by Adalynn Rafe
Not knowing what to say, I just smile and leave.
“See you soon?” he asks, gaining my attention. When I turn around, I see him biting his lip anxiously. I nod once and try to smile. “Goodnight,” he says.
Once we are out to the cars, Hazel begins to refresh Darien’s memory of where I live. It just sounds like gibberish to me because all I can think about is talking to Kelly.
“I’ll be right back!” I yell and run towards the store. “I forgot something!”
Once inside, I grab the closest thing nearest to me. It happens to be some cookies, so I am fine with that.
Kelly is just leaving the register. “Kelly!” I yell. He glances at me, does a double take, and smiles curiously. “My sister just called me and she wanted some––” I look at the box “––white macadamia nut cookies.” I smile and set them on the counter at the register.
He starts to check them out the long way, typing in the numbers manually. As if the barcode isn’t right there!
“I need a pen and a piece of paper,” I say. My heart is pounding so violently in my chest that it’s like Donkey Kong is having a party with his giant bongo drums where my heart is supposed to sit. A smile is forced to fill my face. I am more excited than nervous to see the handsome Kelly.
Kelly wonders what I’m up to. I can see it in his smile. He rips a piece of paper off the receipt roll and hands me a pen. He just watches me.
As quickly as I can, I scribble my name and phone number on the paper. Unfortunately, the nervous chicken scratch comes out and is barely legible. I hand to him quickly.
Kelly takes it eagerly, a wide smile filling his face as he glances at it, then to me.
I rub my neck. “Um, call me. We’re going to play video games and watch old black and white movies tonight. You can join us if you want . . .” My heart is pounding twice as hard as before. Diddy Kong has joined the party!
Nodding his head, he gives me an honest smile. “I would like that very much.”
My smile can’t possibly get brighter. “Okay. Call me.” I start to turn away from him.
“What about the cookies?” he asks.
I shrug. “My sister didn’t really call me . . .”
“Oh . . .” Kelly caught on to my game.
“Bye,” I say, one last time, before running out the door.
I, Cecily Wolf, just got up the nerve to ask some random—gorgeous!—guy out.
Chapter 28
“Shh,” I motion and open the door.
We made a battle plan. We’d sneak into the house and scare my sister and her friends.
To suppress a giggle, Hazel holds her hands over her mouth. Darien is behind her, nearly hidden in the shadows of the dark porch. I nod and we step forward, beginning our creeping of the house.
When we reach the living room and the kitchen, no one is there. The red couch is empty and the lights in the kitchen are off. Confusion is the only emotion that I seem to feel at the moment. I can hear Hazel and Darien release sighs.
“Okay,” I whisper. “I guess we’ll just go into the kitchen––”
Adie, Daphne, and Jema jump out of their hiding places—behind the couch, in the dark corners, under the table—and lunge at us, making Hazel and me both scream. Darien begins to laugh and the light is flipped on in the kitchen, revealing a cool blue color.
“Gotcha! Gotcha!” Daphne yells before high-fiving Adie and Jema. “Gotcha good!”
“Go figure you’d try to scare us,” Hazel states, before moseying into the kitchen and flipping on the lights, revealing a white tiled counter top and brown cupboards. We put the groceries on the counter before unpacking them from the plastic bags.
“Good to see you, your highness,” Jema says to Hazel with a teasing grin.
Hazel sticks her tongue out before finally caving in and giving her a hug. “I can only visit the commoners so often.”
“And what about feeding them?” Adie wonders. “Queen Hazel has been ignoring her people and they are starved.”
Laughing, I look from the blue walls and sea shell wind chimes in the corner of the room to Adie. My mom kind of has this ocean theme going on in here. “Let them eat cake,” I say.
“You’d be a horrible queen, Ces!” Daphne yells. “You’d be hung for treason.”
“Probably.” I shrug and open a pack of licorice. “I should been hung for worse.” I feel super guilty about ditching my family for so long. What a selfish brat I was.
Jema leans in towards Hazel before whispering, “I’d be careful who you let linger in your courts.” She is hinting towards us. “In fact, they should linger in asylums only. They’re possessed!”
A piece of licorice smacks Jema in the face by my hand and we begin to laugh. “Gotcha!” My arms go up like I just scored a touchdown.
Everyone laughs. Jema rubs her face and shoots me a smiling scowl, smacking my stomach softly. My hands drop and cover the stinging flesh, still tender from the bruises. I couldn’t help the small gasp that escapes my lips.
“What was that?” Adie asks, eyes wide. “Ces, are you hurt?”
Darien and Hazel exchange nervous glances.
