Changelings - Ch 2: Beatrice

Ch 2: Beatrice

I turned my rusty key in the ancient lock, and shouldered my way through the stuck door. The flat was a wreck, as always. My mom was spread across the couch, on the phone. I just walked past her, into my room.

Let me set this straight right from the start. I try with my room, I really do, but ether me or my mom is cursed, or this house is. Maybe it’s because I have no time. It was a mess. I dropped my bag, and changed out of my uniform.

“Trix!” My mom called me. She always calls me that, even though my name’s Beatrice.

Why my mom had a child I do not know. Maybe it was so she’d have someone to buy garbage bags for her. Even before my father left she was absent minded.

“Yeah, mom?” I called back, grabbing my apron.

“Trix, we need dinner. Your gonna get something on your way home, right?” She asked.

“Yes, mom, I will. I have to run, or I’m going to be late.” I kissed her on the cheek, and rushed out. We lived in a condominium in a small town in northern New York State. The only way to get anywhere without paying was bike, and let me tell you, that was fun in the winter.

January was just as cold as all the others had been. All the others I could remember. I hopped on my bike, and moved out. I worked at Lily’s Café. It was a total dead end job, but it almost paid for rent, so I didn’t complain too much. Thank god school was covered by my father, or I wouldn’t be able to afford to go.

I put on my apron, chaining my bike and helmet to the bike stand in the back. I tied my waist length black iron hair back in a low ponytail, and went in.

I worked a double shift. I always did. More money. Then I biked by the grocery store, and got some cans of chicken, and cheep sliced bread. A treat for us.

I checked out, and biked home. Mom was in the shower when I got home, so I made half sandwiches and put the rest of the food away in the dilapidated mini–fridge. I ate quickly. I only had an hour and a half to eat and do my homework before I had to go to my other job.

I worked at Spindle’s, an all night chain convenience store. The eleven thirty to three shift. Again, a dead end job, but the best I could get.

My schedule, as it is, leaves little time for sleep. I have school, obviously, then Magick lessons with the mother of a girl from my class (Apparently I have a sliver of Magick) for an hour, then my six hour double shift at Lilly’s Café, then homework and dinner, then three hours at Spindles, then a few hours sleep. I was keeping up with rent, though. And food, if barely. I put ten percent of all I earned into savings, though. A bound journal, hidden under my laundry, so my mom won’t find it and spend it on something. I’m saving to get out of here. My goal is to go to New York at the end of the year, for Witch training.

It’s pushing it back a bit, but better late than never. I’m a bit worried about mom, but I can still send her money when I leave, even if I can’t talk to her. I really should get her in some sort of community, so that she’ll be taken care of, but I don’t have the money. She’ll just have to fend for herself when I leave.

Weekends where my saving grace. I worked on Saturdays, but Sundays where all for me. I would bike to the rocky beach, or to the park. Sometimes I’d go to the zoo. Mostly I just rested, though. Rested, and read, and tried to catch up on sleep. Mum would go out on Sundays, so I could have the whole house to myself, so I could catch up on homework and housework.

Well, I haven’t said much about myself yet. Me personally, I mean. My name’s Beatrice Glen. I’m almost fifteen. My dad left when I was seven. He still sends money home, though. Child support, even though I’m not sure he’s legally bound to. My dad’s not a bad guy. Not really. I think he must not have wanted to take care of my flakey mom anymore, and she only got worse once he left. He lives on long island now. He’s married again, but I don’t have any half–siblings.

I look absolutely nothing like ether of my parents. There tall, my mom’s a read head, and my dad’s brunette. They’re both very tan, and my mom freckles as well. My mom’s hair is straight as can be.

I’m really pretty short. I’m extremely pale, no matter how much I’m in the sun. My skin is really clear, and I don’t tan or freckle. My hair’s black, like strands of cast iron, and long, to my waist. It’s pretty curly, but manageable, unlike some curly hair. My eyes are cream.

My list was long. We didn’t have any food, my mom was out of tooth paste and conditioner, and she had broken her comb trying to comb her hair without conditioner. The monthly check from dad was due about next week, but that was a bit long to wait…

I got tooth paste on sale, and a cheap comb. Conditioner was easy too. It was when I was standing in the dry foods isle, trying to find the cheapest price for beans, that I saw him. I don’t know what it was about him, really, that caught my eye. He was wearing black jeans, and a band T. He had hair lighter than mine, a nice brown. His eyes where palest blue, and I couldn’t look away. He was just standing there, one hand in his pocket, and holding a gallon of soft apple cider in his other.

