CHAPTER 9
STANDARD PROCEDURE

THEY didn't talk about the kiss again.

Coraline was anxious. She didn't have the heart to ask him if he had kissed anyone before. She assumed he had. He was eighteen years old; most would've had theirs by then. If not with a person they knew, then with their pillow, at least. Despite being homeschooled, he was ... handsome, with golden hair and soft skin. Someone had to be lining up to kiss him before Coraline.

However, it didn't feel like that was the case. He seemed awkward, like he didn't know where to put his hands. His mouth had been frozen until a minute into the kiss. Coraline hardly noticed at the time; too consumed by the energy flowing back and forth between them. She wanted to do it again. She wanted to feel it again.

But she never asked. She never even mentioned the kiss. They went on with their lives as if it had never happened. Maybe that was a good thing.

Coraline also made the decision to never ask Michael about being the supposed "Chosen One." She didn't want to think about it, nor did she want to research it. Coraline didn't know if she believed him, and Googling it would just thrust her more into this fantasy world of his that she wanted to keep out of. Yes, she did think he was gifted – somehow. She felt the raw power running through his veins and mingling with her skin, but there was no way this boy with a shitty past was some almighty being.

She wasn't even sure if she believed in being a prophet. Maybe she was. Maybe she wasn't. The definitions between her and her visions matched up, but she didn't believe for one second that she was receiving divine messages from some sort of supernatural higher power.

"I don't think you're understanding it."

Coraline looked up at Michael as he tried to explain her "prophetism" for the tenth time that day. If it didn't sink in the first time, it never would. But he was adamant, and she could tell from his tone.

They walked through the small everglade just outside the borders of her house. Her father had a lot of these trees planted so they could be surrounded by nature. Coraline wondered what he'd think of them now, covered in moss and surrounded by a swamp. Taking Michael's arm, she led him past the swamp, feeling a tingle of electricity rise as their skin made contact.

"I do understand," she told him defiantly. "I just think I'm cursed. I can't be some kind of messenger from God."

Michael chuckled. "I never said your visions were from God."

Coraline furrowed her brow, turning on her heel to face him. Their shoes started to stick to the wet ground, and Michael almost tripped backward when she stopped walking. Their bodies were inches apart. It made him think about the kiss and what it would be like to feel her power again. They were both wondering the same thing, but neither wanted to mention it.

"Then who are they from?" She asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

His lip curled. "You know," he replied, brushing his fingers across her cheek to place a piece of hair behind her ear. Coraline's breath hitched in her throat.

"I still don't believe you," she whispered.

Michael rolled his eyes, pulling on her arm for her to walk forward. The tingles got heavier, like a weight was holding his hand to her elbow. "Well, whatever it is, you know that you have a cool gift. We both do, but for different reasons." He looked over his shoulder to smile at her. Coraline thought they were walking dangerously close to the swamp. "You just gotta think of a way we can use it for good. To rebuild this shitty town. To get back at the awful people who cast you out."

Coraline wasn't so sure about that and wondered if Michael wanted to use her sight for good or just revenge. She kept her mouth shut. Michael teetered on the edge of the swamp, which was lined with several cinderblocks to keep it contained. Her mother built that early this year when she noticed the swamp was beginning to overflow. Michael hopped on top of the blocks, dragging Coraline with him, and began to carefully step across it.

"This is fun, Coraline," he laughed. "How come you never showed me this place before?"

Coraline wobbled and almost lost her balance. Michael continued to walk across the skinny cinderblocks. He didn't even care if they fell and hit their heads. How could someone live that fearlessly? So unafraid of death?

"Michael," she called, "we should get down."

"Why?" He snorted. "Did one of your visions tell you that we're going to fall?"

Coraline swayed. "No, I know we're going to –"

And just like that – they were falling. The two teenagers splashed into the three-foot swamp, allowing the dirty water and wet grass to stain their clothes. Coraline came up instantly and blew water out of her nose. She shook her head, blinking her eyes rapidly and wiping the mascara that was surely running down her eyes. She looked around, not spotting Michael around her. How could he get lost in a three-foot swamp?

"Michael?" She whipped her head back and forth. "Hey! Michael, where are you?!"

A figure burst from the dirty water, arms out and shrieking maniacally at her. Coraline screamed and held a hand to her chest, but immediately went quiet when she realized it was just Michael scaring her. His blonde hair lay flat against his forehead, and every piece of his black clothing was soaked to the core.

