Charming's Star

By @L-R-Battista
Charming's Star

This is the story of Delilah Letters, a nineteen-year-old college student. She aspires to be a screenwriter or director and dive into her imaginary worlds. However, life has other plans. After all, nothing really goes as planned. This is a short story right now, but it might become a long story. I know the description is vague but give it a chance. Hope you enjoy, L-R-Battista Side Note: I do not own the cover, it belongs to its rightful owner whom, I thank for creating such beautiful art.

Chapter 1

Just Like That

A gentle breeze was tossing my gold hair when my mom came out to me, “Can you run to the Giant and get these things for the party?” She handed me a rectangular notepad with her slanted cursive handwriting and some cash.

    “Sure, why not?” I answered, taking the list and cash.

It’s not like I was doing any homework or anything. Today was a Saturday after all.I hopped off the lounge chair and gathered my leather purple notebook and headed inside.The house actually looked like a house rather than a frat, with the floor shining and the counters clear of bread crumbs and coffee stains wiped away. Of course, tomorrow, there would be beer cans everywhere and stale bowls of Doritos. So, I embraced the clean for now. I grabbed my keys and headed to my blue Honda, Louis.

      “Don’t forget to get red solo cups!” shouted my brother as I pulled out of the driveway.

      “Ok!” I called back, rolling my eyes.

God forbid, I forgot the red solo cups, because God forbid my mother caught them drinking.Racing down the road, I switched the radio on, searching for actual music that was static free.I landed on a song by The Fray and began drumming my hands to the beat because I didn’t know the words.This was a ritual every time, my brother’s Lacrosse team won a game, which was often since they were one of the best teams in the state. And for some reason, since our house was so close to campus, it was offered up as a sacrifice to twenty to thirty other lax players and their “girlfriend” groupies and other random Jack’s and Joe’s who have nothing better to do than attend a Lax party.And my mom, being the lover of parties, loves having them. Of course, she only makes the food and sets up, and then goes out to some bar, like The Turtle or Sneaky Fox with her many boyfriends. 

So, everyone is left to their own devices, which is a bad idea for college kids, because college kids + empty house = party with alcohol.

Luckily, I usually made plans to camp out with my friend down the street and watch old fashion black and white movies. One time I even found a silent black and white Robin Hood, it was quite amazing.

I pulled into a fade white-lined parking spot near the front of the green Giant sign and shut the car off and flip open the list. Soda, Chips, cookie and cake mix, punch, parmesan cheese, dough, red sauce, red punch, wipes, etc…. and there was my brother’s order of alcohol and “red solo cups” that I got from a friend whose father owns a liquor store. Which is how he, my brother who failed art class, got alcohol since we were still underage.

The automatic doors parted for me and I stared at the tiny form of displayed on the security cameras. I always found it interesting how people, including me, look different on camera. For example, I looked smaller than I thought I was. Which I guess isn’t that hard since I am only 5’2 but you get the point. On the old cream TV monitor, I looked like an ant compared to some people who looked like slender sticks. Pushing a rusty mental cart,I headed to the snack aisle and started to stockpile food as if I was going into hibernation.

I was half-way through deciding whether or not to get more or less cake mix when I heard some shout; “Delilah!”

I looked in the direction of the voice and saw a tall, bronze woman with corkscrew black hair wearing a green shirt with a lipstick-colored “Giant” logo and tan khakis.

 “Sara! Hi!” I said.

      “Hi yourself, how ya been?” she inquired,

       “Alright,” I shrugged.

       “That’s all got from a friend I haven’t seen in a month!”

     I sigh and shake my head, “Sorry. There’s not really much to say.”

        “Whatever. Who are you shopping for, the army?” Sara asked.

        “No, the navy,” I smirked, deciding to go with more cake mix.

       “Don’t sass me, girl. Seriously, who’s it for?” she whined, a frown forming on her glossy lips.

       “Who do you think it’s for?” I asked, arching an eyebrow.

        “You brother?” she guessed, a slim finger pressed to her lips in thought.

        “Ding! Ding! Ding!” I said.

        She scowled and ruffled my hair.

        “Hey!” I protested, swatting her hand.

        “Did they seriously win again?” she huffed. 

        I nodded and Sara groaned.Her boyfriend, Dereck, was on an opposing lax team so, it was natural she hated my brother’s team since they were “the best in the state” (my brother’s words, not mine).

        “Are they having another party again, then?” she asked.

      “Yup,” I said, popping my lips.

      “Can me and Dereck come, I heard your brother’s parties are legendary.”

     “I wouldn’t know that but I guess so. Random people come all the time.” I answered

     Sara face twisted in a frown, wrinkles prominent on her smooth forehead,   “You’ve never been to any of your brother’s parties?”

    “No. Not really my thing.” I muttered pushing the cart into the Condiments aisle and threw a monster tube of ketchup and mustard in.

   “How are parties not your thing? You are a normal human being right?” Sara inquired skipping beside me.

    “I didn’t say parties are not my thing. I just said my brother’s parties aren’t my thing,” I corrected, grabbing a bottle of ranch dressing for me.

    “Why?” she asked again, her caramel eyes alive with mirth.

   “They smell.” I stated.

Sara choked on her laughter and I sighed, shaking my head.

   “Will you go, if I and Dereck come?”

   “Umm… let me think….” I pondered, stopping in the middle of the aisle and cocking my head and then finished with a resounding “No.”

    “Why not?” she pouted, pushing out her lips.

    “I don’t like the lax players,” I stated and turned into drink aisle.

 I pulled down a few cases of coke and orange soda.

    “Do you even know them?” Sara inquired, hands on her hips.

     “,” I muttered looking away to avoid her narrowed eyes.

      “Then, you don’t know if you would enjoy it, so, you are going.”

      “I rather make a public speech in front of the whole student body that go to my brother’s party.”

      Sara scowled and threw a box of blood red cool aid into my cart and said, “You are going. End of discussion.”

And, before I could argue, she left.

Just. Like. That. 

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