It was like sinking into a cold, swampy nightmare. The bedroom walls quivered in the chilling air, forming goosebumps along Miranda’s skin as she scampered up in a panic. It took her eyes only a moment to adjust.
A woman. A transparent woman, small and cloaked, floated above the foot of her bed.
“What the hell?” Miranda whispered. She curled her fingers into sheets as chills crawled up into her throat. “Who are you?”
That's when the woman’s smile dropped. “You mean, you don't know?” The room was silent. “Oh no, no, no. You can't fully see, then?” She shook her head, her white hair whipping back and forth. “This changes everything. I can no longer... no, that will damage, that will...”
“Who are you? Tell me!”
Frigid air rushed to Miranda’s face. Her eyes flickered as brilliant amethysts on fire from absorbing every detail of the woman: her face etched with wrinkles, her eyes worn and tired, her breath empty.
“You know who I am, child.” Her voice echoed a strange familiarity. “You are blessed with the ability to see and the knowledge that comes with it. But you have not yet learned to trust in it.”
Miranda remained tight-lipped. It had been months since the last time she’d seen a ghost. Maybe even a year? Her brain wasn’t working right now. Only her eyes. Was she imagining things again or had she finally snapped?
“Do not falter in your beliefs. I know that your parents make it difficult for you to believe. It’s a shame that they pretend not to know.”
What?
“How would you know anything?”
The woman’s lips curved up. Her eyes and face were all soft and warmth.“ I know many things about you, about your friends, even your boyfriend.” She scoffed then and wagged a finger at Miranda. “He’s another matter you will have to address.”
How did she know about that, about all of it?
“I'm sorry. I don’t have much time.” Winter wisps followed the woman as she closed the gap. “Many things have happened to you, and they will keep happening. I’m afraid that what I have done up until now may have been all for naught. For that, I’m sorry.” She slouched forward. Her body read as sadness and disappointment.
“But never mind that now, Miranda!”
Hearing the woman speak her name made her skin prickle. She watched the woman curiously, her mind not quite able to place her face.
“I want you to always remember that no matter what gets thrown your way you have the strength and the courage to fight through it all.”
All of what? What more could I possibly have to deal with?
“I must leave now.” The woman was only a few breaths away when she rose her bone-cold fingers to Miranda’s cheek. “You have grown so wonderfully.”
Words caught at the base of Miranda’s throat as she jolted forward and choked out a scream.
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A translucent haze blanketed town. Weather in the northeast was temperamental this October, flaring between cold dips and warm rises in rain.
Miranda stood up with the rest of the crazed high schoolers, her energy focuses on gripping her jacket pockets as tightly as she could while their energy was spent screaming in favor of the home team.
Central High Rams, down by 5, but it wasn’t over yet - only halftime. Things could still turn around for the better.
Beyond the football field was the visiting team all crowded together. The dispersing players left the field empty for a few minutes before the pep band and dance team would take the stage. It was just enough time to grant Miranda a straight-shot view of the front row where two bodies tied themselves together. Her face tightened at the display of lips and limbs that clung to each other as if the two were secluded in their own, private world.
She stomped down the bleaches and joined a group who were leaning over for a better view. Unlike them, she could see clearly. Her eyes were special like that.
“Oh no, Love!” Flanking her left was Bailey, best known for her thick red curls and dotted freckle cheeks. “I’m so sorry…”
She didn’t look Bailey in the eyes, just kept staring at her soon-to-be ex-boyfriend Jack Brown as he kissed the other girl. It was Tasha Rayword, known for having the biggest ass on the planet.
That old ghost was right, her mind snapped. To think, all it took was a little white lie to confirm a month-long of suspicions: “Oh, I’m not going to the game this time around,” she had said. And now here we are.
She scoffed at the ongoing PDA. Those two were clearly convinced that by immersing themselves with the unknown faces of the visiting school, they had escaped into their own little closet where no one could find them. But stupidly, they had remained in the first freaking row!
“Please tell me you got something in mind for this cheating prick,” Bailey said.
