"Stella, stop!" I screeched out. "Stop!"
I reached out, seized her by her shoulders, and shook her body back and forth in front of me. I watched her as she finally ceased her frantic screaming and glared her red, tear-stained eyeballs right into mine, which were probably just about as blackened with concern as hers.
"But," Stella began to whine at me. "What do we do?"
Okay, now I should probably slow myself down and catch you up with what the hell is actually going on.
First, since my outing with Stella Anderson at Fiona Pindell's house party last weekend went so well, Stella proposed that we try another excursion one-on-one, just the two of us. I didn't want to. But she insisted... incessantly.
So, when the next Friday evening came around, Stella decided to pick me up in her nice little "retro" green slug-bug (retro to Stella apparently means anything older than a mere eight years of age), drove the two of us to this tiny and usually deserted park area next to Green Lake (though, ironically, its water is actually much more yellow in tint and is notoriously known by every other county around for having the highest number of tampons removed from it every spring, supposedly the highest number in the state... what the actual count last spring was, I'm not sure, but rumor has it the year before that a record high of 566 tampons were removed from the water), and, since it was proving to be such a surprisingly warm day for early March (I mean, 50 degrees Fahrenheit!), we got some ice cream blizzards from the local DQ and decided to take a stroll alongside the infamous lake.
And then the conversation went something like this:
"Oh, Emma, this is so nice! Why didn't we ever do anything together before the... you know." (—Stella.)
"Wow, Stella, I don't know..." (—Me, slightly sarcastically, though I don't think Stella ever picked up on the tone in my voice.) "Maybe because we've pretty much hated and avoided each other's company for about ten years or so now."
Stella: "Oh, no, Emma, I never hated you!" (I recall I looked the opposite direction of her to roll my eyes and shove a dripping glob of fudge-flavored heaven into my mouth before she went on.) "I don't hate anybody..."
Me, butting in quietly before she continued even further: "Yeah, I've heard that one before."
Stella, ignoring my remark: "I mean, yeah, we might have had our differences and everything in the past... but we're older and smarter now, right?"
"Sure." (—Me.)
Stella: "Oh, well, it's all behind us now... and so is the last few of our... 'incidences', right? I mean... school and the party and everything..."
Me, after devouring the final remnants of my chocolate ice cream: "Yeah... and, I don't know about you, but I'm really done with boys right about now."
And then, of course, we both comfortably laughed, right before... well, okay, here's what happened.
First, there was a scream. Not from either of us, no... from some lady (from what it sounded like, though, I guess it could also have been mistaken for a duck call or something of that nature) behind both of us. So, naturally, we both spun around to see what was up, right? And then... bam.
This very elderly woman with typical short gray hair curled via, probably, hot rollers, a baggy blue and white striped sweater that hung down to her wrinkly old knees, which were not clothes by pants of any kind, and a pair of fuzzy bunny slippers which seemed to once actually be white but had become caked with dirt from... well, probably wearing them outside, came charging at the two of us. And then she pounced onto Stella and physically knocked her down to the dirt path beneath our feet. And Stella screamed out, and then I screamed out, and then the lady emitted another one of the duck call sounds.
So, after that, I thought WWMCD?, right? And so then I threw my (thankfully already) finished ice cream cup down and jumped onto this crazy old lady's back. And I yelled out, "Get off her!" and reached around to slap my hands onto the woman's saggy face, but then she brought her elbow backward and stabbed me directly in the side of the throat with it. And, oh god, that really hurt... so then I let go of her and slid off her back to land onto my own on the ground beside her.
And then I looked over at Stella, who was now suddenly extremely quiet, and realized that she was actually unconscious. So, of course, I screamed out in terror as the old woman stepped back from her, and then brought myself back to my feet as she turned to me. And then I saw her come at me with this gross, dripping wet yellow cloth that, at first, I thought she just dunked in the tampon water, but then thought twice about it when I realized she was aiming to shove it right at my mouth. Before she could do that, though, I somehow snatched it away, and then I chucked it toward the lake, though it only landed a few feet away from where we were.
"Fetch," I remember mumbling to her as she made a weird grumbling sound and turned to run toward where it rested by the lakeside. And then, as she rushed away from me, I turned and squatted down beside Stella, who was still unresponsive, face-up atop the earth.
And I yelled at her to wake up so we could go and I recall slapping the sides of her cheeks a bit, but then I felt that stupid lady jump onto my back.
"Get off, crazy bitch!" I remember shouting the most vividly out of everything as I attempted to shake her off of me.
But, of course, I couldn't get rid of her, and then, before you know it, that damn nasty cloth was smothering my nose and mouth.
