Wednesday, September 28, 2016

#3 The Journalist

Sail didn’t know the reason she ended up going to the Environmental Forum. Maybe it was because she was so intrigued by the green gilded envelope that slid under her apartment door at 5 that morning. Perhaps it was the gusts of freezing winter wind that seemed to push her all the way to Poultry Lane. Or maybe she ended up at the Bar instead of Brookline because she was supposed to go to a Primrose meeting after school and she needed an excuse to skip.
Either way, something had beckoned her there, and she was feeling reckless.
Upon entry into the Bar, Sail realized how little the town cared about the environment. The stage that usually held up and coming indie groups now had a meager collection of pamphlets on the environment. In the corner, a dusty washing machine sat. There wasn't even a presenter on stage.
Disappointment sat in Sail’s chest. Her escapade couldn’t even manage to be interesting.
Nevertheless, she found a seat -not like there was a lack of seats- next to two men. One of them was vigorously scribbling in a black notepad, while the younger one was reaching down and petting the dog at his feet. When Sail sat down, the younger guy turned and smiled at her.
“Thank God!” he jokingly began, “I thought I was the only one in this town who enjoyed a good environmental forum.”
Taken aback by his sarcasm, Sail just laughed a little and leaned down to pet the dog.
“Who’s this?”
“This is Tug,” He gestured to the man next to him who was still furiously writing, “and that’s Paul Paul. We’re from the paper.”
“Oh,” Sail exclaimed, “So that’s why you’re here. To cover this incredibly interesting story.” He coyly shrugged.
Then, Sail didn’t know why she ended up doing the next thing either. Maybe it was the way he reached over to shake her hand and said, “The name’s Noel.” Or, maybe, it was the warm, secure sense she got from being looked at by his amber-tinged eyes. Perhaps it was mixed with her new-found disregard for her obligations at school, and her eagerness to get back at Caroline.

Whichever one it was, Sail found herself grinning back at Noel and saying, “What if I told you I had a really good story for you to write?”

Tuesday, September 6, 2016

#2 The Twin Chandeliers

It wasn’t until Sail and Caroline were halfway back from getting cotton candy that Sail realized something was up. When they had left to get the cloud-like treats the rest of the Primrose girls had been jumping around the black and gold gilded tent, but now, they silently stood around, watching Sail and Caroline return. And Caroline was acting strangely too. She had spent way too long at the booth- long enough to make the men behind them groan- and she seemed to be trying to delay their return to the rest of the girls.

Caroline was planning something. Something much more sinister than the 7 cotton candy cones Sail was juggling in her arms.
“Caroline,” Sail warned, an edge in her voice, “You said this was just going to be a fun outing to get our minds off of, you know, the blood. I know you told me it was fake, but chill out.”
But before Sail could question Caroline any further about her intentions, a lively man with a pinstriped suit ushered her into the the golden tent.
The show was about to begin. Still worried, Sail stood up to look for Caroline, but was pulled down by another girl.
“Sit down. It’s about to start.” She whispered. Sail felt like the event she was referring to wasn't the circus act.
Having no escape route, Sail stayed put and watched the show unfold. She watched a young boy walk out to the crowd’s cheers, and then a girl. Caroline. Sail watched Caroline glide across the stage to an audience member, grab his arm and whisper something. She saw the lights of the chandeliers go out, and then she saw nothing.
Only Sail yelled when the lights went out, the rest of the audience probably thought it was part of the act, but she knew. This was Caroline.
Then, the lights came on and the chandeliers fell. Streams of shards of icy blue glass rained on to the awaiting ground below. Now, some people yelled when the glass hit the floor, but others clapped, still thinking it was part of the act.
But Sail knew better.