"Asshole!" She yelled, shoving a handful of swamp water his way. They did it back and forth for a long time – too long for a pair of teenagers. They felt like kids. In that moment, they weren't the Chosen One and a prophet. They were just Michael and Coraline, having fun and being young.

She wished some kind of higher power told her that those stains weren't going to come out of her clothes after that day.

•••

It was on a sunny Thursday afternoon that Coraline Avery stopped outside Michael Langdon's house. She was walking home, an old Bruce Springsteen album blasting through her headphones, when she noticed Miriam's 1994 Subaru Leone not in the driveway. Her feet came to a halt on the pavement in front of Michael's front lawn. She chewed a big piece of gum in her mouth and popped a bubble.

Michael had been reading something on the grey porch, from what she could see. Upon hearing her approach, he grinned and stood from a neon green lawn chair. Michael walked down the front steps, where the paint was currently chipping, and across the dying lawn. "Hi, Coraline," he said happily, stopping just a foot from her. There was a weird power dynamic between them then, with him standing on the taller grass and her waiting for him on the lower pavement.

"Hello, Michael." She bounced on the back of her heels.

"How was your day at school?"

Coraline shrugged. "Same old, same old."

"Was anyone mean to you?"

"Teenagers don't have the guts to be cruel to your face anymore," she replied. "Besides, I have my heart set on better things, more important than rude people." She sighed longingly as the words, Prom Queen, floated across her vision.

Michael hummed a reply. Coraline looked to his hands, noticing the thin book that rested in one of them. She popped a bubble in her mouth and lifted his hand, already feeling the electric threads wrap around their skin. He was holding a Spider-Man comic, the second one to ever feature him from the sixties.

Coraline raised a brow. "You're reading Spider-Man?"

"We never got to watch those movies, so I thought I'd take it into my own hands." He smiled proudly. "I have no way to watch the movies at home. I ended up going to the library a couple days ago and picking out some books with him in it. They're really interesting, Coraline. Have you read them?"

She wrinkled her nose. "No, actually, I haven't. I've only watched the movies." Popping another bubble, Coraline put up her hands to stop him from rambling on. "I didn't come here to talk about Spider-Man, believe it or not. I think I may have a proposition for you."

"A proposition," he repeated with a nod.

Coraline smirked wide. This was just a thought she had on her mind lately, one that she never thought she'd execute. But as soon as she stepped foot near his property that afternoon, confidence came over her, and she found it hard to ignore.

"We should go to the movies this Saturday."

Michael's brow shot up. "We?"

"Yes," she nodded, "we, as in you and me. Together. The two of us."

"Okay ..." He frowned. "What's the movies?"

Coraline blinked. "You cannot tell me that in your eighteen years of living that you've never been to a movie theater."

His chin arched for a moment, as if he couldn't believe his own age. Coraline narrowed her eyes at the action, but didn't question it. "Nope," he shook his head, "never been."

"Well, then ... we can go and I'll show you the ropes." She stuck her hands in her back pockets, pausing to blow out a bubble. "You know, you buy me buttery popcorn. I put my hand down your pants. Normal teenager thing."

His eyes went wide. "What?!" Michael waved his hands around. "I don't think that's necessary."

"What? Buying me popcorn? That's very necessary ­–"

"No," he responded quietly, "the other thing." Michael swallowed hard, watching Coraline with a worried stare. He locked his hands behind his back. "Is this like a ... like a ..."

She cocked her head to the side. "A date?" He nodded fiercely at her question, which made Coraline sighed gracefully. It sounded like music to Michael. "I don't know. It can be whatever you want it to be."

Reaching out, Coraline placed a hand on his shoulder. Her grip was so tight he could feel it through the cotton of his black shirt. Electricity poured from her fingertips and onto his whole body. Coraline noticed that it felt warm to touch, as if he always had a fever running through his system. Not even the chill breeze spreading through the tree troops could cool him. The threads made her take a step closer. Michael dropped his comic book.

Once she was close enough, Coraline's lips curled in a funny way. "Just make sure you're at my house by eight. Standard procedure."

•••

The last thing Coraline expected was for her mother to be home that Saturday night.

She was never home, like ever, on Saturdays. The hotel frequently called her in, even when she was supposed to have Saturdays off. A hostess recently quit and they knew Francesca would do anything for more hours, despite her lack of sleep. She was good at her job too. Her smile was infectious and she always knew how to make someone feel welcome.

