Where Hands Meet

 

Hell. That would perfectly describe the predicament I was currently in. I could feel the stares of the current crowd who had gathered to see what was happening, even though I wish I couldn’t. They looked at me like a child would if I told them that Santa was really just their parents, and sorry to those of you whose hopes I brutally murdered. Let’s take a step back to this morning.

I woke up at 8 A.M., which might I add was much too early for my liking, to go on a road trip with my friend to a small town called Fatum. Famous for its small, obscure stores and scenic views, people rarely visited the town. Don’t be mistaken by the description--the town is small, but some of the people there are not your everyday type. It’s like Hansel and Gretel going to the candy house--the candy is like the people when they’re nice, and the witch is like them when you tick them off. I thought nothing of the road trip, since I always got dragged along by Kenna, the girl you could call my only friend. She’s the stereotypical pretty girl with plenty of friends to go around to people like me.  Despite us being polar opposites, we got along really well.I guess sharing my Oreo’s in Kindergarten got me a quality friendship.

After a rude awakening, I shooed Kenna out of my room so I could get ready for another “marvelous day”. I pulled on some of my normal clothes and walked to the mirror that hung on the doorframe of my room. Everywhere you look books fill the bookshelves and band posters hang, suffocating the walls. As I walked to the mirror I saw my reflection. With a 5’7” height I had long black hair that went midway to my back and a lanky, tall figure. Once I was ready, I opened the door; Kenna stared in shock. Pushing me back into my room she chose an “appropriate outfit”. Obviously my band t-shirts didn’t work for her. After about a half an hour of debate we left. I was wearing the band t-shirt and one heck of a grin on my face.

                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Isn’t this amazing? It’s beautiful!” Kenna exhaled in awe, gazing at the town as she motioned her arms outwards.

 I had to admit it was a rather exquisite. Little bookstores and cafés lined the streets where other large apartments rose up from behind. Some vines twirled up the sides of the buildings and the scent of lilacs filled the air. This is rather homely; maybe Kenna does have good taste. The breeze gently swirled around me as the sun radiated across my face. I actually felt content--well, at least for the moment.

“We should try following their way of life today.” Kenna stated happily, picking up a map from a dispenser outside of the Tourist building.

I nodded in response as we walked around.

“Ooh! We should try this!” she pointed pastel boutique store, my worst nightmare.

I walked over to the brick wall and lazily leaned against it as she went into a small store. Glancing around I noticed carving on the wall. Walking up to it I saw it had two hand prints embossed in it and words carved below stating: Place one hand here and have a stranger place their hand on the other one, remove when you are friends. Curiosity got the better of me so I tentatively placed my hand on one of the hands. To say curiosity killed the cat would be an understatement. It brutally murdered the cat to the point where you couldn’t tell what form it was in.

“This won’t ever work.” I laughed harshly.

“Don’t be so sure about that.” a deep voice rang behind me, followed by some comments from his little peanut gallery. There behind me was a man with a 5’10” stature, a body that looked like he worked for some cliche over expensive store, and dark brown wavy hair that occasionally pulled his hand through. In other words, he was not my type. At all.

“Yes! It worked!” Kenna jumped up and down, hugging the guys, which to my dismay happened to be her friends.

“I’m leaving.” I stated but as I removed my hand people started to gather and look at us in shock.

“You can’t ma’am. You’ve now entered Typis Amor, the old legend. It’s our culture and you sure don’t wanna mess around with the culture. It’s destiny that you two must become friends or you’ll pay the price.” the village man slightly turned his head as he spoke, which was beginning to freak me out.

So here we are. Hell. The guy who had spoken to me’s hand was now on the other hand of the wall, a small crowd gathering to make sure I didn’t leave. Crap.

“You look like one of those people that likes their own picture.” I sneered.

“Excuse me, but what pickup line works best for you? I can’t think of any compliments offhand. Normally it doesn’t take this long for a girl to fall for me.” he shot back, attempting to boast his physique.

His comment was returned with my famous death glare. He’s so conceited it’s like he’s a walking mirror house. My sarcasm left my mouth before I could even stop it.

“Have we met before?” I asked, “You remind me of the trash I took out this morning.”

“I’m not sure why. I’m a poetic masterpiece. A lady’s man.” he replied, “You wouldn’t understand. Garbage is the only thing you’ve ever taken out, isn’t it?”

“I’m afraid not. I’ve never taken out a ‘poetic masterpiece’ either.” I removed my hand from the paper, realizing the crowd had left, “You want some poetry? Row row row your boat, gently off a bridge to your impending death.”

“Shh! Don’t say that!” Kenna squealed.

The man stared at me with shock, generating a small gasp, “I would rather fall off of a bridge than be with you. Your negativity is just killing my fabulous image!”

“Kenna. Let’s buy some glasses.” I stated, leaving the wall “If that’s your ‘fabulous image’, I need to get my eyes checked.”

“Wait! This is your chance Skye! Don’t let it go to waste!” Kenna hissed at me, turning to the guy, “Well, are you coming? My friend wants you to--obviously! She’s never spoken to a guy this long!”

After what seemed like a century, we decided to go to a small café at the edge of the town near Transuerso Bay. As we entered, high-pitched bells chimed. We walked up the aisles to find some booth seats. Sadly, this included airhead boy, a.k.a. the man with an ego so large that it could barely fit in the building. I came to learn the names of the guys. There was Aaron, the airhead boy who was excessively narcissistic. Then there’s West and Levi who were both blonde twins. Levi had a front wave and was slightly taller than Aaron, probably because of his hair, and had a muscular structure. All these guys could pass for models, and it didn’t surprise me that they were friends with Kenna. West had the same figure as his brother but had tousled hair. Then there’s Dustin and Dane, Dustin with light brown hair that was disheveled and messy and Dane with a black super short hair.

With the day winding down and coming to an end Kenna and I said our goodbyes and got into her car to get ready to leave. It was actually kind of a fun day. Besides Aaron, all the other guys were pretty nice. Kenna yelled out the window saying how we would see each other soon and then we drove off.

About a half an hour into driving, the car started to sputter so we pulled off to the shoulder of the road. The car backfired, followed by a large cloud of white smoke streaming from the tail -pipe and up through the hood. On the highway, car whizzed past us without a glance at us as we stood sulking.

“The engine is gone. Rest in peace buddy.” Kenna patted the hood of the car.

“So now what? I’m not hitchhiking!”

After a few phone calls Kenna said a friend would be picking us up. Luckily we weren’t that far from home. A half an hour went by slowly as we counted cars and played I Spy, yes, it came down to playing I Spy, when her friends finally arrived.

“Get in losers, I knew you’d come back.” Aaron commented as he rolled down the window and winked, “You still need to get your eyes checked.”