by Angela Scott
As I took in my image, it felt as though I stared at a stranger. Not because of the expensive clothing, but because the girl wearing them had changed so much.
I hardly recognized myself.
The bruises and scars had healed yet still left their impressions, reminding me of how much I’d been through to get to this point. Beyond the clothes and wounds, I’d become a different person in a very short time.
I could see it in my eyes.
A fancy dress and expensive shoes only seemed to emphasize it.
“Who are you?” I whispered.
The idea of playing dress-up and rummaging through the closets of amazing clothes had intrigued me and at one point almost made me feel giddy. These were items I’d only ever heard about and here I was trying them on—actually, trying them on!
The whole idea seemed ridiculous.
How could I have allowed Cole to pull me into one of his wild schemes, especially when we had so much work to do? I reached behind me, ready to unzip myself and to tell Cole I didn’t want to play make-believe. Who were we kidding anyway?
“Don’t.”
I whipped around to see him standing just outside the closet door, leaning against the frame.
“You look—” He paused, creating an awkward silence. Finally, he cleared his voice. “You look really nice.”
He looked really nice, too.
The dark suit he wore appeared to have been made for him — sleek and creased in all the right ways as if it had come right from the tailors. The dark blue tie matched the handkerchief in the jacket pocket. He’d combed his hair, styled it even, and washed the soot and remnants of smoke from his face. Whiskers dotted his jawline, adding to his GQ model look he had going on.
Damn him.
I turned back to the mirror. “I don’t know. I think it’s too much. I shouldn’t—”
“No, the dress is perfect. You’re perfect.” He paused again, eyes wide. He waved a hand as if to brush away the awkwardness. “You know what I mean.”
Did I? I wasn’t so sure.
Even though he stumbled on his words, I knew better than to read too much into it.
He was Cole after all and could often turn a sweet moment into a clown fest with his backhanded compliments, jokes, and “Cole-isms.”
“Come on,” he said as he took my hand, pulling me away from the mirror. “I have something to show you.”
He didn’t let go of my hand, holding it as he led me from the room, past all the closed doors, and down one set of stairs until I stood in the middle of the foyer.
“Okay.” He took me by the shoulders, had me take several steps forward, a couple to the side, and then moved me back the other direction, like an awkward silent dance I had no idea I was participating in. “There.” He released me, stepped back, and smiled. “Just the right spot. Close your eyes and don’t move. You’re going to like this.”
I looked at him, unsure. “What are you—?”
“No questions.” He winked. “Close your eyes and wait until I tell you to open them.”
I heard him sprint back up the stairs, sounding as though he was taking two steps at a time. “No peeking,” he called.
“I’m not.” I really wasn’t. He seemed excited to do whatever he had planned. Part of me didn’t want to ruin that for him.
“Okay,” he said. “You can open your eyes now.”
When I did, round orbs of color — pearl white, pinks, baby blues, silver, and gold — fell from above. Dozens of balloons. Some floated momentarily in the air, before hitting the floor or falling over me. Others fell with less finesse. I smiled at the display, reached out both hands, and batted a few back up towards the ceiling, getting caught up in the moment. Wasn’t it an unwritten rule or something when presented with balloons or beach balls, the goal was to keep them from touching the ground? It had to be done.
More tumbled over the balcony railing, and I found it nearly impossible to keep them afloat. There was only one me and far too many balloons to count. Balloons covered the foyer floor, and each step or twirl sent them rolling and tumbling.
Standing among the sea of balloons, I realized that I’d never fully appreciated their simplicity before. Who knew a latex bag of air could be so fun? Balloons were great and sucking the helium from them provided plenty of entertainment in the past, but the dozens and dozens of balloons transported me away from the harsh realities of life. I forgot about the fire, the town burned to nothing, the fact that we didn’t know where to go or if we had anywhere to go. As the balloons fell over me, I forgot all of that.
I picked up a shiny blue balloon and hit it as hard as I could, launching it upward toward the chandelier, trying to see how high I could make it go. Slowly, it flittered down. Before it hit the ground, Cole batted it upward again. I hadn’t noticed when he’d joined me.
We didn’t say a word surrounded by so many balloons, as we focused on keeping the blue one from touching the ground. Keeping a balloon in the air while wearing designer heals was a feat, but we kept the game going for some time.
I craned my neck, staring up at the balloon as it made its slow descent. Just as I reached for it, Cole, who stood nearly chest to chest with me, caught it and held it above my head. He reached up with his other hand and popped the balloon. Confetti and glitter rained down over me.
I held my hands out and let the sparkly dust sift through my fingers. “How?”
“Let’s just say the owners of this place have a mad craft room.” He smiled as he wiped glitter from my nose. “If we stay here much longer, I may have to take up water colors or create a scrap book. I’m not even into that stuff, but the room is that good.”
“How did you have time to do this?”
He winked. “I have my ways.” He took my hand and swirled me around. Balloons kicked up and tumbled around us once more.