So when Coraline saw her setting up dinner as the clock neared eight PM, she almost had a massive heart attack. She watched as her mother popped a pizza sheet into the oven, smacking her hands together to dust away the flour. Coraline was frozen in place. How obvious could it be that she was going out tonight? From her clearly made-up face to her favorite tight jeans, she'd say very.

"What are you doing home?" Coraline asked, causing Francesca's head to snap up.

Her mother shrugged. "I have Saturdays off."

"Yeah, but you're always called in."

"Guess they didn't need me," she huffed, turning the timer on the stove to thirty minutes. Francesca then turned back to eye her daughter suspiciously. "You sure look nice for homemade pizza tonight."

Coraline's mouth dropped. "Um ..." She twisted her hands behind her back. "Well, you see –"

The doorbell rang.

Coraline looked from the door, and then back to her mother. Francesca now had her hands on her hips. Her mouth went dry as her mother said, "Now, who is that?"

"No one," Coraline lied.

But it was already too late. Before she could pull her mother away, she was running to the door, yanking it open. Coraline tugged her back, trying to shut the door, but it was open now, allowing the person on the other side to see in. The two were caught in a tussle as they looked up to see Michael Langdon staring at them, worry flashing across his eyes.

Coraline blew a strand of hair out of her face. She shook her mother's hands off of her as she pressed her back to the door. "Okay," she said, clearly out breath, "I'll be going now –"

Francesca smacked her hand against the door, holding it wide open. She narrowed her eyes at her daughter, then moved onto Michael. Her mouth twitched with anger. "What's this?" She whispered. "When did this start?"

Coraline glanced at Michael. The two teenagers swallowed hard. Before Coraline could make up an excuse for lying to her mother, Michael's hand shot out. "Good evening, Mrs. Avery," he greeted with a sweet smile.

"Ms. Avery," Francesca corrected, clicking her tongue in the process. She glared at her daughter and crossed her arms over her chest. "I thought I told you in the hospital to stay away from my daughter. And I thought I told you –" She jabbed her finger into Coraline's shoulder. "– That it was best for your life and reputation to just –"

Coraline scoffed. "Mom, you can't keep doing –"

"Actually, Ms. Avery," Michael spoke up, causing the two females to turn, "Coraline asked me to go to the movies with her this evening because she knows I've never gone. I know how much you care about how people view Coraline, and I promise that no one will see us. I even brought a hoodie to disguise myself."

Coraline raised a brow at Michael's cheeky grin. She could hardly breathe as she looked to her mother. It may have been because her jeans were too tight, but she'd think about that another time.

Francesca pursed her lips. "I see," she nodded. "So are you two going on a date?"

The teenagers' eyes met. Coraline bit the inside of her cheek and replied, "Well ..." She slumped her shoulders. "I wouldn't call it that –"

"And what movie will we be seeing tonight?"

Coraline tried to think of the first film that popped in her head. "The Purge," she replied quickly. Looking to Michael, she gestured for him to nod. He did as such, with a big smile on his lips.

Francesca's jaw shifted. "The Purge," she repeated. Her tone reeked of venom and malice, but that didn't scare off Michael's toothy grin. Nothing scared him. "Well, I'm sure you'll love horror movies, Michael. I assume that your big man downstairs brought you up on blood and guts and gore –"

"Mom," Coraline snarled, squeezing Francesca's arm tightly. Michael watched the exchange with wide eyes. "It's not right to assume. Besides, none of that is real anyways."

The mother blinked at her daughter, as if she didn't believe her reply. "The Devil is real, Coraline," she whispered. "And he's not a little, red man with horns and a tail. He can be beautiful, brought up on the worst of things. You know why? Because he's a fallen angel, and he used to be God's favorite." Her back slouched again, and her lips turned up in a hazy way. "At least that's what the housewives used to tell me."

Coraline's eyes darted from her mother to Michael. "And with that," she replied, lacing her arm through Michael's, "we'll be on our way. Don't meet up. I'll be home late."

•••

A/N: I HAVE ONE MOOD AND THIS IS IT

ALSO!!!! FIRST DATE!!!!!!!!! CAN I GET A HELL YA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

NEXT CHAPTER WILL LEAVE Y'ALL SHOOK