A Heck of a Hex

Chapter 2

“I’m an outcast,” Dalia sobbed.

 “Everyone ignores me; no one will let me sit with them. I feel like a leper.”

“I’m sorry this is happening to you,” Lucille said. “I’m sure this will all smooth over in no time; you’ll be back on the fast track to being popular again in no time.”

“I don’t think this is going to blow over anytime soon,” Dalia lamented. “I don’t think I’m going to play basketball next year; my heart’s not in it.”

“But you’ve got to,” Lucille protested. “Basketball is your life.” Then the bell rang. Dalia wiped tears away. “Got to get to class,” she said. Lucille’s heart sank; her sister was in this mess because of her. If she hadn’t hit Colleen her sister would still be popular.

Chapter 3

Dalia and Lucille sat beside each other in the very back of the bus. Dalia sat next to the window. She wanted to avoid the cruel stares of her angry peers. The bus hit every speed bump along the way; it jostled the passengers all around. Dalia barely even noticed while she stared out the window. Her stomach growled with hunger because she had skipped lunch. The bus let Dalia and Lucille off at their stop. Dalia plodded down the aisle with her head down. She felt the eyes of her classmates bore into her stomach. The bus driver gently grabbed Dalia’s wrist. “Cheer up,” the bus driver said. “It’s not the end of the world.” With that comment, the bus driver released her grip.

Once inside her home, Dalia headed into the kitchen. She grabbed two bananas, a bottle of water, and locked herself in her bedroom. Next, Lucille locked on the door.

“Leave me alone!” Dalia shouted.

“Let me in,” Lucille pleaded. “I want to talk things over.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Dalia said. “My life is over.”

At dinner that night, Bob and Flo noticed Dalia’s somber mood.

“What’s wrong?” Flo asked. “I don’t want to talk about it,” Dalia insisted.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Bob began.

“If something is bothering you, why don’t you tell your mother and me. We’d be glad to help.

“This isn’t something you can fix,” Dalia said. “May I be excused?”

“Not until you tell us what’s wrong,” Bob demanded. Dalia looked at her parents as Flo and Bob looked at their daughter with bewildered expressions. Everyone at school is mad at me because we got creamed in basketball. They think it’s my fault because I refused to play in the Championship game!”

“Is that all?” Bob started. “I’m sure all this will blow over in a couple of days.”

“I don’t think so,” Dalia answered.

“Things are rarely as bad as they seem at first,” Flo said. “I remember one time in high school…”

“No offense, but I’m not interested in a nostalgic story right now,” Dalia said.

“Okay,” Flo remarked. That night Dalia pulled out her camera phone and recorded herself.

“I’ve always been the popular girl in school. It started in third grade and lasted right up

until last Friday night,” said Dalia. Basketball has been my life. However after what’s recently happened no one wants to be my friend because I chose to stick up for my sister.

I am quitting basketball!”

She went to bed and when she woke up, Dalia got a big surprise.

“That video has one thousand views?” Dalia thought. “Sweet!” She went through her usual barrage of silent treatment and catcalls of “you suck.” Her life was about to change. She was about to embark on a thrilling new chapter in her life. YouTube Fame.

Chapter 4

When she got home from school, Dalia found that she had ten thousand views on her video.

“I can’t believe this,” Dalia thought. By the weekend she had over a million views.

“Don’t you get a check for getting a million views?” Lucille asked.

“I think you get a couple of bucks,” Dalia said.

“Are you feeling better yet?” Lucille questioned her.

“I think so,” admitted Dalia. “My inbox has been blowing up all week;

“I’m blown away by how much support I’ve been getting.”

“That’s awesome,” Lucille responded, slapping her sister a high five.

“It looks like your subscriber count is over a million too.”

“Yes, it’s just crazy,” Dalia said.

 Dalia felt a twinge of excitement flow through her body. People were noticing her. Perhaps this was how she could gain favor with the kids at school again. Flo knocked on the bedroom door.

“Come in,” Dalia called out

 Flo appeared in the doorway; her red hair was put up in a messy bun. She wore gray sweat pants; they were ratty and afflicted with holes.

“Your friend Rachael is here,” Flo said.

“I’ll be right there Mom.”

 She hurried downstairs. Rachael was dressed in blue jeans, a white blouse, and black shoes.

