CHAPTER FIVE: OUCH
"A gypsy curse... this is it!" Dex exclaimed, after hours of sifting through books with me in the front room. I was bored, and as he explained the dull details I stared off into space. The sun had set already.
"Kay, he's gotta soul. That means I can go, right?"
"Right. Still, be careful... we don't know much yet. And if you run into Angel-"
"Bring him here, blah blah. Gotcha."
~*~
Wham. Ouch. A demon, a strong one, slammed me into a tree. My back stung with pain. I struggled against its grip, but I couldn't get its strong hands off my neck. I gasped for air. Shit! I couldn't use my hands, but I could use my legs. I pushed them against the tree, and flipped over the demon, causing his grip to loosen and snap his wrists that were still on my neck. He let go out of pain, and while he took in what had just occurred, I kicked him in the stomach. I pulled a knife out of my jacket, which the demon kicked out of my hands, into his own. He lunged at me with it, intended to sink into my heart, but instead, I dodged and he got my shoulder, which started to bleed and sting with pain. I fell to the ground, holding my injury. The demon stood over me, triumphant. This is it I thought. It wasn't. The demon fell over next to me, after I heard a loud cracking noise. Someone grabbed my arm and pulled me up. I winced in pain. It was the arm that was stabbed.
"Are you hurt?" It was Angel. Great. Now I owe him one.
"No, I have a stab wound but I'm just fine."
"Still holding onto your sarcasm, I see."
"Thanks for that."
"Thought you didn't need help."
"Dex advises otherwise."
"Is that your watcher?"
"No, he's my orthodontist."
"We should get that fixed."
"I heal fast. Not a big deal."
"Yes, it is. Come on."
"You're supposed to... I mean, I'm supposed to take you to him."
"Who? Your watcher?" I was starting to feel a little tired, weak and dizzy. I stumbled, and Angel grabbed me, putting my arm (the uninjured one) around his shoulder. "Lean on me, come on. I'll take you home."
"Are you joking? The foster rents would die of heart attacks if they saw this. Take me to Dex's bookstore."
"Where is it?"
"Uh...near my school."
"Which is?"
"You're helpless."
"I'm not the one with the injury."
"Good point. I'll show you how to get there."
~*~
"This is... extraordinary!" Dex exclaimed. I was sitting in a chair in the back room, holding a cloth on my wound, and Dex and Angel were talking more about how Angel got the curse.
"Not the word I would use to describe it."
"Fascinating, work a little better?" I looked down at my shoulder. The cloth was red from my blood.
"Dex? I think we should cover this up a little better."
"Good Lord, Avarielle." He went over to me, taking the cloth, getting some gauze out of the first aid kit.
"Ari."
"Whatever."
"Ha! Slang! You used slang!"
"I did not."
"Did too."
"As the word whatever is in the dictionary, it should not be counted as slang."
"So? Fuck's in the dictionary, and you call it slang."
"That's a cuss word." Angel interjected.
"Yeah, but Dex says it's slang. He says everything I say is slang."
"That's because it is, now sit still. Take off your jacket."
"Just gimme the gauze. I'll do it myself." I took the gauze from him and went into the other room. I took off my jacket, now with a hole in the shoulder, and bloody, and then ripped my sleeve a little better so I could get the wound. I put the gauze on it, and stuck some medical tape on the gauze so it'd stay put. I put my jacket back on, and saw someone standing there, looking at me, with a book in their hands.
"Do you need some help?" I asked sweetly.
"Uh, yes. Do you have any books on-"
"Gimme a second, I'll get our book expert." I went into the back room. "Someone's kinda...out there. Looking for some assistance."
"Oh!" Dex said, leaving Angel and I there awkwardly.
"So." Angel said. "Your watcher's very..."
"British?" I suggested. He smiled.
"That's one way of putting it." I smiled back. What should I say? I just said the first thing that came to mind.
"Sorry about all the death threats. You can't be too careful when you're me."
"I understand. I wouldn't be so trusting if I were you, either."
"So we're going to be helping each other out, huh?"
"Looks like it."
"And, eh, thanks. For helping me out tonight."
"No problem. How's that shoulder?"
"I've had worse."
"You've been the slayer about three weeks and you've already had worse wounds. Wow."
