The Faceless matchmaker

Two band kids fall for each other.

The faceless matchmaker
Back in my freshman year in high school, I joined my school’s band. I picked that club because I like music and that club did not really require me to talk to people to be friends with them. For some reason, I was not as confident as my younger sister Chala who could talk to anyone for the first time and it would take only ten minutes until she could match their “wavelengths” and become really good friends. When I speak to anyone like a classmate, my throat becomes as parched as a desert, and my stomach gets butterflies, only then for them to be crushed in a blender.

One day, I was in the music room and I was warming up and setting up my instruments. I pieced my clarinet together starting with the mouthpiece, the barrel and all the way down to the bell shaped end. I set my lip over my teeth and put the mouthpiece in my mouth. I touched my tongue to the reed to whisper a silent “too, too, too, too…” to the B flat major scale.

Ms. Lune clapped her hands together in quarter notes to bring everyone to attention.
“As some of you may know, we have a trip coming soon. We are going to a ranch to spend a couple of days there to improve our playing and do some team building.”

I knew about the trip because I was in music executive. Music executive is a team of students that make fun events like school concerts, spirit nights where we just hang out, day trips and the all time favourite, Silver Sky ranch.

Each of us were handed a waiver that our parents signed.

In the coming weeks, all of us were on the edge of our seats. The music executive was planning all sorts of games like silly salmon, charades, the rhythm game, the game where we flip over the shower curtain, tshirt painting, and giant twister.

One day in late October, the large majority of the music department that was going to the field trip were gathered in the atrium. We each went around in a circle and said our name, our grade, our favourite instruments and favourite music artists. I stood beside my best friend Marianna and when it was my turn, I spoke up clearly like my mom told me to, “Hi, my name is Indigo and I’m in grade nine.” Eyes were on me. Every bone in my body was screaming and trying not to shake. I could not imagine everyone in underwear now because I would just start laughing, which would make everything just weird.“I play piano and clarinet. My favourite music artists are Metallica and Chappell Roan.”

I took note of one pair of hazel eyes in particular. They belonged to a saxophonist boy in grade eleven who was in music executive with me. He likes jazz music and is not too picky about what he listens to other than that. His name was Cole Taylor.
We boarded the bus and whizzed past the almost bare trees on the highway. The grey clouds rolled in the sky. The leaves turned rich shades of gold, orange, red and brown. Marianna started the conversation, “so, what do you think our roommates will be like?”

“We have not really met them before. I think we’ll see. They can’t really be that bad, right?


Betty was a short, brunette, and pale girl with braces and glasses. She played the tuba.
Lily played bass guitar and her hair, originally blonde, was dyed black.

We pulled up to the ranch. Everyone picked up their bags and instruments to head inside. I opened the door to room 104. There were two sets of bunk beds lined up on the other side of the room and each had a waterproof mattress set on each of them.

I set down my red suitcase and headed to the dining hall to join everyone else for lunch.
When I entered the dining hall, I took off my converse shoes and set them with everyone else’s. I grabbed a plate and lined up with everyone else for lunch. The nice lady set two garlic breads, some caesar salad and a beautiful helping of spaghetti.

I waved to Marianna, who also had food on her plate too. “Let’s sit with Ellie, Jordan and AJ.”

Marianna sat to my right and Lily sat on my left at the wooden tables.

Lily had such a nice smile and Betty was polite. Thus far, they proved to be nice people.

Later, everyone got into teams. I was in team yellow with Jordan, the bass clarinetist from grade 9; Alejandro, the saxophonist from grade 10; and Archie, the bass guitarist from grade 9.
Their team leader was a bass guitarist named Kito from grade eleven.

We played silly salmon against team orange. I high fived a girl named Janice, fist bumped Archie, silly salmoned Ellie, Jordan and I touched knees and Cole touched my head with his hand.

We played charades against team red (Marianna’s team). Marianna was lying on the floor, her black hair spread in all directions. I wiggled my fingers and tickled Marianna’s armpits. Instantly, she rolled around the floor and jerked in all directions. Her laughter was almost silent and she squealed breathlessly, “stop, stop!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!”