And then... well, I guess whatever it was doused with knocked me out, just like it apparently did to Stella, and then I woke up in this old, smelly basement to Stella's ceaseless screaming.
So, back to where we previously were...
"But," Stella whined. "What do we do?"
I kept my hands on her shoulders and studied her face full of fear for a long, long second.
"Well, that... that's a good question," I mumbled out.
I slid my hands back to myself as Stella began to let out a loud, whimper-y cry.
"Oh boy..." I continued to whisper, now taking a second to glance around at my surroundings more in-depth than I had when I first awoke.
I took note of the super sketchy wooden staircase against the far wall on my right, the completely cement paneling behind it as well as an exact replica of the concrete covering every other wall in the approximately 15 by 25 square foot room, the white but considerably dusty and dirt covered refrigerator standing against the wall behind Stella's back, the two slits of shallow windows, though both too close to the ceiling and too out of reach to look out of, high up on the wall to my left, the two large cardboard boxes sitting next to one another, each closed up for the moment, and the stack of about seven or eight spiderweb encrusted buckets beside them all in front of the wall behind my own back.
"Lord..." I muttered as I took my observations on every object and detail of the partially empty room.
"E—E—E—Emma," Stella stuttered out through her tears. I gazed back at her as she shook her head and wiped a few of them away with the sleeve of her thin blue sweatshirt. "I—I—I—I—I d—d—don't w—w—wanna d—d—d—die!"
"Stella," I started, again, now grabbing firmly at her shoulders once more and piercing my gaze right into hers. "We are not going to d—"
Before I could finish my affirmative statement, however, a loud creek echoed throughout the room and the 'i' sound that I intended to form turned into a much sharper 'AH' one. Stella let out a very similar scream, also, and grabbed my hands away from her arms as we both snapped our heads into the direction of the wooden stairs across the room.
I allowed my scream to fade away when I saw that the noise was actually the sound of that ridiculously abrasive old woman entering the room, though she both shut and locked the door behind herself to, I suppose, deter our thoughts of escaping soon after I caught gaze of her.
Stella's scream turned even more slowly than mine into her new signature whiny cry as she squeezed my hands more tightly in front of her chest and took a step backward, forcing me to move alongside her.
I stared silently at the woman as she began making her way ever-so-sluggishly down the staircase and, once she was about two steps from the floor, she spoke out to us in an eerily squeaky voice.
"How are my kiddies today?" her voice echoed out, her tone very unnecessarily enthusiastic.
Stella continued to cry while I watched the woman both slide the key she used to lock the door into the front of her (surprisingly existent and likely not large enough) bra and finally make it to the ground.
"We..." I began to reply, feeling Stella's clutch tighten even more than it already was on me. "We've been better..."
"Oh, look at my girls..." the woman went on, ignoring my statement as she stepped toward the two of us. "You just look so cute today!"
She smiled through her nasty wrinkles, swerved to the right, and shuffled in the direction of the boxes and buckets at the back of the room.
"You girls ready to have some fun?" she asked, again, very much too enthused for her own good.
"No, actually," I responded. "I think we're good..."
Stella let out a stronger cry, threw my hands down, and flung her arms around me, now bringing me into a closely uncomfortable hug. I kept my eyes on the old woman, though, and studied her backside as she bent over and began to open one of the cardboard boxes on the floor ahead.
"Okay, Stella," I then whispered, turning my face to bring my mouth up to her ear. "Here's what we're gonna do... I'll tackle her down, and you get the key from her bra."
Stella continued to whine as the woman began to rummage through whatever hard objects resided in that one box.
"Okay?" I went on mumbling, now flickering my eyes toward Stella and giving an attempt at pushing myself away from her clutches, though she hurriedly pulled me back in and looked at me with tearstained cheeks.
"E—E—E—Emma," she stuttered out, not actually very quietly at all. "I—I—I'm s—s—s—s—sc—sc—sc—scared!"
I narrowed my eyebrows at her and let out a soft hushing sound; however, it apparently wasn't soothing enough for Stella's taste, because she proceeded to scream out a sob and slowly lower herself to her knees, though, luckily enough for me, she slid her hands away from my body in the process.
"Stella!" I loud-whispered, now stepping back a bit to look down at her as she literally sank into a puddle of sorrow on the cold, concrete ground.
