Needle in a Haystack

Musings

Emily gasped and scrambled from her bed, got tangled in the comforter and fell flat on her face. The gentle chimes of her phone's alarm clock became more insistent as she sat on her floor rubbing her nose, checking for carpet burn. Satisfied that she wasn't going to walk into class looking like Rudolf the red-nosed reindeer walking into class, she extricated herself from the blanket and fumbled with her phone to turn off the alarm. Glancing at the screen as she mashed the off button, her heart dropped. It had been going off for half an hour. The chimes were on a cycle, but that meant she had to have slept through it half a dozen times at least. She plugged her phone into the charger, and scrambled up to get dressed, suddenly glad she had taken a shower the night before.

'Or... this morning, I guess,' she thought as she pulled clean clothes out of her closet, not really caring what she threw on.

'Ooo, the purple one,' Ember insisted when Emily grabbed a red and black sundress she had found at a discount store. 'Also, it's OK to think of it as last night. If you start getting technical, we'll both get thrown off on days of the week.'

Emily paused, considering what Ember was suggesting. She couldn't see any harm in her logic, though she doubted that would be enough to help her keep her days straight. She honestly didn't know how anyone functioned without a mental counterpart, but she had never had to. Everyone born as a were-creature had their counterpart from birth. There were rumors that a mundane destined mate could become a were-creature through the claiming and would gain a counterpart after their first shift, but it was illegal to expose the supernatural to a mundane, punishable by imprisonment or even death if the incident was bad enough. Depending on how many mundanes were affected, how big the exposure, changed the sentencing in accordance with The Accords. Now, even if your destined mate was mundane, no one dared risk it. Better to reject your mate and live the rest of your life heartbroken, according to every pack they'd ever been a part of.

On autopilot, Emily finished getting dressed in a purple and black sun dress with knee-high white socks and skater shoes and wandered into the kitchen hoping for some breakfast, but was pulled from her musings when the refrigerator proved to be empty. Her mother must have finished her dinner or taken it for lunch today. She shut the fridge, sadly wondering if she was going to eat today, and walked over to check the pantry. There were three cans of vegetables, a bottle of hot sauce, and a box of cheese crackers.

'Score!,' she thought and snatched up the cheese crackers, munching on a handful while she continued her search, not wanting to get yelled at for eating all of her mother's only snack food in the house. She opened the freezer last and crowed triumphantly when she found microwavable meat hand-pies. She pulled one out of the wrapper and popped it in the microwave on an old chipped ceramic plate and set the timer for two minutes. To distract herself while that cooked, she went back to her room and pulled out what little makeup she owned from the bottom of her backpack. She regarded herself in the mirror as she fiddled with her hair, finally deciding on her usual high, tight ponytail. A little eyeliner, some eye shadow, and mascara later, and she was ready to eat, then face the world.

She checked her phone and realized she would miss the bus if she sat down to eat, so she slung on her backpack and grabbed her food as she walked out the door, leaving the box of cheese crackers open on the counter and the plate in the sink. She locked up the apartment and inhaled the meat pie as she walked to the bus stop in the afternoon heat.

She made it to the single short bench and metal pole with the little blue sign right as the bus pulled up, and cued up behind the people that had been waiting in the sun. By the time she made it onto the bus and took her seat, even her eyelids were sweating, and she was forcibly reminded why wearing makeup was a bad idea in Phoenix in the summer. She shook her head, remembering when her mother had gotten her eyebrow penciling and eyeliner tattooed on so she wouldn't have to worry about them running ever again. It didn't stop her mascara from running when she cried though, and her mother seemed to like to cry. Even when Anna had a boyfriend or even a husband, Emily would find her asleep on the couch in the middle of the night with a box of tissues and the TV on to some sappy movie or other. Emily struggled with sadness enough in her life that seeking out something to be sad about seemed like masochism. Although, she mused, her mother always sought out cheesy movies when she was in a happy relationship, usually before the other shoe dropped. Maybe there was more to it than masochism.

By the time Emily made it to school, she had ten minutes to get to class and was kicking herself for sleeping in, then taking so long to get ready. She had hoped to have more time to search for him before class started, but as she trudged into the building through the heavy double doors, she spotted him leaning against the walk in the main intersection of the hallway. He wasn't freakishly tall, but his eyes scanned over the heads of the crowd before locking onto her. He pushed off the walk and started stalking in her direction, the crowd parting around him like the wake of a boat. He looked so fierce as he approached that, though the crowd glanced at his face, they quickly looked away and drew no attention to themselves.