The Girl Who Could Change Fate

Chapter 1: Lacey Joy White-3

“That would ruin your day,” Jaiden agreed, nodding. “But you're not angry at him.”

It was a statement, not a question, and it only pronounced how well he knew me.

“Er—no.”

“It seems typical he would do such a thing. You understand that. But you also accept that rather willingly and without asserting yourself.” He glanced at me curiously. “You do that a lot, but is it your choice?”

I knew he was simply talking and not admitting the truth that I was just a gigantic tool. Yet it was what I wanted to hear, and Jaiden always had a knack for giving me what I wanted when I wanted it.

Like that slurpee, I thought, as we pulled into 7-11.

“Yes, I guess it is my choice,” I replied, unbuckling my seat belt and getting out of the vehicle. “I'm just Fate's tool.”

“Even when you can manipulate the future in little ways, you consider yourself that?” he inquired, performing likewise.

He locked the car with a click of his keys, though robbers wouldn't have a difficult time merely clambering over the doors.

“Since when have I not been a tool?” I countered, a grin towing at my mouth.

I walked alongside him uneasily to the entrance. Being next to a six-foot-one figure who I crushed on when I was only five-three really made me uncomfortable.

“Choosing to be one rather than simply being one makes all the difference in the world,” Jaiden said, chivalrously holding open the door for me,

I always enjoyed his philosophy. It was deep, and listening made me feel smarter than I really was. Unfortunately, I didn't understand half of it.

We were in and out in a matter of minutes; and when we returned to the car, I was guzzling down a delicious strawberry slurpee while he measurably drained a blueberry one.

It was a clear, beautiful day with not a sighting of clouds roaming the azure heavens, and the brilliant ball of dazzling sun was casting down its radiant rays. Jaiden resolved to wear his thin black shades before putting the car in drive. I was very aware of this, as it made him appear more like a model than usual. I was also very aware that I just spilled strawberry slurpee all over my orange t-shirt during my googly-eyed goggle. I hope he hadn't noticed.

The drive home took us out of the more urbanized part of town and into the suburbs. I mostly liked where I lived. It was quiet, controlled, peaceful, with a few fun places existing in the neighborhood, such as food joints and playgrounds. Trinity's house was also several blocks away.

I never determined where Jaiden's residence was established. I always assumed it was one of the wealthier structures on the other side of town, but I couldn't be sure. He refused to tell me, yet it was in a playful manner, as if he enjoyed teasing me about it. Maybe he really feared that one night he'd wake up and I'd be in bed beside him. Ha-ha, no, that was a joke, even though my w***e of a mind liked it.

We small-talked the rest of the way, my depression and abject spirits gradually diminishing as we jested with one another and discussed inconsequential matters. Like before, it was what I wanted. A light break from reality and the horrors of today, so by the time he dropped me off, I was very reluctant to leave the vehicle.

“I'll see you Thursday,” said Jaiden as I stepped out of the car and retrieved my bag from the backseat with as much disinclination as I could muster. “And as a heads up, try to have next Friday night open, will you?”

My head snapped up so fast I could hear my neck crack.

“Why?”

All he did was smile, displaying a row of sparkling white teeth.

“Bye, Lacey Joy White.”

He drove off after that. I couldn't help but imitate his grin. 'Course, my teeth would never be that dazzling in a million years.

I always liked it when he used my full name, not that there was anything unique about it. But maybe that was why I loved it so: it was an image of myself—plain, average, the everyday type person. Still, whoever thought that giving me a middle name of Joy…my life was anything but.

I was pretty chill with it.

My house was a little small, a little dilapidated, and a little more than in need of a garden. It was a soft, slate blue, with pale yellow shutters that looked slightly odd amidst the bare desolation of lack of plants and flowers. Only my parched brown grass could be counted as flora, or the tall dogwood tree I used to climb when I was younger but was now wilting in the early autumn of October.

It was home.

I marched up my crumbling paved driveway and stepped on the smooth stone of the patio before knocking. On my own door. Yeah, I know—it was ironic.

My least favorite person in the world answered. Jimmy Carson was a plump, grubby man who really needed to shave. His head composed itself of a few sparse hairs and a large bald spot that easily reflected the sun in its patch of skin. His chubby face was always coated in slick sweat, as if he benched a few pounds 24/7, while his hollowed, hazel eyes oozed a sullen anger that could be kindled any second.

“Why are you here so late?” he demanded, a stealthy threat just lurking beneath his deadly soft voice.

Normally, I would have been frightened by that question and tone, but as Jimmy asked the same thing every day when I came home from school, it was more than redundant, even boring. His stab at intimidation fell flat.