When we hung out in the room, I asked Lily and Betty the ground rules of what to do and what not to do.

“First, don’t wake me up. Don’t disturb me when I have my headphones on. Don’t eat any of the snacks I brought without my permission.” said Lily.

Betty chimed in, “I have like five alarms to wake me up. Also I get sleep paralysis sometimes, so if I am panicking, don’t panic along, because it will just create more chaos.”

I fell asleep in my sleeping bag and was awoken by a ringing song coming from Betty’s phone. “RING, RING, RING!!!”
I tapped Betty’s bed and said, “your alarm is going off.”

It took a while to rouse her.

“Maeter Jupiter, how do I wake her up without pissing her off?” I mumbled to myself.

Eventually, she got up groggily, picked up the phone, and swiped at her phone to turn off the bursts of sharp ringing. This repeated for five times throughout the night.

The next day we worked on our playing. Each of us was separated into groups based on our instrument. I got grouped with the clarinets.

Ms. Lune said that the clarinets would meet up in the basement of the dining hall. I walked to the dining hall and down the stairs to see some of the clarinet players gathered around a lady with long, dark hair named Shira.

We played our B flat major scale and some of us were squeaking. Shira showed us how to do the proper embouchure. We then moved onto some of our band songs. To finish off the practice, all the students gathered in the living room of the sleeping quarters and practiced our songs.

After that, we had free time to do whatever we wanted. I played gaga ball with some of the older kids.

Since it was halloween, we did a costume party a while after that. Malena was going to be a demon, but she did not feel like wearing a costume that day. So, she had her hellstick for Lily, Marianna and I to fool around with. “Just don’t break it,” she warned.

At the dining hall, the tables were cleared out to make way for a dance floor. We had a mini talent show. My two favourite acts from the talent show were both by Cole Taylor. First, he did a song that everyone on the stage was improvising on where Kito was on bass guitar, and Cole and Jason were both on harmonica. Then, Cole got a yoyo and showed us a few tricks.

Something about him caught my eye. Maybe it was how good he looked in his black leather jacket. Maybe there was something about his neat mess of brown curls. Without having much of a plan, I walked up to him to start a conversation.

“Uh, hi.” A part of me wanted to run away and hide, but I swallowed it, ignoring the sick feeling in my stomach.
“Hey.”
“So, I liked the performances that you gave. You must have worked really hard on it.”
“Thanks.”
“So, what else are you into?”
“I like learning new languages.” The sick feeling in my stomach went away. Imagine the forte of nervousness in my head decrescendo into a smooth, calm and legato mezzo piano.
“Oh, moi aussi,” (me too). “Ich aus spreche ein klein deutsche.” (I also speak a little German).
“Hey! So do I.”
So then he proceeded to show me a few yoyo tricks. Then he showed me a little fake knife he got that folded out into a comb.

We all went into our rooms for a good night’s sleep. I climbed into my bunk bed in the darkness. Lily turned on a flashlight and so did Betty.
“Let’s have a girly talk, shall we?” started Lily.
“Okay?”
“How about we address the fact that Kito has a very nice tan line.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Oh, not much. But it’s a very nice tan line indeed.”
“Do you mean when Cole and Kito took their shoes and socks off when playing gaga ball?”
“Yeah!”
Betty piped up, “Lily, I knew you since the first grade, but I didn’t know you had a thing for,” she paused dramatically and proceeded with a smile, “Feet.”

“No, but I had a friend who did.”
I asked a very stupid question, “to a person who likes feet, what would be some standards they have for what makes a very good pair of feet.”

“Don’t know,” Lailah shrugged, “But that is an interesting question. I never thought of that before.”

Yeah, right. Maybe it was her way of saying. “Ew, don’t ever ask that again to anyone, understand?”

Betty proceeded to show me and Peri some photos of boys from our high school to play smash or pass.

“So, what is your best advice on crushes?” I asked.

“Just talk to him. There’s really nothing to it. All you have to do is not overdo it,” said Lily.

Mari did not really talk all that much during our conversation. She didn’t know all that much about love and stuff.

