//------------------------------// // Chapter 4 - An Unexpected Job Offer // Story: Of Hearts and Gazing Eyes // by A bag of plums //------------------------------// Lightning Strike may have been a student at Crystal Prep, a school that valued punctuality, but even he appreciated the chance to sleep in on the weekend. He lay there in his bed, dreaming pleasant dreams until the shrill sound of his phone alarm went off. The boy groggily reached out and silenced the device and then sat up, blinking like an owl. Then he saw the sun shining through his window and smiled. Today was finally the weekend and that meant no school, that meant no nosy kids coming up to him to question him about everything he did, that meant no boring lessons he’d already covered back in Crystal Prep. It was a nice morning indeed. Getting dressed, he went downstairs and fixed himself a hearty breakfast of toast, eggs, and ham. It was almost noon, so he ate quickly and swiped the keys from the countertop where he had left them yesterday afternoon. His mother was probably either out already or still asleep, so he wrote her a quick note about where he was going on the notepad that was magnetized to the fridge. Then he laced on his shoes and left the house. The air was cool and crisp, and the sun shone down brightly, shedding light but little warmth. Lightning went to the nearby bus stop and caught the next bus toward the other end of the city. It was slated to be at least forty-five minutes’ ride, so he took out his headphones and plugged them into his phone to listen to some music. As the bus ride went on, people got on and got off, but Lightning’s attention was more fixed on the sky. What had started off as a sunny day was starting to get overcast, dark clouds billowing in from the east, propelled by a stiff breeze.  “And I didn’t bring an umbrella,” Lightning lamented. Hopefully it wouldn’t rain until after he got home.  About ten minutes later, Lightning’s stop came up and he got off the bus. The first place he wanted to visit was the mechanic’s shop, which was a couple of streets away. Lightning Strike, from all the time he had spent with the motocross team, knew the street layout of the entire city like the back of his hand, but it was his first time coming here on foot and he had his phone out just in case he lost his way. As it turned out, his phone was not needed. He found the mechanic’s shop easily enough, and after a short talk with one of the staff, he was taken inside to describe the damage done to his bike. It was pretty extensive, Lightning realized glumly. The final tally came up to about two thousand dollars, and that wasn’t even counting the fee that the mechanic would charge to haul the bike back to his shop to do the repairs at. Feeling considerably more downcast, Lightning left the mechanic’s and followed the path down the road to the bike dealership that was in the neighborhood. There were dozens of shiny new bikes on display, none of which Lightning was likely to be able to afford. Instead he made for the older models, none of which were likely to be better than his own, but there wasn’t really any other choice. A member of the dealership staff came to assist him, but Lightning simply asked some vague questions about specs on the new bikes, just to show the man that he knew what he was talking about when it came to bikes. The staff member showed him some of the latest models, and Lightning had fun pretending that he was considering buying one, and he would have tried some out if it wasn’t for his arm being in a cast. In the end, he told the assistant that he would think about which bike to purchase and left the dealership after two hours. He was about to go back to the bus stop when he heard his stomach growl. Right, I haven’t had lunch yet. Lightning realized. He took out his phone and checked the area for any fast food places that he could stop by on the way to the bus stop. To his dismay, there were none, as this area of the city was mostly industrial buildings and office blocks. The nearest eatery was four blocks down, and Lightning didn’t really feel like walking that far. Still, the prospect of enduring another forty-five minute bus ride on an empty stomach was not a pleasant one. Eventually his hunger won out and the boy began to walk towards the hot dog place that was marked on his phone’s map. This part of the city he had ridden through once or twice, but never paid much attention to. The streets and sidewalks were conspicuously vacant, and the only movement was the occasional person walking past an office block window above his head.  Lightning was reaching for his headphones again when something hit him on the nose. He reached up and touched the spot; it was wet. “Ah, crap,” Lightning breathed. The clouds were starting to release their payload of water, and here he was, in the middle of the city with no umbrella or shelter in sight. Not that he was against getting a bit wet, but the doctor had told him to keep his cast dry, so that his arm would heal faster. The rain began to fall harder and Lightning whipped off his jacket to cover his left arm with. There had to be someplace nearby where he could wait out the downpour. As if in response to his pleas, Lightning’s eye caught sight of something on the other side of the road. It stood out among the stone grey office buildings and the warehouses. A green-painted sign with a crimson dragon curling around the words: Heart’s Desire Art Supplier. It was a shop, and the doors seemed to be open.  Without thinking twice, Lightning dashed across the empty road and entered the shop. There was an immediate change as soon as both of his feet made it inside. He pushed past the bead curtain that was draped over the doorway and stepped into the store proper. The air inside felt different; it was warm and dry and almost had a static-y taste on his tongue, as if the air were charged with energy. The interior was lit with gentle yellow lights, and the floor beneath was soft checkered carpet in white and black.  The next thing Lightning noticed were the wares. Arranged in neat rows and on shelves were stacks of canvases, drums of paint brushes and tubes of paint, packs of oil pastels, easels, stacks of paper in every color of the rainbow and more, as well as articulated wooden mannequins for sketching. There was a faint odor of paint in the air, but not enough for it to be unpleasant. Feeling a little foolish standing on the threshold of the shop, Lightning Strike stepped further inside. Hit footsteps were muffled on the carpeted floor, but he could hear faint classical music playing in the distance. He came to  a countertop with an old-fashioned cash register on it as well as a small silver bell. There was nobody in sight, so he leaned against the counter and looked around. Hanging from the ceiling was a huge wooden whale skeleton, suspended from the rafters with gossamer threads. Behind the countertop was a large vase that had white flowers sticking out of it which gave the air a slightly sweet aroma.  