You'd think I would learn my lesson after yesterday morning, but my learning curve- especially in the summer- is extra slow. So when I open my eyes to the sun-filled room, groggily toss the blankets off to slide out of bed, I can't truthfully say I'm surprised once realizing that the thing I stepped on wasn't the floor but Xalale.

   If he wasn't awake before, he definitely is now, sitting straight up glaring with animosity enough to spark a fire.

   "If you could remind yourself that someone is beneath you before waking up and getting out of bed, I would greatly appreciate it." He growls.

   "Sorry, my mind just forgets easily sometimes."

   This burns his glare out slightly and he lies back down, but I know I've woken him up for the day. Watching him try to frustratingly fall back asleep, I can't help but smile a little thinking back on my thoughts about this yesterday.

   "His spirit animal can only be a cat. It's too coincidental for it not to be a cat." I want to tell him as much but he's already in a sour mood thanks to me, so I hold it in.

   I know I should probably get up as well, and I do, but I don't take a fresh pair of clothes to the bathroom to prepare for the morning. Instead, I lazy around, fiddling on my computer for a bit until realizing it's low on battery and since my laptop is old, it has to be shut down when charging.

   Sighing and reaching into the drawer of the bed stand, I pull out the transparent stone, inspecting it, somewhat puzzled as to how to unlock its mystery.

   "What do you do? What can you do?" I scrutinize it. "What have you ever done? What makes you so important?"

   Then, an idea. At first, a slightly crazy idea, but then, a still kinda kooky but brilliant idea. Unfortunately, this idea involves Xalale and I just know how lovely he is regarding these things- especially what I'm about to ask him.

   Plastering on my best cheery voice, I look down at him. He's only resting his eyes since his breathing doesn't match that of his usual sleep pattern.

   "Hey Xalale. I have an idea."

   He barely stirs, let alone peeks open an eye.

   "Hm?"

   "Yeah, I was just thinking, what if you try using your powers on this stone? Maybe it might generate something." I say hopefully.

   For a second I think he's silently rejecting my suggestion, but when I glance down at him, he's staring at me with skepticism.

   "What?" I attempt to play innocent.

   The skepticism never fades from his expression, which I hate because it makes me look like I'm the crazy one.

   "It's at least worth a shot," I persuade, tossing him the stone. "All you gotta do is hold it in your hand and summon something. If it doesn't work, it doesn't work and we move on, end of story. Okay?"

   It's not a huge difference, but the skepticism morphs into an unconvinced look as he slowly picks up the stone, choosing which hand he'd rather hold it in.

   When he gets comfort, sitting up and all, I start casually lecturing on how it might be done.

   "Just do something with it- except destroy it."

   Judging from his concentration, he's ignoring me now, focusing solely on the task at hand, which is probably better than listening to me ramble.

   I let him work in silence, merely watching with my fingers crossed that something productive might happen.

   As darkness forms in his hand, something does begin to happen, but not the way I'd expect it.

  Suddenly, he recoils in pain, quickly dropping the stone, which now appears to be glowing a faint blue color, on the mattress.

   "Are you okay?" I join him on the floor, looking at his hand which seems to be the reason behind his pain.

   He's sheltering his hand from me, so I can't see what the problem is.

   "Let me see."

   Still writhing and gasping from the injury, he doesn't comply and ignores me. I ask again, a bit more firm in my request.

   "Xalale, let me see."

   "Dammit." He fumes under his breath.

   Finally, I just have to seize his wrist and look at his hand myself since he wasn't showing me. I inhale sharply at the wound.

   It looks like it burned him in the center of his palm, leaving a now blistering, red mark. The stone must've become heated very rapidly because it appears like it's a second-degree burn (and I'm not a doctor, but health class taught me something).

    My face of disgust reads it all.

   "Go run it under some cold water and I'll go get some aloe cream to put on it."

    The guilt is starting to creep in seeing how I was the one to want this.

    He glares at the stone whose glowing aurora is dying.