"Oh, girls, look at all these pretty toys I bought for you!" the demented woman shouted out, forcing me to spin around and hand my attention back to her as she suddenly heaved the box up to her waist, tilted it to its side, and dumped its complete contents onto the ground by her feet. I quickly scanned the variety of plastic children's toys that had once been held captive in the container as they each fell the floor with a loud clack or thrump, though I only took note of three decapitated, naked babydolls, a cracked blue frisbee seeming to be covered in webs once spun by spiders of whom were likely to be deceased as of probably ten years ago, and one red rubber duck, though red seemed not to be its original body color... all before I threw my gaze back at the old woman.
I watched her turn her back to me and gently place the cardboard box back beside the other, untouched one.
Now, I then had two options to pick from... One, I could have slinked down to the cold, dirty hard floor next to Stella and cry and scream and whine and kick until the crazy old woman put me out of my misery... or, choice number two, which I'm sure you all know me well enough by now to know what that certain option entailed and how very likely I was to choose it.
So, yes, I picked option number two.
Immediately, I gathered up all my energy and used it to shoot myself directly in the woman's direction. I scampered up to her back, then, and let out a soft grunt as I threw myself on top of it.
"Oh!" she, eerily innocently, shouted out as I knocked her down to the ground below.
"Let us out of here!" I screeched, now scurrying to sit myself on top of her backside, one leg on each side of her waist.
"Erica, please, stop!" the woman yelped.
I scrunched up my nose for the quickest moment at the back of her head.
"I'm not Erica..." I mumbled, probably too softly for her to hear.
Just then, though, she slapped her hands down on the concrete underneath herself and thrusted her back upward, catching me a little off guard and tossing me onto my back behind her.
"Bad girl!" she screamed, now pulling herself up to her feet.
I remained silent, then, as I hurried up to a stand as well behind her. She spun around at the same moment, and then I reached up to grab both of her wrists as she raised them in front of her chest.
"Give me the key!" I shouted.
"Why don't you love me, Erica!" the woman screamed back, her face turning to heavy emotion.
"Just give me the key!" I reiterated.
Right then, she snapped her arms down with a surprisingly great amount of force, making me release them promptly. Afterward, she threw one hand back, and then slapped it harshly across my left cheek.
"Ow!" I spat out, throwing my hands up to my face as my head whipped to the side.
"Bad girl, Erica!" the woman screamed, now suddenly grabbing my left shoulder and pushing it forcibly backward.
"Stop!" I yelled, now stumbling to the side as an effect from her force.
"Bad, bad girl!" she repeated.
I turned back to her once I had caught my balance from falling, and then witnessed her rush into the direction of the staircase.
"No!" I shouted, now sprinting right after her. I ran up to her backside, again, and then threw my arms around her waist. "You're not going anywhere!"
"Bad, Erica, bad!" the woman continued to hiss.
"Give me the key!" I repeated.
I then attempted to pull her backward a few steps, but, as I did, she grabbed my hands and began to pry them away from her smelly old sweater.
"Stop!" I screamed out as she successfully pulled my clutch off of herself.
And, before I could do much of anything about it, she pulled my left hand up to her face, and then I felt a deep, sharp sting become suddenly delivered to the side of it.
"Ah—" I sputtered out in pain as she slowly turned around in front of me to show her teeth sunken into my hand.
I widened my eyes for a spilt second before she released her bite and smashed her hands into my shoulders, promptly pushing me aback. Unlike the last time she attempted to throw me down, though, she was actually successful.
I threw my hands behind myself as I came crashing down to the cement, my buttocks catching the grunt of my fall. I watched the woman run around the edge of the stairs, and then began to stand myself up once more
"Ow, ow, ow," I grumbled as I did so. After I was up, though, I tossed myself forward, and then whipped myself around the bottom of the staircase.
"Stop!" I shouted, now trotting my way rushingly up the steps, my head kept down to focus on the stairs. "Don't you dare leave!"
I heard a loud bang at the top, and then looked up as I stepped to see the woman fly through the open doorframe, slamming the door shut behind. As I looked, then, I stumbled a little bit on my feet, and in turn glanced downward once more. I continued to rush up to the top, though, and turned toward the closed wooden door once I got there.
I threw my hands out to the doorknob and began frantically twisting it both left and right, though it was locked and didn't budge near enough to effectively open the exit-way.
"Let us out!" I screeched, now banging my hands flat against the center of the closed portal. "Get back here!" I slammed my hands into the door a few more times, and then returned them to jiggle the immovable handle. "Ah!"
I screeched and screamed another minute or so, and then slapped the door one final time before falling to silence.
Well... it would have been silence if it weren't for Stella's incorrigible, thundering whimpers echoing out from across the room.
I brought my hands up to my hips, pursed my lips at the door for another moment, and then peeked my head over my shoulder to see Stella sitting on the floor, her back to the wall, and her forehead to her knees in the exact same place she had been when I last left her to unsuccessfully attack the mentally unstable ninety year old woman holding us hostage.