Lightning Strike had never been much one for art, but he could appreciate all the goods and tools that this store was selling. Interestingly enough, the one thing that didn’t seem to be art-related was a long sort of staff that was mounted on the wall behind the cash register: a six foot rod of chased white wood with a clear spike of crystal affixed to the tip inside a metal collar. The music in the background was soothing, and Lightning soon found himself relaxed and calm. He pulled out his phone to read up on this shop, but to his surprise, the map app seemed to think he was still on the street outside.  “Weird…” Lightning tried looking up the name of the shop on the internet, but the search yielded no results. Perhaps this shop was new, but that didn’t seem to be the case just by looking at it. The place felt old, like it had been here for a long time. The growl of his own stomach brought Lightning Strike back to the present. He still hadn’t eaten anything, and his mouth was dry. This place wasn’t going to satisfy that need, and he would’ve just left if not for the rain. Perhaps they sold umbrellas here. He reached out, and after a moment’s hesitation, rang the bell. The bell’s clear tinkle was like a windchime, lingering in the air for a few moments before fading away. Music to Lightning’s ears. His eyes caught movement. From deeper inside the shop, something white was moving, rippling like a kite in the wind. A tall figure emerged, draped in an alabaster cloak with a matching hood. Only the bottom half of their face could be seen, palest pink skin framed by snowy-white hair. A pair of lips that were arranged in a gentle smile. “Good afternoon,” the cloaked and hooded woman said demurely, sliding behind the counter. “Welcome to the Heart’s Desire Art Supplier. How may I help you?” “Hi, uh, yeah, I was wondering if you sold umbrellas?” Lightning pointed a thumb outside the store. “It’s raining hard out there and I really don’t want to get drenched.” “Unfortunately, we do not sell umbrellas here,” the woman said with an apologetic shrug. “However, you are welcome to wait out the rain in here, if you like.” Lightning’s stomach rumbled again and he would’ve waited, but he didn’t think he would last that long. “I don’t suppose you have anything, uh… to eat here?” The woman raised her head a fraction, and Lightning thought he saw a pinkish glow from under the hood, but it was gone so quickly that he thought he must have imagined it. “Certainly,” she raised her left hand and the sleeve of the cloak fell back just enough to expose a slim set of fingers. They clicked and there was another flicker of movement from the back of the shop. This time a shorter female figure emerged, also draped in a hood and cloak though this set was black in color. She was carrying a covered silver tray, which she then set down on the countertop. The cloche was lifted to reveal a plate of sandwiches and a mug of some kind of aromatic tea. The female in black gave Lightning a small bow and retreated back behind the counter to join the woman in white. “Thank you,” Lightning Strike said, then he began to eat. Slowly, so as not to appear rude. As the boy filled his stomach, the woman in white reached down and opened a drawer under the countertop and took out a small stack of papers. This she began to read over them, though Lightning didn’t know how she could see them with a hood over her eyes.  “Excuse me,” the woman in white said politely after Lightning had finished his afternoon tea and the female in black took the dish away. “I don’t suppose that you’d be familiar with the streets and layout of Canterlot City, would you?” “Who, me?” Lightning was startled. “I guess I am. Why?” “Well,” the white-robed woman began. “I have a small number of packages that I need delivered to some customers. However, I am not local and do not have time to learn all the streets and roads and addresses to deliver them. My organization is looking for someone with that knowledge to get these packages to their destination. It’s quite important, you see.” “Couldn’t you just use a GPS app?” Lightning asked, taking out his phone and pointing to it. “We would prefer not to,” the woman in white said. “All this new technology isn’t really our style.” Her smile grew wider. “If you know what I mean.”  “Um, no actually, I don’t really…” “Well. Suffice to say, we have an opening for a courier, if you are looking for a little extra spending money. All you would need to do is take the package to its destination and come back with a proof of delivery. Simple.” “Uh, well, So… what do I get? Doing this? Is this like, an actual job? Because I’m still in school. I can’t work all the time.” The woman in white’s smile did not falter. “You don’t have to give me an answer right now. Why not think on it a bit? Of course you would be compensated in money, and you would get to use some of the special tools that our outfit uses. As for time, it could be an after school job. Part time,” she leaned closer over the counter. “We pay in cash, so you don’t have to worry about taxes.” There was silence, or as close to it as possible with the faint music in the distance. Lightning glanced at the woman, wishing he could see the rest of her face so that he could gauge what she was thinking. He was almost tempted to reach out and pull down her hood, but something told him that would be an absolutely terrible idea. “The rain’s stopped,” Lightning muttered, pointing at the entrance with his thumb. “I need to go home for… chores. Yeah. How much do I owe you for the food?” He made to take out his wallet, but the woman in white held up her hand. “You don’t owe me anything for the food; it’s just polite to offer a guest something to eat, is it not?” “But-” “No ‘buts’. All I ask in return is that you consider the courier position. It’s not a place we offer to just anyone, and we would be delighted to have someone of your talent along with us.” “Right…” Lightning nodded automatically. “Well, I’ll give it some thought. Thanks for everything.” As Lightning turned to go, the woman in white’s fingers darted out and grabbed hold of Lightning’s cast-covered left arm. There was a faint zap, like a discharge of static electricity that spread all through his limb, but it faded almost instantly. Lightning pulled his arm back, staring at the other person with a newfound apprehension.  The hooded woman continued to smile, as if nothing had happened. “Do come again soon.” Lightning turned and all but bolted from the art shop all the way back to the bus stop.