Page 3 of Eclipsed Legacy

I finish my first cup of coffee, then down the second. Mel brings me my steak and eggs a few minutes later. I scarf them down and organize my dirty dishes before placing a twenty and a five on the table close to the window. My phone dings. It’s Mom, an SOS involving my brother. This is why I need two cups on Mondays. I eat here often enough to know that my total comes to $15.72, leaving Mel a pretty good tip.

It’s only 8:30 when I pull into my mom’s driveway. I make my way up the three wooden steps to her 1,000 square-foot rancher. She’s already lecturing Michael, my fourteen-year-old brother, when I enter.

“When I say you have to go, I mean you have to go!” she shouts.

Michael throws his hands in the air. “But it’s so stupid! I don’t need school; I’m going to be a carpenter. School’s not for smart people, anyway!”

Mom huffs, “You cannot drop out.”

“But—"

“It’s illegal; you’re too young.” She crosses her arms and narrows her eyes.

“What do you know?” He turns and mumbles more under his breath, but I hear him. “Didn’t even fucking finish.” Immediately, I feel my face go hot. He did not fucking go there.

I step in his way. “Uh-uh,” I say biting the inside of my cheek so I don’t cross a line like he did.

His mouth drops. “You heard me?” he screeches, his eyes wide and voice cracking at the end.

“Hell yeah, I did!” I exclaim, half lecturing and half amused. “Now turn your butt around and apologize! And watch your mouth.”

“It shouldn’t count. You can’t use wolf powers on me!”

“That’s not how it works, and you know it.” I make a condescending circle motion with my finger. “Now, turn around.”

With a huff, he turns, shoulders slumped, and looks toward our mother, who just looks exhausted. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” I ask. Mom never sticks up for herself, not to him or either of our dads.

“Being a punk.”

I manage to stifle the smile that is eager to escape, but Mom gives a slight chuckle. “Good enough,” I say, rolling my eyes before turning to Mom. “Do you want me to take him?”

She yawns, “If you don’t mind. I’ve got to be to work in—” As Mom check’s her phone, her eyes go wide, looking as if they’re about to pop out of her head. “—fifteen minutes!” she finishes, already scrambling to get her coat and keys.

I wave Michael along to my car, a green 1998 Honda Civic. She’s a bit beat up but is always reliable. We arrive at the high school a few minutes after nine. I walk Michael to the front office. Before I have finished signing him in, the bell rings, and he dashes off to his next class. I thank the receptionist and head back to Ol’ Reliable.

Deciding to get my errands over with, I make my way to the local bank and withdraw fifty dollars before making the longer drive downtown. I pull in to Alice’s Apothecary, a small shop next to a tobacco outlet run by none other than Alice, a tall, thick woman with long, purple hair and a star tattoo on her neck. She smiles sweetly when I enter. Today, she wears a silk blue shawl over a black shirt and jeans.

“Morning, Tala. In for some pre-bed bud?” She wiggles her eyebrows. Alice, unofficially and not-so-subtly, sells marijuana on the side. I used to partake before bed to help me sleep, but I haven’t recently. Employees at Mason’s Chicken Factory are subject to random drug tests, and my state hasn’t fully legalized yet. I don’t have anything against weed, but I don’t think it is worth getting fired over.

I laugh, “No, just need some angelica, bay laurel, and anise for my grandmother.”

Alice nods, then turns to the drawer-covered wall behind her. As Alice collects my order, I look around. It seems she’s reorganized. Her crystals are on a table, oils organized on shelves, and the recycled clothing on a small rack. There are a few bookshelves lined with books on nature, the Grateful Dead, and Wicca. The register sits on a glass counter which displays a variety of homemade jewelry. Several rocks and stones are arranged decoratively around the jewelry with some necklaces draped over some of the stones. My reflection gazes back at me from a polished black rock. High cheekbones. Tanned skin with an olive undertone. Full lips. And resting bitch-face. Yep! That’s me. Back in school, a boy once told me that I’d be hot if I weren’t so terrifying. He wasn’t wrong.

Alice turns and places my items on the counter before ringing me up. I pay, and as I turn to leave, she says, “Have a nice day…I hope everything is okay.”

Her final statement takes me aback. “What do you mean?” I ask, stopping in my tracks. Alice knows that my knowledge on herbs isn’t extensive. That’s my eccentric grandmother’s thing.

Alice gives a soft smile. “The herbs your grandmother is having you pick up all have something in common: their protective properties.”

I nod, trying not to let on that Alice’s statement has surprised me. I don’t believe in this stuff, I remind myself as I leave.

I get home to my apartment a little before noon. Damn. I’m not getting much sleep today. I lock my door, set Grandma’s herbs on the counter, then close my blackout curtains before crashing into bed. Sleep quickly consumes me, but dreams elude me.

What feels like two seconds later, my phone starts going off. It cannot be five o’clock already! With a groan, I roll over to turn off my alarm, only it’s not my alarm going off. It’s my ringer, and it’s only two o’clock. I blink some sleep out of my eyes. It’s the high school.

“Hello?” I answer, trying to sound as alert as possible.