    "It must be cursed."

    I stare at it, even more, confused by its magical properties.

    "I don't understand why Aelita would need something like that. It seems like a complicated piece of magic."

     I turn my attention back to him and his hand.

    "Come on, though, we need to bandage that."

     I lead him out of the room to the bathroom, my thoughts still scattered due to the reaction from the stone.

    "You should take a shower first then we can bandage it," I instruct, pulling out the supplies.

    The burn must be causing him a lot of grief, so he's careful not to press anything against the burn even as he steps into the shower.

    I can't help but feel a little guilty about this, but the damage has been done.

   I leave the bathroom so he can finish his shower, heading back to the room where the small, but unstable, stone still lies on the edge of the mattress cradled in the blanket. Cautiously, I pick up the stone, flinching slightly but relaxing when realizing it's no longer scalding hot.

   Sighing somewhat defeated, I inspect the stone for a good while, my mind drifting in all different directions.

    "What am I supposed to do with this now?"

    Finally, I place it back in the drawer for safe keeping and head back out to the bathroom where I hear the water stopped running. I knock first, of course, before barging in. When entering the room, I notice the shower curtains still closed and frown.

   "What's wrong?"

   "I never said you could come in." He responds, irritably- either from the pain or me barging in, I don't know.

   "Oh, sorry," I attempt to fight back the stupid blush trying to creep its way up my neck. "I'll leave."

    I'm already turning to exit but his quick response cuts me off.

   "Wait. Would you mind bringing me something to wear before abandoning me?"

   Oh, yeah, that would be helpful.

   "Uh, yeah, one sec. Be right back." I excuse myself and hurry back to the room to retrieve some clothes for him then swiftly return.

    "I'll set them on the counter. Tell me when you're finished dressing so I can help clean your burn."

    "Fine."

    I leave the bathroom once again, but this time linger outside the door, waiting for him to finish. As I'm idling there, movement coming from my parents' room puts me on alert. Creeping away from the bathroom, I stand outside my parents' door for a moment before silently pushing the door open a crack and craning my head inside. I mustn't be too slick because my mom's head turns in my direction and she greets me with her accustom warm smile.

   "Morning, sweetheart."

    My dad, who's actually already dressed, peers over from the chaise in the corner and smiles brightly at me too.

   "How'd ya sleep last night?" He asks.

   "Uh," There's really no point in trying to act inconspicuous now that they both already know I'm here. I push open the door, entering the room.

   "I slept fine. How about you?"

   "Slept great." He replies.

   I frown when taking careful note of the type of clothes he's wearing. They're a bit more clean cut than his usual old tee and worn out jeans. Glancing over at my mom, I'm surprised to notice her slightly more dressed up as well, still in bed reading a book. This could only allude to one inconvenient thing.

   "We're not going to church today, right?"

    They both glance up at me giving me a funny expression.

   "It is Sunday." My mom states.

   "Yeah..."

    It wasn't that I didn't enjoy going to church, it's just that since Xalale is here, it wouldn't be helpful to leave him here all alone again for the second time when there are things to be done. Besides, even though my parents made it out to be, we don't usually go to church every Sunday like most people. We only went if either A) we hadn't slept in, B) we just want to go because we're well rested, or C) we know we need some Jesus.

    My dad speaks up, "We don't even have to rush since we're going to church in town today."

   "Oh God, I know it's a sacred day, but just send an angel down and shoot me in the head with a bow and arrow now, please."

    "The Baptist church in town?" The cringe-worthiness of it all showed clearly on my face.

    My mom was right there with me, rolling her eyes as she sighs in reluctant confirmation. She didn't enjoy going into town for church either- dad was the only one.

    Usually, whenever we do go to church, we have to get up really early and drive about 45 minutes to another town where we attend church. It's more out of our way, but it's definitely less strife and friction compared to town. We only attend church in town during Christmas and Easter and even those two days are a pain out of many.

    "Well, I better get ready," I begin, already backing out of their room.

