Tuesday, October 2, 2012

Combine (Flash Fiction)

Found on Google Images. I own nothing.


“Combine our efforts?” Della stared at the homeroom teacher for a full minute. She perched one perfectly manicured hand on her petite waist and wrinkled her nose. “You want me to actually…participate?”

Mrs. Donovan sighed. The air of an adult having grown used to repeating themselves as if only to hear the sound of their own voice. “Yes Miss Della,” She circled around the little desk. “We would prefer if you two were to actually use your-”

“We’ve got it Mrs. D.” Anabelle interrupted, hurriedly. She scurried across the homeroom, wiping her hands on the front of her hoodie. “Sorry. Sorry. I didn’t mean to be late, there was a line–bathroom–you know,” she gestured off-handedly to the hallway. Her snapping green eyes flickered over the glass beakers, plastic mixing spoon and metal basin. “Oooh, are we doing page fifty-four?” She rocked forward on pink converse sneakers. “Tell me we’re doing page fifty-four.” The brunet snatched up the mixing spoon and began to tap it in her other hand. “I wanna mix.”

Mrs. Donovan stared between them. She heaved a sigh and turned away. “So as long as you complete the assignment!”

Anabelle waited until the teacher was well out of hearing rang. She reached into her hoodie’s kangaroo pocket and handed over a handful of dry paper. “Here. Give it to Shayna and hurry back.”

The blonde hesitated, then leaned forward on the pretense of inspecting her best friend’s earrings. She slipped the paper under the edge of her miniskirt and crossed the room a moment later, to where a redhead sat in the chair in the corner.

Della dropped the paper in Shayna’s lap and continued on as if she were heading to the washing station for another glass beaker. “Quit being a crybaby.” She hissed, softly. “They hired us to ruin their worlds, not to ruin ours.”

The sniffling cadet shuffled to her feet and blew her nose quietly. A moment later, she trailed after Della. “…Thanks.”

“Thank Anabelle.” Della filled an empty beaker and pretended to measure the water. “She’s the one who risked a demerit for that.”

Shayna huffed. “I don’t expect you to understand, it’s paper.”


“So, when you combine them, I can do this.” Shayna snapped her fingers. A flicker of pink-orange flame exploded in the palm of her hand, dancing over it. “Got a problem?”

“Watch it!” Della flicked a wet hand at the dancing flames. “Do you want to give us away?”

(c) Sara Harricharan