I raise my glass in salute. “Thanks, blondie. I’m ready to learn the secret handshake.”
She snorts, and I see Adalene physically relax.
“If she’s blondie, who am I?” Faith’s lip pops out in an exaggerated pout.
“Cosmo?” Stetson looks at her like she’s crazy.Who’s Cosmo?
“Oh,” Faith smiles sheepishly, “she hasn’t gotten to come out to play in so long, I forgot about her.”
“Is that your alter ego?” I ask wearily.
“Yes.” Stetson and Adalene nod like it’s no strange thing. I let it go without so much as another word, because if they can accept it,who the fuck am I to judge?
“It’s so fucking quiet.” Adalene stares at the ceiling, a sleeping baby—Poppy, I’ve learned—in her lap.
“It’s funny to hear you cuss, Adalene. You’ve certainly changed since we were kids—the perfect church girl.”
Adalene looks back at me. “Dale. Call me Dale, V, or I might scream. Only my mother calls me Adalene. And yeah, I’ve been through some shit since then.”
I open my mouth and then slam it shut, looking into the fire now roaring in the fireplace center of the great room. After several weighted seconds, one of the logs pop, and we all jump.
“It’s so fucking spooky.” Stetson groans, her hand running over Poppy’s sleeping head.
“Try living here.” Faith pulls her knees to her chest.
“I couldn’t. I wouldn’t even want to be buried here.” Stetson shivers.
I shrug. “It’s creepy, but it’s also amazing. Kinda beautiful, in a dusty sort of way.” Faith cringes, and I shoot her an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I?—”
She waves me off, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “No, it’s falling apart. My father recently left my mom, for good this time, to be with his mistress. And Mother—Lord, she hasn’t come out of her room in days. Sometimes, I just want to go in there and put a pillow over her head when she’s fucking drunk out of her mind and wouldn’t even notice.”
“Where’s Reiny?” Dale takes a drink.
Faith leans back against the couch. “She’s been staying at a friend’s for a couple weeks. It’s gotten so bad, I begged the girl’s mom to let her stay there. She was so nice, offered to without hesitation.” Faith takes a sip of her own tequila, her face souring. “Probably helped that I offered to pay her a thousand dollars a day to keep quiet about it. I don’t want my parents finding her.”
“Your sister?” I ask, feeling out of the loop once again. Faith nods. “How old is she?”
“Fourteen, but she’s so fucking smart. She skipped a grade, so she’s actually a freshman. As soon as she’s eighteen, I’m getting her out of here.” Faith’s voice takes on a hard edge, and a shiver spreads through my body.
“You know we’re here for you, right? We’d do anything.” Stetson looks at Dale and then, to my shock,mebefore looking back at Faith. Just like that, I’ve been swept into the ultimate girl group—not necessarily because they like me,but because we all love Faith.
It’s a good enough reason for me.
I’d lay down my life for a friend like Faith—she’s saved me in more ways than I’ll ever be able to admit.
“Soon.” It’s a promise and a threat all wrapped into one, and once more, that chill sweeps over my body like a breeze cutting through a forest.
“Can I use your restroom?” I stand, brushing lint off my ass as I fidget.
Faith smiles softly at me before nodding. “Down the hall to the left.”
I rush out of the room, feeling partly like I’m being chased by an invisible demon that wants to eat my brains like chocolate cocoa cereal, and dart into the first door at the end of the hallway. I slam it shut behind me and exhale before feeling around for the light switch.
When it comes on, I blink furiously to clear the haze from my eyes as I try to orient myself—I’m not standing in a bathroom like I expected. Instead, I’m in a room—a little girl’s room that looks far more like a shrine than it does a lived in space. There are pink curtains and frilly pink pillows, a four poster bed with pink drapery, and a fuzzy pink rug in the shape of a unicorn eating up the center of the room. In the corner, there’s a small desk, fairytale books scattered on top, some of them open to the last page they were read, all dusty and untouched.
Like an invisible needle tugging a thread toward a hole, my feet carry me to the desk. I look at the book titles in wonder—even as a little girl, I wasn’t allowed to want fairytale things,books or otherwise. Fairytales were fake, as my father said.A waste of time.
Gingerly, I run a finger over the closest book, its pages yellowing from sun damage. Curious, I flip the pages, each one colorful and full of stories about romance and happy endings. When I reach the end, I pick up the book, flipping back to the original start page, but stop. My eye snags on a page hanging out of the front half, only it’s different than the pages of the book itself. I pull it out, and with it, a collection of other small pieces of paper come fluttering with it.
