Step Closer

by Scott Cawthon

  When she walked into the restaurant, Jimmy and Brenda were sitting together in a booth, like they were waiting for her. They did not look happy.

  “Kasey, I’m glad you got here early this morning,” Jimmy said, gesturing for her to sit down across from them. “We need to talk.”

  In Kasey’s experience, when somebody said we need to talk, the words that came after weren’t going to be good. Nobody ever said, “We need to talk. So how about a raise and this plate of warm cookies?”

  With a sinking feeling, Kasey sat down in the booth.

  Jimmy folded his hands in front of him. “Brenda has told me that, since you started working here, she’s been getting a lot less money in tips. Do you know anything about that?”

  The hunger in Kasey’s stomach was replaced by fear. “How am I supposed to know what Brenda makes in tips?” she asked.

  “Well,” Jimmy said, “customers leave their tips on the table, and sometimes the money’s still on the table when you bus it, so—”

  “I know you’ve been stealing my tips off the table!” Brenda interrupted. Her face was red with rage. “Not all the money, but enough so you think I won’t notice. But I do notice! I know my regular customers. I know what they order, and I know how much they tip.”

  Kasey remembered the first rule of the Thieves’ Den: If suspected or caught, deny, deny, deny. “Look, Brenda, I know you didn’t like me from the moment I walked in the door. And it’s okay. You don’t have to like me. But that doesn’t mean you have the right to accuse me of things I don’t know anything about.”

  “See?” Brenda elbowed Jimmy. “Shifty, like I said. Aren’t you gonna fire her?”

  Jimmy closed his eyes and massaged his temples like he had the world’s worst headache.

  He was quiet so long that Kasey finally broke the silence and said, “Am I being fired, Jimmy?”

  Jimmy opened his eyes. “You’re not being fired. You’re being watched. If there’s anything to what Brenda says, cut it out, or you will be fired. Now get back to work.”

  “Yessir.”

  “ ‘Cut it out?’ ” Brenda said. “That’s it?”

  “Like I said, I’m watching her,” Jimmy said, then looked at the door. “Here comes the early-morning crowd. You’d better get to work, too.”

  On the way home, Kasey walked past a grassy area where the autumn leaves rose and swirled in a circle. Fine, she said to herself, and put on the glasses. There was Ballora, spinning nearer than ever. Clearly, there was no getting away from her.

  Dizziness overcame Kasey. “Why?” she yelled. “Why do you keep following me?” Several people turned to look at her like she was crazy. Was she crazy? She didn’t even know anymore.

  That night, Kasey dreamed she was sitting in a red velvet seat in a beautiful theater with a golden domed ceiling. The theater was empty except for Kasey. The lights went down, sending the room into blackness, and orchestral music swelled.

  The lights came up on the stage, and Ballora danced out on tiptoe. She danced to the left side of the stage, and a huge purple-and-gold satin banner unrolled from the ceiling. It was printed in fancy letters with the word “LIAR.” Ballora put her hands to her cheeks as if startled, then lifted her arms for a long pirouette. She danced over to the right side of the stage, where another large purple-and-gold banner unrolled. This one was printed with the word “THIEF.” Ballora put her hands to her cheeks again, then danced to the center of the stage, spun, and looked directly at Kasey. She pointed at her, and one more banner unfurled itself center stage. This one said, “YOU.”

  Kasey woke up gasping, in a cold sweat. She got up, threw on some clothes, yanked open the dresser drawers, and stuck the rest of her clothes in her backpack along with the coffee can of cash she’d saved up from working at the Royal Café. She couldn’t go back there. They were onto her. She threw a couple of bills on the nightstand to cover the rest of the rent, then walked toward the bus station.

  The fresh air calmed her a little. She shoved her hands in her pockets. There were the glasses. She decided to take one last look. This time, she was really leaving Ballora behind. With a shaking hand, she took them out and put them on.

  Ballora was dancing just a few feet away from her. Kasey could see every hinge, every tiny flaw in the paint job. If she walked twenty steps, the two of them would be close enough to touch. Kasey shuddered and took off the glasses.

