Disclaimer: I'm so tired of typing this out but here goes: My story, My chracters, My plot. No taking. Capiche?
Chapter 7
Laughter rang through the kitchen, following the statement.
“Fine… I just need to find the pasta…” Bobby said while smiling at the blatant catch-phrase of her friend.
Sherry pointed out, at the urging of her impatient growling stomach, the obvious:
“You know, we could just order take out.”
Bobby could practically feel a sweat drop perspire against her forehead and mentally thwacked herself.
Smirking at her comrades, Sherry Lynn took out her cellular phone that was always in her pocket, and coursed through her contact list while reading the ption aloud.
“So… Italian? Japanese? Chinese? Mexican?”
“Italian.” Said the synchronized voices of Kaylee and Bobby, both already salivating at the thought of lasagna and spaghetti.
“Should we ask Prudence too?” Sherry asked, a concerned tone heard between her words and spaces.
Both Kaylee and Bobby ignored the question.
Sherry understood the unspoken decision and knew she couldn’t do anything to change her friend’s choice. Sighing to herself, she dialed the restaurant and ordered a rather large dinner, consisting of spaghetti, pasta and lasagna.
“Speaking of the she-devil, where is she?” Kaylee pounced on Bobby as Sherry patiently repeated the order to the nasal teen on the other line, who sounded like he couldn’t give a yarn’s darn on her order.
Meanwhile…
Leaves of rich colour fell from heaven, as a strong fist of wind pummeled into a red shadow. The leaves pinned themselves against the figure and soil from soft sand wafted the surrounding, creating a mist around the silhouette.
High-heels worn by the figure, echoed on the pavement, making ants and worms under it squeal in fear of being stomped by the pressure exerted over such a small area.
The shadow, briskly strutted into the dark night, with her hand to her ear; pressing a cellular object to her ear canal. A muffled voice could be heard from the phone, but not identified. It’s distinct masculine pitch could be heard, of a baritone note, and also in the stern grunts that answered.
In return, the shadow released sound waves of it’s own into the mouth piece of the object. Shimmering light from the street light danced upon the surface of the curve where it settled in. A sharp nose above and carefully curled eyelashes adorned the small face, and startling green pierced the jaded face.
From a glance, it would seem a normal picture: a teenage girl receiving a call with a very eager voice, hanging on each word from the other end as if her whole world demanded on it.
Watching Prudence Bliche snap her phone shut at the abrupt dismissal by the caller, no one would’ve guessed the truth:
It did.