We were all ready to actually go to sleep. Lily and Betty turned off their flashlights. Lily pulled up her black hood and put on her headphones.Betty stretched her thin limbs out on the sea of fluffy pink that was her blanket. Peri was relieved to finally have some quiet time to go to sleep. As for me, I stared at the blank and rough ceiling swaddled in my sleeping bag just thinking.

“Dylan was just a fantasy for all I care. But then there’s Cole. Cole, Cole, Cole, Cole, Cole. I’m not going to lie to myself now. I like him, and no one is going to tell me otherwise.”

I remembered Lily’’s words and her advice. “Just talk to him.” Yeah, okay. When, where, about what? My sister could make it look like playing “twinkle, twinkle, little star” on the piano.

Also, did I mention I am into the strange and paranormal? Because this is the part where things actually get interesting.

So I got back home, eventually. I was still thinking about Cole and his pretty face. I knew a girl that sold paranormal artifacts and witchcraft.
It was a chilly November day, so I pulled on a pair of dark blue, boot cut jeans and a cute plaid sweatshirt. I brushed my tangled light brown hair and looked in the mirror. Two green deep set eyes stared back at me. My face was the same shape as my Mom’s with high cheekbones and a straight nose. I pocketed twenty dollars, took a purse, pulled on a brown leather jacket and headed out the door. I dialed a number on my phone and called. Delilah picked up.

“Hello?” Delilah’s voice was low and breathy.
“Hi, is it alright if you can meet up with me in the park right now?”
“Only if you can tell me the secret word of the month.”
“Pearls.”
“Say no more, girl. I’m coming.”

I walked down the empty streets, my black converse shoes not making a sound on the grey pavement. Most of the neighbours still had the halloween decorations up from the simple jack-o-lanterns, to the fake gravestones with puppet witches and lynched skeletons.

I sat on a wooden bench and put my chilly hands in my pockets. After about five minutes, Delilah sat beside me on the bench. Delilah was a tenth grader that went to my high school. We knew each other since kindergarten. Many times, we went ghost hunting and played with ouija boards. She ran a small business selling paranormal artifacts like potions, wayfinders, crystal balls, ouija boards and a lot more. Many people thought she was crazy and maybe they were right. But that does not matter because she is my favourite kind of crazy. She was also a band kid like me. The instrument she played was the flute.

Her black hair was cut into a bob. She pushed her round glasses up her aquiline and befreckled nose. “So, what can I do for you?”
“Well, I like a guy.”
Her brown eyes widened, “tell me more, I’m all ears!”
“So, I was thinking you might have a love potion or something?”
She snorted, “I don’t do love potions. They’re unethical because you’re technically making a guy fall for you against his own will.”
I breathed a huge sigh of defeat and collapsed on the bench.
“But, I do have a tool that you can use that will increase your chances with your man,” She dug in her bottomless carpetbag, “it’s technically not forcing love into a guy.”
She fished out a plastic bag full of pink powder.
“That looks like Barbie Malibu Snow. Yeah, that kind of snow.”
We laughed so hard that the water I was drinking came out of my nose. It hurt the back of my tonsils like someone set it on fire.
“No, I promise. It’s nothing like that.”
“What’s it for?”
“If you come into the woods with me, I’ll show you.”
We walked out of the park and in the direction of my house. A few houses left of my house, there was an empty, plain stretch of road with a forest across from us. We crossed it and walked down the dirt path. It did not rain for a few days so the ground was pretty dry.
The red, gold, brown and orange leaves crunched under my feet. The cedar nettles smelled sweet and woody.
“Tell me who your guy is.”
“You really want to know?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Ok. He’s a saxophone player with curly hair.”
“You like Cole Taylor?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Good luck with him. He’s in grade eleven. The chances that an eleventh grader would notice a freshman are near nill.”
Finally, we got into the clearing.
Delilah once again reached into her carpet bag and kept digging. She pulled out a small spade and a cigarette lighter. She dug a little hole in the ground and put a bunch of broken sticks inside. She clicked the lighter and the orange little flame that burst from the device caught onto the twigs. She then proceeded to throw the powder into the fire.
The fire turned from orange and yellow to pink.
“Have you ever used this before?” I asked.
“No, this is my first time,” she laughed.
Delilah pulled out a glittery blue marble. “This is not magical, but you’ll just need to use any random object for this.”
The figure of a girl appeared in the flames. Her blonde hair was in neat iron curls. She wore cargo pants and a crop top. What was most surprising about her appearance was that she had no face. Where her face was supposed to be, there was just a blank space.
“So, which one of you wants my service?” Her voice was dreamy and warm.
Delilah pointed to me.
“Tell me about your love.”
“His name’s Cole Taylor. He plays saxophone and piano. He’s in grade eleven.”
“That is useful information. My function is to help you talk to this guy the right way. I can help you assess the situation that is happening and how to deal with it.”
“Do I have to pay you or something?”
“Just give me an offering in food or jewelry. I don’t usually eat because I don’t have to, but I do like the taste of food.”
“What are you?”
“A matchmaking spirit.”
“So that’s like a wingman, right?”
“Sort of, whatever you people of this era call it.”
She then continued, “Do you have an object that will be used as a talisman?”
“Sorry, a talisman?”
“An object you can use to call me when you want to talk to him.”
“Oh, right. Here, I’ll use this,” I extended my hand with the marble in it.
She took it one hand and just dropped it into the fire. It shot out after five seconds and landed in my hands. Surprisingly, it wasn’t hot. It was the same temperature as it was before.

