*Gypped

Clint's Story (#7)

“Dude, Clint. Are you coming?”

I frowned at Steve's rushed behavior but dutifully paid my portion of the check and followed the group out of the pizza joint. I hate pizza and I only come for the soda yet I'm always stuck with an equal portion of the check. Guess my friends pride themselves in the art of conversation.

As we headed down to the basketball game, I noticed an used cup on the sidewalk. I picked it up as we walked by and dropped it in a trash can.

“Clint. Always the do-gooder.” Tyson chuckled.

A field ahead had a group playing soccer and all the guys took of running. I stayed behind with Jake who is more athletic than me. You should see the drawings he does. As we continued on I realized my hand was tingling and looked down to see what was wrong. When I looked back up again, the city was gone. Instead I was in the middle of an oat field.

“What'cha doing here?”

A woman, probably three or four years older than me, looked at me. A rake was in one hand and her hair was pulled up and back, showing the continuous sunburned. I rubbed my arms, a sinking feeling in my stomach.

“Where am I?”

“This is my farm.”

“Right. And where exactly is your farm located?”

“Kansas.”

I rubbed my head. Everyone else got sucked into fairy tales, and here I was in the middle of Kansas.

“Would you like something to drink?”

Nodding weakly, I followed the woman into her small house. The yard had little grass and was filled with antique farming equipment. The inside sported a big screen tv and leather furniture.

“My name's Hannah.”

“Nice to meet you. I'm Clint.”

“Why are you in Kansas?”

After taking a deep drink of the lemonade I shook my head, “I really wish I knew.”

For the next week I helped Hannah with her farm. I used most of her Aloe Vera ointment and was impressed with my ability to look like a normal teenager. As we ate dinner one evening, there was a loud knock and the front door opened.

“Hanna. You've got to come home.”

A younger version of Hannah stood in the doorway. Probably around my age.

“No Beth.”

“Uncle Tito is going to take over the shop.”

“Why do I care?” Hannah asked.

“Dad left us the shop.”

“I don't want the shop, and you don't want the shop. Why can't Tito have it?”

Beth scowled and pushed a tear off her cheek.

“You want the store?” Hannah asked softly.

Beth nodded.

Hannah dropped her fork and rubbed her temples. “Why didn't you saw something at the funeral?”

I hastily finished the steak and followed Hannah and Beth out of the house. There was no vehicle outside and Beth was limping pretty badly. I caught her when she tripped and she murmured her thanks. We walked around to the garage and I stared at the flashy Porsche sitting with the rakes and hoes.

“Get in.”

I helped Beth into the front and crammed my long legs in the non-existent back. We flew into town. I'm pretty sure I left fingernail marks in the seat. The store we stopped at was a large Macy's department store. It was the biggest one I'd ever seen in my life, but that isn't saying much.

Even dressed in her work flannel and steel toed boots, Hannah commanded authority as she marched into the store. She greeted every employee by name and they all relaxed as she thundered past. Without even knocking, Hannah threw open the manager's office door.

The man behind the desk was thin and wiry. He looked at Hannah over his glasses when she approached the desk.

“Yes?”

“We want our store back.”

“I'm sorry. The legal transaction has been complete for some time now.”

“You blackmailed dad into giving it to you. Then killed him.” Beth retorted softly.

Tito laughed, “We made a deal, fair and square. The store is mine.” He paused for a moment and said with a grin, “And it isn't my fault your father had a heart condition.”

Hannah muttered, “Fine. You want to play it that way.”

I was standing by the door watching quietly when Hannah turned around, grabbed my collar, and kissed me.

“Meet my fiance. It's in the agreement. I get the store as a dowry when I get married.”

The kiss was so surprising that I stumbled back and hit my head. Everything went black.

“Dude, Clint. Wake up.”

I opened my eyes to see the scruffy face of Steve leaning over me.

“Glad we found you,” Jake added as he proffered his hand to me.

“How long have I been gone?”

Steve ran his fingers through his hair and smile, “Just over a week. For the record you have been spending the week at Jake's house.”

“Thanks for the notice.” I murmured as I brushed a hand over my mouth.

“For being gone a week, you sure look good. Where were you taken?” Steve probbed.

“Kansas.”

“Kansas, like Dorothy.” Steve chuckled.

“More as in Lion King.” I grumbled, knowing Steve had seen it.

“Sweet, so you were Simba? That's not too bad.” Steve said.

Jake laughed and patted my on the back. “So you weren't even sucked into a fairy tale.”

I shook my head. “Shakespeare has got to be better than a fairy tale but I feel gypped.”

“What do you mean Shakespeare?” Steve asked.

Jake chuckled again, “Let me guess, Ophelia?”

“Shut up Jake.”