A Cursed Gift

Chapter One

   Seven days.

   Seven days until I meet my soulmate.

I swallow my giddy excitement to the pit of my stomach, trying not to act too happy. My best friend, Aaron, was not lucky at all with his soulmate. Annette is snide, snarky, and irritable; a complete nightmare. Nevertheless, she does have a spectacular fashion sense, and is hauntingly beautiful. She's a true princess, however stuck-up she may be.

   He's already confided to me that he doesn't like Annette at all. When I asked why, though I could easily imagine, he laughed it off with a wink. In a completely smooth way.

I am so jealous of his talent to smooth anything over with one of his killer smiles and a subtle change of topic. Mousy, awkward me can't even hope to have such strength in that area. Maybe it just comes with the title of a prince.

Buon Dio, he's late. Really late.

I let my mind wander while I wait for Aaron, and a scene pops into my head like magic. I can see God up in heaven looking down at us two babies, just me and Aaron, lying side by side, swaddled in, I don't know. Maybe clouds. He points his finger at me and speaks.

"Name the girl, uh, Celestia because it's a really elegant and unpractical name and throw her into that family, the, uh, Sciarras. They'll be thrilled to have a daughter when they wanted a son," God says, somewhat mischievously. He shifts his gaze to Aaron and smiled, sort of fatherly.

"Name him Aaron, a nice biblical name. Make him a prince and give him everything he wants. Make him beautiful, and give him the rising sun in his smile. His teeth are to be so white, they're blinding, and—" God stops, thinking. "Oh wait, that comes with the whole prince thing. Never mind." He cups his hands to his mouth. "Hey, I need the Angels of Suave, Princeship, and Klutziness!" he calls.

Three floating beings in identical long white dresses (I don't know what to call the dress things, even though it's my vision) glide into the throne room. They each hold what looks like a giant open salt shaker filled with sparkly dust.

"Good. You're here," the king of the heavens and the earth says. "Angels of Suave and Princeship, sprinkle your magic dust over the boy. Um, Angel of Klutziness, empty your canister over whatsherface, uh, Celestia."

It isn't hard to distinguish the Angels. One holds his chin high, obviously the Angel of Princeship, and one walks confidently with one eyebrow quirked up. The Angel of Suave.

And the last one, the Angel of Klutziness, trips and falls on his face smack in the middle of the throne room. He sneezes into the canister in his hands, getting magical holy being snot all over it. And that stuff is about to be all over Baby Me. Great.

Buon Dio, I think. God holds his face in his hands. I would have, too, but I don't have a body in this daydream.

Fancy and Royalty each shower Aaron with half their salt shakers, and Idiot dumps his entire thing on Baby Me. Globs of angel mucus drop onto my face and blankets. I cringe.

The dust seemed to dissolve into our bodies and Baby Me immediately rolls over onto her face, crying when she can't turn back over. Stop crying and turn over, I beg her. Have a bit of dignity, amore. She cries harder. God ignores it. I huff in frustration.

"All right," God says, appeased. "You may leave now." The Angels float back out, Idiot almost falling on his face again, only to be saved by Fancy's smooth movements. Idiot manages to fall anyway.

This time everyone put their heads in their hands.

"Angels of Deliverance, send the girl to the Sciarras, and the boy to the Royal Donahues," God says, sitting back on his throne and sighing wearily. I suppose it was difficult to run a universe by oneself.