Sinners | ✔

Chapter 5 : Meeting Place

Ace

The movement of the bus jostles its passengers in their seats, leaving us to feel like scrambled eggs as we come to a screeching halt.

Absentmindedly, I tune into the steady beat that my headphones provide.

Having been whisked away to a much simpler world, I almost don't notice the subtle tap of slender fingers against my shoulder.

Looking up, an unfamiliar girl fills my field of vision. Had it not been a normal occurence, I would have been startled.

Taking a closer look at her, only then do I get the sense that there is something terribly off about her.

Whispy layered bangs with pink streaks running through them, combat her angular jawline.

Making my way to her outfit, I notice something similar about her style.
She must have noticed it too, because she stretches out her boot to tap mine.

A mirror clone of the boots I'm wearing.

A silent understand is transmitted through the air around us. While making room for her, I then am able to pin point what feels off about her.

Her skin is a shade lighter than the average pale, casting hazy milk like shadows.

"Quit staring." She hisses at only a frequency we can hear.

Clearing my throat, now seems like the perfect time for an introduction.
"I'm Ace A--"

"Abella, yes, I know." She grumbles.

She cut me off? The audacity it must take. Sensing my fuse growing ever shorter, she holds out her hand.

"S-sorry, I guess. I'm Alma Agust." Noticing her name, I shrink back into the seat, dismissing her hand completely.

The info on Alma is to be said that she used to steal from the estates where her mother worked. She was a cleaning lady amongst the wealthy.

If the gossip is to be trusted, she would steal first a braclet here and a hair clip there. Until it became much too big for her mother to cover for her.

On the day she went to turn her daughter in, she was found at the bottom of a grand staircase.

The authorities speculated that she was pushed over the banister of the grand staircase by none other than her daughter.

Not sure if I can trust the accusations or Alma, I opt out of the handshake.
Turning to her, I ask a much more pressing matter.

"Do you know who else is apart of the eighteen?"

If anyone would know it would be her. Just by looking at her, I can tell her demeanor is often solemn. Making it easy to forget she's there.

"I caught a peak at her clip board, but I got distracted."
Her words ring through the air, leading to my next question.

"You don't strike me as the type that would let their guard down enough to get distracted." Even I can't miss the tone of accusation in my voice.

Catching on, she whips her artificial brown eyes to mine.

"I'm not." She snaps, proceeding to pick up in a hushed tone. "No one has been that unconditionally kind to me despite my past."

That I do understand. Dekka, as snarky, sarcastic, and arrogant as she was, she put my comfort first.

My mind projects a scene from earlier. The scene where Dekka cradled me in a hug without a second thought.

The first flash of my memory that didn't twist my insides.

As if to make up for it, I reach for Alma's cold yet delicate hand. With her fingers in my grasp, I gently shake her hand.

What I think is a smile twists on her lips. For a moment I can't help to hold that same smile.

Like all good things, the moment doesn't last. Our smiles fade as a thick piece of crisp card stock appear in each of our hands.

Glancing at Alma, I read the message off my card.

"Fates, what a lovely day. Attached to each card is a gift that you must wear. These pins keep me closer to you. If you refuse to wear them, you refuse my help. Then not even I can help save you. I will meet with you in the empty school gymn at dusk. Beware, be square, and you'd better be there."

Unable to move, Alma makes a show of fastening her pin to the white collar of her shirt.

Then with the grace of a ballerina, she pins my pin to my collar. As she finishes, I examine the pins.

Her's is a coffin, while mine is a bloody ax...