“I have this bruise, well a few of them, and Jema hit one,” I say.
Daphne laughs. “I knew you liked it rough.”
Hazel starts laughing hysterically and has to lean on the counter to keep from collapsing. She looks at me and laughs again, caught in the irony of it all, then I start laughing, even though I’m absolutely terrified. In reality, it was far rougher than Daphne could imagine––if she knew the truth, she’d be crying. We look at each other and laugh again, totally lost in the split second of psychosis.
“You guys are freaks,” Jema says, and sits at a barstool.
We settle down and shoo away the odd looks we receive. At least they aren’t asking questions anymore . . .
“And who’s this?” Daphne asks, elbowing Darien and winking.
“Darien the Knight,” I reply, smiling at him.
Adie pauses for minute. “Wait . . . like, Darien, Darien?”
Darien nods and smiles. Daphne smacks her forehead, as if that was the easiest thing to figure out. She clearly remembers Darien from my childhood.
“The Darien who picked two bouquets of dandelions and gave them to us after one of our surgeries?” Adie asks, with an appreciative smile.
“Yeah!” I say loudly. She obviously didn’t hear me the first time. “This is Darien!”
Adie hugs him. “Darien, I haven’t seen you for years! Where have you been?”
Basically, Darien and I were, like, besties when we were kids. Then we got into middle school and he wanted to stay the same old Darien, and Hazel kind of took his spot after I shoved Sabrina off her.
“Are you still snotty as ever?” Jema asks Hazel, laughing. “I haven’t seen you for a few months and wonder if you’ve reverted back to your old habits.”
Hazel––she can be a little snotty sometimes. That’s why Daphne, Jema, and Adie call her Queen Hazel. It doesn’t help that she looks like a Disney princess with golden locks the color of Aurora’s. When we first met, way back in seventh grade, Hazel needed an attitude adjustment and found one. Now, she is pretty chill. But you know how old stigmas are: once a queen, always a queen.
“Are you still living with your Mom and Dad?” Hazel replies with attitude. “Aren’t you, like, over twenty and virgin lips?”
Jema laughs loudly. “Once a queen, always a queen. Thanks for gracing us with your presence tonight.”
“Wait a minute!” Daphne yells. “Why aren’t you at that party? You never told us.”
Hazel looks at me to explain. My forehead tenses as I answer. “Didn’t feel like it. The carriage and horses are taking a night off. The royalty here will be but normal common folk for the evening, right, Queen Hazel?” I bow my head to Hazel.
“Thank you, my fair lady in waiting,” Hazel says in a British accent.
Adie laughs. “Wow, you’ve taken this game a little f
ar . . .”
“So, Darien––maybe you can answer my question,” Jema says. “Why are you kicking around with Hazel and Cecily? Isn’t that like social suicide on their behalf?”
Darien looks at Hazel and smiles. “Does it matter? We graduate this year. Seniors are allowed to do what they want, remember?”
“Um . . . not really. Hazel and Ces are like royals, and no offense, but you are kinda like a bottom feeder, right?” Daphne points out.
I begin laughing, which results in me spitting my soda everywhere. “Hazel and me—royals?” I laugh again and Hazel chimes in.
“Only royals are in invited to high school parties like the one that you were invited to tonight,” Jema reminds us.
Daphne shoots me a look. “And only royals dress as skanks, skip school, and come home smelling like liquor.”
My eyes widen. “You could really smell that?”
Daphne makes a face. “Who couldn’t? When you came inside this afternoon, I swear that you had bathed in vodka . . .”
My face goes pale and my head spins. I sit down quickly. “I don’t remember . . .”
“I was invited to one of those parties once, but I think it was out of pity,” Adie remembers, taking the attention from me. “Not a big deal.”
“So, are you a royal or not?” Jema asks me.
“We are not royals! If we were, we’d be at that nasty party!” Hazel proclaims. “We are not royals!” I stick more licorice in my mouth so I don’t have to talk about it. I’m worse than a royal. I’m a monster. “And Darien is not a bottom feeder!” Hazel slams her fist on the counter. “He’s a normal teenager, like us!”
Adie shrugs before yawning. “Okay— What we are trying to say is . . . this is weird. One minute Ces, like, hates us, and now we are all being buds in the kitchen. I haven’t seen Darien for years and here he is.”
Daphne leans on the counter and sighs, her wavy orange hair falling over her shoulder and to the white counter top. “Now that Ces is normal again, who do we talk about behind their back?”
I flash her look that is completely sarcastic. “What you talking about?”
Daphne sticks her tongue out at me. “You know. Your soul being damned to Hell and whatever. Those ugly clothes. The dark makeup. I’m going to miss those discussions.”
