
I got on the phone with Peter at the right time. I told him about today—the weird feeling that came over me and Liz, and he took me seriously, bless him. At first I wasn't sure if I could share it because I thought that he'd just laugh me off or tell me that I was just being paranoid or something, but he didn't.
"I learned early on to trust gut instinct,” he said as I fidgeted with the phone cord, wrapping it around my fingers nervously. “Did it feel stronger when you were at different places or something?"
"No. It was pretty steady."
"Okay. I'll tell Trent and everyone else, and keep an eye out. It's been a while since the last attack, and nothing's come up yet. So far we've been busying ourselves with the usual
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