"Not from being a slayer. From being slide tackled." Blank look. "In soccer." Blank still. "The sport?"
"Oh, right."
"Well, this girl slide tackled me, and her cleats were spikes, like what baseball players wear? And it cut through my sock and went into my ankle, and tore a ligament. I was on crutches for a long time after I got surgery."
"How old were you?"
"Thirteen."
"Not too long ago."
"Yeah, but my slayer-ness kinda made it better." Slayerness?! Dex came back in.
"Sorry about that."
"S'aight."
"Slang." He glared at me.
"Lo siento."
"Spanish?" he questioned.
"I have a test Monday. Might's well practice, right?"
"I suppose so." He looked at his watch. "Ari, it's getting late. Won't your family-"
"Foster family." I corrected.
"Well, won't they be getting worried?"
"That's why I stay out late."
"Go home." He told me. Frick. I lost.
"Whatever." I stood up and headed out the door. "Later."
I was outside, walking down the street, when I heard someone call after me.
"Ari! Hey, Ari!" I turned. It wasn't Angel. It wasn't Dex. It was a guy from my school. A jock, nonetheless. And I'd said exactly three words to him, one time: Hey, man. Move. (When he was in front of my locker, you see.)
"Do I know you?"
"James. I go to Lavine with you."
"Right." I kept walking. He walked with me.
"Where ya headed?"
"Home."
"Oh. Where do you live?"
"I don't keep track of street names. I know where I'm going, does it matter what it's called?"
"That's a good point."
"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but, why are you talking to me?"
"I just was wondering if you knew what the History homework was."
"We're in History together?"
"Mr. Garret's class? Fourth period?"
"Oh, right. Right. Um, we have some paper. I already did it, and therefore have forgotten about it. You're on your own, buddy."
"Oh. Thanks anyway."
"Yeah. See you at school. Don't get killed." I turned on my street, leaving him there. I'm good at doing that.
~*~
The next day at school, I was putting my books in my bag, getting ready to head over to the store, when I looked up from my bottom locker, and saw James, the guy from the previous night, standing there, varsity jacket and all that crap, smiling.
"Hi Ari."
"Hey."
"Can I ask you something?"
"I don't know, can you?" I asked him, getting my board out of my locker, and slamming it shut (the locker, not the board)
"Uh, yeah. Um. What are you doing tonight?"
"Shirking."
"Huh?"
"Wasting time."
"Oh. Because, I was wondering... if you could possibly-"
"No, I couldn't."
"You didn't let me finish!"
"And I don't intend to." I walked out of the building. Whatever the hell James wanted, he wasn't gonna get it.
~*~
"Dex?" I called out, as I stepped in the door of the bookstore. He was behind the counter, reading.
"Oh, hello Ari." He glanced at his watch. "You're a little late."
"So I'll stay a little later."
"Do you mind if I asked what detained you?"
"Jackass jocks of the third kind."
"Language."
"What? A jackass is a synonym for a donkey."
"Okay, so a donkey athlete kept you from your sacred duty?"
"If you say so." I dumped my board and my backpack behind the counter.
"Are you ready to train?"
"No, of course not."
"Right. Let's go then." We walked into the back room, and someone behind a shelf popped out and called to us,
"Excuse me, but what is the price of-"
"Not a yellow dot, not for sale." Dex and I called back in unison, leaving the confused customer with their selection.
"I thought we'd start on seeing how well you can swordfight. As you got in trouble last night, I thought it would be useful if we got some practice in."
"Just gimme the sword."
"Very well then." Dex took a long, silver sword out of the weapons trunk in the corner, and another one for himself. He tossed me the first sword, which I caught.
"Let's go."
"I think you should put on some padding-"
"Don't need it. You might."
"I do not need padding. You're not going to kill me."
"No, but accidents happen..."
"To the cocky and vain. Now put on that padding over there."
"Whatever."
After beating Dex in over ten rounds of swordplay, we decided to take a break. It was also sundown.
"So, where should I patrol tonight?"
"Ah, wherever you feel is best."
"I'll take Central Park."
"Very well." I removed the padding, and put the sword on the table. I took a long drink of water from the bottle on Dex's desk, then put it back down.
"Later."
"Be careful."