She waved goodbye and the fire went out without a trace. I handed Delilah my twenty dollars. We walked through the tall grass and back to the park. “I have to go back home,” Delilah said, “Bye.”
“Bye.”

I got sick on monday, which is when we had our music executive. The next day, I was in Madame Kim’s French class when the lunch bell rang. This means that now, Cole Taylor should be getting out of the music class and to his locker.
“Okay just be cool. It’s really not that deep,” my stomach was doing backflips and my mouth was parched. I drank some water and it drowned out the butterflies in my stomach. The fact that water at least would stay all the same after this was grounding.

Each step I took led me closer to uncertainty. I felt the smooth marble roll between my fingers.
Everyone froze where they stood. One girl was spilling her water on the floor, and the clear fluid did not continue flowing, but just stayed put like it was a big blast of ice.

The matchmaker walked towards me, “So, from what I see happening, this boy is on his way to the locker. Is this the first time you talked to him?”
“No, it’s my second.”
“Ask something small and simple.”
“Well, I did miss music executive yesterday.”
“Ask him about it.”
I put the marble in my pocket and everything went back to normal. The water splashed to the floor, and the students and faculty were walking around like nothing happened.

“Hi, Cole.”
“Hey, Indigo.”
“So what did I miss for music executive yesterday?”
“It was not that much. We just talked about next Monday.”
“Wait, what’s happening next Mfonday?”
“The mega band thing.”

He kept walking. I’ll never get those pretty eyes out of my head. I kept to myself on the way to the cafeteria, containing all this bubbling excitement. Marianna was sitting by herself at a table. Quickly, I joined her and squealed quietly, “Mari! Mari! You won’t believe what happened.”
“Breathe! Tell me.”
“I talked to Cole Taylor.”
“About what?”
“What I missed at music executive.”
“That’s not much, but it’s a start.”

So, six days passed, and us band kids were in the gym. I was standing around with Ellie and Felicity, waiting for the kids from our old school. All the elementary schools from our area were coming to this high school to learn a song and play it altogether in a giant band.

They were taking such a long time, so I entertained myself by looking at Cole. His wavy brown hair was parted down the middle and went past his earlobes a little. He had blue braces. He wore just an analog wristwatch that had silver hands and a dark blue face.
Ellie and Felicity were following where my gaze went.
“You’re turning red,” said Felicity, “Is it Cole?”
“No,” I responded a split second too quickly.
“You know, Alejandro’s cute,” snorted Ellie, “Maybe that’s who you’re looking at.”
“Not him either.”
“Oh my days, it can’t be Archie you like. He’s so weird.”