“I already got’chu!” On Miranda's right was Frankie waving a thick wad of cash in front of the girls. “Whatever it is you do, I already got bets on it that you'd get him tonight!” Bailey rolled her eyes. She never did approve of Frankie's desire to make a quick buck off of something like this, not when it was hurting Miranda. “I got about forty-something bets here in total. And if I know you like I know I do, then I’ll be coming out with a big win from this!”
Bailey immediately berated Frankie, throwing in an arm slap that Miranda could at least grin at. But they had a point. Did she have a plan? All she wanted was confirmation and now she had it. So what exactly was deserving of the basketball All-Star as he sucked faces with the Queen of the High School Whores. Miranda eyed the several hundred people shuffling through the bleachers. Clearly, a make-out session in plain sight was nothing new to them. So what would they want to see?
Specs of light began to dot her vision. To her, everything kept shifting from blurred beings to separate entities. Jack and Tasha seemed to melt into each other. She felt a hard pang at her chest before finally breaking her stare, the lights beckoning for her to look towards the football players instead.
They stood along the track that circled the field. At first, she thought she was imagining these lights, these “faeries” as she had grown up calling them. But they were too alive with prismatic color, buzzing around the jugs and bottles of sport drinks that sat on the table. Their faint sounds were whispered secrets in a language she was only privilege to even hear, though not yet understand. The table was only a few feet away from the bleachers and practically begging for Miranda's use.
Loud trumpeting signaled a parade of band members and cheerleaders to kick off half-time. The crowds whooped and hollered for their start. Perfect timing.
“To answer your question, Bay...” Miranda's lips slowly upturned. “Yea, I got something in mind.”
She took off, one wedge-heeled boot in front of the other balanced perfectly on the damp turf as she strode past the parading band members. She didn't care if anyone was gawking at her for having crossed through the parade. Her interruption would draw their focus towards something better anyway.
“Don’t mind me boys,” Miranda said when she reached the opposing team.
She ignored their bemusement while snatching up two 64 oz orange Gatorade bottles from their table. Then she strutted towards the bleachers, feeling their gaze stuck on her curvy figure that swayed with each step. She could have sworn she heard a sly whistle from one of them as she squeezed behind the two hormone-raging teens, barely caring to notice the rest of the curious onlookers. But heck, Jack didn’t even notice her! Five full seconds of pure lip-smacking sounds was all she could take. Her chest wound into a hard, painful knot. That’s when she poured out the first bottle of cold, sticky liquid.
Tasha immediately leapt off of Jack with a high-pitched squeal as if acid was burning through her silk weave. Jack on the other hand stood frozen on the spot as orange waterfall-ed over his head.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
The knot loosened. She tossed the first bottle in exchange for the second, expressionless.
“What the hell!” Tasha was dripping in unflattering orange. “Are you crazy or something?”
A low snarl escaped Miranda’s throat. “Or something.”
Jack’s chest puffed up. He wiped off some of the juice while Miranda drummed her fingers along the bottle.
“Miranda, Babe…”
A second wave of orange poured over his face, a steady stream for every single flashing phone.
She glared at his mouth hung open until the very last drop. His lips were chapped and had a smear of dark red on the left side. Other girls had whispered rumors that “he was sexy man-ho” while guys had cheered that he had “bagged that chick”, that chick having been Miranda. Funny how all of those ugly memories came crashing back, memories that held the truth about Jack, memories that she had so dim-wittedly chosen to ignore. To think that he could change for her. How the hell could she be so stupid?
She dropped the bottle and it clunked at her feet.
“I warned you, didn’t I?” Her voice growled.
The crowd of gawking students grew louder. Miranda couldn’t help but smirk. Jack Brown, athletic star. Jack Brown, honor student. Jack brown, owner of a flashy red convertible. Jack Brown, handsome heartthrob. Jack Brown, fallen.
Turns out, revenge was easy.
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“That’s my girl!” Bailey jumped in for a tight squeeze just outside of the gate.
“Yo that stunt really made me a small fortune,” Frankie bragged while displaying an even thicker wad of cash in front of Miranda.