    They resume their activities.

    "At least you don't have to take a shower since you already took one." My dad calls out as I turn to leave.

   There goes my chance to refresh myself and rinse off the sweat and grime from last night. I sigh and return to the bathroom, forgetting to knock before entering. Luckily, Xalale is already changed and attending to his burn on his own. I stand behind him, watching what he's doing.

   "Here," I step in and open up the aloe cream. "This'll help with the pain and it works fast."

   Scooping up a healthy amount and holding his hand open, I gently apply the cream on the burned spot. After doing so, I reach for a cloth to bandage it with. As I work, lightly tying it around his palm, I explain the situation I'm now placed it.

   "I'll be going to church in a little while so I'll be gone with my parents for a bit. Hopefully, it will only last for about two hours, but I'm not sure exactly how long it might be."

   I finish knotting the cloth one more time before approving of it and putting away the items used.

   "I hate to leave again, but," I roll my eyes, "Believe me, I'd prefer to stay here than go where I'm going. My parents are up, by the way, so we have to be cautious when heading back to my room."

   The products are put away and my hand is on the doorknob, ready to return to my room when he speaks out behind me.

   "Thank you for assisting with my burn."

    I wave it off, more focused on not drawing either of my parents' attention. Making sure the coast is clear, I peer into the hallway, positive we won't be noticed, then instruct him to follow quickly behind me to the room.

    I don't breathe a sigh of relief until we're safely in my room again. Unfortunately, I can't rest for too long seeing how I need to get ready for church.

    Moving about to pick out a new, more appropriate outfit for church, I feel Xalale watching me every step, which first of all, annoys me, but secondly, makes me feel as though something's wrong. I don't have the time- nor patience- to ask him since I have to hurry back to the bathroom to change and take care of my essentials before it's time to leave. I can hear my parents in the adjacent room moving about, getting set to go. My hair's a mess and my body has the scent of dried sweat, but to be honest, the people at church never have too high expectations whenever I'm there, so this isn't the most scandalous thing for me to do. I spray on some cheap, pharmacy perfume in hopes that it will, in even some slight way, mask my unpleasant odor.

    On the other side of the door, I hear my mom's voice call out.

   "Mallory, we're about to leave."

   "Alright, be right out."

    Growling in frustration, I give up trying to spruce up my hair with a headband that pressed too hard into my temples in the first place.

    Before I join my parents outside, I swing by my room to briefly tell Xalale I'm going. He's back to trying to fall asleep and I envy him.

   "I'm about to go. I'll be back in around two hours I want to say, but don't hold me to that. Don't do anything...rash while I'm out."

    "Hm." He doesn't even glance in my direction.

    Whatever. I close the door behind me then head to the front door of the house where my dad waits for me on the porch.

    "There you are. I was 'bout to go back in there and drag ya out." He chuckles, locking the storm door only.

     Piling into the car, I attempt to put my mind at ease about the whole glowing, burning stone situation. This isn't the first instance where I wished summoning Sephora could be as easy as snapping my fingers.

My entire strategy to getting through these two hours of excruciating awkwardness and judgy stares is to keep my mouth shut and avoid every living soul in the sanctuary like the plague. It works for Sunday school. Nobody dares to approach me because I just flat out walk the other direction or appear to be in conversation with one of my parents. Unfortunately, this doesn't fly in the main service.

    There I am, minding my own business, my mom conversing with a group of ladies on the other side of the sanctuary near the baptism pool and my dad in the men's room. I pretend to be reading the hymn book provided when someone plops down in the pew in front of me, twisting around to look back at me. I continue to have my nose in the hymn book, praying they get the hint- but this town couldn't get a hint if it crashed in the middle of the park.

   "Hello hello."

   I don't look up, "Hey."

   "Hey yourself, missy," The lighthearted voice responds. "I haven't seen you folks in here since Easter."

    "Yup." Maybe terse replies might give her the clue.

    "Where do ya'll go on Sundays then?"

    Nope, she's still here.