"Will do."
"A gypsy curse... this is it!" Dex exclaimed, after hours of sifting through books with me in the front room. I was bored, and as he explained the dull details I stared off into space. The sun had set already.
"Kay, he's gotta soul. That means I can go, right?"
"Right. Still, be careful... we don't know much yet. And if you run into Angel-"
"Bring him here, blah blah. Gotcha."
~*~
Wham. Ouch. A demon, a strong one, slammed me into a tree. My back stung with pain. I struggled against its grip, but I couldn't get its strong hands off my neck. I gasped for air. Shit! I couldn't use my hands, but I could use my legs. I pushed them against the tree, and flipped over the demon, causing his grip to loosen and snap his wrists that were still on my neck. He let go out of pain, and while he took in what had just occurred, I kicked him in the stomach. I pulled a knife out of my jacket, which the demon kicked out of my hands, into his own. He lunged at me with it, intended to sink into my heart, but instead, I dodged and he got my shoulder, which started to bleed and sting with pain. I fell to the ground, holding my injury. The demon stood over me, triumphant. This is it I thought. It wasn't. The demon fell over next to me, after I heard a loud cracking noise. Someone grabbed my arm and pulled me up. I winced in pain. It was the arm that was stabbed.
"Are you hurt?" It was Angel. Great. Now I owe him one.
"No, I have a stab wound but I'm just fine."
"Still holding onto your sarcasm, I see."
"Thanks for that."
"Thought you didn't need help."
"Dex advises otherwise."
"Is that your watcher?"
"No, he's my orthodontist."
"We should get that fixed."
"I heal fast. Not a big deal."
"Yes, it is. Come on."
"You're supposed to... I mean, I'm supposed to take you to him."
"Who? Your watcher?" I was starting to feel a little tired, weak and dizzy. I stumbled, and Angel grabbed me, putting my arm (the uninjured one) around his shoulder. "Lean on me, come on. I'll take you home."
"Are you joking? The foster rents would die of heart attacks if they saw this. Take me to Dex's bookstore."
"Where is it?"
"Uh...near my school."
"Which is?"
"You're helpless."
"I'm not the one with the injury."
"Good point. I'll show you how to get there."
~*~
"This is... extraordinary!" Dex exclaimed. I was sitting in a chair in the back room, holding a cloth on my wound, and Dex and Angel were talking more about how Angel got the curse.
"Not the word I would use to describe it."
"Fascinating, work a little better?" I looked down at my shoulder. The cloth was red from my blood.
"Dex? I think we should cover this up a little better."
"Good Lord, Avarielle." He went over to me, taking the cloth, getting some gauze out of the first aid kit.
"Ari."
"Whatever."
"Ha! Slang! You used slang!"
"I did not."
"Did too."
"As the word whatever is in the dictionary, it should not be counted as slang."
"So? Fuck's in the dictionary, and you call it slang."
"That's a cuss word." Angel interjected.
"Yeah, but Dex says it's slang. He says everything I say is slang."
"That's because it is, now sit still. Take off your jacket."
"Just gimme the gauze. I'll do it myself." I took the gauze from him and went into the other room. I took off my jacket, now with a hole in the shoulder, and bloody, and then ripped my sleeve a little better so I could get the wound. I put the gauze on it, and stuck some medical tape on the gauze so it'd stay put. I put my jacket back on, and saw someone standing there, looking at me, with a book in their hands.
"Do you need some help?" I asked sweetly.
"Uh, yes. Do you have any books on-"
"Gimme a second, I'll get our book expert." I went into the back room. "Someone's kinda...out there. Looking for some assistance."
"Oh!" Dex said, leaving Angel and I there awkwardly.
"So." Angel said. "Your watcher's very..."
"British?" I suggested. He smiled.
"That's one way of putting it." I smiled back. What should I say? I just said the first thing that came to mind.
"Sorry about all the death threats. You can't be too careful when you're me."
"I understand. I wouldn't be so trusting if I were you, either."
"So we're going to be helping each other out, huh?"
"Looks like it."
"And, eh, thanks. For helping me out tonight."
"No problem. How's that shoulder?"
"I've had worse."
"You've been the slayer about three weeks and you've already had worse wounds. Wow."