He looked at me, into my eyes, and my heart stopped. I swear it did. My eyes widened, and I couldn’t look away. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking at all, which is kind of odd, as I can usually tell that kind of thing. I couldn’t focus on that now, though, because he was smiling faintly, whoever he was, and I really couldn’t breathe, no matter how hard I tried. I seemed to have misplaced my lungs.

He took a step towards me. I dropped the bag I’d been holding. I couldn’t believe it. Not only was this boy walking towards me, me, but I was acting so like a stereotypical teen age girl I could have pinched myself, accept that I couldn’t really move.

“Do you believe in love at first sight?” He asked. The spell was broken. I laughed then, I couldn’t help it. What a cheesy pick – up line. But god, his voice…..

“What’s your name?” he asked, smiling.

“Beatrice.” I said.

“You go by Beatrice?” He asked.

“Well, not really.” I said.

“What then?” He asked.

“What do you think?” I asked.

“Triccy.” He said.

I smiled. I couldn’t help it. “Works for me.” I said. “How about you? What’s your name?”

“Mort.” He said.

I looked at him skeptically. I still couldn’t really breathe properly, or move.

“Well, then, nice to meet you, Mort.” I shook his hand.

“Likewise.” He said. “You got a phone?”

I looked at him. I could not believe it. He was asking my number. He had the audacity to ask my number when he’d just met me.

I pulled a scrap of paper out of my pocket, and a pencil, and scribbled my number, and my name on it. I handed it to him, scooped up the beans I had lost and plopped them into my basket.

“It doesn’t always work, so don’t be offended if I don’t pick up.” I said, and walked off. I couldn’t believe I was walking away from that boy.

Potatoes where cheep, so I got some.

“What’s for dinner?” My mom asked as I came through the door.

“Soup.” I said.

“Soup?” she asked. “Again?”

“Well, I we don’t have much money.” I said.

“Oh, honey, I work so hard. You know that. It’ll be alright.”

“Yeah, Mom.” Have I mentioned that my mom has some issues? She lies. To herself, to everyone else, so much that she can’t separate the lies from the truth anymore. She probably has some sort of mental condition. I haven’t had the money to send her to the doctor, though. I’m hoping when I get to New York I’ll be able to make enough money to take care of her.

I put on a lot of water and a few lentils. I chopped a potato very small, and put that in, too.

I went back to my room, and worked on my homework for forty – five minutes. I got soup for myself and my mother in our chipped bowls, and with our bent spoons. I put my thermos out for lunch the tomorrow, and headed out to work.

“Do you eat anything but lentils?”

Sarah didn’t like me. She never had. She was tall, blonde, and, I’m sorry to say, not that gorgeous. She was athletic, though, and a cheerleader. This, combined with her reputation and a lot of makeup, made her popular, though, and since I always kept my head down, she was easily able to outdo me, popularity wise.

I shrugged. “I’m vegan.” I lied for the thousandth time. “And lentils are good.”

“Whatever.” She said, turning her back rudely. What was even the point in her coming over? I closed my eyes, and rolled them. Whatever. I had it harder than she did, but I was also in training to be a witch, as terrible at Magick as I may be. I didn’t even have enough Magick to bond a familiar. Or fly.

Terrible.

It was ok, though. A little Magick is better than none at all.

Well, I couldn’t fly a broomstick. My mount of choice was a paper dragon. It was like some sort of Chinese New Year thing. It was huge. I strengthened it with Magick, and flew on it. And I could manipulate fire, the second easiest element, to my heart’s content.

The thing is I don’t have any friends at school. None. I don’t have any friends anywhere, really. It was better that way, anyway. It meant I had more time for work.

But anyway, as I sat there, sipping my lentils, my phone buzzed. Oh god. I swear. If I had to go home I was going to be late for the next period. Lunch was almost over.

And it had to be my mom. Who else would call me?

“Hello. Listen, Mom, I can’t come home right now….” Something was up. I just knew it was. “Mom?” I asked.

“Is this the right number?” Asked a boy’s voice. “This girl gave me her number, but….”

“Awww, that’s sad.” I said, even though I had already realized it was Mort.

“Yeah, I know, really.” He said.

“Did you like her?” I asked.

“See, that’s the thing…” He trailed off. “Wait, what am I doing? Sorry to disturb you.” He said. I knew I had only seconds before he hung up.

“Mort!” I said.

“Triccy?” He asked. He sounded mortified.

“Yeah.” I said. “Of course I gave you the right number. Gee.”

“Right.” He said. “Sorry.”

“No problem.” I said.

“I was just wondering… Are you free this weekend?” He asked.

“Well….” I said. “I don’t know. I have work Saturday, and I’m usually really busy Sunday with catching up on things…” I said.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” He asked. He wasn’t exactly subtle.

“If I did, would I have given you my number?” I asked.