It still seemed so silly, and something that rational people in our circumstance wouldn’t do. We should have on camouflage hunting gear, wielding knives, and eating bugs instead of dancing through balloons while wearing the least functional end of the world attire.
“This is our apocalypse, Tess. We can make it whatever we want. We don’t have to follow any rules, except one: if we can’t fix it, we at least do everything not to make it worse. So, if we want balloons and glitter, we can have balloons and glitter.”
In some ways, I wanted rules. I wanted a sketched-out plan of attack. Without the rules, it could all sink into chaos and nonsense.
We were kind of heading in that direction now.
He stopped and took my face between his hands. “Nope. You’re not going to ruin this. You’re not going to worry. You’re not going to freak out, but what you are going to do is to take this next hour and forget about what’s outside that door.” He nodded toward the front entrance. “It’s okay to take a moment to feel normal even when the world is falling apart around you. Actually, I can’t think of any better time for it.”
Dancing around in expensive clothing through dozens of balloons inside a home designed for the rich and famous was anything but normal. Even without an apocalypse, this scenario would’ve never happened for someone like me.
He held my face. His eyes locked on mine.
When I nodded, he finally let go.
“Good.” He smiled. “Then follow me.”
I wouldn’t have called it following as he took my hand and led me through the balloons toward a closed door on the other side of the foyer.
He placed his hand on the knob but didn’t open it. “I know I told you we were going to party, and under normal circumstances, it would be all about the music, food, and people. Since music is hard to come by, food a little sketchy, and as for people…” He shrugged. “This party is more low-key. Except for the balloons. Nothing low-key about that. I just don’t want you to be disappointed.”
Disappointed?
We were having a party in the middle of a world crisis. Any party was one more party than I’d ever thought I’d at
tend.
I felt bad.
He’d done all of this for me, trying to give me a little bit of normalcy, and worried I’d be disappointed.
Never.
I didn’t care what was behind the door. I cared about him.
I squeezed his hand. “Cole, I can’t wait to see what you’ve been up to.”
With a host like him, his party would be anything but disappointing.
Guaranteed.
Chapter 41
Neon glow sticks shone everywhere. Everywhere.
They hung from the ceiling like hundreds of multi-colored glow worms. He’d attached them to walls and lined the edge of the floor. He even spelled out IT’S OKAY TO HAVE FUN, TESS in block letters along the back wall. I couldn’t help but smile. Crepe paper streamers were draped from one end of the room to the other, crisscrossing and zig-zagging through the glow sticks. Several black lights enhanced everything. A disco ball twirled on top of a bar-height table and cast the entire room in a rainbow of color.
Vertical glowing strips down the very middle of the elongated room, lining nearly the entire length, drew my attention.
“We’re going bowling.” He nudged my shoulder with his. “Have a seat, and I’ll help you with your shoes.”
“We’re what?”
He took my hand and led me to a leather bench. The extra-long room began to make a lot more sense. Sports memorabilia hung on the walls — autographed jerseys and photos of sports figures I didn’t recognize. The numbers on the jerseys glowed under the black-lights. A wall-length cubby held assorted sizes of shoes, and a rack against another held colorful balls.
Rich people totally knew how to live. If I had that kind of money, I’d absolutely have a movie theater and bowling alley inside my house. And an indoor trampoline park.
“Like I said, it’s not much.” Cole knelt in front of me and lifted my foot. “Without electricity, and a couple of dead generators, I had to make some adaptions, but I think with some patience and perseverance, we can make it work and have ourselves a friendly yet competitive game of bowling.” He held my foot with one hand and used his other to undo the strap of my Jimmy Choo. His thumb brushed the back of my ankle. I shivered a little. He didn’t seem to notice. “Size seven?”
I nodded.
He slipped a pair of white socks on my feet. “We don’t know where these shoes have been, so socks it is.”
The socks glowed perhaps brighter than anything else in the room due to the black-lights. I couldn’t get lost in the room even if I tried.
He tied each of my shoes before sitting on the bench beside me and slipping on his own. “You bowl before?” he asked, bent over as he bunny-eared his laces and knotted them.
“When I was a kid. Maybe seven or eight years ago. It’s been awhile.”
He sat up, looking dumbfounded. “Seven or eight years ago? Really? Teens don’t go bowling on dates anymore or go bowling as a group for fun?”
I shrugged. “No, we’re too busy having sex in the backseat of cars or smoking pot in our bedrooms.”
His eyes widened.
I playfully nudged his shoulder with mine. “I’m kidding. It was a joke.”
He released his breath, sounding relieved, and nodded. “So, how come you haven’t been bowling in years?”
I shrugged again. “I don’t know. I guess I hung around non-bowling kinds of people, but this looks great. I’m actually excited about this.”
“You are?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I really am.”
He’d gone to so much work, for me. No way I would tell him I had no idea what I was doing and that most likely I’d launch a ball through the ceiling. He was bound to find out soon enough.
“Well, ladies first.” He took my hand and led me toward the bowling lane. “I picked out a couple of bowling balls for you. You may want to try a lighter ball and see how it feels.”
