Episode 1
I am about to have the perfect life. I think about this as I make a latte for the last person in the café, my best friend, Faith. Faith leans her head on her hands, staring up at me. Her textbook lays open in front of her. She hasn't turned the page in a while, and I know what she's about to say. She says it every day. I wait.
Finally, she speaks, and her voice is gruff from last night's party."Girl, are you sure?"
"About getting married? Yes, yes, yes."
She rolls her eyes. "No, i***t. I've already tried to talk you out of that a bajillion times! You're nineteen!"
I laugh. "I'm old. All my sisters got married, like, as soon as they graduated high school."
Faith wrinkles her nose. A crimp of strawberry-blonde hair falls in front of her face and she wraps it unthinkingly around her finger. She looks so pretty in the evening light. "They're stupid. Your family is so stupid."
"I know that." I sigh. We'd had this conversation ever since we were kids. The first time we spoke about this, she was a popular fifth-grade girl taking pity on me. Me, in my flowery dress and my hair tied in a tight bun. Me, with my nervous twitching and my fumbling with words. I was shocked. She asked me about the ugly dress, and it all poured out.
My dad, the shadow. My mom, a looming figure with a stick in hand, always ready to dispatch discipline at a moment's notice. My seven sisters, just as distant and just as easy to fear.
Faith broke my world apart in the best possible way. I love her.
I set her latte in front of her, blowing it a kiss. She blows it back, our ritual.
"Look, I know you don't want to talk about it. And he's a really nice guy--"
"--and rich." I imagine my debt wiped away in an instant. What a lovely dream. But what's more, his big, sweet eyes. Those perfect hands, and what they feel like, stroking my cheek. I could think about that all day.
"Yes, that too. Just..." She stops, her bright eyes meeting mine. I only notice how blue they are when she stares at me like this. "Whatever," she finally continues. "This is a waste of time. That dress, though? Hideous! That's what I wanted to say! I couldn't hold it in any longer!"
I laugh. The tension has crashed and splintered like a wave broken on the shore. "What's wrong with puffy sleeves?"
She doesn't bother answering my question. "Remember the black one we saw?"
I do. A simple A-line, black as the night sky, with a plunging neckline and a trail of shimmery star-like fabric. When my hands traced it, I imagined a sky over a thick forest. It unlocked something in my chest.
"Are you trying to get my parents to kick me out? That party yesterday was enough of a close call."
"You'd be better for it."
I snort. "Yeah, yeah, I know."
The hair around her finger has become a tight, painful twist. "f**k this guy. Let's just get an apartment together, you and me. We'll be two struggling college students living off ramen and stuff. It'll be great."
I open my mouth to respond, to laugh at her, but the doorbells chime. I give the usual 'Welcome to Ramona's Coffeehouse,' followed by a practiced, doll-like smile. I'm proud to be a good employee. The fake smile becomes real when I see the man who enters. My fiance.
Jack is beautiful. When my father pressed my hand into his on my sixteenth birthday, a feeling I can hardly describe filled my chest. I was melting. The thick, wavy hair. The black, doe-like eyes framed by fluttering lashes. His strong biceps. I could make them out easily against his blue velvet jacket. I was instantly head over heels.
He was my first kiss. In the ballroom kitchen, Faith had snuck in through the window and broke into the collection of fabulous wines. We were just kids, drunk on priceless alcohol. Something took me over, and I pressed him against the tiles and clumsily mashed my face into his.
Even now, years later, when I see him, I want to push my hands into his hair and press myself against his chest. I really am the luckiest person alive.
But something is wrong. Jack is a musical man, a finance major, yes, but a romantic as well. For years, he would sneak out of the house, reeking of mischief and fancy cigars, guitar in hand to meet me at my window. But today, his eyes look hidden by a dark cloud.
"I shouldn't be here." He clears the café with a few strides of his long legs. In a moment, he's standing beside Faith at the bar. "They told me not to come, but I don't care. We have to go now."
"Go?" It's like he's speaking another language. "What do you mean? Go where? I have to close!"
"It doesn't matter!" He's never raised his voice before at me. I flinch. "I think they've followed me! The--the--monsters from the school--"
"Um." Faith breathes. "Jack? You okay?"
"I should've told you! But they'd have killed me, and you wouldn't have believed me anyway!" He reaches over the bar and grabs my hands. His tan face is pale and his eyes are wild. "I don't know why they're doing this--"
"Jack, Jack, you need to calm down. I have to close--"
"Annabeth! There's no time! They'll kill us!"
The door swings open. I begin my ritualistic, "Hi, welcome to Ramona's--" when he shoves his hand over my face and jumps the counter. It's a flurry of motion. I hit the ground hard, the cold linoleum floor meeting my hip. Jack presses down on top of me, and I can feel my heartbeat against his. As if in a dream, I see Faith land beside us. She's as silent as a dancer.
"Little jackelope, come out, come out." The voice is a hiss. My cell phone is in the locker; I have no one to call. I can't even look at Faith. Whatever this is, it's not supposed to happen. My life is supposed to be perfect. I'm supposed to marry the man of my dreams. I'm supposed to be happy. Thirty days until our wedding at the beach.
Jack's face becomes stark white. He squeezes my hands. The footsteps echo in the distance, bouncing off the dark modern tables. Slowly, the figures close in. Between the three of us, I can barely hear our own breath.
"Oh, Jackelope..." the voice sings.
With another flurry of movement, Jack jumps to his feet. "Okay, okay!" He gives a nervous laughter, his signature. "You want me, you got me, just leave the girls alone. They haven't done anything."
There's a sound I've only heard in movies. A gunshot. It's so loud it blows out my eardrums, and I can't contain my scream. Hot red blood splatters my hair and clothes; I'm coated in seconds. Jack tumbles to the ground.
My heart drops to my feet. This isn't supposed to happen. This isn't how my life is supposed to be. I'm supposed to get married; it's supposed to be a movie.
"Come out, little wolf."
Something kicks in my stomach. Somehow, I know they're talking about me.
