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This time, I’m asleep within minutes.
When I wake, I get dressed in a cream blouse, with watercolor flowers printed on it, a rust-colored corduroy skirt with black buttons, and a lightweight, gray wool jacket with red trim sleeves.
I feel like I look a little more professional today, maybe just what people need to see to take me seriously around here.
Stepping out the door, I make my way down to my car and drive over to the Quik-Mart for a breakfast bar and a bottle of coffee.
The same woman is manning the register today but when I smile at her, she frowns and turns away.
Shaking my head, I take my stuff to the register and she silently scans my items before shoving them back across the counter at me, crossing her arms and glaring until I leave.
I blink a few times as I walk out of the convenience store, wondering what that was about. I shrug and open the coffee, taking a sip of the bittersweet brew.
With a clipboard in hand, I start walking through the nearest neighborhood, intent on door-knocking today.
Stepping up to the first door, I raise my hand and knock but someone yells from the window to get off their property. I’m used to that sort of thing and it doesn’t phase me as I head to the next home on the block.
But it’s the same there, and then I get a door slammed in my face. People yell at me to leave them alone, or I get blank stares even after I explain I’m not soliciting money.
Feeling defeated after an hour of this, I head back to my car only to find my tires have been slashed.
My hands fly to my mouth and I stare, tears filling my eyes. Is this in retaliation for last night? Because I dared to stand up for myself against the Crimson Blades, suddenly the whole town has turned against me?
I feel frozen, my eyes fixated on the now-deflated tires. A sinking realization of the situation settles over me. My initial shock turns to frustration and anger. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes, attempting to steady my racing thoughts.
"Why would they do this?" I mumble to myself. My hands tremble as I reach out to touch the damaged tires, fingers running over the punctured rubber. A knot forms in my stomach.
I take another deep breath, determined to shake this off. I can’t let this setback derail my mission. With a resolute look, I glance around, trying to figure out if I can make it on foot to a service station.
As I make my way along the main road, noisy yells catch my attention. I turn, seeing a car passing by. The group inside is yelling taunts, telling me to go back home, and calling me names. As they catch up, they fling plastic bottles at me from the car window.
The bottles are mostly empty thankfully, but one has soda inside, which explodes all over me as soon it hits the ground.
I jump back, the sticky substance drenching my skirt and part of my blouse. I let out a curse and start running, but the car is too far away now to catch up.
Feeling defeated, I trudge along until I spot a service station inside a tiny strip mall.
“Hi, can you help me?” I ask, walking into the lobby, which seemed to have frozen in time sometime around the 90s.
Fluorescent lights hum overhead as I walk on cracked linoleum floors up to the desk. The guy manning it looks up, giving me a once-over.
“I seem to have found myself with four flat tires. How much would it be to tow it here to get them replaced?”
“Be a hundred bucks to tow it here.” The man scratches his belly. “But I can’t do it, sorry.”
“What? Why?” There’s a note of panic in my voice.
“Sorry,” he shrugs. “Blades’ orders.”
I let out a stifled scream and take a few deep breaths, trying to calm down. “Please? Can’t you at least get the car towed here? I don’t want to leave it where I’ve got it parked. I can pay you extra if that’s what this is about.”
The man scrunches his weathered face and shrugs again. "I’m not going to go against their orders.”
“What did they tell you?” I step closer to the counter. “Whatever it is, they’ve got it all wrong. I’m not here trying to study you guys like bugs under a microscope or whatever it isthey’ve told you. I’m just doing a research project, I don’t want any trouble.”
“Ma’am, you made trouble for yourself the moment you mouthed off to Bastian Ravenwood. I can’t help you, now you’ll have to leave my shop.”
I deflate, turning to head back outside. It seems like I’m losing the battle here, but if he doesn’t want my business, someone else probably will.