Each band from each elementary school came in, even my old school’s band. We split everyone up based on the instrument they play.
A twelfth grade girl named Maria, an eleventh grader named Macy and I took in the clarinet kids. We all congregated in the music classroom. I saw my elementary music teacher and we waved to each other and said “hi”. He came to check us out practicing. He was one of my favourite teachers there. (Did I mention that I won the music award when I graduated middle school?).

We all clapped out the rhythm of our piece one line at a time. Then, we named the notes. And finally, we picked up our clarinets and played. “Too too-too, too too-too, too too-tooooo.”
Eight bar rest for the brass section. We plowed through it.

At eleven a.m, we all went to the gymnasium to meet with the other sections and found our seats. My brother was sitting among the trumpets. We played with all our might and we sounded proud and triumphant. I got chills down my spine from how phenomenal it was.

Then, at twelve thirty p.m, we went back to the music room and ate pizza. I sat beside Cole. I didn’t feel like talking to him, so I did not pull out the marble. I just wanted to be there beside him, that’s all.
Three days later, it just so happened that Marianna was not at school because she was sick, so I had no one to sit with for lunch. Except…

So, I did what I usually did every time I exited Madame Kim’s French class. I pass by the music room to say hi to him. But today was different.

“Hi, Cole.”
“Hey, Indigo.”
“Can I sit with you? I have like nothing to do this break and I’m bored.”
“I have to go get my braces removed. I’m excited.” He smiled and he was a bit pinkish.
“Uh, yeah. Good for you I guess.”

I saw him again the next day and pulled out the marble.
“Hmmm,” the Matchmaker thought for a while, “He got his braces removed, so he must be really proud of how he looks. There’s a weak spot you can hit.”
“Sounds good!”
“Good luck.”

Complimenting guys on their physical appearance has never been my strongest suit. I got this fear from the time that I told my summer camp guy friend that his eyes were pretty. So then, he stared blankly at the ground and not knowing what to do next, I just walked away and curled up into a little potato of embarrassment in the grass.

Yet again, I swallowed my fears and walked up to him and said, “Hey Cole. I see that you got your braces removed.”
“Yeah,” he flashed a wide smile.
“You have a really pretty smile. You always have.”
“Thanks.”

I walked to the table for Marianna, appalled at how simple and easy it was.

Over the next few weeks, I talked to him in the halls and the cafeteria, all with the help of the matchmaker. I walked with him to science when he was on his way to chemistry. We would look at each other during band practice when we were not playing. When I caught him looking at me, I would just give him a “what?” gesture with a little shoulder shrug. “Is there something in my teeth?” I mouthed to him. He silently giggled and shook his head.

I noticed that Felicity would talk to Cole for no reason. She would sometimes twirl her straight, Barbie blonde hair and smile. Every time they were together, I would get a tiny bit jealous, but then I realize that it's just Felicity enjoying the situation. Cole would look bored every time she chatted to him about some irrelevant thing. Every time he smiled at her, it didn’t feel real because I could not see it in his eyes.

One day I texted Delilah about our interactions. “You should try to talk to him without the matchmaker,” she suggested, “Because if you talk to him all by yourself, it will feel more authentic.”
“I can’t”
“Why not?”
I thought about the times in elementary school when I used to talk a lot. They would look at me weird like I had two heads because I talked loudly, too much and at the wrong time. Slowly, but surely, I took to shutting up like a Mimosa pudica. The logic was this. If I opened my mouth, I would say the wrong thing and would suffer the consequence of people just talking behind my back.