She tried to snatch it, though he quickly drew back his hand. “Frankie. You owe me at least half. You only got that money because you knew I’d do it in the first place.”
“Boy cheated the system,” Bailey sang.
“It’s called making a safe bet.” His words oozed out with absolute delight. “Besides, you did look like you was on the fence about it once you saw it all for yourself.” He smacked Miranda’s palm with cash.
Bailey only folded her arms. As usual, she was met with Frankie’s dazzling smile as he held up to her three twenties fixed between two fingers. She pulled the bills for herself and threw him a sarcastic smile.
“Well, Love, hope you realize that you'll be the talk of the town now.” Bailey gave her best friend's arm a light nudge as they exited out of the back of the school and proceeded up the main road.
Miranda shrugged. “He had it coming, I guess.”
“Legit though, that’s how you do it on your last day!”
Miranda cringed at those words: her last day.
Frankie tugged on Bailey’s braid to get her attention.
Too late. The cheer of victory was lost to the truth. Miranda was leaving tomorrow morning for Willowsburgh, Virginia. Jack was just another loose end that instead of being tied together was better off cut completely.
As for Frankie and Bailey, they were her forever red strings first tied together five years ago. Little Bailey was inquisitive and awkward and had gone up to then newbie Miranda and pulled her jet black hair just to feel the smooth texture of it. Little Miranda had been freshly plucked from New York City only to be dropped right into the suburban side of Bridgeport, Connecticut. And little Frankie? He tried to con the girls with fake movie tickets when he first met them a year later. The girls had pummeled him with textbooks as soon as they realized the truth. He had laughed and asked to be friends. All three were guaranteed lonesome weirdos. Weirdos stick together.
The wind picked up, smacking the three with Dunkin around the corner. It was already past ten and getting colder by the minute.
“Coffee run?” Bailey suggested.
As tiny as this Dunkin was, it was large in the number of memories it held. How many times had Frankie coo the girls into skipping lunch for donuts and coffee instead?
“Remember when Jack tried to tag along?” Frankie commented from the front counter
“It was so stupid!” Bailey added. “He was trying to act all suave and shit and practically court you in the beginning.”
Miranda forced a smile while cupping her French Vanilla Latte. She remembered how Jack couldn’t even hold a conversation with her friends. He was all about sports, Frankie all about videogames, Bailey about her babysitting. And Miranda? She was too flexible to have noticed the problem.
Flexibility in it of itself is a curse. It’s a method for pleasing everyone while having to compromise on your end. Flexibility and compromise equated to an unwillingness to make things difficult for friends and family. Compromise and unwillingness resulted in four moves within these past ten years.
Frankie clucked his teeth together. “Man, this sucks! You couldn’t have protested or something? Freedom of speech is supposed to get you somewhere, right?”
Bailey rolled her eyes. “Frankie stop acting dumb!”
“It’s not that I didn’t want to guys,” Miranda answered. “Mom got an easy transfer down and Dad can work practically wherever. I’d be the only problem if I did that.” Her tone dropped with her explanation.
Alternatives ran through her mind. If she had clearly, verbally, disagreed on the decision to uproot, would she have looked like the inconsiderate, spoiled bad guy for not helping to fulfill her dead’s grandma’s last wish? The will was explicit: Keep the house in the family. She did not want to stand in the way of that ghost’s final request.
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Upon Aldrich Road sat a nutmeg painted house with a minivan parked in the driveway, it’s back window hinting at the neatly packed brown boxes inside.
“At this rate, your mom might wanna’ considering switching from being a professional interior designer to a professional mover,” Frankie commented.
Miranda sighed and twisted her mouth into a half-smile while leading the others up the front porch. She unhooked her keys from her jeans, but then her glanced down at the crevice of light coming from the doorway.
It was left open? That’s when a sharp pain shot at the side of her head. She pressed her palm against the flaring sensation, turned back and noticed her faerie hovering between a curious Bailey and Frankie. It followed her home. Was something wrong?