I looked her over a moment, then turned to the right, trailed down the staircase, and stepped my way over to her side.
"Stella, it's..." I began to push out as I slammed my back against the wall behind her and slide my body down to sit next to her left side. "It's... gonna be alright."
I stretched my right arm out to wrap around her upper back.
"B—B—But," Stella stuttered back, now raising her head from her legs. "W—W—We're g—g—gonna..."
She proceeded to crane her neck to face me and I nearly screeched out in horror at the amount of mascara and eyeliner smeared all over her countenance. I mean, it was everywhere... her cheeks, her lips, her forehead, up her nose, and even on her eyeballs; however that happens, I haven't got a clue, but it did.
"D—D—D—D—D—D—D—" Stella endlessly mumbled, though I took the liberty of cutting her short before she could utter that damn word that I knew was coming.
"Stella…" I slid my arm inward from her backside and grabbed at her shoulder. "We're not going to die!"
She whimpered back at me a bit.
"H—H—How d—d—do y—you kn—know t—t—t—t—t—"
"Because," I spat out, again, before she could finish her whining. "I... I'm psychic, Stella, and I had a vision..." I squinted my eyes at her and sluggishly nodded. "I saw us both... on a pontoon... on Lake Michigan... drinking margaritas... and—"
This time, Stella courageously stopped me short.
"I—I... I h—hate b—boats, Emma!"
I raised a brow at the sound of her first non-stuttered word this entire time.
"A—And t—that's... n... n—not f—funny, Emma!" she went on, again pronouncing only my name with full comprehension. "I—I kn—know y—you're n—not a—a... ps—psychic!"
I stared at her finally drying tears for a moment while I thought of a reply to give back to her.
"Only a psychic would know that," I commented.
I watched her roll her eyes and look away.
"Emma," she began, her voice suddenly so much more calm and stable and peaceful and understandable and tranquil. She glanced back at me as she finished her sentence. "Stop being such a whore-house in the mouth."
I raised my brows at her.
"Well," I responded, unable to hold back a slight smirk. "Only if you stop bringing out the bitch-beef from your teeth."
Finally, Stella flashed a genuine smile at me.
"Oh, Emma," she mumbled, glancing forward and throwing her head back to rest against the wall behind our backs. "Why... Why weren't we friends before now?"
I leaned my back back as well.
"You don't remember?" I questioned, softly.
"No, I..." Stella began to reply, exchanging a quick glance with me. "I... I know we had our differences and... stuff, but... like, why?"
I kept my eyes on her and narrowed my eyebrows, though she was now looking forward once again.
"You told everyone I was a drug addicted prostitute, Stella," I reminded her.
Stella shot me a look with her mouth half open.
"I did not!" she spat.
I crossed both my arms and my legs and rolled my eyes away from her.
"When?" she decided to ask.
"Middle school," I jumped to answer. "Seventh grade. Math class on a late fall day's afternoon, actually, to be precise. At least... that was the first time."
I glanced back over at her as she squinted at me with some sort of unnecessary skepticism.
"What did I... say?" she inquired.
I searched her face for a second, opened my mouth to speak, but then trickled my eyes to the floor and thought a moment longer before actually saying anything.
"Actually… it doesn't really matter, now."
I pushed a clump of my (likely very greasy and dirty) umber-colored hair behind one ear and turned away from Stella for a short moment, specifically until she captured my attention by talking once more.
"No," she said. "Tell me."
I looked over at her anticipating physique and paused.
"Well," I started, a short sigh following soon after. "To be exact... I recall you asked me whether or not I was planning on smoking a joint with my pimp daddy after school that evening."
Stella raised one hand over her mouth and let out a strong giggle. I, however, maintained my composure and stared blankly back at her.
"Wait, wait," she laughed out, now lowering her palm. "I said that? No, Emma, I don't think that was me..."
"Um," I bumbled out. "But, it was, actually."
She shook her head.
"I don't think so," she stated. "I don't remember it; how do you remember that like that?"
"Well, Stella," I answered, glancing down to my hands as I placed them atop my knees. "It was a pretty memorable and... truly touching thing to be told at twelve years old, so..." I gazed back up at her. "I also kind of have the memory of a... an elephant on stimulants and black market steroids, so..." I forged a smile. "There's that."
Stella smiled back, also probably with one created by force, and then placed a hand on my shoulder nearest her.
"Oh, Emma..." she trailed off, resting her eyesight on her hand for a second. "You're not a whore." She looked back up at me, smiled, again, and shook her head slightly. "And... it takes one to know one, right? And... well, we both know I'm not a whore!"