“Ok, but when are you free?” He asked.

“Free?” I asked. “As in to do stuff?”

“Yes, that’s what I meant.” He said.

“Never.” I said blankly.

“Oh, come on.” He said.

“I’m serious. I’m never free. Ever. It’s not even personal, ether. I just have no time.” I told him.

“I’m sure you’re free occasionally.” He said.

“I haven’t had a day off in three years.” I told him.

“Good lord, you’re not serious, are you?” He asked.

“Totally serious.” I said.

“Ok, that’s it. You’re definitely coming out with me.” He said.

“I can’t.” I told him. “I just can’t.”

“Why not?” He asked. This was ridiculous. I was trying to explain myself to a total stranger, who I had given my number, and who wanted me to go out with him.

“Well, it’s just…. See, there’s something… I can’t really…. I have to be home as much as….. I…. I just can’t go out.” I said.

“Ok, so where do you go to school?” He asked.

“Why?” I asked. “You gonna stalk me?”

“No! God, no, some faith, please?” He asked. “Your luck can’t be that bad.”

Somehow, I had a flash of memory that could not have been mine. A pact, sealing my golden luck, and my black fate. Needless to say, I brushed aside the thought.

“Ok.” I said. Somehow, I could no longer keep up with the life of giving and distrust I had led for so long. “I go to Iris academy.” I said.

“Ok.” He said. “See you, Triccy.” And he hung up on me. So rude. And what was Triccy, anyway? I was Trix, as much as I hated it. Triccy just sounded so much more…. Sweet.

And I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

School was normal; accept that my mom didn’t call, even once. I was just leaving, and I had speed dialed mom, when a bike came whizzing into the parking lot. I had to jump back to miss it.

“Jerk!” I called after the biker, who had gone by so fast I didn’t know who it was, even in this small town.

“Hey, mom?” I said. “Everything ok?” I asked.

“Oh, yes. I’m very tired, of course, from all the work I’ve been doing.”

“Yeah.” I said.

“Listen, dear, I have to go. I have a client.” And she hung up.

My luck was supposed to be great, right? So why… Why me?

The biker came back, but this time more slowly.

“Mort?” I couldn’t believe it. “What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Hey Triccy!” He said.

“You maniac, have you ever heard that you’re supposed to go slowly in school zones?” I asked.

“I think I might have heard that somewhere.” He said.

I shook my head. “Why on earth are you here?” I asked.

“To kidnap you, of course.” He said.

“Ha ha.” I said. “Who on earth talks like that? Cheesy pick-up lines, and then this? I’ve got to go home, anyway. I’ve got to make dinner, and do my homework, and then go to work. I don’t have time to be kidnapped.”

“Sure you do.” He said. “Live dangerously.”

I hovered, indecisive. I put on my bike helmet. Either way, I’d be riding.

“Come on, you haven’t had a day off since grade school.” He said. That was an exaggeration. “If anyone deserves a break, it’s you.”

“I… I just don’t know….”

“Come on.” And he smiled at me. I dare any girl to resist that smile.

“I… I can’t!” I said. I knew it was plain that I was upset. I hadn’t felt anything in so long. Not besides tired, stressed, or worried in so long it was heard to remember other emotions.

“Hey…” He said, calming. God, it worked, too. Not all the way. Panic was still fluttering in my chest, but I could control it. “Why can’t you? Why won’t you tell me?” He asked.

“I…. I won’t, because no one knows.” I said. “I’m the only one. Who knows, I mean.”

“Who knows what?” He asked. I couldn’t tell if it was just his voice, or he had a technique for hypnosis. Either way, he had me.

“I… I have to take care of some things at home.” I said. “I have homework.”

“Today?” He asked.

“Well, no, but I still have to go make dinner.”

He just looked at me like: Really?

“I do.” I said.

“Three years.” He said.

“Yes. Three years. I can’t stop now, though!” I said.

“Why do you need so badly to go home?” He asked.

“I have to take care of—” I cut myself off. I didn’t want him to know about my mother.

He smiled again, and this time I could do nothing but nod. Something clicked in my brain, but I had no energy to figure it out.

“Ok.” I said. “Where are we going?”

“Just follow me, Triccy.”

Ch 3: Sealed

Journal of Stella Astron

Twins always needed supernatural help. I got more twins than any other babies.

I had searched them. The pale haired one would have the best luck she could have, but never return to her home. The dark haired one would have the worst luck she could have, but she would return home. Their luck wouldn’t start till they where Fourteen.

I should not tell their parents. That was part of my job. I had to set this right, though. It should have been the other way. Luckily, my range of experience goes beyond the mundane. I splattered the baby girls in blue paint, and got started.