  Okay, I get it, she thought. I didn’t really make a fresh start. I stole, and I lied about it. But if I can just get away—away from her—I really will start over. I’ll be a model citizen.

  The next bus out of town was going to Nashville. Nashville, Kasey thought. Why not? A new town, a new job, a new start. For real this time.

  Once she was settled on the bus, Kasey sank into a dreamless sleep.

  The Music City Motel, where Kasey rented a room, had the same cheap paneling and stained carpet as the motel in Memphis, but cost five dollars more a night. Lying on the lumpy mattress, looking at the want ads in the newspaper, Kasey told herself she needed to make a real life. She needed to live instead of just surviving. She needed a job that could give her some kind of future. She needed to make some friends, save up some money, and get that little apartment she’d dreamed of as a kid. Maybe she could go back to school at night and get her diploma. And she could get a dog. She still wanted a dog.

  Scanning through the want ads, one caught her eye:

  NO EXPERIENCE NECESSARY

  OPPORTUNITIES FOR ADVANCEMENT

  Answer incoming calls for a major retail company

  Must be able to communicate well

  Must be able to work in busy, fast-paced environment

  Start at $12 per hour with raises based on merit.

  Open interviews Mon. thru Fri., 9:00 a.m.—2:00 p.m.

  It sounded better than washing dishes. But Kasey had nothing to wear to an interview for an office job. She remembered a business communications class she’d taken in high school. The textbook had a whole chapter on how to dress and present yourself for a job interview. Ripped, faded jeans and old boots repaired with duct tape definitely weren’t on the list of acceptable apparel.

  Kasey got the coffee can from where she’d hidden it in the dresser drawer. She dumped all her money out on the bed and counted it. $229.76. When she set aside what she’d need to pay for the room and the few groceries she bought, that left her with $44.76. Surely she could buy something to wear with that.

  She set out on foot in search of a store. She figured the nice clothing stores wouldn’t be on this side of town, with its cheap motels and pawn shops and bail bondsman offices. She didn’t want to spend any of her meager money on a bus ride to the mall. Besides, she wouldn’t be able to afford anything in one of the nice stores anyway.

  After an hour of walking, her feet aching in her battered boots, she found a store called Unique Fashions. In the window, bald, white, faceless mannequins modeled colorful dresses. Surely a store in this neighborhood wouldn’t be too expensive.

  Kasey opened the door and started a little when a bell chimed. She passed a floor-length mirror and saw herself as she must look to other people: her clothes old, baggy, and ill-fitting, her face tired beyond her years. She didn’t look like she belonged in this store with its bright lights and neat racks of dresses, tops, and skirts. Maybe she should just go.

  “Let me know if there’s anything I can help you with, honey,” the woman behind the counter said. She was around the age of Kasey’s mom, wearing a canary-yellow dress with a bright scarf and perfectly applied makeup.

  Kasey wondered if she would ever look so put together. “Thank you,” she said.

  Kasey browsed through the racks of clothing, not sure what would be best for a job interview, not even sure of what size she wore. Finally, she found a crimson dress splashed with cream-colored flowers. She remembered that once a cute boy in high school had told her red was her color. She knew it would look good on her.

  The saleslady who
had been at the cash register appeared beside her as if by magic. “Do you want to try that on, honey?”

  Kasey nodded. “Trouble is, I’ve not worn a dress in so long I don’t even know what size I wear.”

  The lady looked her up and down. “Well, you’re no bigger than a minute. I’d try a six.” She smiled. “It’s been a long time since I was a six—about three kids ago! I bet you don’t have any of those yet, do you?”

  “No, ma’am, not yet.” Kasey held on to the dress and tried to imagine a future with a steady job, a comfortable place to live, maybe even a husband and kids. Could that kind of life ever be in the cards for someone like her? It was hard to even picture what it would be like.

  “The fitting rooms are over there,” the saleslady said. “Just holler if you need anything.”