Before her friends could say anything, she faked a smile and walked in. “Mom!”
“Mira, is that you?” Mira- her special nickname.
“No, Mom. It’s a robber coming to steal everything in an empty house.”
“Ha-ha – jokes.” Appearing from the kitchen was a petite woman with bright brown eyes that made Nova Malhotra Russe’s complexion glow. Miranda had gotten the same copper skin and thick black hair from her mother, but her sharp facial features echoed her father. The origins of her bright purple eyes remained a mystery.
A breath of relief slipped out. “Sorry, Ma. But seriously, can't we take precaution here?”
Nova smiled, though the bags under her eyes gave away just how tired she really was. She fiddled with her golden necklace, the Om pendant caught in her fingers. “Precaution for what? There's nothing left to steal. Tell her guys!” She shot the two a you-better-back-me-up-because-I-always-feed-you-dinner kind-of look. They took sides immediately and began spouting brush-offs at Miranda.
“Sellouts.” She walked off, discreetly assessing the main floor. Her faerie zipped about with her. Empty living room. Empty hallway. Empty kitchen. The throbbing in her head also was gone. Everything seemed normal.
“So I guess Mr. Russe is at the other house then?” Bailey asked.
Frankie shook his head while making a sound of disapproval. “Ain’t it hard, Mrs. R? To have to do all this work by yourself while Mr. R is out gallivanting around the world?” He was referring to the fact that Miranda’s father, Kevin Russe, was a travel writer who inadvertently spent more time abroad than at home
That’s when Bailey made a go for Frankie’s ear. “Didn’t know ‘gallivanting’ was part of your vocabulary, Frankie.”
“Dad’s been at the other house since yesterday,” Miranda clarified. She glanced back at the fading trail of gold that led out an opened window. It was gone.
“Anywho,” Nova continued. “How’d it go?”
“See for yourself.” Frankie fished out his phone and tapped and scrolled his way through YouTube before finally presenting the most exclusive footage one would’ve hoped. It began with, “I warned you didn’t I”, all the way to the cat calls that followed Miranda’s exit off screen.
Nova’s face paled. Her daughter tapped the screen for an instant replay, compelling giggles out of her mother. “And you wanted me to wait for karma,” Miranda shot. Her mother softened but was still silent.
“Don’t worry, I’m already on it,” Bailey spoke. Bailey was a wiz with technology. Her magic included tracking spells via social media, cursing computers with viruses, and even explicit off-the-record hacking. Abra-Kadabrah-Alakazma!
“I’m sorry about Jack,” Nova offered. She looked like she wanted to give her daughter a hug, but Miranda only looked away and shrugged.
“You know what? His lost… he wasn’t a solid guy to begin with anyway.” She kept her head low.
A classic telephone ring sounded from the kitchen. Nova swept up her phone and after taking a huff of breath, “Yes, Luther, I got your email. The client wants this…” Her voice faded off as she crossed into what used to be the living room, leaving the three in the barren kitchen.
The room was both large and small simultaneously. Miranda felt like she was shrinking inside of it. She crossed into the main floor where her mind was taunted with memories of the nights her and her mother would sprawl out on their couch, engrossed in Bollywood movies. Or the times she’s sit and do homework on the carpet floor while her father pitched opening lines for his travel blog. These were the most vibrant of memories, and now it was like she’d have to leave these behind too.
“I really can’t believe you’re leaving us,” Bailey started.
“Here we go again.”
“Oh shut up, Frankie!” Bailey snapped back. “In no way will things be the same without you. How are we going to stay in touch and stuff? And our girl-nights? Frankie does not count!”
“For the record, I am not putting on a dress for you,” Frankie threw his hands up in affirmation. However, he only received another glare from his blubbering friend.
“Bay, I’m just moving a few states away, not a whole continent.
“It won’t be the same. With her arms wrapped tightly around her friend, Miranda grew quiet. Frankie stepped in closer, stroked Bailey’s back.
Bailey was right - it wouldn’t be the same. How long before their red string would wither and break on its own?