So, I’m not dead.
I’ve managed to dodge death countless times with just a few scratches.
I am inevitable.
I finally called my mother and told her about everything. The search parties ended, and the police dropped my case.
I told her that I want to rent an apartment for myself and find a job here.
At first, she didn’t like the idea at all. But I might have used Trace’s new ′powers of persuasion′ as he likes to call it, and she agreed.
We went to a sales job interview a few days ago.
How did it go, you may ask?:
The three of us sit down. I’m perched in the middle.
The head advisor glanced at Trace’s black cape, and he watched her with a scowl on his face.
I told him not to wear a cape in my interview.
She then proceeded to study Samuels’s squirmy expression which he wears when he is either nervous or holding in a pee. His eyes glinted and he furrowed his brows worriedly.
“And who are you two supposed to be?” She asks doubtfully.
Sam’s blabbermouth opened.
“We’re her... Parents!”
Trace chimed in. “Uh... Yeah! We drove her here, might as well come in. Isn’t that right, babe?” He flashed Sam his charming smile.
”Damn straight.” Sam snickered. "Or shall I say.. Damn gay."
And they both exploded with laughter.
I should have ditched them at the parking lot.
I only ever agreed to let them tag along so they can be my emotional supporters, not to make this even more stressful.
I face the advisor and laugh nervously. She seemed so scared; her doubtful frown is etched deep on her forehead.
Wow, this is scarier than when we almost died trying to save Sam from a poison dart.
She cleared her throat.
“Um... Well, nice to meet you both.” She seemed like she wanted to get this over with as much as I do. “Let’s see here. Marigold Abbot.”
She rummaged through the mountain of papers and resumes from under her rimless glasses. She then looked up to meet my eyes.
“Let’s leave everything that requires you to apply for this job aside.” She leaned forward, pushing the papers away. “I want to ask you a question.” But suddenly, she was staring in horror at Trace’s eyes, and her eyes glinted. She had this distant, glassy look in her eyes.
“How... How would you feel if you started first thing next week?” She talked as if she was reading from a script.
I turn to Trace. He smirked in pride.
“Perfect.” I smile at her.
Mom went back to Minnesota, and I’m left here in Central City. I might be getting used to it now.
Now, let’s do a reality check:
1- Grey has been sent to prison. Life sentence. Maybe she can be the best person who can be a prisoner there. Knock yourself out.
2- Sam finally stuck up to his dad and didn’t care about his nod of approval anymore. He resigned from the agency. He said, and I quote, “That place was so bland and toxic anyway. Do we have any more chips left?”
3- Until we find a good apartment, Sam and I will stay with Trace in his lair.
4- Henchman makes some really good hard-shell tacos.
5- We fight once a week, but I consider it a healthy friendship.
6- Trace is still the same as always. His ego became bigger, of course. But he doesn’t burn buildings and kick babies for a living anymore. He’s like a passive-aggressive superhero now. Just like Sam and me.
In just a span of three weeks, my life has been flipped upside down. Never in my life have I thought that this would have happened. I’m in a Prophecy. I’m slowly starting to discover myself.
Might sound cliche, but it’s true.
I wouldn’t say I’m lucky.
But I will say this:
We are one hell of a Trio.