    I grip the book a bit tighter and lift it closer to my face, dying for her to catch on.

    "Oh, you should join the choir, Mallory. Since you like the hymns so much." She coos.

    I've been on the same page since I've sat down and picked it up. Since it is the house of God, I refrain from rolling my eyes at a fellow believer and simply reply.

    "I can't sing."

    "Sure ya can if you try."

    Finally, she's worn me out and I disgustingly drop the book in my lap, looking at her sparkling eyes.

    She looks well put together compared to me- everyone does. Her vibrant red, orangey hair is pinned up neat in an intricate bun which reveals her small earlobes that are always pink on the tips like somebody's pinched them. Her rosy cheeks also seem as if somebody- like her grandmother- adoringly pinched her cheeks every time she was set to leave the house. Since she's sitting down, it's hard to notice, but Cynthia has a very prominent pear shaped figure which often times can look odd, yet she wears it well.

   She continues to grin at me, waiting on my response.

   "I dunno, I'm not the kind of singer you would want to hear on the choir."

    An understanding nod is her response.

    "I get it, I truly truly do."

     That's the main thing I hate about talking to Cynthia; she repeats words unnecessarily, they don't enhance the conversation yet she'll repeat them. I guess her kindergarten teacher mode is always in permanent on position.

    Suddenly, she straightens up and glances about the room, searching for something or someone before looking back at me with a dimpled grin.

    "Where's your boyfriend, Mal? I've been hearing about him lately. Tell me, when did this happen?"

    Simultaneously, my throat tightens and my cheeks flush with anger. I try not to reveal how I feel when I speak.

    "We're just friends, not dating or anything like that."

    Cynthia flashes me a kind of girl to girl in the loop sort of smile and leans closer.

    "Well yeah, first it's friendship, but then- but then you'll be falling head over heels if you don't be careful."

    Her playful sing-songy voice matches with the not so playful one in my head.

    "Yeah and if you lean any closer I might just slap you in church."

    "Then soon you'll be mailing me the wedding invitation and I'll be in the second pew, first one crying."

    I plaster a shallow amused smile on my face for her.

    "Yeah, but the wedding invitations will require you to attend with another guest so I guess I'll have to postpone my wedding date for thirty more years before you find someone who'll be willing to accompany you to the ceremony."

    It was a cold jab, but it did its trick, her cheeky little smile broke and she got up quietly, tail between legs and scurried away.

    Letting out a miserable sigh, I wish the service would begin so it can end already- walking tightrope around these people is tiring. Graciously, the service does begin and everyone returns to their spots.

    Service goes like it always does. We sing, we shake hands, the choir sings, somebody does a solo as the offering plate gets passed around, then finally the preacher gets to the podium and starts his message on happiness and finding contentment in dark times. I would listen to his sermon if I didn't notice, out of the corner of my eye, throughout the whole sermon people glancing over at me. Usually, we're not present at church here, but whenever we do come nobody stares at us while the service is going on. Right off the bat, though, I know they're not concerned about my parents, but instead, they're staring at me. Wives lean into their husbands' ears while still fixated on me and whisper some indecipherable words to them. The husbands might then glance back for a short second at me with a frown on their face. Most everyone who stared at me tried- at least- to do so inconspicuously, but most failed. My mom noticed this as well and more than halfway through the sermon, whispered in my ear confused.

   "People sure have become laxed about staring these days."

    I nod back, "They really have. Got any clue why?"

    My mom shrugs and attempts to concentrate on the preacher's words again, but I can tell people staring at me bothers her.

    At least now she'll be on the same page as me and want to get out of here as soon as the closing prayer is done.

    For the meanwhile, I simply choose to ignore the blatant stares and pretend to be faithfully listening to the words of the preacher, but secretly I'm planning the quickest route out of here. The most important thing is to get my parents out quickly as well because it's only a matter of time before someone spills the beans on me.

