Bad Luck

Bad luck follows those it wishes to.


2. The Heroes Will Rise


Macie was laying in bed, trying to get the images of her parent’s burnt, mangled bodies out of her mind.


“I'm telling you, man, your eyes are fakes. Nobody got eyes that light,” she heard echo from the stairs.


“Nope, they're real. When I was younger people called me Demon Kid and teased me for them,” said another voice, this one distinguishably male.


“Yo man, you gotta bring a date to the beach this summer. Nobody believes you about that Kylie chick,” the first voice coaxed.

“She’s real, bro. I’m telling you, she’s real,” said the second voice.


Macie had identified them both as guys, around eighteen if she had to guess. They were probably at the top of the stairs right now, and since she slept in very little and kept her door open she was in a bad situation. Luckily, the two guys were clearly intoxicated and walking slowly.


Ohgodohgodohmy DEAR SWEET JESUS IN A POTHOLE help me please…


Macie sprinted towards the door. The guys were steps away, she could hear them talking barely a foot from seeing her…


Macie got the door to close just as she heard the guys walk past her room. She collapsed against the door, breathing a sigh of relief. But then the guys stopped in front of her door. And then one said, “Well, this one’s my room. See you tomorrow at school, okay?”


Macie stumbled back from the door grabbing her blanket and wrapping herself in it as the door opened.


“Holy shit, I’m sorry, wrong room, my bad,” the guy muttered as he hastily backed out the door. He closed it and Macie heard him tapping his foot outside. “What happened?” the other guy asked, incredulous.


“Wrong floor, the new adopted chick is in this room. She was probably sleeping before we woke her up with our stupid rambling,” the walk-in teen explained. “Problem is, I can’t get up the next flight of stairs without the dads catching me. Those ones creak like a bitch. I guess I’ll just sleep in the hall, and pass it off as another sleepwalking incident. It’ll cost me another bout of therapy, the dads will freak, but it’s better than them thinking I was out drinking all night.”


Macie opened the door, this time clad in a pair of fuzzy pyjama pants and an old top. “You need to work on being a quieter drunk,” she told the one that had walked in on her. He was around six foot-three with soft cinnamon skin and melt me down holy shit brown-gold eyes. His dark hair fell across his forehead in delicate waves… his eyes had long, thick eyelashes… if Macie had a type, it was this guy. She turned to the other one, the one that was probably his friend.


Did only attractive guys live in this stupid city? This one screamed fuckboi, with his messy blond hair and muscular body. Paired with his beautiful tan skin, he was a stereotypical “surfer dude,” but on steroids. This guy could be a fucking model with his fallen-angel vibes. Macie blinked the dark half-sleep out of her eyes and glared up at the two of them.


“So let me get this right. You two are so intoxicated that you forgot that you were on the second floor, not the third, so you thought that my room was your room. But you are so incredibly drunk that you are physically unable to get to your room because you’ll make too much noise and Jason and Chase will hear you, resulting in a bad situation. So you solution is to sleep in the hall and pretend it was a sleepwalking episode, that somehow included your friend?” Macie summarized. “Well, when you put it that way…” the one that hadn’t walked in on her (bad boy surfer dude) muttered.


“Well, if you are to be staying the night in my room I should probably know  your names,” Macie said, narrowing her eyes. “You first, Intoxicated Not-My-Room.”


“Uh… my name is Beck. I’m Izzie’s twin,” said the tall (Hispanic?) dude. “I’m Quentin,” said the bad-boy surfer dude. “I’m Macie,” said Macie flatly. She hid her surprise behind an emotionless expression. She had assumed that Beck was a girl, not a giant Greek god. “Okay, so you can stay the night. But I’m waking you up at six, all right? I don’t want your dad’s first impression of me to be two guys in my room.”


Both agreed.


So that was how Macie found herself lying on the floor in a burrito of blankets while two guys that were two years older than her slept in her bed. They had offered to sleep on the floor, of course, but she had refused. Yale would probably spell them into sleepwalking out of the window to their injury or death, and the thud of hitting the ground should be enough to wake at least one of them up so that they wouldn’t end up dying.


This was not an unfounded fear; worse had happened to the people around Macie.


Macie didn’t sleep, and not just because of her fear of the guys dying. Every time she tried to, images of things that nobody should have to endure whipped through her mind. Finally, she slipped into a light doze filled with images of death.


Macie was woken up in the middle of the night by one of the guys– Quentin?– stepping on her stomach. His eyes were open, but glazed with a layer of sleep-fog. “Stop,” Macie huffed out through the foot on her stomach. “Yale, please,” she begged. Finally, Quentin removed his foot from her torso to take another step. Macie grabbed his arm, but his six foot three to her five foot five made a large difference. Macie was only around a hundred pounds– this guy was around a hundred and seventy. She dug her feet in and tugged as hard as she could to no avail.


Quentin was nearing the window, almost to the frame. Macie leapt onto his back and wrapped her arms around his neck. Yale, if you can hear me, don’t do this. Please.

I won’t, the disembodied voice of Yale shrieked. Macie snarled and clung to Quentin’s back. If you do this, she snarled in her head, you’ll destroy me too.


She didn’t know what to do. Quentin was a giant, and she was almost certain that she couldn’t stop him. But if Macie died, she was fairly certain that Yale wouldn’t be happy. So she clung to Quentin for dear life and let the tears stream down her face.


“Uh, Macie,” said a soft voice in her ear. Macie sniffled and looked up at Quentin. “Macie,” Quentin said again. “Can you let go of me?”


Macie blinked and sat down with a soft thunk.


Did Yale actually listen to her for once? Wow. must be her birthday, cause she just scored. “Hey, Macie? What happened to me?” asked Quentin, shaking his head like a dog would shake off water.  Macie shrugged and brushed her hair to the side, out of her face.


“You were sleepwalking and I was afraid you’d wake the dads up,” she lied smoothly, smiling. Quentin shrugged and walked back to the bed, flopping down. “Well, I’m tired as hell so let’s sleep,” he muttered and dozed off almost immediately.


Macie didn’t sleep for the rest of the night.


It was only later that she realized that Beck had been awake the whole time... and unaffected. 

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