I picked up one. It felt okay to me, heavy but not too heavy, though I truly had no idea what I was doing or what made one ball better than another. “Where’s the ball roller thing?”
He gave me a strange look. “The what?”
“The little slide that you put the ball on, so it rolls down the middle and hits the pins?”
“A bowling ramp?”
“Is that what it’s called?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Yes.” He dragged out the word. ”But only little kids use it.”
“Oh,” I chuckled. “I was only joking.”
I wasn’t joking, but the look he gave me made me feel as though I had mooned the pope.
“You don’t know what you’re doing, do you?”
“I know the gist of the game — roll the ball and knock down pins.” How hard could this be? Okay, without the bowling ramp, it might be pretty hard. “I’ve played bowling on my Wii system several times.”
He released his breath. “Totally not the same thing.” He stood behind me, took me by the shoulders, and pointed at the bowling lane. “See here, by your feet, the dots?”
I nodded.
“Good. Now, do you see the arrows about midway?”
Again, I nodded. How could I miss them? The arrows glowed along with each of the white pins.
“Do your best to aim for the middle arrow. That gives you the best chance of knocking all the pins down.
“That’s totally the same as playing Wii.”
“No, not quite.” He shook his head. “Playing Wii, you held a tiny controller. Today, you hold a nine-pound ball. Go ahead and give it a try.”
I stepped up to the line. When I launched the ball, Cole made a buzzing noise. I had to catch the ball with my other hand to keep from dropping it on the floor. “What was that for?”
“You fouled.”
“I what?”
“Foul. You stepped over the line. You need to start farther back. Take a few steps and approach the line methodically.”
Methodically?
“Try again.”
I took a few steps back, looked over at him for approval, and he nodded. I guess when he said competitive, he wasn’t kidding. I took two steps, carrying the ball behind me, and when it came forward, I released it.
The ball didn’t land on the bowling alley gracefully. It bounced and landed with a thud before it started rolling, but I felt good about it until the ball careened off into the gutter. Totally deflating, and he was right. It was nothing like playing Wii.
“Not too bad,” he said as he ran down the side of the alley and retrieved my ball. “You get another turn. Maybe this time you’ll hit one.”
Hitting one would be nice.
“Here.” He handed me the ball and waited until I placed my fingers in the appropriate holes. “Let me show you something.” He stood behind me with his chest pressed against my back. He held the underneath of the ball with his right hand. “The trick is to bring the ball all the way back, keep it steady, and don’t twist your wrist. Keep it straight and lined up with the arrows.”
Together, we drew the ball backwards and then forward again.
“Give it another go. This time it should be better.” He stepped back and nodded, giving me the go-ahead.
Two more steps, a release, and the ball went rolling.
It did go a little better than my first try. The ball made it down the alley before slipping into the gutter for a second time.
“Wow, you really aren’t good at this, are you?”
I shrugged. “What are you talking about? That was so much better than the first ball.”
He just stared at me.
“Okay, fine. I’m not good at this, but if we were playing Wii, I’d totally kick your butt.”
He laughed. “Somehow, I’m doubtful of that, too.”
Ouch.
“I’m more of a basketball person,” I said. He’d seen my skills, thanks to playing a lot of driveway ball with my dad and brother.
My dad and brother.
I hadn’t thought about them in a long time. It was too hard and too painful.<
br />
“Hey, no moping.” Cole pointed to the block letters on the wall, reminding me to have fun. “And yes, your basketball skills are decent. It’s okay not to be good at everything, Tess. Makes a person humble and relatable, and it gives a person something to strive for.”
It was my turn to stare at him.
“It can only get better from here, right?” He shrugged as he spoke, letting me know that was probably the best pep talk I’d be getting.
I took a deep breath and released it. “Okay, bowling master. Show me your stuff.”
He’d retrieved my ball, placed it on the rack, and picked up his own. “Since you didn’t hit any of the pins, I don’t have to reset them.” He smiled at me and his white teeth glowed.
“Hardy har har.”
He rolled a perfect ball, straight down the middle. Every pin, every single one, fell in a spectacular over-the-top, buzz-kill kind of way. Seriously?
I stood, determined to do better to avoid being annihilated. “Shoot, this fun yet competitive game of bowling just got real.”
“Envision it in your mind.” He sprinted down to the other end of the alley and began to place each pin by hand. “Look at your bracelet for inspiration.”
Where there’s a will there’s a way.
I touched the faded leather band around my wrist. It had become such a part of me that it was easy to forget it was there.
I had the will. The skill, not so much.
I picked up my ball and approached the line again with all the determination I could muster.
“I believe in you.” Cole called from the end of the alley near the pins. He flashed a smile of glowing teeth which lit up the near darkness where he stood.
I aimed for the middle arrow and released the ball without a bounce, which was an improvement and gave me all sorts of hope.
It rolled without the speed of Cole’s ball, but it headed down the alley the way a ball taking its time, but on a mission, should.
Come on, come on.
I hoped for one pin, just one to fall, so when three tipped over, I punched the air with my fist. “Yes!”