One day in March, I sat by myself at a table because Marianna was doing homework at the library, most of my friends were doing badminton and some others were doing set painting for the upcoming musical.
“Boo!” a cheerful voice bursted at conversation volume.
“Cole!”
He took a seat beside me.
“Come to open music room with me,” he said.
“Would be glad to.”
We walked to the music room. Ms. Lune was sitting at her desk to supervise the students.
“So,” he said smoothly, “What do you want to do?”
“Well, I don’t know. What about you?”
“I’d do anything you’d like.”
I walked over to the piano in the main music room and played “The Well Tempered Clavier.”
He pulled up a chair and listened intently to the chord progressions shifting and changing like the tectonic plates below our feet. He was mesmerized by the echoing sound of the damper pedal and was soothed by the relaxing simplicity of the tune.
I lost myself in the crescendo from a mezzo forte to a strong fortissimo. I treaded lightly on the pianissimos of the arpeggios.
The song reminded me of long walks by the beach and the rolling waves lapping on the shore. I could feel the cool wind beating against my face as I walked along the coastline and the warmth of my Mom’s hand on my shoulder.
Cole smiled at me. Words were not needed to let me know how much love there was for me in his heart and soul. I could see it in his hazel eyes. His pupils were dilated and his cheeks were rosy like peonies. Without thinking, I grabbed onto his warm hand gently and he wrapped his fingers around my hand. Every time he squeezed, I squeezed. It felt like the rays of the summer sun graced me with their kiss and smile.
Meanwhile, according to Delilah, Felicity went up to her and asked for something to make her crush fall for her.

“If this is about Cole, well then, you’re out of luck,” Delilah snorted, “I heard he already likes someone.”

One morning, I woke up and opened my curtains. The glow of the grey sky splashed into my face and woke me up. What was really weird was that my alarm clock did not ring, but it was still on. Broken, probably. I went to the kitchen to find Mom standing in front of the stove frying my eggs.
“Good morning,” I said.
No response. I tapped her shoulder, but she would not budge. The eggs were frying, but the butter was not bubbling around the eggs. I looked out of the window, and there was a murder of crows soaring midair, but they just stood where they were.

A whistle sounded through the air and I felt the wind pass by my ear. The arrow pierced the white drywall with a thunk. I saw the faceless matchmaker with a shield and her back turned to me. In the living room there was a cloaked figure with a hunting belt and a bow and arrow. More arrows flew in twos and threes. Each of them were deflected by the shield.

The matchmaker took my hand in hers and ran with me out of the door. Her running took to a leap into the grey sky. We flew over the wide blue lakes. The wind beat on my face and my heart stopped. The air was cool against my skin. The birds had their wings spread and they did not flap or cut through the sky.

Then we angled downward in the direction of a long stretch of sand. We floated downwards until the sand softly crunched like brown sugar under my bare feet. The waves of the lake were static and still. It was like I was living in a painting. Everything had motion in it, but it didn’t at the same time.

The faceless matchmaker led me through the tall, yellow grass into a cave.
“Stay here,” she said. Even though I could not see the worry in what should be her face, I felt it in her voice.
“What was all that?” I asked.
“That was another being like me,” she explained, “this is a faceless assassin.”
“Who would pull all that on me?”
“You will know when I’m through with him.”
“Isn’t there like maybe a faceless body guard or something?”
“Any faceless spirit can be a bodyguard if they want to.”
“But why do you want to?”
“Indigo,” she said, “every single romantic that I have helped out with, I developed what you mortals call a ‘soft spot’. The more I know about your character, needs, desires, hopes and fears, the more I appreciate you.”
“You called me a mortal. You can’t be a mortal.”
“No.”
“Then are you a god? Kind of like Aphrodite, you know. You kind of have the same abilities as her.”
“I’m not a god. A god is an eternal being that is patron of and creator of something in the universe.”
“But you create love.”
“No, I don’t. I make it happen without any sort of magic. I assess the social situation and show you how it’s done. No magic girdles, no snap of the fingers, no thread of fate, not anything. How many couples did I not get together? Love was here in this universe long before me.”
“Weren’t you ever worshipped?”
“I have many faces. Not literally as you can see, but I have many names.”

She walked away and ran to the sky.
I just waited in the cave for the waves to roll again and for the birds to sing and fly again. What would I do if time was frozen forever except for me? Would I continue to age? Would the internet still work? Could I just theoretically do whatever I wanted and no one would notice?

But who would want to assassinate me? Why could they not just admit that they don’t like me to my face? How about just minding your own business with your own lives?

Delilah would never sell anything that would intentionally harm anyone. That is just how she does business – magic in the most ethical way.

How many more magic dealers do you get in this little town? How many magic dealers are there in the country? Where does Delilah get her magic supplies? Is there no warehouse or distributor for some weird magical ingredients?