“Hey,” said Rachael. “Do you wanna go hang out at the mall?”

“Sure,” Dalia answered.

Off they went; it was a clear and sunny day. They hoped into Rachael’s car; it was a red Corvette. Her father was a neurosurgeon. Rachael’s mother had held two political offices. She had been a local mayor and a member of the House of Representatives. That meant Rachael came from money; therefore she was set for life. As soon as Rachael graduated from high school she planned on attending Stanford. She had been given some serious attention by some college scouts. She was a full two years older than Dalia. Rachael was by far the best shooter on the team, all-conference in fact. Her defense was not the best, however. She was in the bottom half of defense for her conference; her stats were towards the bottom in every defensive category in fact. They blasted some hip-hop and sang along with the lyrics.

“I can’t believe you’re YouTube famous,” Rachael said.

“I don’t really feel like it,” shrugged Dalia.

“That will change,” answered Rachael.

“Is that why you agreed to be my friend again?” Dalia asked.

Rachael hesitated for a minute before answering.

“No, of course not.”

 Her mind reeling, Dalia’s eyes darted around for a minute. Was she lying? The two had known each other for years. The two had known each other for years; Dalia wanted to believe her. Dalia thought back to the past couple of weeks, the isolation, and the silence. She pushed the idea out of her mind.

The mall had a strange feel to it. There was a fountain. A glassy-eyed kiosk worker called out to people passing by.

“How about a spritz of Love Fancy?” one woman said.  Another man said:

“Just ten dollars a month. You can’t beat that deal.” Suddenly a man dressed in black appeared about twenty feet away. He looked like a weirdo. His grey eyes were squinty, his nose hooked and thin, also his gloved hands were badly burned. He held a pen and picture in his hand. Dalia and Rachael avoided his stare. Next, he trapped Dalia, cut her off, and leaving her no way to pass him.

“Pardon me,” the man said; his voice had a sing-song quality to it.

“My name is Alex Breckenridge. I saw you on YouTube and I was wondering if you would sign an autograph for me?”

“Sure,” Dalia reluctantly replied while trying to mask the uneasiness in her voice. Alex handed Dalia the pen and the picture he was holding. The picture was of himself; he had a mustache and was leaning against a brick wall of some kind. She wrote her name on the picture. Actually not her name, she gave a false name. Then Dalia and Rachel hurried away.

“No one said YouTube fame didn’t have its drawbacks,” Rachel said.

“He was pretty creepy,” Dalia admitted. They found some college guys at the food court. The guys were talking about football and casually sipping sodas.

“Those guys are so cute,” Dalia remarked. “I’d love to go talk to them.”

“Why don’t we go together?” Rachel asked.

 Dalia felt her palms dampen; her legs turned to limp noodles.

“You want me to talk to them? Are you nuts?” Dalia asked.

“Come on,” Rachel insisted. “I’ll be right there with you.” To Dalia it felt like her legs each weighed a metric ton as she headed over toward the handsome college guys.

“The blonde one is mine,” Rachel insisted.

“No problem,” Dalia answered back. “I like dark-haired guys.”

“Hi there,” Rachel greeted them. The blonde one, Devan, spoke first.

“Hey yourself.”

“Mind if we sit with you, gentlemen?” Rachel asked.

“Not at all,” Devan said. “This is my friend Craig,” Devan stated. The light caught Craig’s brown eyes just right as Dalia gazed into them. He gave a reassuring smile.

“Are you ladies in college?” Devan asked.

“No,” Rachel said. “We’re both seniors.” Rachel was a sophomore and Dalia was a freshman. Dalia knew she should speak up, but would Rachel still be her friend if she was to call her out on that little white lie? Chances were good Rachel would tell everyone that Dalia was a blabbermouth, a social pariah. Dalia was not about to go through that again.

“We go to Green University,” Craig said.

“We play football there,” Devan added.

“My dad coaches there,” Dalia remarked.

“That’s cool,” Devan said. “Would you girls like to go to a party Saturday night?”

“Sure,” Rachel said.

 Rachel looked over at Dalia. Rachel’s glare stung Dalia. It was as if she had stepped into a hornets’ nest and the hornets inside were rebelling. She squirmed in her seat. These guys seemed harmless enough. They were not the problem to Dalia; it was her parents. No way would they let her go to a college party. What if her dad was hanging around campus? It was springtime; the season would not be underway until September. Who knew, he might be hanging around the campus.

