"I'm heading out to the Coffee Stop," I yelled to my mother.
"Okay, just call me if you'll be out past four!"
I waved and stalked out the door. If there was one thing that made me bitter, it was that a fatal diagnosis usually constitutes becoming a loner. I virtually had no friends.
Zip.
None.
It wasn't all horrible; I mean, there come times in the cancer kid's life when you don't want a bunch of people trying to help you and understand. They have good intentions, but they look at you like a sickly animal—and in a way, you are.
My mom's pretty much good with anything as far as going out on my own. Where most parents would flip at the thought of their daughter being who knows where, or at some stranger's house, mine are extremely laid back.
When you think about it, they have good logic. Neither of them have said so, but they didn't care if I wandered the streets because, honestly, what psychopath would want to kidnap a sicko? They weren't concerned about me doing naughty things with strange boys. They probably thought I wasn't even physically capable of said scandalous acts. Guys were not attracted to me—the past few years had made sure of that.
I scowled at my beat-up chucks and fiddled with my beanie. With a hat on, I just looked like your everyday tomboy—short-cropped hair, scrawny, 5'7 height. Without a head cover, though, you could plainly see the scar tearing its way across the side of my head.
The surrounding area had been shaved for the surgery in attempt to remove the tumor, but it was too big a risk to take it out completely. Following radiation treatments kept my hair from regrowing in a patch around the scar.
The old-fashion bronze bell above the door jingled as I walked into Coffee Stop. I breathed in the familiar smell of coffee beans and dust between the pages of an ancient novel. In this place—my second home—I could almost take in the stories of Jane Eyre and The Odyssey just by catching a whiff of the books lining the East wall.
I sunk into my booth in the corner and pulled out my copy of LittleWomen. I'd fallen in love with the novel, but mostly the strong role of Jo March.
She was everything I admired: smart, dedicated, and argumentative, which was one thing I had going for me. Pre-diagnosis, everyone had told me I'd make it big as an attorney. Riley Jones never lost an argument.
My painfully ordinary world was just beginning to melt away into Civil War New England, when a harsh crash shocked me back into my gray reality.
I growled and not so discretely made my way out of the café and around the corner. I steam rolled into the alley on the opposite side of the wall my booth was against. If this is that Brady kid and his stupid "band" again. . .
But what my eyes met when I rushed around the corner was not a bunch of guys attempting rock music. Well, they were teenagers, but both tall, muscular, and dressed in black, completed with leather boots and glinting weapons sheathed all over their persons.
They seemed to be hunched over a pool of black goop near some garbage tins, but straightened when they caught sight of me.
The girl, who looked so much like the boy that they had to be twins, unceremoniously stuck out her tongue at me, then continued to make a rude gesture.
"Livvy, quit that!" The boy gave her a reproachful look.
"Why? It's so fun to tease the mundies. They can't even see us."
The boy sighed and ran a hand through his dark locks. His eyes fluttered closed. "But that doesn't justify being rude."
"I just said, Ty. They can't even–"
"Excuse me?" I was frankly fed up with them talking like I wasn't right there. I'd come across some nasties that treated me like a dying dog, but that didn't mean I had to lay there and be kicked. "I'm standing right here."
The girl stood like a gaping fish, going red in the face. The boy analyzed me with curiosity.
"Hello?" I waited for a response before giving up. "Forget it, but please keep it down, that racket is awfully distracting." I turned to go back to my alternate reality, and nearly ran right into the boy that I could've sworn was behind me three seconds ago.
"Wait," he said, examining my face. "What's your name?"
This question threw me for a loop. The last guy that asked me what my name was was a nurse at my oncologist's office. And I'm pretty sure he was just filling out one of my medical sheets.
"Riley. Why?"
"The fact that you can see us is a feat in itself, but that fiery little temper might raise some questions, too." He circled me, then joined his lookalike.
"That I can see you? Now you're telling me I have imaginary friends? That's new." Has the cancer gained control of my sanity?
He looked exasperated. He turned to the girl and met her eyes, seemingly having a conversation. Finally she came forward.
"I guess there's no harm in telling you, since you'll otherwise just end up in an asylum." She looked me in the eyes with a stubborn, serious expression. "We are Shadowhunters; Nephilim, if you may. We are half-angel warriors that fight against demons that threaten to take over this world. Our job is to protect mundanes, or humans, and keep the peace between the Shadow World."
At this, I nearly cracked up. I've really lost it, haven't I? The only thing that kept my laughter from bubbling over was the murderous look on the girl's face.
"Now, Livia, look polite. It would be quite hypocritical to protect one mundane only to kill another." She, Livia, seemed to relax a bit.
The boy picked up the speech where Livia left off. "All the legends of vampires, werewolves, faeries, warlocks; stories of demon monsters—they all ring true. Ever since we became a race, there have been the mundane families blessed with the Sight. In earlier times such families resided in Shadowhunter homes and Institutes, aiding the Nephilim, and in turn they lived out their lives completely provided for."
He trailed off, then began again with a start. "My best guess is that you are descended from one of these families, never exposed to the Shadow World."
I was baffled. They looked real enough, but did that really matter, if no one else could see them?
I looked at them hesitantly. "So you're saying that there is a whole other world out there, that only your kind and the occasional human can see?"
The boy looked relieved. "Yes, that's exactly–" Livia cut him off, glaring at me.
"She's being sarcastic, Ty. Poking fun." I couldn't help it. The pouty look on the guy's face was too priceless not to laugh at. I threw my head back to chuckle, but when I did so Livia gasped.
"Ty, look. On her neck!" Livia's fingers carelessly went to move my hair back, and I instinctively flinched away.
I knew what they were looking at. On the side of my neck, high enough to be covered by my hair, was a black mark. My parents always said they'd assumed that something happened to me before I came to them (yes, I was adopted); that my previous family had burned or tattooed me when I was very small, because the mark on my neck, swirling and mysterious, had never faded.
It was a sort of diamond shape with curling lines protruding from the top. The two seemed to recognize it.
"You're not a Sighted mundane, you're one of us." Uh, how about no. I was a lot of things, but I was not a Shadowhunter.
"Riley, you're not normal," the guy explained. I scoffed under my breath at the irony of the statement. "You're one of us; a Shadowhunter, a servant of the angel, meant to protect mundanes."
"Yeah," I mumbled, refraining from touching the scar on my scalp. "Some Shadowhunter I'd make." I couldn't even win a battle for my own brain, much less one against some monstrous demon hoards.
Ty (so that was his name) glanced questioningly at me, taking in my hands, itching to protect my vulnerable head, and the bitter tone in my voice. If I stayed much longer, this miniature Sheldon Cooper would profile my whole life story.
"It's been nice meeting you and all," I said blankly. "But I need to get home." Not really. Mom and Dad wouldn't freak unless I wasn't back by dark.
"Toodloo!" and I took off towards home.
Ps: I don't own anything from the Big Bang Theory, including Sheldon Cooper, or LittleWomen. Oh, and Coffee Stop isn't a real place, at least that I know of. :)