But speaking of Delilah, there is also Felicity. Felicity wanted something to make Cole fall for her. Delilah refused to do business with her, so what was Felicity’s alternative?
Yes. Yes, that must be it. Felicity wanted to get through me to have Cole all to herself.
I tried to remember how I called upon the matchmaker, or Aphrodite, Venus, Hathor or Freyja if you will. The blue marble was still in my pyjama pocket. Could Felicity have called on the assassin with a talisman too?

Aphrodite came back with wounds all over her body and blank face. Her crop top and jeans were ripped up by a sword. Blonde hair was everywhere and frizzy instead of her fresh from the salon look.

“He’s gone for now. He’ll come back, that’s for certain.”
“Then take me to Felicity, please.’
“Why?”
“I know something. I can stop him from getting to me for good.”
“I’ll take you there, Indigo.”
We soared through the still sky. We passed over my high school, the park, my house and then we landed on Felicity's lawn. The hedges were well trimmed and had honest-to-goodness red roses dotting the green cedar nettles. The stone steps lead to a translucent door with a very modern doorbell, one with a camera and a bright rim around the button.

I opened the door to the house. It was unlocked already. I ran into her house not caring for the trail of sand and dust I left behind. Someone’s going to yell at her and her specifically because she was almost the same height as me so therefore, her shoes will be the same size as mine. Racing up the shiny staircase, I identified the door that led to her room as the one with a golden star with “Felicity” printed in cursive on it.
She was still asleep in her fluffy and satin white and pink king size bed. Her blonde hair was tucked away in a pink silk cap and her long-lashed eyes were hidden under a satin pink sleeping mask.
The vanity table and mirror was flooded with a myriad of lip glosses, nail polish, perfumes, and different shades of eyeshadow. Felicity, though she looks like a dumb popular girl from your average teenage movie, is quite an intelligent specimen. To make a talisman seem more casual, it would have to be an everyday thing that gets pulled out, that no one bats an eye at the fact that it’s there. God, it stank of floral and vanilla designer perfume. I wouldn’t be surprised if I walked out of that room with a few more brain cells less than what I entered with.

I picked up perfume after perfume, lipstick after lipstick and the hundred million eyeliners and mascaras that she owned. Who needs all that? All the while, I was praying that time would not start up. I almost jumped at the thought of Felicity leaping out of her bed, her icy blue eyes blazing with fury. I shuddered at the thought of her well manicured nails scratching my eyes and her thin fingers wrapped around my throat. To remind myself that she has no control over me and that I have all the power in the world, I took her fake lashes. Surely she can’t live without those.

When I pulled out a deep scarlet red lip gloss, my heart dropped when I saw the assassin in the mirror. She tried to throw a knife at me, but I ducked just in time so that the knife shattered the mirror.
My feet flew over the stairs and I jumped into the hall. I rushed out the door and closed it so that the assassin would take just a few more seconds longer to open it. I raced into the forest and hid among the trees so that the assassin would lose the path. I found the cigarette lighter that Delilah threw carelessly into the grass when we first made contact with Aphrodite. To make a fire, I gathered some branches. The fire from the lighter caught onto the dry branches.

The cursed blood red vial of lip gloss dropped from my hands into the fire. Time worked again.
The wind blew a sigh of relief over the trees along with me. The reeds down by the river sang softly out of joy. The birds soared in the sky. I burned the fake lashes in addition to the talisman

I took Aphrodite by the hand and gave her an offering. It was a beautiful necklace that I made for her. The beads glittered under the sun in shades of pink, green and blue. If she had a face, she would have most certainly smiled. I can imagine what a beautiful and shining smile that would be.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“No, thank YOU,” she responded, “Every job one gives me is an offering in itself. Yours especially.”
If there was any more worldly offerings I could ever give her, it would be this little tale I have to tell. Plus, it doubles as a good reference on her resume.

Until my next adventure,
Indigo Thorne
P.S: Felicity got her assassin off of Temu Witchcraft Edition, which is a code for “I’m not saying where, but it’s not Delilah, I promise!”