Authors: Apryl Baker
Panic. That’s the feeling that’s overwhelming me. Sheer panic. Stilettos and I do not mix. I told Meg this, but she refused to listen to me. Now
, as I try to walk in these stupid things, I’m wobbling. If I wear these heels, it’s a guarantee I will fall and break my neck.
“You’ve never worn heels before, have you?” Mary asks, a laugh bubbling out as she watches me from the bathroom doorway.
“Yes, I
have
worn heels before!” I yell back. “Just not six-inch heels. God, this is torture.”
“Did you buy a second pair of shoes that aren’t so high?”
“Have you ever gone clothes shopping with Meg?” I ask dryly. “It’s very unpleasant, and once she found out I had a credit card with no limit…” I shake my head in disgust. “She went nuts making me try on dresses.”
Mary laughs again. “Well then, I guess it’s a good thing I still have
my
shoes from last year’s Christmas formal, isn’t it?”
“You have shoes?” I turn and fall head first onto the carpet. Dang these dang-blasted shoes! I rip them off, not caring that they cost seven hundred dollars. They are torture traps. “Where?”
“Two-inch heels.” She pulls the shoes from behind her back and tosses them to me. “Think you can stay upright in those?”
The black, strappy heels fit perfectly and I not only stand, but walk with a barely discernable wobble. It’s been about two years since I wore anything but flats. Give me an hour in these, and I’ll be moving like a pro. “Perfect, Mary! Thank you so much!”
“So how did shopping with the backstabber go?” Mary asks, flopping down on my bed.
“I was nice.”
“That bad, huh?”
I sigh. I told Dan I’d be nice and I was. Problem was Meg knows me too well. She figured out in five minutes I might have been forcing myself to be nice, but that I wasn’t happy about it. She’d looked sad, but our relationship isn’t going to be fixed overnight. It’s going to take time. That hadn’t stopped her from making me endure six hours at South Park Mall. The dress came from a specialty boutique, but we went to the mall for everything else. My feet still hurt today.
“Can we not talk about it?” I ask.
“Sure thing.” Mary blows a gum
bubble and it pops loudly. She’s a chewing gum nut. It’s a rare occurrence when she doesn’t have gum in her mouth.
“So are you accepting Caleb’s invite to the ball tomorrow night?” I ask, falling down beside her on the bed.
“Why should I?” she asks. “He’s only doing it because he wants to apologize for being an ass.”
“That’s true, but why let that stop you from going to the ‘party of the year
,’ as Meg calls it? Go have fun, dance with some
very
cute cops.”
Mary sighs. She likes Caleb and it bugs her that he doesn’t like her back.
“Look, go show him that just because he’s blind, doesn’t mean everyone else is. How’s Caleb ever going to see you if you don’t show him what he’s missing? Besides, you might meet someone that puts Caleb to shame.”
“Oh my God, have you seen his abs? I don’t think there’s
anyone
who can put him to shame.”
She’s got me there. Caleb has a rock-hard body any girl would drool over. Caleb does nothing for
me
, though. Sad, really. “The point is to make him jealous, Mary. Who cares if the other guys have better abs or not?”
“I don’t have a dress,” she says. “And no shoes, now that you have mine.”
“Ah, but I have a credit card with no limit,” I remind her. “I can buy you a dress and a new pair of shoes.”
“Mattie, you hate having that card,” she reminds me. “Just the thought of using it almost makes you hyperventilate.”
“Spending it on myself does that,” I qualify. “Spending it on you? Different story altogether.”
“I call BS,” Mary says. “You absolutely hate even looking at
it. I think you’d cut it up and flush it if you could.”
She knows me so very well. Then again, I think
everyone
knows I hate having that card. I don’t want Zeke’s money. I’ve lived years without it and using this thing now makes me feel weird. Everyone thinks I’m crazy for not being excited at having more money than I can spend in ten lifetimes, but that’s just not me. I’m Mattie, the girl who shops happily at Walmart and Payless. I don’t need fancy boutiques or shoes whose price could make someone’s monthly mortgage payment. It’s just not who I am and never will be.
