Netflix and a box of caramel doughnuts can mend most things in the world, even a broken heart.
Jamie, Grace and Zee are snuggled under a blanket on the sofa next to me, our feet propped up on the glass coffee table in front of us. My mom’s always freaking out that we’re going to break it someday, but seriously, it’s the perfect height for a footrest.
We already watched three episodes of Friends, and after it started getting dark the girls got permission from their parents to sleep over, except Jamie, who doesn’t need it. Her mom probably wouldn’t notice if she went missing for a month.
Sometimes I think that Jamie’s attention-craving personality – her love of the limelight, and her desire to be loved and adored, by her friends, her Instagram fans, and the inaccessible hot older guy who she can never have – all stem from her inattentive, constantly absent mother.
It’s 8.45pm.Today’s Thursday, which is always a busy night at Biblio. So the earliest I should expect my parents back is 11pm. That gives me plenty of time.Walking quietly up the stairs so that my friends in the living room don’t realize where I’m going, I try to picture the last time I rummaged through mom’s jewelry box. I would have been a kid back then, maybe five or six years old.I clearly remember one sunny afternoon in Fall, left at home with gran while mom and dad were at the restaurant. While gran was in the kitchen making our lunch, I crept upstairs to my parent’s bedroom. I went for mom’s makeup drawer first, smearing first my lips, then my eyelids, with her pale silver eye shadow. Then I took the talcum powder from her dresser and sprinkled it all over my head, watching the snowy clouds of talc floating behind me in the mirror. I think I was trying to tur
Red and yellow leaves float down through the air like rubies and gold coins drifting underwater, a pirate’s treasure trove carpeting our front lawn in lustrous Autumn splendor.I’m sitting on the window seat in my parents’ room, looking out through the misty glass panes. I clutch Funnybunny, my favorite stuffed toy, against my chest, and I begin to sing the song we learned in kindergarten yesterday.The blackbirds in the tree outside gather on a branch near the window, bobbing up and down, trilling in time with my rolling melody.My song finishes, and the birds take flight, cawing their goodbyes on the breeze.There’s a delicious fragrance in the air – a quince and pear pie baking in the oven downstairs, gran’s idea of a healthy lunch. As she says, it’s mostly fruit, after all.But I’m not hungry yet. There’s something I must do.
The silver circle. The ring in mom’s jewelry box. The five princes. Bea. The sea witch. Try as I might, I still can’t quite piece together the mystery I’ve stepped into. Words, tunes, images and ideas swirl through my mind all the way back to the cabin, as I puzzle over the greater meaning – but I’m still as lost as ever. From time to time a bird or a squirrel darts through the leafy labyrinth of branches overhead, scattering the early morning sunlight and bringing me to a standstill. Even now, I feel like there’s someone or something following me, just a few steps behind at all times. I turn around every few minutes to check, but all I see is green, and more green. My parents were surprisingly relaxed about the shattered coffee table. I thought they were just trying not to make a scene in front of my friends, but they didn’t even mention it after Zee and Grace drove off with Jamie (who w
CRUNCH.Kitty takes a bite of the apple, and then… nothing.She doesn’t faint or vomit or turn purple. She just takes another bite, seeming to savor the apple’s crisp, sweet flesh.“Mmm, just what I felt like,” she says. Her face suddenly creases with concern. “Are you ok Ash? You look sort of… freaked out, or something.”“I’m fine,” I say, breathing a sigh of relief. I guess the apples were ok after all.I notice that Kitty’s wearing nothing but slippers and a very flimsy wine red silk dressing gown, almost perfectly matching the roses curling behind her. It clings provocatively to every curve, showing off her supermodel figure in a way that normal clothes just can’t.I look self consciously down at my own outfit – denim shorts, sandals and a plain white cami.
“Lame. Lame lame lame lame.”Kitty leans against the hood of the black Jeep parked at the Forest Park entrance.“I don’t have the car keys,” she says. “They’re at the cabin.”No surprise there, after Kitty and I practically ran away from the cabin without warning, Kitty in nothing but a silk nightgown and her slippers.I look back in the direction of the forest. It’s at least a forty-minute walk back to the cabin, and after our grand exit in front of Felix and Alastaire, I’d feel really stupid going back.“Let’s go to my house,” I say. “You can borrow some of my clothes. And we can probably take my mom’s car or something.”“No,” says Kitty firmly. “There’s no time for dealing with the parentals. Let’s just go straight into town. It’s ju
By the time we get to my house, my feet are aching from walking around all day.It’s already 5pm – only two hours until we’re meant to meet Jade and his friend Cameron. Jade texted Kitty earlier to say that some of Cameron’s work is on show at an exhibition near my house, so we’ll stop there before grabbing something to eat at the Artisan Foods Market in Byleth Park.Jade offered to pick us up of course, but Kitty wouldn’t hear of it – on the first date, she says, it’s important to maintain an air of mystery and independence. Arrive and leave on your own terms, insist on paying half the bill, and absolutely no kissing.I’m sure I won’t struggle with that last one – I’ve never even met Cameron before, after all. We’ll probably just end up spending the night in an awkward conversation, counting down the minutes while Kitty and Jade coz
We spend almost an hour at the art gallery, milling around the exhibition while Cameron tells me about the photographer who took each picture. They mostly seem to be friends or acquaintances of his, people who he met at art school – like Jade, who majored in painting before dropping out.Jade and Kitty walk alongside us, lost in their own private conversation. I can’t hear what they’re talking about, but every now and again I hear Kitty giggle at something Jade’s said.Sometimes the photographer is standing near his or her work, explaining the meaning or the composition to passersby. We have brief conversations with them, before moving on to the next one. Cameron knows everyone, and judging from the way most of the females we encounter flutter their eyelashes at him, or stick out their chests and get all giggly the second we approach, I’m guessing he’s
“You’re safe now. it’s over.” Thunder booms through the sky overhead as I lunge into Felix’s arms. I press my face against his chest, burrowing into the cold rain-soaked fabric of his hoodie as I cry like I haven’t cried in ages. The rain is relentless, so loud that I can barely hear the words of reassurance Felix is whispering into my ear. Small rivulets of rainwater stream down my neck, my back, dripping from the hem of my sodden blue dress. Felix holds me tight in the wet embrace, and we stand like that for a while, two bedraggled teens getting drenched by the thunderstorm at the back of a dark alleyway. Eventually I stop crying, but I can’t stop shaking – whether out of cold or shock, I’m not sure. I release my hold on Felix, stepping back and wiping the tears from my face, even though it’s pointless with the constant downpour, so heavy we might as well be underwater. We sta