Star-Crossed

Chapter Four: To the ends of the Earth, would you follow me?

AFTER I FINISH MY FOOD, I begin to walk back to my place since the library, the Chinese restaurant and at least a hundred other shops and restaurants are all only a short walk away from home.

I walk slowly, dragging my feet along the sidewalk. People walk quickly, some of them bumping into me and muttering half-assed apologies, some of them walking around me. The sun has completely fallen behind the horizon now, but the light from the buildings surrounding us illuminates the way.

I'm trying very hard to deny that it was Xerxion, but at the same time, there's some part of me that can't deny it. I clutch the bag full of steamed pork buns, fortune cookies, and a spring roll-my favorite things from the Chinese restaurant, they are so good I've taken home extras-and continue shuffling down the sidewalk.

My birthmark no longer aches, so in that retrospect, it's almost as if I imagined the whole thing. Yet, I can still recall the intense pain of my birthmark as it began to ache. I can remember him touching the very same spot Xerxion's birthmark would be. The way he had stepped forward as if there was some invisible string pulling him toward me, is etched in memory.

Whether I'm hallucinating or not, I know one thing: I don't want to forget it.

I turn up the familiar street full of white picket fences and large homes. It's not the typical glamour people are used to seeing in Los Angeles, but it's still a beautiful community. The grass on every lawn is well-kept, the neighbors are typically friendly. In the summers, like now, you could see kids playing on the lawns and you could smell barbecues during the fourth of July. Hell, you could smell barbecues all summer long.

"Ohmigod, Rania, is that you?" Screeches a familiar, shrilly voice.

I stiffen. Literally, every muscle in my back is tight as I turn to face where the voice is coming from.

"Amanda," I greet her stiffly. "Hey."

Amanda Harris is exactly the kind of girl you should try to avoid at all costs. She has auburn hair which is long, flowing over her smooth pale shoulders like a reddish-brown wave. She has big green eyes, alight with false innocence. Her eyes are pretty, deep like an abyss and coated by perfectly applied eye shadow and an eyeliner wing that could cut you if you aren't careful. Her lips are curved in a smile that drips with false sincerity, her lips covered with a lipstick that suits her well.

Amanda was one of the first people to flock to me. I was a freshman at the time and I became popular instantly. The rumors of my curse had spread and most girls avoided me, Amanda included. However, when boys from the junior and senior classes started hanging around me, Amanda wasted no time in trying to cozy up to me. She is a snake in its truest form. She always calls me her best friend when we are face to face like this, but I've heard her talk trash about me and spread rumors that weren't true.

All in all, I don't care for her much. High school is a short milestone to the rest of our lives, so I let Amanda think I don't know how she talks about me behind my back. I let her believe I'm as naïve to her false friendship as she thinks I am.

"I thought that was you," she smiles, jutting out her hip, placing her hand on said hip, and tossing her hair back at the same time. A motion she has perfected in the last two years. "What are you doing out so late?"

"I got a new job," I answer slowly, unwillingly. "I just got back from there."

She eyes the bag in my hand, squinting my eyes as she reads the Chinese store's logo. Her nose crinkles with disgust, her eyes gazing at me like I'm a pig covered in slop.

"Chinese food? Do you have any idea how many calories you've ingested?"

I sigh, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. Everything is always about calories, sex or social media with Amanda. Sometimes, I have a great urge to punch her in the face. It's a wonder I've held myself back this long.