Saturday, 20 December 2008 - 5:04 pm

My nemesis

I thought yesterday was bad.  Well, today was worse.  Who knew, huh?

Yeah, it’s the week before Christmas and everything is crazy.  Everyone’s frazzled and strung out, and desperate to get that one perfect present so that they can go home and put their feet up.  And for some reason today, all the posters and decorations kept falling down.  I swear, we have an anti-Christmas gremlin in that store.

I was in the middle of trying to re-hang one of the big banners – it takes about three hands, but I was managing – when a familiar blonde flounce caught my attention.  My stomach fell through the floor, but I got the damned banner to stay upright before I turned around to face her.

And there she was, grinning at me and looking as perfect as ever.  Bree, my former friend, the bitch who thought it was funny to screw my boyfriend.


She was the one who had started the rumours among our friends.  She was the one who had spread the lies all over Facebook, until even strangers were insulting me and leaving awful messages on my wall. 

I still have no idea why she did all of that; I didn’t do anything to her.  But I’ve seen her go after other people and I know how much she enjoys it.  Now I wonder if she had told us the truth about what they had done.  Perspective is a funny thing, isn’t it?


So, there she was, standing right in front of me.  Behind her left shoulder, Tarisha was looking on – Bree’s faithful little shadow, wannabe extraordinaire.  The girl who might have been nice if she wasn’t constantly emulating a bitch.  She at least had the grace to look uncomfortable when she glanced my way.

I hadn’t seen either of them since it all blew up, since I found out about Bree and Cody.  I wanted to slap her in the face, I wanted to scream and muss up that prettily-brushed hair of hers.  But no.  I was working and I was damned if she’d take my job from me, too.

So I looked her in the eye and asked if I could help her, cool as a cucumber.  I was, in that moment, very proud of myself.

Then she spoke and I saw myself wrapping my hands around her throat.  “Hi, I’m looking for something special,” she said.  “For my boyfriend.  I was thinking something like the Kama Sutra.”  She was thoroughly enjoying the notion of using me as a minion for this; her voice positively dripped with it.

I’m fairly sure that I had at least one hand curled into a fist.  Right then, the banner I’d spent fifteen minutes subduing slithered out of its holder and onto the floor.  “I’ll just go and find someone to help you,” I told her.  Then I turned on my heel and walked away.  I have no idea how I managed not to smack her.

I was so upset that I just headed straight out the back.  Amber saw me and asked what was wrong – she’s one of my closest friends at the store.  So I told her.  She went all taut and frowny – and let me tell you, seeing a goth girl getting angry is an intimidating experience.

She told me not to worry about it and went out onto the floor.  I took a few moments to calm down and then peeked out, just in time to see Bree heading out of the store with empty hands and a face like thunder.  Amber was standing by the tills with her arms folded, smiling unrepentantly.  I have no idea what she said to Bree; she refused to tell me.  I’m not sure I care.

Right now, Amber is my hero. 

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