Stella erupted in an almost scarily strained fit of laughter, though it was also a tad funny to watch in itself.
"Oh, wow," I forced out with another smile. "That... That's a good one, Stella, thank you."
"But, I..." she calmed down and relaxed her facial muscles. "I guess..." She stopped to look down at the floor between us. "There could be a... slight chance that... maybe... I could have said something... just a little bit like... like, mean or something to... to you."
"It's okay, Stella..." I partially mumbled back to her as she carefully glanced back up at me. "You don't have to be a con-artist about it... I know all the stuff you said about me." I studied her as she silently bit her lip and flickered her mascara-melded eyelids back downward. "But I know I probably said a lot of... things about you, too." I paused and waited for her to look back up, but she didn't right away. "I mean, I... I can't really think of any off the top of my head... or at all, actually, but..." I looked her over once more, and then decided to reach my hands out to gently touch hers upon her lap, forcing her to finally return her attention to my expression. "Seriously, Stella, it's all okay now. I forgive you."
Stella took a deep breath.
"Yeah, I'm..." she almost inaudibly whispered. "I'm sorry, Emma..."
She looked down at her lap as I slid my hands away from hers.
"But," she went on, raising her voice to an almost more normal level of volume. "You could probably apologize, too, you know..." She gazed back at me and raised her brows. "For that time you and your stupid brothers egged my dad's old Lamborghini."
I squinted at her and tilted my head to one side.
"Um, Stella, sorry, but," I started. "A few things on that... first, I don't have any brothers, second, I've never egged anyone's car or house or... any possessions in my lifetime, and third... your dad has a Lamborghini?"
Stella rolled her eyes away.
"He had a Lamborghini, until it got egged..." she claimed, and then crossed her arms.
I continued to squint at her.
"But couldn't he just... clean the eggs off?" I asked.
Stella literally dropped her jaw and turned back to me.
"It was a Lamborghini, Emma!" she suddenly shouted.
I jumped under my skin a bit at her abruptly loud statement, and then tried to relax my shoulders and continue the conversation.
"Well, okay, Stella, but... it wasn't me, I swear."
Stella narrowed her eyebrows at me, and then gradually guided her eyes toward the staircase on the far wall.
"Then it was that one bitch..." she, after a moment or two of silence, muttered under her breath.
I gave Stella a look over before piping up.
"Um... what?"
She snapped her head back to me.
"If it wasn't you, then it was that one bitch..." She threw one hand up to rub over one eyebrow. "Ugh, what's her name?"
"Wow, Stella, really wish I knew," I commented as she lost herself in thought, or something of the like.
Stella turned her head forward and threw her palms up to her forehead.
"She's with a new guy, like, every five minutes... and even her boyfriend doesn't care... his name is, like... Andy, or something, and... her name starts with a... a P, or maybe an M..." she hinted out-loud.
I stared at Stella as she thought for another second... and then another... and then a few more... until it hit me.
I mean, come on, she was literally quizzing my one area of expertise... gossip, secrets, and the deepest darkest reaches of every living soul that isn't mine. Every soul that isn't mine attending Central Talket County High School, that is.
I threw my hands down to smack the floor beside my thighs.
"Miranda Lively!" I yelled.
"Thank you!" Stella shouted back, throwing her hands completely outstretched on either side of herself, one of her hands coming as close as, probably, .03 inches from slapping the side of my cheek bone as she did so. I looked the back of her hand over, then, as it resided directly in front of my face, greatly obscuring my vision of anything else in the room, Stella herself included, for just a second or two.
"You're welcome..." I mumbled out.
Stella gradually lowered her arms to her sides and leaned her head back a bit.
"Ugh, she's so annoying..." she declared. "I mean..." She halted to roll her gaze to me. "I can't say that I actually hate anybody, Emma, but... that girl... I do kind of hate."
I nodded at her before she rolled her neck, again, and continued.
"I mean, I know I said it takes one to know one... but you don't have to be a super slut to know that she takes the top title in school whore."
And then I did something I had never executed before in my entire seventeen-year life.
I agreed with Stella Anderson.
"She is," I started as Stella straightened her neck and glanced over at me yet again. "And she... she's like... the first slice in the loaf of bread, because... everyone just has to touch her, but nobody really wants her."
Stella let out a good giggle, as did I, for about forty-five seconds or so. After that, the laughter died down, and Stella looked down at her feet.
"But, if we get out of here," I began, though I quickly stopped to rethink my wording before continuing. "When we get out of here... we'll get her back, Stella