What was she talking about? “Of course I would, but that’s impossible.”
Stella’s excitement was palpable. “Watch this,” she sang with delight.
She threw her arms into the air and lightening struck inside my small bungalow. I shrieked in terror while Stella cackled like a crazy woman. Every time she flailed her arms a new bolt of lightning struck and thunder roared through the house. The walls trembled and the floor buckled. Sparks flew and bounced off the walls like a meteor shower. I continued to scream until I realized with each crash of lightning the ugly furniture was being replaced with my beautiful old furniture. How in Satan’s name was she doing that?
The violent storm lasted about twenty minutes. When it ended, my home was perfect again. Stella flopped down on my chocolate velvet cushy couch and promptly passed out.
“Dude,” I gasped and poked her. “Are you asleep or dead?”
“Neither.” She refused to open her eyes. “Just exhausted. Did it work?”
“Yes, it worked,” I said as I moved around the room and touched all my stuff. No more scary plaids and florals. No more highly lacquered tables with scenes depicting death and destruction. It was elegant and comfortable.
A thick Persian rug covered the hardwood floors. Chocolate velvet mixed quietly with pale rose silks and creamy coffee linens. Dark hardwoods complemented rich brown leather. It was peaceful. It was mine again.
“How did you do it?” I eased her over and sat down next to her. She was wiped out. I gently pushed her hair back from her face and gave her an arm tickle.
“Ooo.” She happily sighed. “That feels good.”
We’d been giving each other arm and back tickles since first grade. Oftentimes we made it a contest. If you moved, flinched or giggled, you lost. The loser had to tickle the other person. Right now, it was purely for comfort.
“How,” I repeated, “did you do that?” I stared at my wiped out insane best friend.
She pried her eyes open and gave me an exhausted grin. “You like?”
“I like.” I grinned back. “Now explain.”
Stella slowly sat up and pulled her knees to her chest. “I got really mad at my dresser drawers the other day. You know, the one that’s three hundred years old. Literally.” Stella’s mom was an antiques freak. “Anyway, the stupid thing sticks and my underwear drawer wouldn’t open.” I nodded and waited. “I simply wished I had a new one and BAM—lightning struck and I got my wish.”
“What did your parents do?”
“They weren’t home.” She grinned evilly. “So I took the opportunity to redecorate the entire house.”
I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing. Didn’t work. Stella’s home was a grand mansion filled with antiques dating back thousands of years. I feared touching anything when I was over. It was very formal and quite honestly, cold. “What happened when they got back?”
“Dad was proud that my powers had arrived and Mom was pissed. Royally and spectacularly pissed. Apparently I got rid of some priceless antiques. Her head practically flew off.”
“Holy Hell.” I laughed and fell back on the couch.
Amusement flickered in her eyes as she continued, “After a showdown and a lot of threats, I re-conjured her icky old antiques, but not the dresser drawers.”
I popped back up and grabbed her hands. “What else can you do?”
A sinking feeling of jealousy reared its ugly little head inside me. I tamped it down quickly. I didn’t begrudge her magic, I just wanted some of my own. Stella was my best friend and I loved her. I was proud of her powers even if I was still power-free.
“That’s it so far,” she replied as she squeezed my hands reassuringly. “Dixie, don’t worry, your magic will come. Mine’s just a freakin’ parlor trick. Someday soon you will be a real power, just like the rest of your family.”
I hugged her tight. There were many reasons she was my best friend and always would be. She was beautiful inside and out.
“That’s a little more than just a parlor trick, my friend. You scared the living Hell out of me.” She looked entirely too pleased with herself so I punched her in the arm. “Have you done anything else?”
Stella’s laugh was infectious. I began laughing with her before I even knew what she was going to say.
“I changed the color of my mom’s car while she was getting her nails done,” she squealed. “It took her an hour in the parking lot to figure it out. She called the Demon Police and everything!”
She laughed with sheer joy and triumph. I joined her, but sobered as I realized I would have to leave her soon.
“Dixie, you are so lucky you get to live on your own.”
“Yeah, it’s great.” I smiled and lied.
Satan believed all his daughters should be independent. At sixteen I received many gifts, the bungalow being one of them. As lovely as it was to have my own space, I was lonely. The Dark Palace had been a wonderful place to grow up, but it was always so busy and filled with hundreds of Demons I didn’t know. As I got older I began to notice some of the murky and horrible things that often took place in the palace. We were in Hell after all. I was fairly sure my dad thought I’d be safer and happier in my little home. The truth was I longed for a family. A traditional family, even one as uptight as Stella’s.
“Sooo,” Stella said as she knocked me out of my pity party. "What hot sexy outfit are you going to wear tonight?”