  “Thank you.” Kasey locked herself in one of the tiny rooms and slipped off her boots, jacket, jeans, and T-shirt. She pulled the dress over her head and looked at herself in the mirror. The saleslady had been right. Kasey was a size six. The dress fit perfectly—not too loose and not too tight—and the crimson-and-cream print complemented her skin tone. She looked respectable. Like a regular person going to a regular job interview.

  Except that she had forgotten one thing.

  Standing in front of the mirror, Kasey looked at her bare feet, which certainly weren’t acceptable in an office job. But neither was wearing battered, taped-up boots with her nice new dress. She had forgotten she’d need shoes, and shoes were expensive.

  Feeling discouraged, she took off the dress and put on her ratty old clothes. She carried the dress with her out of the fitting room.

  There was a small shoe section in the back of the store. She figured she might as well see how much a pair would cost. There were some decent-looking tan flats in her size on sale for $21.97, but she couldn’t afford the shoes and the dress, too, even with the discounted price.

  Desperate, panicked, Kasey looked around the store. There were no visible security cameras, and the saleslady was busy helping another customer, an elderly lady trying on a pink suit jacket.

  This would be the last time, Kasey promised herself. She was only doing it so she could go to the job interview. She rolled up the dress as small as she could and stuffed it in her backpack. She took a deep breath, grabbed the shoebox with the flats in it, and headed to the cash register. When the saleslady came to check her out, she said, “Decided not to get the dress?”

  “Just these today,” Kasey said, handing the saleslady a twenty and a ten. At least she was paying for the shoes and not stealing them, too, Kasey thought. Plus, they would’ve been difficult to fit in her bag.

  The saleslady gave Kasey her change, bagged up the shoebox, and handed it to her. “Thank you, honey. I hope you come back and see us soon.”

  When Kasey approached the front door, a horrible buzzing sound filled the store. Kasey’s stomach knotted in fear. The dress must have some type of anti-theft device on it that activated the alarm. Caught. She’d never been caught before.

  “Wait just a second there, honey,” the saleslady called. “I must not have scanned those shoes right.”

  Kasey was about to make a run for it, but outside the front door of the store, hundreds of fall leaves swirled up furiously like a mini tornado. Kasey didn’t have to put on the glasses to know that Ballora was right in the center of the tempest. Her heart pounded in her chest.

  Kasey knew that if she bolted out the door, she’d run right into Ballora.

  She was trapped. One way or the other, she was caught. At least if she stayed in the store, she had some idea of what the consequences would be. If she surrendered herself to Ballora, she had no idea what would happen. She just kept imagining Ballora’s long, sharp nails. Her teeth.

  The buzzing alarm hurt her ears, making it impossible to think straight.

  “Is there a problem, Helen?” Another well-dressed woman, probably the manager, had emerged from the back of the store.

  In seconds, the manager and the saleslady were beside Kasey.

  “Let me see your bag for just a second,” the saleslady said.

  Kasey handed it over, hoping they didn’t notice how hard she was shaking.

  The saleslady showed the manager the receipt. “See, she paid for her purchase.”

  The manager was looking at Kasey as if she could see every misdeed Kasey had ever committed. “I think we’d better check her backpack, too.” She turned to Kasey. “Miss, we need you to open your backpack and let us look inside. If everything checks out, you’ll be free to go with our apologies for the inconvenience.”

  Kasey glanced outside. The leaves were swirling closer and harder, smacking against the glass of the door.

  She swallowed hard. There was no choice.

  Kasey opened her backpack. The crimson of the dress tucked inside it was as bright as blood.

  “That’s the dress she tried on!” the saleslady said. She sounded like Kasey’s theft was a personal betrayal.

  The manager grabbed Kasey’s arm. “Well, that’s that,” she said. “I don’t have any choice but to call the police.”

  Kasey looked outside at the swirling leaves, then back at the stern faces of the two women. Her eyes filled with tears, which was strange because Kasey couldn’t remember the last time she had cried. But now she cried for all the things she’d lost, for all the bad things she’d done, and all the good things she’d never gotten to experience.