“Three fifteen. That's when I always get here,” I reminded him, shoving past his rather broad blockage of the doorway. He didn't like that, but hell, it was my house—I could do what I wanted. And it was no matter that he thought he owned the place, I would never agree to his permanent residence. Ever. Especially since he didn't do s**t around here except abuse my mom. He was a typical raging drunk boyfriend.

I quickly avoided the inevitable argument glissading on his lips by slamming the door shut and stalking up the nearby stairs to my cozy bedroom. In my opinion, it was the best area in the house. Of course, posters of my favorite bands and movies plastering the walls might have had something to make it that. Still, it was a stark contrast to the dreary, barren cubicles of the rest of my home. I used to have fun growing up here, when I was too young to realize how depressing it truly was—I mean, Trinity and I had always enjoyed pretending the moth-eaten, puke-green couch downstairs was actually a monster, and sitting outside in the backyard during the dog days to lick up juice from honeysuckles had been a summer dream. But then puberty hit, and suddenly none of those games seemed as interesting. So, naturally, I tended to duplicate a mole and hole myself up in my own room all afternoon instead.

There was a rickety desk in the corner that matched the burnished yellow hue of the walls (hey, the color of daisies and sunshine brighten my day in the morning before it turns to complete s**t—I think I deserve some measure of happiness in my suckfest of a life). Next, I had an old, small television which stood on my drawer. I'd received it as a present from my grandmother when I was five years of age, so it ranked pretty high among my items of importance, as I had always enjoyed watching Tom and Jerry late into the night as a little girl. Its one regret was that it only partly blocked the large, hideous mirror I didn't like to peer into, mainly because it bore a huge crack in it that made me look twice as ugly. The only other furniture in my room was my highly comfortable bed. Green and yellow sheets were lazily strewn over the feathery mattress, invoking a summery feeling I couldn't find anywhere else in the house. It was here that I plopped onto in a dozy haze. The cotton of the blankets was tempting my eyes to droop into blissful sleep, but before I could fully slip off—

My cell phone vibrated in my pocket. I already knew who it was.

Reluctantly, I took it out and flipped it open to the sound of Trinity's shrill voice.

“So, how did it go?”

I didn't need to inquire of what she meant. Most Tuesdays and Thursdays, as soon as I arrived home, she would call and demand how my brief time with Jaiden went. She knew who he was, just not how a surly, greasy-haired, green-eyed freak like me got to hang around him every so often. It was clear she did a little more than admire his gorgeous appearance—every woman did. But the one day when Key Club had been canceled for who-knows-what-reason, Jaiden had offered to take her home, and I was sure he hadn't enjoyed her blatant attempts at flirtation or her drooling gaze. After all, it had been completely over-the-top, like she was as drunk as Jimmy Carson on a Friday night. Needless to say, he hoped there would be no more cancellations of Key Club for the rest of the year.

I responded in a sluggish slur. “Good, it was all good. We went to 7-11, talked about Alex, and…my gift.”

The last was a whisper. I had always been aware that my walls were very thin, and experience had reinforced that. On more than one occasion, my mom or her douchebag boyfriend had overheard me discussing my power on the phone with either Trinity or Jaiden. Phrases such as “Change Fate” and “alter the future” aren't exactly popular lingo today. Neither mentioned my oddness, yet I could tell they thought me a queerball through the “WTF” glimpses they shot me over dinner. I was kinda indifferent to it.

Among the little of my friends, Trinity was the only one I had informed of my “gift.” She had thought it a lame joke at first, but after “wishes” of mine were occurring as fast as the eye could blink, she seemed to accept it. She had taken it in stride as well, which I couldn't have hoped for more.

“Ooh, so it was, like, a deep talk?” she queried.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“How'd he look?” It was an abrupt question.

“Same, just this time with a purple tie,” I replied.

For two girls to be discussing one little clothing difference of the guy we crushed on…what kind of desperation did that show?

“I bet he was delicious.”

I tried not imagining the look on Trinity's face at that moment.

“Yeah, so, I'm kinda tired. Can I call you later?”

She sniffed impatiently from the other end. “Sure, I understand. Talk to you later.”

I snapped my phone closed and joyously shut my eyes.

The events that had happened so far today were harassing my mind. Alex using me for his own gains. Trinity and I talking about his betrayal over lunch. Jaiden asking to have next Friday night open. My gift.

I knew I still liked Alex despite his recent manipulation. My heart simply wouldn't let go of him, although he didn't prize me in any way. Probably never would. I had acted extremely sensitive over him today, yet at the same time I chose to forgive him. And to keep on chugging regardless that I accepted the illusion that my attempts would acquire him sooner or later. After all, as I mentioned before, I could be pretty damn careless. For him, for anyone else. Even for Changing Fate.