Wicked Alchemy 8

A couple noise-filled hours brought her to the wings of the stage. The piece of plastic Michael had handed her took her easily past the guards, and it was quieter there; only the vibrations of the amplifiers wavered around her, making the links on the chain fence behind her squirm now and then with a worm-like life.

This is stupid. She couldn't see Jim anymore. Her eyes flitted over the crowd in bored confliction, now and then locking on to Michael as he entertained them. I mean, I don't even know this guy…

It was better than standing beside that bastard, she supposed. Maybe he'd left with that fluke of a girl. She knew her from school – one of those popular kids that spent more time preening in the bathrooms than learning anything important. He is kind of cute, though. I suppose, she argued with herself, biting at her bottom lip. In a stray dog kinda way…

"Excuse me, Lin…"

The voice caught her off-guard, interrupting the lulling vibrations around her. She blinked blankly, sliding her eyes backward and narrowing them slightly.

"…but what the hell do you think you're doing?"

Ah. Jim. So she had gotten under his skin. Brushing the hair back over her ear, she replied as nonchalantly as she could muster, "I beg your pardon? I'm waiting for Michael, because he asked me to."

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