Spirit

Chapter 10- Manners Aren't My Forte

          “What were you going out into the forest for?”

          “Is this really what you wanted to talk about?” I countered.

          “Stop trying to change the subject. Now answer the question.”

          “Lessons,” I lied. I hadn’t told him about my “condition” and now wasn’t the time. “You know, on the thing called magic that you kind of forgot to mention existed,” I added coldly. He sighed heavily, his blue eyes staring at the ceiling for a while before looking at me again.

          “So you haven’t been out yet?” He asked again, completely ignoring my last comment. I nodded to him. “Okay, so what I want you to do is go out to the little town about fifteen minutes from here and have Alex and Chris show you around. You know go out and explore, buy things, meet people, things of that nature.”

          “Why?”

          “Because I don’t want you to be cooped up in this house until you start school.”

          I nodded, not I wasn’t completely happy with having to do things, I enjoyed being lazy. “Well, I don’t think I can even buy anything with a ten dollar bill.”

          “Here,” he said, reaching into his front pocket and pulling out an old leather wallet. He opened it, pulling out a credit card. Smiling he said, “Don’t go too crazy.”

          “I’ll try,” I laughed unwillingly, taking the card. My father has always been the type of person to get you to smile even when you hated him; as if his smiles were a contagious disease. “Is that all you wanted to talk to me about?”

          “For now,” he replied, his smile falling. I turned around and left his office. I walked back to my room, sighing when I saw Alex and Chris lying together on my bed.

          “I’m gone for ten minutes and I come back to you to getting your bromance on in my room,” I announced, leaning against my door frame. I snorted and muttered, “Typical.”

          “We were not having a ‘bromance’,” Chris informed me, using air quotes when he said bromance. “We were having a chat.”

          I rolled my eyes at him, “Sure, sure. Hey, get ready; you guys are taking me out.”

          “And who said we were doing that?” Alex asked, sitting up beside Chris.

          “My father did. Now move it! We don’t have all day!” The two got up grumpily, dragging themselves out of my room. British people, I thought.

          I looked down at myself and suddenly felt self-conscious in my worn out jeans and paint splattered t-shirt. I sighed and headed for my walk-in closet. Stripping off my clothes I searched for a pair of shorts, my loose white off-the-shoulder shirt and a pink tank top. I shoved them on and slipped on some gladiator sandals. My golden dangling earrings went with my disarray of bracelets on my arms. I hopped out of my room sticking my father’s credit card into the slim wallet with the British flag on it that my friends had gotten for me. I laughed at the memory.

          Barging right into Chris’ room I noticed him making faces at his bathroom mirror. His hands framed his spiked hair while he muttered really bad pickup lines to himself.

          “Look at you,” I said, leaning against the bathroom doorframe. “Getting ready to swoon the ladies I presume.”

          “I could say the same to you,” he laughed glancing at me in the mirror. “Are you all prettied up for me or Alex?”