A Mysterious Thing

September 11, 2015

Dear Maisie,

-This thing is called a letter, please pick up a pen and paper to reply to me. You told me you love being my best friend because I'm so old-fashioned, so prove it.-

I am not doing anything sketchy. So, please do not follow me around. You're not very stealthy. I promised you that I changed, didn't I? Please, just focus on taking care of your sick boyfriend. I will be fine.

I will indeed be moving in with Mom and Arnold soon, and I am not looking forward to it if you must know. I'm just not sure when yet because Mom is all over the place with her excitement, and Arnold is super busy, so they can never decide. I will give you all the details once it actually happens, okay?

Again--please stop following me around. I can hear your heeled boots clicking from miles away. Don't even think of wearing different shoes just to follow me because I will still hear them for sure. Only, I wouldn't think it would be you, so I might end up attacking you instead.

Love, Dina

-LETTERS END HERE-

I keep running, my ears working double-time to hear any signs of him catching up to me. I round into a dark alley, hoping that would discourage him from picking up his pace. But he keeps giving chase, so I run even faster. It takes a long while until I can only hear the sound of my footsteps on the wet pavement. Man, Mr. Cool is not the type to easily give up, huh? I stop to catch my breath as soon as I am out of the woods.

"Aah!! You scared the shit out of me!' I scream, my hand flying towards my chest. My best friend Maisie suddenly appears in front of me. She has her hands on her hips, and she's looking at me reproachfully. I know I'm about to get an earful, so I hold up a hand to stop her.

"Last one. I swear it is. That guy just pissed me off. He's just...so cool and collected. It annoyed me." It's probably not going to help, but I try to reason with her.

"What?" Maisie looks at me like I've gone crazy. "What kind of an excuse is that for robbing someone?"

"Um..didn't you ever get bothered by someone because they look so cool and suddenly felt the urge to steal from them?" I ask her innocently, even though I know I'm not going to get away with it.

"No, Dina Marie. Get your brain fixed." Maisie says, pulling on her hair. "You promised me you would change," she adds, looking so mournful it almost breaks my heart. I hate disappointing her. But I just can't get distracted now, not even by her.

"Sorry, Maze," I tell her, and I know she knows what I'm apologizing for. I won't be stopping my late-night excursions soon. That's how it's always been for us. We can tell each other stories with just one look. I guess that's what happens when you only have one friend your entire life. The bond has no choice but to get deeper and deeper.

As a consequence, it cuts more when they disappoint you. I see this as Maisie's dismay gets more palpable. "Call me after three days," she tells me before finally walking away.

I almost call her back to say that we should walk home together. But she would probably insist that she can take care of herself and throw me an even more annoyed look. I don't want her to be mad at me for longer than three days.

I sigh, sliding down the wall of the building beside me onto the ground. Trying not to think about the fact that I just drove my only friend away, I look at the wallet in my hand. I need money for reasons that I cannot tell Maisie, and it has been creating a wedge between the two of us these past few days. I wasn't planning to steal when I got inside the 7/11, though. I was telling the truth when I said I stole it on impulse. Mr. Cool just pissed me off. He's the kind of person that clearly thinks he's better than anyone. Maybe he is, with his good looks and perfect skin. Also, his wallet is definitely Prada, which can only mean that he's rich too. Holding my breath excitedly, I pull it open.

"What?" I utter in disgust, closing the wallet again with a snap. Who puts only fifty bucks inside a Prada leather wallet? I rummage some more. There's a couple of receipts for car maintenance transactions and several debit and credit cards inside, but no more cash.

"Of course, he uses cards. Damn it." I say, sotto voce. If he's smart, and I have a feeling that he is, he's probably already called to cancel all these cards. I flip the wallet in my hand. I don't know what to do with it anymore.

Pausing, I look at it again. On the front is a picture of the guy as a kid, his parents on either side of him. It's your classic picture of a happy family. I try to remember if my parents and I ever posed for a picture before, but the memory does not come to mind. Instinctively, I slip my fingers behind the photo. Something shifts. I pull it out, curious. It's a folded piece of paper.

"Weird," I mutter as I look inside it. My eyes widen. Shit. What the hell is this doing in that stranger's wallet?

________________________________________

There's Kimchi on the table again. For breakfast. I look at my stepfather. The genius and the billionaire Arnold Moon. He's about 50, but you can never guess that when you look at him. I'm still not sure if it's the Asian genes or the plastic surgeries, though. Probably both.

"How's sleep, Dina?" Arnold finally notices me, folding the newspaper he's reading. I can't help but glance at his perfectly manicured hands. The polish is clear, of course, but I still suppress a shudder. This dude is just way more in touch with his feminine side than me.

"Good," I answer vaguely. I realize that the best way to deal with parents is just to give them one-word answers to their questions.

"That's great," Arnold replies cheerfully. "We're going out for dinner tonight. You think you can finish schoolwork at 5 pm to join us?" he asks.

"I'll try, Arnold. But I probably can't. My teachers gave a shitload of homework yesterday." I reply.

Arnold blinks, confused. "But it was your first day yesterday. They couldn't have given you that much work to do, right?"

I want to tell him that's not how it works for non-geniuses like me. I'm always submitting things way past the deadline. Only this time, I have no intention of doing them. I have other plans for tonight. I need to look for Uncle Fern because my Dad won't answer my letters.

"They did. It's a tough school." I answer simply.

"Oh well, that's too bad." his face visibly falls, but it doesn't take long for it to light up again. "Hey, maybe next time," he says, optimistic as ever. It makes me wonder what it would take to disappoint the guy. Nothing seems to bother him.

"Oh. I meant to ask you. I left my Rolex on this table last night after dinner. Did you happen to see it?" Arnold queries, turning his attention back to me.

"Nope. Maybe Mom found it and kept it for you?" I tell the truth. If there is one person that I can never steal from, that would be Arnold. It's one of the conditions that I've given myself once I've made my decision to move to Botswana. I am not taking anything from Mom or Arnold with me. It's annoying, considering how easily I can solve my problem by just running off with a few of his stuff. I will not only have that plane ticket. Grandma and I will be living in comfort for the rest of our lives.

Arnold nods, "Probably." he rises from his chair, brushing non-existent crumbs off his suit. "Well, I'm heading off to work now. Why don't you go and remind your mother of the time? You'll be late for school."