Two masked men kick a wooden door. With a loud crackling, the door breaks open and gives rise to a puff of terrorised screams. The men, dressed in black, armed with shiny guns, enter the small cabin-esque room.
"Put your arms above your head, where we can see them!" One of them shouts.
"Hurry up! Scoot down to the ground!" the other instructs.
The small cabin is an Arts and Crafts shop, hosting six crouched students, two scandalised visitors and the cowering owner behind the cash register.
"Are we been robbed?" A girl whispers at the back of the room. She is crouching in front of her table, her ladybug sculpture lays abandoned on the tabletop. Her hands are raised above her head, alike everyone.
"Dunno Maisie, seems so," her partner replies, chewing on a piece of gum. Her eyes keep meandering back to her own unfinished sculpture. The clock overhead the whimpering owner reads 2:15 P.M. and the store, under ideal circumstances, would close at 4 sharp. Her lips push in a pout and a worrisome frown gathers over her spotted forehead.
"Does this place even make money?" Maisie asks, leaning closer towards her partner.
"Beats me," the partner shrugs.
"HEY! HEY! HEY! NO FUNNY BUSINESS IN THE BACK!" one of the robbers screams, pointing his gun at the girls.
A slew of bated silence looms over the room.
"Come on, take out the cash!" the other robber snaps at the scrambling owner.
Eventually, the heaviness in the air weighs down on one of the visitors and they begin begging, "Please don't hurt us! Take everything we have! But please, leave us alone!"
"Pffft, as if," Maisie scoffs. Her head whips sideways, to laugh, and it is nuisance enough for the robber to push the cowering visitor in her direction.
"STAY PUT!" he growls. The sudden intimidation causes the visitor to topple backward, which startles the student behind her. He jerks back and his elbow knocks into Maisie and her partner's table.
"WOAH! WOAH! WOAH!" Maisie's partner jumps up and steadies her wobbling table before the artwork could fall or encounter any harm. Relief washes over her dark eyes as she picks up her sculpture and caresses it between her palms, "Goodness, you scared me!"
"YOU! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, HUH?!"
The girl looks up, smiling sheepishly, "I'm sorry, I was just—um, sorry, my sculpture," she points at the disfigured flower fairy she was attempting to sculpt for her mother's birthday, as if it were explanation enough.
"You think your pesky little sculpture is worth more than your life?" the robber snarls. He shoves people out of his way and takes big steps in the girl's direction.
"No, um—well— it's art. My art—work, my artwork!" she explains, hugging the sculpture to her chest as the man creeps closer.
"What are you looking me in the eye for?!" he yells, standing directly in her face. His burly figure shadows her younger silhouette and his beady eyes notice her nose squirm. "Aren't you so proud of your little artwork? Do you think your lump pf clay matters? Being an arts and crafts bitch in a Tier Three Town, you think you can stand up to me?!"
There's a menacing width to his raised brows and barely opened eyes. His nostrils flair up only to exhale entitlement. His upturned smile mocks the girl in front, comforted by her now wandering eyes.
"Umm—no offence, but, are you proud of robbing an arts and crafts shop in a tier three town?" the girl scoffs.
"You!" the man pokes a finger to her forehead, jerking her head back, "little," he does it again, "piece," he pokes a finger over her collarbones, "of," he yanks the sculpture from her hands –
"—Shit." Maisie and the robber utter in a synchronised whisper.
The man squeezes the sculpture with his fist and lets it fall to the yellowing floor.
"Come along now," the other robber shouts as he zips up the money bag, "Stop picking fights with kids!"
"I'm just letting a lass know her place in the economy, it's hardly a fi—"
Before the robber could finish his sentence, a harsh blow knocks the gun out of his hand. A kick lands on his shin, he mewls in pain and falls forward, the girl twists his right hand behind his back and climbs over his shoulders, with incredible swiftness, she tears off his mask and shoves the nozzle into his mouth.
"That was my mother's birthday gift, you fucker. I want to spit on you but it'll dirty my hand."
The man writhes and uses his free hand to pry out of her grip only for her to bend him backward.
"HEY! HEY! HEY! LET GO OF HIM!"
"Or you let go of the money and I won't pull the trigger," the girl threatens, looking back. A detached darkness lurks within her gaze as a man twice her size squirms underneath her.
"Aren't you afraid of the law?!" the robber shouts, scandalised.
The irony births a laugh out of her.
She pulls the trigger, noticing how the robber with the moneybag makes no attempts to run away from a clearly profiting scenario.
Instead of a resounding gunshot, the man underneath writhes and shivers before passing out in mere seconds.
