by Simon Paul Wilson
Michelle takes her seat at the table and sighs heavily.
“He knows,” she says in worried tones. “Daniel knows.”
Amy, who sits opposite, looks at her with an expression of total confusion.
“What do you mean?” she asks, popping a stick of chewing gum into her mouth.
“He knows” hisses Michelle. “He knows about us!”
Amy chews her gum and gives a nonchalant shrug.
“So?”
Michelle wishes she could reach across the table and slap the stupid look off her face.
“Don't you realise what this means?” she asks. “What could happen to us if he talks?”
Amy stops chewing, finally realising the gravity of the situation.
“Oh,” she says. “That's not good…”
“No shit, Sherlock,” says Michelle. “We’re in big trouble.”
Amy takes the gum out of her mouth and presses it onto the surface of the table.
“How did he find out?” she asks.
“Remember that night we were working late at the office?”
Amy nods and smiles.
“Yeah, that was fun!”
Michelle bites her lip in an attempt to control her rising anger. Now is not the time to be flippant. She takes a deep breath and continues.
“Daniel worked late that night too. He came to the office and saw us together.”
“He was spying on us? Fuck! What a pervert!”
“He wasn't spying on us!” snaps Michelle. “The door was open. He came to the office to ask a question and caught us together.”
Amy smiles.
“So,” she says, pointing a finger. “It’s your fault!”
“How is it my fault?” Michelle splutters.
“It’s your job to shut the door properly, not mine.”
“Look,” says Michelle, trying to shift the focus of the conversation away from her colossal error. “It doesn't matter whose fault it is, what we need to do is come up with a way to get out of this mess.”
Amy peels the chewing gum from off the desk and pops it back in her mouth.
“Hmmm,” she says as she resumes chewing. “Tricky.”
Michelle lets her head hit the table and groans.
Silence falls between the girls as they search for an answer to their problem.
“We could tell him we are in an amateur dramatics group,” offers Amy. “Tell him we were just practicing our lines.”
“He’d never believe us,” says Michelle from the desk. “And besides, what happens when he asks if he can come and see the play?”
“Aha!” shouts Amy, shocking Michelle into an upright position. “I’ve got it!”
“What?”
“We could kill him.”
Michelle looks at Amy, expecting her to stick her tongue out or wink; to give her a sign that she is joking, but Amy remains straight-faced and quite serious.
“What did you say?”
“I said we could kill him.”
“That's your big plan? Murder?”
“Sure! Why not? It could be fun!
Michelle sits and shakes her head in silent disbelief. She always knew Amy was crazy, but the idea of them killing Daniel…
That’s just insane.
“I’ve got to go,” says Michelle. “This is too much for me right now. I’ll talk to you later.”
Amy gives her two thumbs up.
“No worries,” she says. “But just think about what I said. Killing Daniel could really be the answer.”
All Michelle can do is sigh.
“Maybe,” she says weakly. “Let’s see…”
She stands up and walks away from the dressing table and its large mirror.
She has much to think about.
Published with permission
