"Shh! Somebody's coming! Hide!" Rachel hissed at Angel, and then followed her as she plunged under the bed. There were a few awkward moments as the two girls tried to arrange themselves and collect their various body parts.
"Your foot is in my back!" Rachel whispered, trying to move.
"Whose dumb idea was it to even come here, anyway," Angel hissed back, after removing the aforesaid foot. Despite the fact that Angel was uncomfortable - she was, after all, lying flat on the floor under a (thankfully, large) bed - she actually wasn't very upset. In fact, she had an unexpected urge to laugh as something occured to her. "That makes twice in one day," she whispered to Rachel, biting her lip to keep back a giggle. "We wouldn't make very good spies, would we?"
A door slammed, and both girls started, and then stared in the direction of the sound. They both wiggled to the edge of the bed and peeked out from under it, curious about how this girl looked.
The girl, Margaret, was walking around the room, in quick, nervous strides. Her hand came up and rubbed her slightly red eyes, and she sniffed angrily; holding back the tears that threatened to spill over. Her breath came in short gasps; they seemed to rasp in her throat as she tried to still the angry sobs that occasionally broke through.
This display was all the more surprising coming from such a gentle looking girl. She had mediam leanth auburn hair, which was pulled back in a messy braid, and was quite slender. She was about 5'5, and her eyes were a bright, startling emerald green. Her skin was tanned, and there were some freckles scattered over her nose and cheekbones from the sun. Her eyebrows condradicted the rest of her face; they were dark slashes that suited her, and gave her a stronger look.
She stormed over to the stereo, switched it on, and pressed the play button. The Hanson song "Thinking of You" came blasting out at an unbelievably high volume.
"She's a fan," Angel whispered to Rachel - although the volume of the stereo probably would keep the girl from hearing anything less than a marching band. "That's good."
"What?"
"She's a - oh, nevermind. Hey, I've got an idea!"
"What?"
"I SAID, I'VE-"
"I heard what you said; I want to know what the idea is!"
"Oh. I'll tell you in a second," Angel said, scooting back a little.
They both looked up, and then ducked down again as Margaret started to stride toward the bed.
A pillow was thrown on the floor, and Margaret started to kick it violently; this not appeasing her, she began to jump on it.
Rachel looked over at Angel and grimaced. Margaret didn't look as if she was leaving anytime soon, and Rachel wanted to discuss the events of the day. Not to mention the fact that she had to use the bathroom.
"Magic," she mouthed. Angel sighed silently, and then nodded, unhappy about having magic used near a human yet again. "You," Rachel whispered. Angel shook her head, but gave in after Rachel threw her a pleading look.
Angel looked at Margaret - or rather, her feet - and let some magic drift over.
Margaret yawned, suddenly surprisingly tired. She'd been filled with angry energy just a few seconds ago. 'A temper tantrum does take a lot out of you,' she thought, unable to keep from seeing the humor in the situation, while at the same time trying to retain her anger. Grinning, scowling, and yawning at the same time, she stumbled over to her bed and fell asleep before her head hit the pillow.
The two faties crept out from under the bed and tiptoed over to the window. The swung over the window ledge, and quickly climbed down the ladder they had placed there earlier to get up.