AUTHOR: JackPhillipsGirl
DISCLAIMER: I don't own So Weird or its characters.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Please excuse my sorry attempts at humor. Basically what happened is Tabetha (Tablynvan) had a challenge to write a story, based on the roll of a die and the random picks from a deck of cards. My challenge turned out to be to write a humor/supernatural fic starring Carey. And this is what I've come up with so far.
Chapter One
"Hi Carey!"
I groaned loudly at the sound of the giggly voice on the other end of the line. "How the hell did you get my private number?" I demanded. I already had it changed three times in the past month.
"Wanna come over and play?" Annie went on, not bothering to answer my question.
"No."
"Please?"
"No."
"Please?"
"No."
"Pl—"
"ANNIE SHUT UP!" I screamed. There was silence on the other end of the line and I almost felt bad for what I had said. Taking a deep breath, I added as calmly as possible, "I just don't really feel good, that's all. I have a headache." It really wasn't that much of a lie given the current situation. "Maybe another time, okay?"
"Oh, I'm sorry!" she said, genuinely sounding concerned. "I'll stop bothering you," she added. Well at the least the girl knew when to take a hint.
"Thank you," I said gratefully. She didn't say anything and before she could, I decided to take advantage of the opportune time to end the conversation. "Bye!"
I hung up the phone before she even had a chance to return it. Now the question was, how did Annie get my phone number? I hadn't told anyone about it yet because it was changed only yesterday. And why did Annie always have to call me anyway? Didn't she have Jack or even Molly to pester when she was bored?
The doorbell rang just then and I sighed. Not another one of those; Mom wasn't too happy when she found out that I blew all my money on Girl Scouts cookies last week. It's not my fault that they're so delicious. And only $3 a box! It wouldn't just be wrong, but immoral to refuse that offer. "Is anyone going to get that?" I shouted. No reply, and no sound of footsteps leading to the door, either. The doorbell rang again and I shuffled down the stairs in aggravation. Just say no, I reminded myself. Just remember that there are still eight boxes of Thin Mints left in the cabinet and those butter shortbread ones weren't that good anyway, my internal pep talk continued. I threw open the door and someone who was clearly not a Girl Scout stood on the front porch.
"Hi," a boy of about five and half feet with thick-rimmed glasses and freckles greeted me, awkwardly holding out a wide, thin rectangular box.
"Um, we didn't order pizza," I told him.
He stared at me nervously, clearly unsure of what to do in this situation. He was obviously new at this job. "Are you Mr. Ned Bell?" he asked, his voice squeaking on the word "mister".
It was painful to see the boy in such a nervous wreck. Dad must have ordered pizza, although why, I had no idea. It was only three o'clock in the afternoon, too late for lunch, but too early for dinner. I sighed and reached into my back pocket for my wallet. "Here you go," I said, forcing a friendly smile in hopes that it would perhaps calm him down. He threw the box into my arms and thrust the change in my awaiting hand before running, terrified, back to his car. I was surprised he could even drive; he didn't look any older than maybe fifteen at the most. I stood there in the doorway watching him just to make sure he didn't crash into any lampposts or mailboxes before finally closing the door.
"Dad?" I called, retreating to the kitchen and placing the box on the table. "Did you order a pizza?" Silence. I stood there for a moment, listening for movement, but there was nothing. "Dad?" I shouted again, louder this time. "Mom?" Weren't they home only ten minutes ago? Another sigh of frustration escaped me. Didn't they have the decency to even let me know when they were leaving? And you'd think that Dad wouldn't leave the house right after ordering a pizza.
The pizza: I grinned at it now, rubbing my hands together. I might as well take advantage of this golden opportunity, right? I mean that's probably why Dad ordered it, for me to have—why else would he have left? I sat down at the table, eagerly flipped open the lid and grabbed a slice. First holding it to my face to savor the aroma, I inhaled deeply. "Mmmm…" I murmured. Then I stuffed the whole thing in my mouth. "Ohmph, dish ish good!" I marveled out loud, my mouth full of food.
"Now aren't you too sick to be eating pizza?"