Author's Note: I was translating the name of the song "Amiche Per La Pelle," on Google Translate, only I made a mistake and changed the "la" to "le." That ONE MISTAKE changed the name from "Sorority Girls" to "Friendly To The Skin." I'm cracking up.
Yay for short chapters!
Chapter Six: There's No Such Thing As Coincidence
The group walked the streets of Magix (after waiting an hour for the taxi to come and paying about half their spending money on that and a promised return trip. They could have waited for the busses, but they didn't come for another three hours, until the school day was officially over). Grace and Morgan were holding hands in a way that made Story question their relationship (and ponder whether or not it was too soon to grill Morgan about it once they were back in the dorm).
Story had always had a theory that you could tell the most about someone by the way they shopped. Grace always rushed into the frilly boutiques that lined the streets of Magix, and by the time an hour was up, she had a big bag full of dresses, and skirts and blouses, mainly in the color purple. "It's my best color," she explained. "Even my magic form is purple."
Morgan, on the other hand, looked very impatient at every stop they made for clothing. She didn't spend a dime at any store, though she had seemed interested in a cell phone.
Lara was an eater, rather, a drinker. When they passed the Hex Café, she was the first to go up to the counter and demand a latte (while the other three girls stood uncomfortably outside). When they passed a pizza place on the corner of Main Street and Roccaluce Way, she grabbed a cola.
It was because of the differences in their shopping experiences that they decided to split up, then meet up back at the bus stop after two hours or so and grab a bite to eat before calling the taxi to take them back to Alfea.
Morgan thought about going with Grace, so they could have the private time that they barely ever did- time when they could be a couple, instead of just a couple of friends. But she recognized that one, that would look awfully suspicious (as the girls now knew she hated to shop while it was one of Grace's most beloved passtimes), and two, she could probably catch a screening of that new musical, the one with Layla of Andros in it. No matter what the tabloids said about the interrealm superstar (inherent evil, secretly royalty, used to be one of the Winx, playing some common specialist named Jared, then going out with some prince or another), Morgan really, really loved Layla. She was an idol, not to mention a girl to look up to. Someone who had went places.
She paid a few bucks for a ticket and a bucket of chocolate popcorn (wishing they had it at theaters on Earth).
An hour and forty five minutes later, Morgan stood outside, adjusting her eyes to the brightness. The movie had been every bit what she expected, and…
Her train of thought was interrupted as long, familiar dark mahogany hair swirled by her. "Grace?" Morgan murmured.
Grace didn't turn around, and an idea formulated in the Lupa's head. She would go up to her girlfriend, and surprise her. More than usual.
As quietly as she could run, Morgan trailed Grace for about two blocks before she was able to grab her girlfriend on the shoulders, spin her around, and tenderly kiss her cheek, before leaning back and realizing… that it wasn't… actually…. Grace.
She felt her face grow hot and red. The girl definitely looked like Grace. Same color hair, same length. Same pale skin. But the eyes were slightly slanted, and darker. She was a little bit shorter, and a little more petite. And her voice was higher, sharper, when she said, "Who the fuck are you?"
"Umm, sorry," Morgan said as she started to slowly back away. "I thought you were somebody else."
"No shit. But I asked you a question. Who are you?"
"Morgan, of Earth. Okay? Who are you?"
The girl scowled. "I'm Rainier of Melody. I'm a freshman at Cloud Tower."
"That explains it," Morgan said beneath her breath,
"What's it explain, why you kissed me? Alfea girls. I always knew anyone who would go to a school that was that pink had to be gay or demented. You just proved me right on both accounts." Rainier smirked, and it was like looking at a twisted version of Grace. It hurt.
"Well, Cloud Tower girls," Morgan said, trying desperately to come up with a comeback, "wear too much black."
Rainier coughed and looked at her own outfit pointedly. Oh. She was wearing a faded tee shirt for "Werewolves of Isis," Morgan's favorite band, and some pretty cool cuffed jeans that looked obviously vintage. Neon purple high tops completed the ensemble.
Morgan was actually really, really jealous of the outfit. Which might have had something to do with the fact that she looked liked "Fairy of Them Cowpokes." She also felt like an idiot, which might have had something to with the fact that, though she loved Grace to pieces, her girlfriend would never wear an outfit that totally wickedly awesome.
"Morgan?" a voice asked from behind. She turned.
Well, think of the Phoenix, she thought. It's Grace.
Morgan rushed over, and kissed Grace on the lips quickly. "Let's get out of here and find Lara and Story," she said.
Rainier sighed. "Oh, going so soon? With your little girlfriend who looks like my fucking doppelganger. What's your name, you little hottie?"
Grace scowled, but was, being Grace, incapable of being impolite. "Miss Grace of Zenith," she said, as hotly as she possibly could.
Rainier's jaw dropped. "No shit?" she said. "My little sister Gracie of Zenith? I'm Rainier of Melody, your big sis… oh, half-sister technically, but what's terminology within family? I mean, we've never even met, and we've gone through hell together… your mommy stealing my daddy and all that."
Grace frowned. "I'm sorry, I don't have an older sister. I'm the eldest. You must have me confused for some other Grace of Zenith."
"Two things wrong with that statement, hun. First, the name registry doesn't allow two unrelated people to have the same name, remember, or two people in certain age groups. Any other Grace of Zenith would have to be, like, eighty, and your grandma or something. And second, you look exactly. Fucking. Like me."
Morgan took hold of Grace. "We're going," she said firmly. "Shove off, witch."
"Sure, gay patrol," Rainier said, turning in her absolutely adorable jeans (that made her butt look wicked, as Morgan tried not to notice). "But hey, we'll meet up again soon, right? After all, we're all family. Or at least, Morganita, I'm your evil in-law."
Rainier waved, and looked almost like you'd expect a fairy to look. "See ya later!" she said in her high voice.
Any passerby probably thought they were school friends at Alfea. How come witches couldn't look evil, Morgan wondered. Where did the Great Dragon put the universe's justice?