“So what?” thought Dalia. “On the other hand, it’s not like Dad’s going to be searching the college campus for parties.” She thought about it for a little more before uttering a quick answer.

“Yes!”

“Terrific,” Devan said. The address is 1213 West Street.

“Sounds cool,” Rachel answered.

At another part of the mall, Alex noticed his autograph was wrong. Dalia had signed a false name.

“Alicia? Gotcha!” Alex thought.

 That girl is in major trouble. He crumpled up the paper and disposed of it in a nearby trash can. He hurried to the parking lot, climbed on his bicycle, and peddled home. The day was not an unpleasant one; he could feel the sun warm his face. Alex thought about this YouTube star. He had felt so connected with this person; she was an outcast like him. She had insulted him. As his rage mounted, he peddled faster. He weaved in and out of traffic. Yet his gaze remained straight ahead. When Alex arrived home he housed his bike in the garage.

The inside of the home looked in disarray. Pictures hung askew. A chicken raced from the kitchen to the living room and back again. He stepped into his closet and lit a candle. There he had a makeshift shrine, consisting of candles and a picture of Dalia he had printed off from her f*******: page. He got down on his knees, clasped his hands together, muttering incoherently and closing his eyes.

“I call upon the Goddess of Wind Palomo; hear my plea. Ai, ask of you to hex the girl Dalia Becker. She has spurned me and I wish to pay her back!” said Alex. Outside, the wind began to pick up. The clothes of Dalia and Rachel fluttered in the breeze. Dalia arrived home several moments later. She waved goodbye to Rachel, before turning and heading up the driveway. Her sister met her in the living room.

“How’d your trip to the mall go?” Lucille asked. Rachel and got invited to a college party for next Saturday night,” Dalia answered. Lucille hesitated for a moment.

“Are you guys crazy? Mom and Dad will not let you go to a college party.”

“We aren’t going to tell them it’s a college party,” Dalia said.

“I’m not going to lie for you,” protested Lucille.

“You won’t be lying,” Dalia replied. “You just won’t be giving all the information.”

“Now you sound like a politician,” joked Lucille.

“Come on,” Dalia added. I don’t want Rachel to rag me.

“That’s always been your problem,” Lucille began

“You’ve always put too much emphasis on what others think of you.”

“I’ve always been popular,” Dalia said.

 “I don’t know how to live without complete adulation constantly.”

“Okay,” Lucille said. “But if Mom and Dad find out, you are on your own.”

“You won’t regret this,” Dalia tried to assure her.

“I already do,” muttered Lucille. Dinner consisted of pizza that night. The box read Allen’s. Bob looked up and saw his daughter Dalia.

You seem really upbeat tonight,” he remarked.

 “Care to share what you’re so chipper about?” Bob asked.

“I got invited to a party,” Dalia admitted.

“That sounds nice,” Flo said. “Who is throwing the party?”

“Um…” Dalia said nervously. “It’s a college party,” Lucille blurted out. “A couple of college guys invited her and Rachel when they were hanging out at the mall.” Then Lucille looked down at her plate.

“Dalia, you are not going to a college party,” Bob said.

“Come on Dad,” Dalia pleaded. “I’m not going to do anything wrong.”

“I know because you’re not going,” Bob answered.

“Mom, what about that time you hitchhiked to see Pearl Jam?” asked Dalia.

“We’re not talking about your mother,” Bob snorted. “You are fifteen years old. There are grown men at these parties; they are most likely drinking and using recreational substances.”

“Don’t you trust me?” Dalia asked.

“Honey,” Flo said “firmly. It’s not you, we don’t trust. We just want you to be safe!”

“You two are being unfair,” Dalia said storming off. Bob tried to call after Dalia, but Flo said:

“Let her go.”

“Thanks for telling us the truth about the party,” Bob said while watching Lucille out of the corner of his eye. This should have been a triumphant moment. Her dad acknowledged something she did. She should have been ecstatic. Instead, her stomach hurt and Lucille’s appetite had vanished. She pushed her plate away and then stood up.

“May I please be excused?” Lucille asked the question.

“Of course,” Bob said.

“Sure,” Flo chimed in. Lucille headed up the stairs and went straight to Dalia’s room.