A Little Bit Ninja

2: Into the Wardrobe (Revised)

Okay, this chapter used to be called "chapter 2: Grappling with Vermin (part 1)", but I felt like it was strong enough to be its own little chapter--not to mention long enough. This is the newly rewritten chapter 2, so watch out for some changes in Abe's background. 

Chapter 2: Into the Wardrobe

The depressing thing about Saturday was that the let down lunch with Millie wasn’t the worst part, nor was it later that evening when my date puked on my mother’s Pradas. The worst part of my evening would be the fight I got into with Landon. Yes—yelling, and a take down, and a chain punch to the solar plexus.  

 I take that back. The fight itself was cathartic, the highlight of my week since I’ve been dying to drop kick the guy for three and a half years now, but the cause of the fight was the worst part of my day.

I am not a violent person, despite the threats I make to Abe’s girlfriends. I mean, I haven’t gotten into a physical fight, besides sparring, since elementary school, if you don’t count the two blows I used to stop Drake and Abe in The Great Labor Day Weekend Disaster. Or the altercation at Dillard’s on black Friday.

The afternoon began innocently enough. After Millie’s dismay at my tidings of great sadness, she seemed to perk up a little as we discussed our plans for the evening. Fact: Millie has an infallible guy-dar which identifies any manly hotness within a half mile radius. I do not exaggerate. In fact, it was Millie’s indomitable pull for guys that caused the Labor Day Weekend Fiasco.

Luckily, there was a date on our horizon to lift Millie out of her valley of woe. The prospect of men never failed to console her, even when her two best friends failed. So, in spite of her string of bad luck, she began to warm back up by the end of our meal. My offer to let her use my new, leopard-print, strappy platforms and matching clutch for tonight helped too. 

Anyway, Millie was never much of a crier, so I wasn’t surprised by her dry eyes at lunch. She had only cried on two occasions that I knew of in our five years of friendship. Considering the almost chronic case of red blotchy face she gets after letting loose, I could certainly see why she held back her tears at all costs.

With Millie sulking in my passenger seat I sped home, my thoughts focused on the shoes I would wear that evening. Not just any shoes, the shoes I’d been steeling myself to borrow from my mother’s closet for almost six years now. Today was the right day because:

 A) They would fit me by now

 B) I was practically an adult

                C) I needed a good luck charm to counteract the melancholy of the day.

D) The shoes I had in mind would match my intended accessories and outfit perfectly

It happened when Millie and I pulled up to my house. I hadn’t texted Erica to warn her about Millie, which would explain why she ran out of the four car garage to meet us with such a garish grin on her face. Her amber colored eyes sparkled, waiting for us to jump out and join her in celebration of the three musketeers finally being united on the dance team.

“Milagros María Riviera García!” she shouted, bounding toward us.

I shot her an almost imperceptible head shake with wide eyes. Apparently it was a little too imperceptible because Erica didn’t notice it. Squealing all the way to Millie’s side she grabbed her in a tight hug and commenced jumping.

I would think that she would immediately notice that the subject of her hug wasn’t joining in the jumping, but it was five solid jumps later that she finally she stopped. From the other side of my silver BMW I frantically made cutting motions with my hands across my neck.