Zara's Curse (Empire of Fangs) (4 page)

5.

Their usual hangover breakfast spot had closed down—a popular rumor circulated around town that drugs had been dealt from the kitchen—so instead they decided to go over to Tony’s Diner on 19
^th
.
 

Twig parked his faded old Scout a block up from Zara’s place.
 
The old truck was from the 60’s and had the original shovel that came attached to the side of it.
 
Twig was always having it worked on.
 
The thing hardly ever left the shop.
 
It was rusty and rattled and banged violently when it hit the smallest of bumps in the road.

“That place is so pricey,” Zara whined as she climbed into the passenger seat.
 
She only had the twenty dollars her dad had left for pizza and a handful of change she had scooped out of her “savings” jar on top of the fridge.
 

“I gotcha Zar. Made good tips last night,” Twig waved a wad of bills around before shoving it back into his pocket.
 
After about a dozen tries he was able to start the car and the stereo erupted with
Gouge Away
by The Pixies
.
 
Zara flinched and turned it down a little.
 

“Ah yes, at the mystery job you refuse talk about.” Zara said. She put her fingers on her temples. “You so are a male stripper. I can sense it.”
 

Twig was being very mysterious about what he did for a living lately, and whenever Zara tried to pry, he always would shrug and change the subject.
 
When she really pressed him, he would start singing
Hakuna Matata
from
The Lion King
, or a
Whole New World
from
Aladdin
, which he had memorized just to annoy Zara.
 
This time though, his face darkened and looked very serious.
 

“I guess I should just tell you then. Although it might put your life in danger,” he said ominously.

Zara’s eyes widened mischievously and she leaned towards him.
 
“What is it?”

Twig looked forward still, with a steely expression on his face he took a deep breath and said: “I’m Batman.”
 
He sounded exactly like the gravelly voice of Christian Bale.
 
They both laughed and Zara slapped his arm playfully.
 

“Jerk,” she added after the laughter had died down.
 
As long as the pancakes were free, she couldn’t say much.
 

Twig always drove like a madman, roaring through the narrow streets of Capitol Hill like he was driving on the Serengeti plains and coming inches from the other parked cars.
 
It made Zara incredibly nervous.
 
Once, when he was trying to get her to one of her classes that she was very late for, he had clipped a car and sent the car’s side mirror flying into the street, and without even slowing down, he shook his head and said “crazy parkers.”

Tony’s was close though, and in a few minutes they were pulling into the parking lot.
 
Zara breathed a sigh of relief that she had survived another trip in the Scout.

“Look at it.
 
It’s glorious,” Twig said, pointing to the patio of Tony’s diner.
  
There were other groups of weary looking people wearing thick sunglasses and shoveling down plates of deliciousness.
 
The sweet aroma of maple syrup and bacon made her dizzy with anticipation.

There was a group of people waiting for tables when they got in.
 
Twig walked up to the hostess and waved his hand at the girl and said in monotone, “You
will
give us food.”
 
The woman told him to wait like all the others.

The two sat down on an empty bench opposite a hungry-looking couple and their bored- looking kids.

 
“That usually works.
 
Guess we wait,” Twig said.

Zara shrugged.
  
She was suddenly reminded about Micah turning that stone-faced cop into putty with only a few choice words.
 
She shivered for a moment, but then thought of Micah’s eyes and started to daydream.
 
For a moment, her mind was filled with that vibrant shade of blue and silver.
 

“Sollero? Party of 2?”
 
The hostess announced, and Twig gave Zara a light shake.

“Hey Zar.
 
Stare into space much?”
 
He asked.
 

“Uh…I…was thinking about school work,” she lied.

“Well, you were thinking about it pretty hard, because I went to the little boy’s room and came back and you were still staring off like that.
 
You know, if this was a
Nightmare on Elm Street
movie, you would be like, the first one to die.”

She rolled her eyes and shoved him.
 
She was playing it off, but she now saw that the family in front of her had already been seated and she hadn’t even noticed.
 
It felt like she’d only spaced out for a few seconds. She wondered what was going on with her.
 

The hostess took them to an open table on the patio.
 
Twig ordered a giant carafe of orange juice and half the menu.
 
Zara ordered herself a stack of buttermilk pancakes.
 

“So, this school project of yours, he wouldn’t be a guy you met at the Church last night?”
 
Twig said dryly.
 
A drop of orange juice was clinging to his mustache.
  

Zara reached over and wiped his face with a napkin.
 
Then she said calmly, “Yes, I met a nice guy.
 
He gave me a ride home and I gave him my number.
 
Nothing as depraved as you might hope.
 
It was all very Disney.”
 

Twig made a face, “And does this gentleman caller have a name?
 
Wait.
 
Let me guess.
 
Draven Darkshadow?”
 
The waitress brought the food and Zara breathed in the sweet aroma of melting butter on pancake.

“Actually, Micah,” Zara replied.

“Mike-ah,” Twig repeated in a child-like, mocking voice. “Well.
 
That’s still a weird one.” Zara and Twig had always been ‘just friends’, but she detected more than just a tinge of jealousy in his voice.