“Okay, so I’ll admit I don’t like the money my father is doing his best to foist upon me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t buy you a dress and shoes. It’ll make me feel better if I spend it on other people, anyway.”
Mary laughs. “You try so hard to pretend to be tough, but you’re nothing but a big old softy.”
“Bite your tongue!” I scowl at her. “I am
not
a softy!”
Mary just laughs harder. She wants to play it like that
, does she? I sit up and grab my phone from where it’s charging on the nightstand. She stops laughing and narrows her eyes at me while I scroll through my contacts. Ah, there. Tap. “Hey, Caleb, it’s Mattie.”
“Hi, Mattie. What’s up?” Caleb asks, his voice sleepy. I think I woke up him up, but too bad. I’ll get my little digs in where I can. I still haven’t
forgotten he was rude to Mary even if she
did
get even.
“
Don’t you dare,” Mary mouths at me.
I ignore her. “Mary decided she wanted to go the party after all. Pick her up at seven tomorrow night.”
“Why isn’t Mary calling?” Caleb sounds suspicious.
“Because she’s currently trying on dresses,” I tell him. “I said I’d call while she figures out which lacy bra she wants to wear with her dress. It’s really hard to find all the right accessories for a dress, wouldn’t you say?”
“Lacy bra?” Caleb sounds a little choked now.
“Yup. Seven on the dot, don’t be late.” I disconnect the call. So maybe Caleb
does
think about Mary more than Mary thought he did. A boy doesn’t get
that
choked up unless he’s had some serious fantasies about a girl. At least according to Meg. That was always her view on it. I think on this topic I’ll agree with her, especially after hearing Caleb.
“I am seriously going to murder you!” Mary throws a pillow at my head
, which I duck.
“Don’t tell me I’m going soft again.” I laugh when she sighs dramatically. “When do you want to go shopping? We should probably go back to that little boutique where I got my dress. It has some nice stuff.”
“Um, Mattie, I saw the price tag on your dress.” Mary frowns. “Not sure I should let you buy something that expensive for me.”
“You can’t wear just anything,” I tell her. “It’s a masquerade ball based on an old-fashioned cotillion. You have to have a specific type of dress for this party. That’s the only place in town that sells them, so deal with it.”
She frowns again, clearly not liking me spending that much money on her any more than I like spending it on myself.
“Give me an hour?” she asks, finally caving. “I need to shower and make sure we put dinner in the crockpot for tonight.”
I snort. Whenever it’s Mary’s turn to cook dinner, it’s always throw it in the crockpot for eight hours and leave it. Not that the crockpot stuff isn’t delicious, but she puts no effort into it. I at
least
attempt to not burn the frozen dinners in the microwave. I wince thinking about setting the last frozen dinner on fire. Mary
and
her mom banned me from the kitchen after that. Apparently, you can’t set one on fire in the microwave, yet I managed to. A cook I am not.
“Sure,” I say. “Come get me when you’re ready.”
I stretch out on my bed when she leaves and try to relax. It’s been days since I’ve slept more than a few minutes at a time. With everything that’s been going on, it’s been next to impossible to relax. The very idea of the ball tomorrow scares the bejeezus out of me, but now that Mary’s going, I’m relieved. At least there will be one other person besides myself who wasn’t raised in wealth and can appreciate my situation. Selfish of me, I know, but it is what it is.
At least I’ve been ghost free for a while. If nothing else, throwing the homicidal ghost into The Between seems to have scared the ghosties from bugging me. Plus side to everything. Glass half full and all that rot. I’m sure they’ll eventually get their nerve up, but this time I will be prepared. Instead of opening The Between, I’m going to attempt to open a portal to the afterlife. I’m hoping I can convince them to move on and cross over. It’d be way better than trying to kill me.
