SpinFic for Unlocked: Bad to Worse
Copyright Kit Russell, 2009. This is first draft, unedited work.
After the worst weekend of her life -- the migraine caused by the metaphoric boulder being dropped into the lake of the aetheric finally eased off sometime in the early hours of Saturday morning, but the guilt that bubbled up in the wake of the pain was almost as bad -- Michelle Faulkner went in early to Culver City High School. She let herself in and propped the door open while she looked through the mess the sub had left.
Forty-five minutes later -- still early for first period -- she heard footsteps, the turning of a key in the lock. "Sam?" She poked her head out into the hall and saw Samantha Cates. Relief flooded her, and she sagged against the door frame.
Sam looked up, and Michelle saw the fading bruise on one cheekbone. Her smile was tired, and when she spoke there was a harsh crack to her voice. "You look like hell."
"Migraine," Michelle said. They were alone in the hall, but ... "Do you have a minute?"
Sam's smile widened, and a crack on her lower lip opened. "I have my whole life."
Michelle frowned, fighting to see through the ripples and refractions that were still troubling the aetheric, as well as the hung-over feeling left over from her migraine. She managed to confirm it was Sam standing in front of her, before the pain rose up and she squeezed her eyes shut. "I'm sorry," she said.
"I'm sure the rumors must have been flying."
"I wish I'd told you. Really told you."
"Told me what?"
"Not to do that damn spell."
Silence stretched for a long moment. When Sam finally spoke, her voice was empty. "What do you mean?"
"The ritual. It was a spell. I wish I told you. I'm sorry."
"My. Daughter. Almost. Died."
"I'm sorry."
"My daughter was used as a hostage twice, God knows what they did to her but she's having nightmares every night, and all you can say is 'I'm sorry'?" Sam's voice was still dead calm.
"If I'd thought there was even a chance that you would perform the ritual, I would have warned you!"
"So why didn't you?" Sam asked. "Afraid you might look silly?"
Afraid I'd lose your friendship. Michelle felt hot, humiliating tears slip out from under her eyelids. "I fucked up, all right? If there's anything I can do ... "
Thank you," Sam said. "I think you've done enough."
In the throbbing-hot darkness behind her eyes, Michelle heard Sam's footsteps, the faint squeak of the door as Sam pushed it open. It closed with a sigh, and clicked softly shut.
After the worst weekend of her life -- the migraine caused by the metaphoric boulder being dropped into the lake of the aetheric finally eased off sometime in the early hours of Saturday morning, but the guilt that bubbled up in the wake of the pain was almost as bad -- Michelle Faulkner went in early to Culver City High School. She let herself in and propped the door open while she looked through the mess the sub had left.
Forty-five minutes later -- still early for first period -- she heard footsteps, the turning of a key in the lock. "Sam?" She poked her head out into the hall and saw Samantha Cates. Relief flooded her, and she sagged against the door frame.
Sam looked up, and Michelle saw the fading bruise on one cheekbone. Her smile was tired, and when she spoke there was a harsh crack to her voice. "You look like hell."
"Migraine," Michelle said. They were alone in the hall, but ... "Do you have a minute?"
Sam's smile widened, and a crack on her lower lip opened. "I have my whole life."
Michelle frowned, fighting to see through the ripples and refractions that were still troubling the aetheric, as well as the hung-over feeling left over from her migraine. She managed to confirm it was Sam standing in front of her, before the pain rose up and she squeezed her eyes shut. "I'm sorry," she said.
"I'm sure the rumors must have been flying."
"I wish I'd told you. Really told you."
"Told me what?"
"Not to do that damn spell."
Silence stretched for a long moment. When Sam finally spoke, her voice was empty. "What do you mean?"
"The ritual. It was a spell. I wish I told you. I'm sorry."
"My. Daughter. Almost. Died."
"I'm sorry."
"My daughter was used as a hostage twice, God knows what they did to her but she's having nightmares every night, and all you can say is 'I'm sorry'?" Sam's voice was still dead calm.
"If I'd thought there was even a chance that you would perform the ritual, I would have warned you!"
"So why didn't you?" Sam asked. "Afraid you might look silly?"
Afraid I'd lose your friendship. Michelle felt hot, humiliating tears slip out from under her eyelids. "I fucked up, all right? If there's anything I can do ... "
Thank you," Sam said. "I think you've done enough."
In the throbbing-hot darkness behind her eyes, Michelle heard Sam's footsteps, the faint squeak of the door as Sam pushed it open. It closed with a sigh, and clicked softly shut.