“Says a boy named Twig,” she teased, before taking a big bite of pancake and closing her eyes in ecstasy.

“Hey now. A
man
named Twig,” he corrected. The table went quiet as they both focused on silently devouring their meals.
 
Afterwards they both slouched in their chairs and made satisfied noises.

On their way out, Zara got a new text.
 
She quickly checked it.
 
It was a new number.
 

The text read:
Hey it’s Micah.
 
Having a party tonight at my house if you’re free.

Twig had come over to inspect, rubbing his stomach and yawning.
 
“Is that Drave… err…Micah?”
 

Zara smiled at him—he just couldn’t help himself.
 
“Tis’ my knight in shining armor.
 
Who is apparently having a party tonight.” She felt a quiver of excitement run up her spine.
 
Did he really like her?

They went out together to the Scout, moving slowly across the hot parking lot.
 
Zara wondered how to answer Micah’s invitation.
 
She always had a hell of a time coming up with a response to people she liked.
 
She overanalyzed every possible angle of how a reply could be interpreted. She typed a few potential responses before deleting each one.

Twig started up the car and looked over at Zara.
 
He looked a bit like an old-timey pilot, the lost third Wright Brother.
 
“I’m like, totally free tonight,” he said.
 
I would be honored to squire you to your fancy-pants party.”
 

Zara smiled and texted Micah back.
 
Can I bring a friend?
 

She immediately worried after sending it that Micah would think this
friend
was really a
boyfriend
.
 
A text came back with lightning speed.

Of course.
 
My address is 1327 Pearl Street.
 
The big stone house
.
 

Zara knew exactly which house was “The big stone house,” on Pearl Street.
 
She walked by it every day on her way to her bus stop and often fantasized about it being her house.
 
She’d even constructed an elaborate fantasy about how she would explain exactly what color drapes she wanted to an interior decorator, and how when someone noticed the million-dollar Cezanne hanging in the living room she would very casually say “Oh, that thing?
 
Pretty neat, huh?” The house looked like a small castle and it dwarfed the other big houses around it.
 
Built out of big blocks of grey stone and about three stories tall, with a balcony that jutted from the second floor, it always seemed to have a few people on it living out their carefree lives, sipping on fancy micro-brew beers and laughing loudly.
 
On the outside gate there was a sign that said:
 
“This is a residence. We don’t offer tours, sorry.”
 

She told Twig where the party was.

“I know that house.
 
Hmm.
 
Well.
 
Interesting,” he said.
 
She waited for him to make a joke, but he just kept quiet and drove, seemingly lost in what he found so interesting.

6.

Twig dropped Zara off at home, and told her he would be back at nine to pick her up for the party.
 
She told him not to wear that shirt and he laughed and drove off.

Zara had started to worry about Abby.
 
Zara had called her several times and gotten her voicemail again.
 
After she had paced her apartment a few dozen times, she finally broke down and called Abby’s mother’s number, which she kept only for emergencies.
 
Norah Winters.
 
Zara let out a long sigh while she dialed.
 
Even Abby seemed warm and downright friendly compared to her rigid mother.
 
After a few rings a very tired-sounding Norah answered.
 

“Yes, what is it, who is this?” Norah asked.

“Hi, um…it’s Zara.
 
I was just checking on Abby, I haven’t seen her lately and—”

The voice cut like a cleaver.
 
“Yes, she is fine.
 
She is in her room.
 
A very nice young man brought her home after you left her at some bar downtown, which by the way, was very thoughtful of you.”

Zara began to protest, but Norah was not one to be told she was wrong or misinformed.

“I think it’s best for all parties if you leave Abby alone.
 
She needs to spend time with people who are more goal-orientated, not…party girls.
 
It’s about time you two part ways.”

Before Zara could even give Norah a piece of her mind the call was ended.
 
Zara stormed to her room and flopped down on her bed.
 

I left her at the bar?
 
I ran off with some strange guy? The nerve of that girl!

Zara decided right there and then that she didn’t need Abby Winters in her life.
 
Abby had enough footstools to stand on.
 
But it was what Norah had said about having no goals that really bothered her.
 
That was about
all
she had these days.
 

Something inside her told she shouldn’t go to the party.
 
That she should stay home and finish her paper for class.
 
But something else inside was pushing her to go.
 
She just couldn’t pass up a chance to see the inside of her dream home and hangout with her dream guy who just so happened to live there.
 

While she lay there she wondered what Micah did for a living.
 
If he lived in a mansion he probably didn’t do much of anything.
 
His parents were probably loaded.
 
Or maybe he was one of those internet guys who invented some viral app or something.
 
She spent a few minutes wondering if a major in Art and a minor in History was a really foolish idea.
 
This led to a very jarring vision of her sitting at a Starbucks, in her fifties, frazzled and sleep-deprived, tapping on a laptop, trying to make a logo for some garage door company so that she could stave off an eviction notice from her studio apartment.
 
She shivered.
 
The horror…the horror…

She decided she should take a nap before getting ready for the party.
 
She threw on her
sleep
playlist on her
IPod and closed her eyes.
 
She found it was easy to fall to sleep thinking of Micah.