Black Diaries

10. Not in Love

I am not in love. No, I'm not! Most definitely not!

That was my new mantra. I hoped to God it would work out better than "just friends."

I cancelled my next lesson with Chuck. To compensate for the lack of people to punch, I bought a punching bag and hung it in the center of my cavernous garage of a living room. With a marker, I tried to draw Matt's face on it, but it ended up looking more like a cross between a bulldog and a toaster.

I punched it anyway. I punched and punched until I was drenched and ready to collapse with exhaustion. It didn't make me feel any better.

Crap, crap, crap!

Maybe I should have painted Chuck's face on the punching bag instead. But I didn't want to punch Chuck! I wanted to do a whole lot of other things with him that involved getting hot and sweaty—and that just made things worse.

I'm not in love! I'm not in love!

The bag took another hit, came swinging back, and thumped me hard in the stomach.

"Oomph!"

Maybe it was time for a break.

At work, things didn't go any better. My unusual entry into the employ of Darren's Dog Hutch (Where all your little darling's problems will be taken care of) hadn't gained me any friends. And now that I was rising fast in the ranks, and getting all the interesting jobs, people didn't exactly have much reason to take a sudden liking to me.

The crazy thing was that most of them were glad not to have to go close to any pythons and tigers and all the other cute little things that humans vilified as dangerous. But these jobs, besides being a tad more dangerous, also paid a whole lot better than pet mice and rabbits. For some reason, people will always be jealous of your money, no matter how glad they are they don't have to do your job themselves.

Thank God animals aren't like that.

First and foremost among the crowd of not-so enthusiastic admirers of yours truly was Joe Norris, or, as he insisted to be called by his underlings, Dr. Norris. He thought he could boss anybody around just because he was the senior veterinary physician. He also thought he was the best-looking guy in the entire clinic. Unfortunately, he was right about both points, technically speaking.

A truly charming gentleman, he had come up with the nickname of "monster girl" to welcome me into my happy new family of coworkers. He had also filled the top drawer of my desk with cockroaches, and I suspected that it was on his orders that the female cafeteria staff put salt in my coffee at regular intervals. Some people are just too nice for words.

I might have suspected that, since I was already in a bad mood after the little incident between Chuck and myself, Joe would do something to cheer me up. He never disappointed.

It was around closing time. I had just packed up my things and was marching towards my car, when the sight of it stopped me in my tracks.

Glass lay scattered on the asphalt of the parking lot. A cobweb of fine cracks decorated the driver side window, with a big hole in the middle.

It took a moment for me to realize what I was seeing: someone had punched a hole in my window!

I frowned. This wasn't like Joe at all. Not that he was above doing something so nasty, but usually his attacks had more finesse than that.

Opening the car door, I slipped inside and reached for the glove compartment, where I had stored my cellphone. The moment the glove compartment fell open, I knew that breaking my window had only been part of the plan. The black spider which peeked up at me from between the jumbled mess inside the small space was the only clue I needed.