  “Please,” Kasey said, sobbing. “Don’t call the police. I … I need the dress and shoes for a job interview, but I didn’t have enough money for both of them.”

  “So you thought stealing the dress was a good solution to that problem?” The manager was still holding Kasey’s arm.

  “I knew it wasn’t a good solution,” Kasey said through her tears. “It was just the only solution I could think of. I’m so sorry.” Where were all these tears coming from? It was like she was a human waterfall.

  “I have a solution.” A voice came from behind them. It was the elderly woman the saleslady had been helping earlier. Her hair was perfectly groomed, and she was dressed elegantly in a cream-colored pants suit. “I’ll buy the young lady the dress.”

  “Mrs. Templeton, we couldn’t let you do that,” the manager said.

  “Of course you can,” Mrs. Templeton said. “I spend a lot of money at this store. I’m a good customer, and the customer is always right.” She smiled at the manager and saleslady. “Right?”

  “Right,” the manager said, but she sounded reluctant.

  “Good.” Mrs. Templeton opened her purse and took out her wallet. “Now there’s no need to call the police, and this young lady can get to her job interview.”

  “What if there isn’t a job interview?” the manager said. “What if she’s lying?”

  Mrs. Templeton looked Kasey up and down. “Well, that’s a risk I’m willing to take. But I think she is telling the truth. She has an honest face. She was just in a desperate situation and didn’t use her best judgment.”

  “Thank you,” Kasey said, tears still flowing. “I’ll pay you back when I can.”

  “Nonsense.” Mrs. Templeton waved off Kasey’s offer. “You just help out somebody else when they need it.”

  Kasey walked out of the store through the swirling leaves.

  As she made her way down the street, she was still crying and drawing concerned looks from passersby. She couldn’t explain it, but she felt like she was changing, like something hard inside her was softening and breaking up.

  She stopped at a park to rest a few minutes. She was tired from all the walking, from all the stress and fear. She sat on a bench, and her hand reached into her pocket for the glasses before she even knew what she was doing. Had she lost Ballora after the woman at the store had made things right?

  No. She was right there.

  Ballora stood before her and twirled, just a little more than arm’s length away. She seemed to stare at Kasey with her blank blue eyes, and then
she spun and spun, creating a breeze Kasey could feel on her face. She was close enough to touch.

  “Why?” Kasey yelled. “Why can I not get rid of you?” She shoved the glasses in her pocket and ran. She ran away from Ballora even though in her heart she knew Ballora was right there with her. She ran to the Music City Motel and locked the door behind her, panting.

  The words of the old woman at the bus station came back to her suddenly: “Sometimes when you try to run away from your problems, those problems end up following you.”

  Scratch, scratch. The sound was coming from the window. Kasey pulled back the curtain and saw nothing. Then she put on the glasses.

  Ballora was pressed against the window. Her face, pretty at a distance, was terrifying up close, split down the middle, with a gaping red mouth and glowing eyes, eyes which Kasey thought saw right into her soul. Ballora’s long, blue-painted fingernails scraped against the glass with a horrible metallic screech. Kasey backed away from the window.

  “Okay, Ballora,” Kasey said. “Please. Just let me go to this job interview first. Then I know what I have to do.”

  Ballora said nothing, just watched with her glowing blue eyes.

  Kasey sat down on the bed and dug around in her backpack until she found what she was looking for: the driver’s license of the woman whose purse she had stolen outside of Circus Baby’s Pizza World.

  Sarah Avery. That was the name on the driver’s license. And here, where Kasey was standing in her new crimson dress and tan flats, was Sarah Avery’s address. It was a split-level suburban home, not too fancy, but much nicer than anywhere Kasey had ever lived.

  It hadn’t been easy getting here with no bus fare, but finally Kasey had met a long-haul truck driver who was headed this way and willing to let her ride along. Kasey had slipped on the glasses once during the trip and had seen Ballora’s face pressed against the passenger side window, still watching her.