Karma Is A Witch

The Sanskrit word ‘karma’ literally means ‘action.’ In Buddhism though, it pretty much refers to one’s intention or motivation while doing an action. To sum it all up, karma is ‘you get what you give,’ or something like that. To people that know me though karma means trouble. A mess, nuisance, irritant, annoyance, aggravation, frustration, stress, and a major pain in the ass. That’s because that’s who I am. Karma.

Not in the fantasy or make-believe way though, like I decide your fate or what happens to you. No, I just mean that I’m Karma. As in Karmen Isabelle Sanchez, the girl that was nicknamed Karma because trouble seems to follow me everywhere. It all started when I was conceived.

You see, my biological mother was a heroine addict. Once she had me, she wrapped me up in a newspaper and left me in a box on the streets of Mexico City addicted to heroine and just a few minutes old. I was found a few hours later, screaming and going through withdrawal from the heroine. I was taken to a doctor and surprisingly enough was a picture perfect and healthy baby in just a couple of weeks. The doctor that attended to me was actually an American doctor who had spent a month tending to the poor. The doctor was very kind and took me back to the United States where she and her husband did a shit load of paperwork and finally adopted me.

They told me the whole story about me being adopted and how they found me when I was seven. It’s always been a part of my life and I think it gives my personal history a little more flare than most people. I mean, how many people can say that they were born a drug addict? Not any of the people I’ve met.

My adoptive parents named me Karmen, but called me Karma because of how I was found. Then name fit too, as I grew up I got into trouble after trouble, dilemma after dilemma. I seemed to have ‘Bad Karma’ or something along those sorts. Every cause has an effect, but my effects seemed much more…extreme.

Fast forward twenty-three years after I was found in a box on the streets and you’ll find me in a beautifully renovated farmhouse from the 1800’s with a pool, tennis courts, and stables –

Just kidding. You’ll really find me in this teeny tiny, crap-shack of a house. Seriously, there is a bathroom, a bedroom, a living room, conjoined kitchen and dining room, and this really nasty raccoon, whom I have named Zorro, who gets into my garbage can if I forget to close the lid. Which is every single day.

My mom is one of the best paediatricians in Connecticut and makes enough money that I totally used to live in that beautifully renovated farmhouse from the 1800’s, but I moved out when I was twenty, because who still lives with their parents when they’re twenty? Now, three years later I really miss the whole ‘being privileged’ thing.

Not like my parents don’t support me or anything, they totally do, but living true to my name bad things hit me even harder once I moved out.

Like right now, with the really hot guy telling me that I’m prophesied to defeat the Gardeners. Yeah, I don’t see in any way how this can be construed as good luck. I mean, chinga, I’m a lover not a fighter. Well, a bitchy lover, but still.

Luckily, I didn’t have to banter with Mystery Guy any longer, because at that moment Spencer came rushing into the Wendy’s. “Shit, Karmen! Don’t talk to her!” She hissed at Mystery Guy. “Don’t you dare fucking talk to her. I’ve seen what you’re going to make her do!”

“Jesucristo, Spence! Some fucking Seer you are. You seriously couldn’t have seen this like five minutes ago?” I snapped. See, Spencer was a twenty-four like me, but she saw the future…sort of. She sees the future as it’s being decided, so sometimes her visions are really no help whatsoever and she’ll freak people our for no reason because the future will just change anyways.

Mystery Guy jerked his eyes towards Spencer and he glared at her with distaste. “You’re a Seer?”

Spencer made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat. “Oh, don’t you dare judge me, dhampir. Some would say that your breed is even worse than what I am.”

Wow. I seriously need to get out more. If I couldn’t tell that the guy was a half-vampire, then who the hell knows what other senses I’m losing. “Ninguna mierda?” I muttered. “So, Spence, what’d you see that I’m going to do if I go with him?”

Spencer sat down next to me and grimaced as she brushed a fry off of the table. “He’s going to drag you all the way across the country trying to track down these people! I mean, you aren’t a fighter! You can’t kill people. Honey, you can’t even walk in a straight line without tripping over something! I am not letting you go with that half-breed. No, I won’t allow it. Stop considering it! I can tell, you know!”

Mystery Guy smirked. “She’s coming with me isn’t she?”

Spencer snarled. “No she fucking is not going with you. She’s just a little confused right now.”

I cleared my throat. “She is sitting right here and can answer for herself.”

“See?” the guy grinned, “she’s coming with me.”

“Frénalo un poco, macho. I don’t even know your name. And my mother taught me to never go anywhere with strangers, no matter how hot they are.”

Both Spencer and Mystery Guy stared at me. Oops. Didn’t really mean to add in that last part. “So? Do you have a name Mister Vampire?”

“Half-vampire,” he corrected, “and yes I do. My name is Derrick Forrester, my favourite colour is green, I do not enjoy long walks on the beach, I’m allergic to cats, and I abhor peanut butter and jelly. Anything else you would like to know, or do I need my family history four generations back?”