I hear the shower turn on and close my eyes. Mary is one of those people who doesn’t jump in and out. She spends a good thirty minutes in there. I’ve learned when I shower, to get up at least thirty minutes before her or I’ll have no hot water.
It’s nice just lying here listening to the sound of the water and the humming. I sigh in contentment. The voice is soothing, peaceful…wait, humming? I sit up and listen. It’s soft and clear. A lullaby
I think. My first thought is a ghost, but the temperature hasn’t dropped, so I don’t think it’s a ghost.
I jump off the bed and walk to my door. Pressing my ear against it, I listen. Yeah, definitely someone humming. Should I go look or just ignore it? The smart half of my brain says to ignore it, but the other side says to jump headfirst into the fire. I opt for the dark side and open the door.
A field of wildflowers greets me. The sun is warm on my face and the sound of laughter draws me farther out into the field. About fifty feet away, I see a clearing. A blanket is spread out with a baby sitting on it. The little girl can’t be more than a year old. A boy, maybe six or so, runs through the flowers, laughing. The woman sitting beside the little girl is the one humming. I can’t see her face, though. She’s turned away from me, but I can hear the sound of her voice clearly. It’s beautiful.
“
Honey, don’t run so far!” she calls out. I see her head shaking when the little dark-haired boy ignores her. He’s having way too much fun to pay attention to his mother. She goes back to humming to the little girl who’s playing with blocks on the blanket. Her soft curls are waving in the wind and she’s chattering to herself, grinning at something only she sees.
My heart swells with sadness. This is something I’ve dreamed of since I was little. A family. Something I’ve never truly been able to have. I can feel how much the mother loves her children and somehow that breaks my heart even more. A single tear slips down my cheek. I brush it away, angry with myself. These people are probably dead or I wouldn’t be seeing them. I only ever see dead people.
“Why haven’t you crossed over?” I ask, my voice angrier than I meant it to sound.
The woman turns her head my way and I can’t stop the gasp from leaving my lips. She’s as beautiful as I thought she would be. Her
hazel eyes are kind and full of laughter. Her hair glints blue in the sunlight and falls softly around a heart-shaped face. She has the kind of beauty you read about, dream about really. It’s something you can’t achieve. You’re either born with it or you’re not. There’s not an actress or model alive who wouldn’t sell an organ for that kind of beauty.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” she says. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
Ah, she’s one of those. She doesn’t know she’s dead. Maybe because both her children are with her? I wonder how they all died. A car crash maybe? It could have been anything, really. Their bodies aren’t frozen in the manner of their death. They look well, alive, and happy. Poison that left no disfigurement?
“What are you doing out here?” I ask. Maybe if I can get her talk, she’ll remember and I can get them to move on.
“It was so beautiful, we decided to come outside.”
“It is beautiful,” I agree. “I’m Mattie.”
“That’s a lovely name, dear.” She smiles. “My name is Georgina Dubois.”
I filed that away for later. It’s not a common name. I’ll be able to help her if I can find out who she is.
“Jacob, dear, come over here and meet our guest.”
The little boy bounds over to us and I can’t help but laugh at the mischievous grin on his face. His blue eyes are
gorgeous, a deep, dark midnight-blue. They’re sparkling with laughter. “For you!” He gives me a handful of wildflowers.
“Thank you very much,” I tell him. “They’re beautiful.”
His mother beams at him. “He’s such a good boy.”
“Where’s their father?” I ask.
“He’s…he’s…” Georgina frowns, looking confused. “Jacob’s father died, but…”
“Your little girl?” I nod toward the child chewing on a block like it’s the biggest piece of chocolate in the universe. “Where’s her father?”
For a moment Georgina looks frightened, but then her expression clears. “Oh, he must be back at the house. I like to come out here sometimes, just to be alone.”
“But you’re not alone,” I remind her. “You have your children with you.”
“I know.” She smiles. “I meant to get away from the house.”
“Is your husband coming to join you and the children?”