   Eventually, the preacher leads us in the closing prayer and my palms are sweating like I'm waiting for the starting gun to go off and me to race out of here to the car. That exactly what I begin to do when the preacher says amen.

   I collect my stuff, push my parents out of the pew, and begin leading the way to doors. I'll just pretend I don't hear anybody if they try to call me. My parents get in front of me and we're in the parking lot about to get in the car when I hear someone calling out.

   "Melissa."

    Unfortunately, I already know who it is even though they didn't get my name right- they never do.

    Hobbling toward us is none other than the preacher's wife, Mrs. Emmerich. If it was anyone else I'm sure my mom wouldn't have stopped for them, but since it was the preacher's wife, she just had to stop and greet her. My dad waves hello but gets into the car, turning it on and waiting for us to get in.

   Mrs. Emmerich smiles at me and my mom, giving us a typical greeting. She's mainly talking to my mom since she- first of all, barely can get my name right- is more fond of my mom because they both aren't Mrs. Sherman fans.

   "Fran, look at your daughter, almost grown."

    Oh boy, they're on the topic of me- so soon too. I want to escape to the car, but I don't want my mom to be left alone to the truth.

   "Why yes she is. Sixteen already, it's actually very hard to believe."

   "I know how you feel. All mine are grown and it's hard to accept sometimes."

    Trying to pull her along, I loop my arm around my mom's and gently attempt to tug at her. This simply results in her ignoring me and continuing to talk to Mrs. Emmerich.

   "Well Fran, if I can be honest- oh I hate listening to rumors," Mrs. Emmerich looks away almost trying to bait my mom into getting her to continue.

    Unfortunately, my mom takes the bait.

   "What rumors? You know I despise rumors in this town."

    I try tugging again, but this time my mom tosses me a scolding look which she hasn't given me in ages. I know doom is already unfolding before me.

    "Well," Mrs. Emmerich snaps her attention back to my mom then glances at me. "I've been hearing about a mysterious stranger in town."

    She's really reeling in my mom, who's now a tad curious.

   "Oh?"

   "Yes. From the sound of it, he's a very striking young man." She made sure to hit the man part and again shoots me a look.

    "I can't go out like this! Think, Mal, think!"

    "Oh? Who's his cousin?" Good ol' Cauldron mentality.

    "That's the thing- he isn't here for any...family affairs. I'm telling you, Fran, this man is has a very devilish look about him and nobody seems to know his intent...I mean, some might."

    She's starting to lose my mom, thankfully, by coming off too much like Mrs. Sherman- beating around the bush.

   "Well, I hope this gentleman enjoys the town and feels welcomed here."

   My mom starts to say her goodbyes- with me starting to breathe a sigh of relief- until that damn (Lord forgive me) Mrs. Emmerich pulls an ace out of her sleeve.

   "Oh he's finding town quite welcoming on someone's arm," She starts cutting to the chase and now I know I have to pull an ace out of my sleeve as well. "A familiar someone's arm he's on. She's been parading all over town with-"

    "I'm sorry, mom," I interrupt loud and clear, then lower my voice once getting their attention. "I have- I'm on- my monthly is here and...I need to change...badly."

    It was the only trump card I had, but it did trump. My mom nods understandingly and cuts off this interaction with Mrs. Emmerich. I think she's grateful that I said that because now she won't have to be sucked into town drama.

   "Well, it was nice talking to you, Emile," My mom smiles, walking to the passenger side. I duck into the back, thanking God. "Thank you for making me aware to this new, 'mysterious' stranger in town. Have a nice rest of your day."

    My mom shuts the door and my dad puts it in reverse, pulling out of the spot and then driving out of the small, broken church lot where Mrs. Emmerich stands with her lower lip in firm displeasure at not ratting me out. Looking back, I sigh in relief and slump in my seat exhausted.

   "How much longer can I keep this up?" I wonder to myself.

    Nevertheless, I've avoided another catastrophe for the time being. I might need to ask forgiveness for that bold face lie, though, on church grounds.

    I'm not even on my period yet.