Monica bounced as she flopped onto her bed. She slammed her fist into her pillow, then buried her face in it and screamed with frustration.
"Damn her!" She yelled into her pillow, "Damn her, damn her!"
After a few more blows to her pillow she grabbed her cell phone and punched the quick dial number for her best friend.
A moment later, Tricia's voice said, "Hey, Mon. What's up?"
"Mom's not going to let me go, that's what!" Monica replied as she rolled onto her back, "She said I'm not 18 yet and she doesn't think I should be spending the night when boys will be there. I'll be 18 in a week, for Christ sake! I'm the last one in our class to turn 18! I don't want to miss this party!"
"How did she find out?" Tricia asked. "No one knew but those who are going."
"She wouldn't tell me, but she knew exactly who was going to be there. Someone shot off their big mouth!" Monica spat the last words disgustedly.
"It wasn't me!" Tricia protested. "Who do you think would tell?"
"I don't know. "Monica groused. "but someone let it slip."
"So now what?" Tricia asked, "Do you think your mom will tell my mom and Cristy's?"
"No. I got her to promise she wouldn't if I promised not to sneak out and come over tomorrow night."
"Aw, gee. Thanks Mon. you're the greatest. I've been looking forward to this for ages!"
"Oh, spare me!" Monica spit out.
"Oh, Mon, there'll be another time. Like you said, you'll be 18 in a week, then it's your choice, and you can do whatever you want!"
"I guess." Monica sighed, "What time is everyone leaving Saturday?"
"They have to be gone by 11:00 AM. My parents will be home in the afternoon and I'll need time to clean the house."
"I decided to work tomorrow since mom wouldn't let me come over. I've gotta be at work at the book store at 2:00 PM and I won't get off until it closes at 10:00. I'll call you about noon Saturday. Maybe I'll come over and help you clean up if you're not done."
"Okay. Thanks, Mon. I wish you were going to be here," Tricia said.
"So do I." Monica replied, anger still edging her voice "So...do...I!"
Monica hung up the phone and thought about her Mom, 'She's forgotten what it's like to be young. I wish we could trade places...even for a few days so I could show her how unfair this is! Just a few days...'
_______________________________________________________________________
Eve absently placed another dish in the dishwasher, her mind preoccupied by the argument she'd had with her daughter a short time before.
'It's so difficult raising a daughter by myself,' she thought.
The relationship between her and Monica was growing very confrontational and strained as of late. And it didn't help that she was a single parent. George, her ex hadn't been in their life for ten years. He had decided that a career in advertising was more important than a family, so he'd left them and moved to New York.
She had raised Monica by herself for the last ten years. Eve worked two jobs and tried with all her might to stay close to her daughter. One of the things that had helped was they shared their birth date. Monica had been Eve's birthday present, almost eighteen years ago. During her younger years, Monica enjoyed the shared birthday. And Eve had felt it brought them closer together.
Things had been going smoothly until Monica hit her late teens, then all hell broke loose. Eve had kept Monica from experimenting with drugs and away from too much alcohol. And Monica was still a virgin. Eve knew that wouldn't last, but she was hoping she could convince Monica to remain celibate at least until her 18th birthday. She wanted her daughter to be mature enough to enjoy sex once she was introduced to it. She didn't want her daughter marrying the first man that she slept with, like Eve had done with Monica's father.
Eve had always tried to be frank and open with her daughter about sex. She took pains to explain anything Monica wanted to know. She wanted her daughter to be able to enjoy sex without the stigma of dirtiness that society always seemed to attach to a completely natural act. Because of that she was adamant that Monica should wait until she was 18 before she tried it. Eve felt that being more mature would be the best chance for Monica have a guilt free sex life.
Eve wasn't a prude by any means. There were a couple of men in her life. They were just casual friends, or more accurately, casual lovers. Eve had a healthy sexual appetite and needed sex fairly frequently. She had mutual arrangements with a couple of male friends. No commitments, other than friendship, and the only demands each made on the other was companionship and sex when they or she wanted it. But it had taken her years to get to the point where she felt free to have lovers, years to accept her own sexuality, years that she didn't want Monica to waste.
"I wish Monica could see it from my side for a while." Eve said to herself as she stared out the window, "Just for a day, I wish she could see what I see, feel what I feel. Perhaps she would then
understand my side..."
________________________________________________________________________
That night, a few minutes before 10:00 pm, Mr. Stiller the bookstore owner handed Monica an old, leather bound book and said, "Could you put this in the vault? I bought it last night at an auction. It's rather old. It's supposed to be from the 17th century and the auctioneer said it's the diary of Francisco Octavius, a reputed mage. He was rumored to be very versed in the magical arts, and to possess a wicked sense of humor. From what I've read of him, he loved practical jokes and went out of his way to pull them. "
Mr. Stiller grinned and added, "So be very careful with this book. Who knows what jokes he booby-trapped it with!"
Monica snorted and replied, "Mr. Stiller! There isn't any such thing as magic! Quit poking fun at me!"
Monica put on her cotton gloves to keep from damaging the old book, then started toward the vault. As she did she studied the leather-bound cover in her hand with interest. A thought flitted through her mind, 'were there any spells in the pages of the book she held, just waiting for the right time to be released? Maybe there's one that can get my mom off my case.' A moment later she snorted and dismissed the thought as silly.
She carried it to the vault where Mr. Stiller stored all his most valuable books. As she
was about to place it on a shelf, her curiosity got the better of her. She laid it on the felt topped table, used to view the most valuable books, and opened the front cover. As she did pages began to slowly flop open as if of their own accord. Finally, a last page rustled open, then all was quiet as Monica peered at the passage that had been exposed. For a moment she could have sworn it was written in some strange indecipherable language, then it seemed to shimmer and shift and with a start Monica found she was looking at a passage written in Old English cursive script.