"Aww, taser guns," the girl smiles, brandishing the weapon over her head.
The robber finally seems to realise the situation he's in and attempts to escape, only for the gun to come flying in his direction. It hits his forehead, propelling him backwards. His nape knocks against the corner of the cashier's desk and promptly makes him go limp.
.
.
.
"And Auntie Mirabel, you won believe who the robber was! The one stealing the money! It was the owner's husband! He been stealing from his wife to run away with his mistress! And the other man was the mistress' brother!" Maisie exclaims the information to an older woman as they walk down the steps of the police station.
"Oh my!! Are you sure you're not hurt, darlin'?" the woman leans forward, worry lacing her kind brown gaze.
"Yes mumma, I was wayyy in the back with Maisie and the police made it in time!"
"But I heard that you saved them!" a younger girl exclaims. She has her arms wrapped around her mother's hand and looks up at her sister with sparkling brown eyes.
"Meh, they sorta ruined my gift for mumma. I'm sorry," she jogs behind her mother's back and wraps her arms around Mirabel's shoulders. "I'll make you something new tomorrow," she promises.
"Oh silly, don't fret over something so small," Mirabel pats her head.
"Yes! Fret o'er something big! Like Diadem Points! You know all good deeds ends up becoming Diadem points! This is such good news!" the young girl exclaims, clapping her hands.
"Annalise!" Mirabel exclaims while the other girls groan in synchrony.
"You don't understand! The more Diadem Points you have, the more are your chances to win the annual Charmity Lottery!"
"I think we understand, Annalise, you've only repeated it for—" the girls begin counting on their fingers, "Oh wait, your entire lifetime."
Maisie throws her head back as Annalise's scowl revibrates the most vibrant laughter within her.
"She's so celebrity struck," Mirabel sighs, laughing along.
"Can't een say tis a phase!" Maisie chimes in.
"Charmity is the best place in the whole wide world and you'll know it once I'm there!" Annalise huffs, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Of course, baby," the older sister ruffles Annlaise's hair, "That's why you must continue doing well in your exams. Good grades also equal to high diadem points!"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, but ultimately, it's just a lottery. Diadem points only make up for how many times your name can be repeated in the system. It's all luck!" the girl huffs, unwrapping her arms from her mother's.
"Annalise! Did you receive your grades?!" Mirabel questions, frowning.
"What--? Grades? No, what--?!" Annalise picks up her pace and Mirabel follows her with an equal haste in her footsteps.
"Annalise! Come back!" Mirabel shouts, jogging behind the now running child.
"I'll get goin' home too, be safe, see ya tomorrow?" Maisie asks, pulling her friend in a hug.
"Yeah, art shop it is."
"Somethin' tells me they wouldn't open for a while…"
"Well, they better! How am I supposed to sculpt?!"
Maisie laughs and pats her friend's back, "I'll bring you sum clay."
"You're the best!" the girl sniffles, "What would I do without you?!"
"Be a mess, or what!"
And a mess she was, a few days later, shuffling around the small living room of their rented apartment, "Did you see it Annalise? I could have sworn I kept it here! I bought it like two days ago! Where did it go?!"
The younger girl pays no heed to the ruckus around her. Her eyes are fixated on the television screen and an unbridled smile occupies her face.
"Annalise! Did you see that crochet tablecloth? Ann—" the girl flips her head and rolls her eyes, "You've been stuck in front of that screen for the whole weekend now!"
"Mhm," Annalise replies, digging her hand in a bag of chips, "They're livestreaming the opening ceremony at Charmity, everyone's there! Courtney look so gorgeous AAAAA!"
"Courtney isn't planning your mother's birthday, I am, so how about you give me a few seconds of your life instead, auspicious Lady Annalise?"
"Dunno, never seen a tablecloth in my life before!"
The girl sighs and dejectedly picks up her phone to dial for Maisie. She brushes the flower-fairy sculpture placed on the centre of the table, once again, before readjusting the dishes around it. The doorbell goes off and she rushes to the door.
"I brought fried chicken!" Mirabel exclaims as she rushes inside.
"You're home early!"
"FRIED CHICKENNN!" Annalise shouts, jumping off the sofa she had been camping for the last two days. "Ah! It smells so delicious! Can you bring it to me? I cannot leave for long! They'll be announcing the lottery results soon!"
"Sorry, Mother's the only royalty I'm serving tonight!"
The older women giggle as the girl helps take of Mirabel's overcoat. She rushes her mother to the dining table and picks up the sculpture, "TADA!"
At the same time, Annalise's knees give up and she falls to the ground with a loud thump as the television blares the name, "Blair Winston!"