"Not from being a slayer. From being slide tackled." Blank look. "In soccer." Blank still. "The sport?"
"Oh, right."
"Well, this girl slide tackled me, and her cleats were spikes, like what baseball players wear? And it cut through my sock and went into my ankle, and tore a ligament. I was on crutches for a long time after I got surgery."
"How old were you?"
"Thirteen."
"Not too long ago."
"Yeah, but my slayer-ness kinda made it better." Slayerness?! Dex came back in.
"Sorry about that."
"S'aight."
"Slang." He glared at me.
"Lo siento."
"Spanish?" he questioned.
"I have a test Monday. Might's well practice, right?"
"I suppose so." He looked at his watch. "Ari, it's getting late. Won't your family-"
"Foster family." I corrected.
"Well, won't they be getting worried?"
"That's why I stay out late."
"Go home." He told me. Frick. I lost.
"Whatever." I stood up and headed out the door. "Later."
I was outside, walking down the street, when I heard someone call after me.
"Ari! Hey, Ari!" I turned. It wasn't Angel. It wasn't Dex. It was a guy from my school. A jock, nonetheless. And I'd said exactly three words to him, one time: Hey, man. Move. (When he was in front of my locker, you see.)
"Do I know you?"
"James. I go to Lavine with you."
"Right." I kept walking. He walked with me.
"Where ya headed?"
"Home."
"Oh. Where do you live?"
"I don't keep track of street names. I know where I'm going, does it matter what it's called?"
"That's a good point."
"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but, why are you talking to me?"
"I just was wondering if you knew what the History homework was."
"We're in History together?"
"Mr. Garret's class? Fourth period?"
"Oh, right. Right. Um, we have some paper. I already did it, and therefore have forgotten about it. You're on your own, buddy."
"Oh. Thanks anyway."
"Yeah. See you at school. Don't get killed." I turned on my street, leaving him there. I'm good at doing that.
~*~
The next day at school, I was putting my books in my bag, getting ready to head over to the store, when I looked up from my bottom locker, and saw James, the guy from the previous night, standing there, varsity jacket and all that crap, smiling.
"Hi Ari."
"Hey."
"Can I ask you something?"
"I don't know, can you?" I asked him, getting my board out of my locker, and slamming it shut (the locker, not the board)
"Uh, yeah. Um. What are you doing tonight?"
"Shirking."
"Huh?"
"Wasting time."
"Oh. Because, I was wondering... if you could possibly-"
"No, I couldn't."
"You didn't let me finish!"
"And I don't intend to." I walked out of the building. Whatever the hell James wanted, he wasn't gonna get it.
~*~
"Dex?" I called out, as I stepped in the door of the bookstore. He was behind the counter, reading.
"Oh, hello Ari." He glanced at his watch. "You're a little late."
"So I'll stay a little later."
"Do you mind if I asked what detained you?"
"Jackass jocks of the third kind."
"Language."
"What? A jackass is a synonym for a donkey."
"Okay, so a donkey athlete kept you from your sacred duty?"
"If you say so." I dumped my board and my backpack behind the counter.
"Are you ready to train?"
"No, of course not."
"Right. Let's go then." We walked into the back room, and someone behind a shelf popped out and called to us,
"Excuse me, but what is the price of-"
"Not a yellow dot, not for sale." Dex and I called back in unison, leaving the confused customer with their selection.
"I thought we'd start on seeing how well you can swordfight. As you got in trouble last night, I thought it would be useful if we got some practice in."
"Just gimme the sword."
"Very well then." Dex took a long, silver sword out of the weapons trunk in the corner, and another one for himself. He tossed me the first sword, which I caught.
"Let's go."
"I think you should put on some padding-"
"Don't need it. You might."
"I do not need padding. You're not going to kill me."
"No, but accidents happen..."
"To the cocky and vain. Now put on that padding over there."
"Whatever."
After beating Dex in over ten rounds of swordplay, we decided to take a break. It was also sundown.
"So, where should I patrol tonight?"
"Ah, wherever you feel is best."
"I'll take Central Park."
"Very well." I removed the padding, and put the sword on the table. I took a long drink of water from the bottle on Dex's desk, then put it back down.
"Later."
"Be careful."
"Will do."