The shrill screeching of my alarm clock woke me up, just as it did every Monday morning. I rolled over with a groan and hit the snooze button.
Five minutes later, the beeping went off again. "Too damn early," I grumbled, shoving off the covers and slamming the button again. The beeping continued, though, making me want to tear my hair out in frustration.
"Stupid faulty alarm, sunuva-"
With a short, incomprehensible scream, I threw the clock at the wall. All my attempts to fix the thing had gone nowhere, and me being my not-morning-person self, I had resorted to shattering it and telling myself to buy a new one. I threw an arm over my eyes and groped for the light switch. A minute later, I hesitantly removed the arm and squinted into the mixture of early-morning and unnatural light. "Too damn bright," I grumbled, pulling myself out of bed.
I went through my usual morning routine (check computer, eat, dress, comb hair, and pack bag - oops almost forgot my coffee again I really need that you know) before checking the locks on my door and heading out to my car. It was a thirty minute drive to the train station and a thirty minute train to my destination, which was not a big deal. Just the popular cafe where I worked early morning through late afternoon. Good pay, and not too strenuous, at least, not compared to my old job.
But I had put that mostly behind me. Three years was enough distance between me and the not-as-good memories, and I still saw a few (okay, make that a literal two people) of my friends from that part of my life. I didn't really have any other friends during my stint at my old job. It was a stiff, cold, unfeeling place. I had never truly belonged there.
The bell rang as I walked through the door. "Morning, Jelly Belly," I called to my boss, Evangeline.
"Shaddup, America!"
Evangeline and I had sort of a love-hate relationship. While I was not afraid to be violent with my friends in general, we bickered back and forth, hitting each other and rolling our eyes at each other the most out of them all. Jelly, as I often referred to her, was the only one of my friends to call me America. To everyone else I was just Rickie, who refused to cut her hair and had died it red on a dare once. I didn't look very good with red hair, let me tell you.
Evangeline wasn't much of a morning person either, and she was here much earlier than I to open up shop. I was sort of glad that she refused to let anyone else do it (The Badger's Den was her baby; named it herself and everything) because otherwise I'd have to get up even earlier than I did, and that would not be pleasant. Chuckling at my boss's typical response, I grabbed my apron from the hook and tied it around my waist, throwing my bag on the counter for Evangeline to stick with her own behind the coffee machine. That was where she stashed all of her employees' important items while we were working; there was a surprisingly large space there that only her skinny little arms and long fingers could reach.
"Make me another coffee, Jelly Belly," I demanded, tucking my pen behind my ear and my little notepad into a pocket with a decorative stitched badger in the bright yellow apron. Both Evangeline and I were avid Harry Potter fans, and it showed through the cafe. Two years ago, when she drunkenly told me she was thinking about buying the run-down old bookshop on the corner of Elder Street and turning it into a coffee shop, I'd drunkenly made her promise to name it after something Harry Potter related. And here we were, with a Hufflepuff-themed cafe that sold magic-related books and trinkets on the side.
"That's coming out of your paycheck, bitch," Evangeline called, already mixing a chocolate caramel latte with extra cream. She knew just how I liked my coffee, because I always did that to her. Again, not a morning person: I needed my caffeine.
"It never does, and you know that, Jelly Belly!"
"America, shaddup already!"
Evangeline, for all we bickered back and forth, was kind. She knew I needed the money I got from that paycheck. I never really imagined myself here, working at a cafe for the rest of my life. In actuality, I never really knew what I wanted to be. I was sucked into my old job halfway through college, as a way to help work off the debt, but it was such a demanding job that I eventually had to quit school. I was in it for a few years, and gained a best friend in my partner, before it just got to be too much. I quit and moved away.
For a year, it was hard. I worked two jobs and could still be scrounging for cash. I met Evangeline at one of them, in the same place as me. We bonded over situations and Harry Potter, often helping each other out when we needed the money. Then Evangeline's grandmother died, leaving her what seemed to us a small fortune.
She was careful with it at first, but this was her chance to grab for her dream. We got drunk one night, as I was going through a tough time, being let go from one of my jobs, and she was trying to make me feel better. (The god-awful headache the next morning had me somewhat doubting this and vowing never to drink again.) I convinced her to go for it, and six months later the newly furnished Badger's Den was drawing in customers by the barrel. I quit the pizza parlor I'd been working at and became Evangeline's first full time employee, and I've been there ever since.
The day went by like normal. I served people their food, cleaned a few tables, and fixed the toaster ("That's the third time this month, Evangeline, get a new toaster!"), all while arguing playfully with my boss, to the amusement of the regulars. At five o'clock, just before the dinner rush, I grabbed a muffin and clocked out. "See ya later, Jelly Belly!" I called. She flipped me the bird.
Whatever, I saw that 'secret' smile. She loved me.
On my way to the train station, I snagged a newspaper from a bench. I didn't really read the news, but I tried to do so more often. Since I moved, I no longer got current events from my mother, a teacher who loved to have spirited debates with someone so argumentative as myself.
The headline caught my attention immediately. The whole train ride home, I buried myself in the article, a weight seemingly settling on my shoulders.
New Pictures From New Mexico
Residents of a small town in New Mexico, where the mysterious and terrifying event of last year occurred, released new pictures of said happening. Among these pictures is a picture of what seems to be a government agent with a strange logo on their chest, one not seen before. Although the eagle is a symbol of many things in the US, it has not been seen before in this way. (Cont. page 5)
It was a very familiar logo - a blocky eagle in a circle surrounded by blurry words. I knew, although I shouldn't have, that that was where my old partner had been stationed the year before. Had he been there for this incident? I hadn't talked to him in a year, he was so busy...
With that, I pushed it aside. Three years, three years, three years, my mind chanted. Don't think about it anymore. It's not your problem.
My mind was blank for the drive home. Anytime I tried to think, it would just come back, all the worry, the curiosity, and the feelings. I missed my partner, I missed my uncle, I missed my parents. I wanted to go back to before I quit college, but I really didn't. I was happy, but I didn't think I would ever be entirely happy.
The slamming of the car door snapped me out of my stupor. I was home. With a contented sigh, I trudged up the sidewalk and up to the door, trailing my hand along the flowers on the sides. They always soothed me, and never took too much trouble to take care of, because I liked them growing wild and untamed. Some spilled over to the concrete, and ivy grew up the house beautifully.
My heart began to race when the door cracked open at the slightest touch. I always locked the door on my way out in the morning, and double-checked it before getting in the car. Wide-eyed, I pushed it all the way open as slowly as possible, creeping into the dark entryway.
I felt almost naked, without any sort of weapon, other than my purse in one hand and my muffin in the other. Neither would protect me very well in a dangerous situation, and although I hadn't been in any kind of dangerous situation in years, I was used to having some sort of protection in the midst of one. Immediately, I became invisible, creeping through the familiar shadows to my den. There was a flickering light and the faint sounds of the tv floating from the room.
I could see the back of a man's head, sprawled on the couch and watching Super Nanny. Confused, I took a hesitant step forward - they wouldn't be able to see me.
But they could hear me, apparently. The man turned around with a small (apologetic?) smile. I became visible with a sigh of relief. It was my uncle.
"Uncle Phil?" I asked, confused. He'd already made his yearly visit earlier, when my parents had visited for New Year's. "What are you doing here?"
"We need you to come in."
I dropped my muffin.