“Well,” I began, “I love long walks on the beach so I don’t know how we’d ever find enough in common to survive a road trip.”

“Don’t be a smart ass,” he growled. “We have to go and we have to go now!”

Spencer paled right after he said this. “He’s right, let’s go! Gardener at two o’clock.”

“Mierda!” I shrieked, right as Derrick shouted, “Dammit!”

He grabbed my arm and he, Spencer, and myself raced out of the Wendy’s and ran towards a black Mercedes. “Get in!” Derrick threw himself into the driver’s seat and had the car started and shifted into drive before I blinked.

“Come on, Karmen!” Spencer screamed, dragging me in beside her. “Move, Batboy!”

Derrick flew out of the parking lot, his knuckles white as he clenched the steering wheel. “Call me Batboy again and I will rip your fucking head off.”

“Shove it, Batboy!” Spencer hissed, twisting out of his reach. “Now where the fuck are we going?”

“New York City,” he said, his voice calm and collected once again. “It’s easier to stay hidden in a city. Plus I need to pick something up.”

“Oh, nice. Very cryptic.” I picked at a hangnail. There must be something seriously wrong with me, because that little get away didn’t even faze me. “So, why are we driving two hours to go to a city to pick god knows what up when we’re being chased by people that want to kill us? Just wondering.” Damn, hangnails hurt. Wait – I got it. All’s good.

Derrick didn’t even have a chance to answer me because Spencer started screaming. “Omigod! Your sister’s wedding shower, we’re totally not going to be able to go!”

“Cálmense, carajo! I didn’t even want to go anyways, Spence.”

“But she’s your sister! What are you going to tell her?” she cried.

“How about, ‘Sorry, Carlie some terrorist group wants me dead because I’m supposedly going to kill them, but I’ll try to be at your wedding.’ How does that sound?” I grinned at Spencer’s look of disgust.

“You disgust me.”

“I know.” And that was that.

About an hour and a half into the trip however, I started to get antsy. “God, are we freaking there yet? We’ve been in this car forever.”

Derrick was growing rather impatient with my whining. “Shut. Up.”

“I didn’t even get to finish my Frosty. Hey! I never even got my fries either, los carbons!” Damn, I love Wendy’s French fries. “I haven’t had any in ages because of my diet!”

Spencer snorted, totally used to my melodramatics. “You started that diet two days ago, babe.”

“Details. Ugh, and I don’t have any other clothes. I hate this sundress, I can’t believe you made me wear it, it’s so inconvenient.”

“Well, sorry. I wasn’t aware that we’d be going on a continental road trip today.”

“Hey – “ Derrick started, but I cut him off.

“Honestly, I think you just pretend that you’re a Seer, because you suck. You’ll know when it’s going to rain, but you don’t know when I’m wanted dead?”

“Ladies – “ he tried again.

“Hey!” Spencer said, all pissy now. “What about you and your stupid witchy abilities? You didn’t even know that Batboy was a batboy.”

“So, not the same thing.” In my defence, my powers have been on the fritz lately, and Spencer knew that.

“We’re almost there!” Derrick shouted.

“I thought that we were going to NYC? We so have like another thirty minutes until we get there.”

“We are, but the thing I have to pick up is here.” Derrick pulled into the driveway of a cute looking little cottage.

We all clambered out of the car and walked up to the front door, which opened before we even had a chance to knock.

“Omigod! Derrick, you’ve finally brought home a girl! And there are two of them!” The person squealed.

“I’m Andre and you,” he pointed to me, “are such a Mexican cutie! Like, hola!”

Holy fuck. This guy is gayer than…than…I don’t even know. That’s how gay he is. Seriously, he’s wearing a bright purple shirt with a pink boa and – omigod, I think he’s wearing heels!

“Your name is Andrew, douche bag.” Derrick shook his head in a tired sort of way. “This, is my cousin Andrew, he’s a flamer.”

“Derrick, you silly goose! I’m sure that they know I’m gay, I mean, how can you not?” Andrew/Andre giggled. I shit you not, he giggled. I didn’t even giggle like that.

“Not what I meant, even though you are. I mean that you’re a pyrokinetic.”

“Oh, that,” Andrew waved the thought away. “Not my best quality, but nonetheless…” he snapped his fingers and a small blue flame appeared on his fingertips.

“Cool! I’ve always wanted to have a friend like you!” I shouted, causing the rest of my little adventure-group to stare at me like I had two heads.

“Um, you’ve always wanted a pyro for a friend?” Derrick asked.

“No, no, no! I’ve always wanted a flamboyantly gay friend!” I squealed in excitement.

“That’s so cool!” Andre squealed right back, grabbing my hands and jumping up and down. “I’ve always wanted a cute Mexican friend who can teach me dirty Spanish words! We were like meant to meet!”

Derrick looked momentarily scared, as if wondering what he just got into, introducing us. “Dear God,” he looked up towards the sky. “Please give me the patience to not kill them all.”