“Oh, thanks,” I say. “That’s nice of you to worry about me.”
Daphne and I laugh together.
“Anyway! We are going to play some video games now and eat some ice cream,” Hazel states, changing the direction of the night.
“Video games?!” Jema asks. “Whoa! I never thought I’d hear you say that! What else? Darien here is your BF?” She starts laughing at the thought. “Queen Hazel and Darien the Knight fall in love?”
I swallow my laughter and look away to hide my smile.
“We are moving in that direction . . . ,” Hazel replies truthfully.
Jema’s, Daphne’s, and Adie’s eyes go wide.
“Cute, right?” I ask, grabbing my snacks and leaving to sit down on the couch.
A few minutes pass with a few more conversations filled with teasing and innocent bantering. I think to myself, how lucky am I?
Hazel is laughing with Darien as he sets up the game system. She is twirling her golden hair around her finger as she giggles flirtatiously. She really likes this kid!
If we went to that party, this would have never happened.
When Sabrina gave me that flyer, I realized that there was something broken in me that needed that party, okay, well . . . maybe a lot of things were broken. Yet, here I am, sitting in my living room with the people I love. Not that I am complaining, but I am confused by myself. Everyone remembers this psychotic Cecily and I can’t see her anymore! What happened to me to make me throw everything I loved and treasured away?
Adie puts her hand on mine and squeezes. A smile appears on her angled face.
“When was the last time that I told you that I loved you?” I ask Adie seriously.
Her smile turns into concern. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“A long time, Cecily.” Adie holds my hand tighter. “After Papa died, you started to change a little. It was gradual until one day you decided you––”
“Hated you?” I ask, not sure if it is right.
Adie nods. “Essentially. Just months ago you pushed us all away.”
“Oh.” I exhale slowly and shake my head. “That’s horrible. When did I start drinking?”
“From what I’ve been watching, I’d say a week. Something horrible happened to you, didn’t it?”
I look down at our hands—hers thin and always a pale purple, mine nearly looking the same. Something’s wrong with me, I’m sick or something. My fingers should be fuller, my hands a healthy flesh color. Just like the hollows in my cheeks—they’re not supposed to be there.
“I don’t know what happened, Adie . . .”
Adie gives me a look of sympathy as she watches me think. “You can tell me anything.”
“I know.” I flash half a smile and look at her. There is something that I need to do, something I need to see. Only my room will give me the answers I truly seek. “I will be right back.”
“What? Where are you going?” Hazel asks.
“I have to fix my makeup,” I lie.
Hazel doesn’t buy it, but she lets me go.
Chapter 29
Entering into my bedroom feels foreign to me, like I am a traveler from a far and distant land. On the floor next to the mirror are piles of makeup, mostly in darker shades. I step forward and land my foot on a tube of lipstick, which is the dark purple color I was wearing when I woke up. It would be perfect for Halloween, but not for everyday use.
Scattered on the ground are clothes, mainly black, and consisting of lacy tops, pleated miniskirts, and extremely bright bras. I pick one of the bras up and actually like the color, bright red. A scene enters my mind, one where I am wearing the bra alone under a sheer black top, and Leison appears instantly. I drop the bra like it contains the bubonic plague.
Holding my head, I look around at the mess I had become.
On my desk is a drawing, a dark one, too. I can almost deny that it is done by my hand, but can’t. A girl runs in a forest from a dark entity, absolutely terrified. To the side of the dark drawing is a flask, half-filled with what smells like rum. My hand covers my mouth as tears enter, stinging my eyes. How did this happen to me?
Adie’s painting, the red lily, stands out to me like a ray of sunlight and my horror turns to happiness. It’s supposed to be completed by now, but I have been a little occupied, it seems.
Behind me is my bed below the windows. As usual, it is unmade and all the purple pillows are thrown on the ground. A few tops are strewed across the rumpled up comforter.
Not being able to take it anymore, I start collecting all the dark clothes and makeup in my room and throw them into a large pile to be taken away. This isn’t me, and it never should have been.
When I lift one of the shirts from the bed, a wad of cash unrolls from the blouse. I step back and find that my mattress has been tampered with and moved. This money is for our trip to the west coast, but apparently I had different plans for it. Well, until I was given a second chance in life. I put the money back under my mattress where it belongs.
The last piece of dark clothing is lifted and underneath sits my journal, which looks like it has been moved. I remember seeing it out in the open before I left to get Hazel. Maybe I’m just crazy. I pick it up in my hand, rubbing my thumb against the bumpy texture of the olive green cover. My eyes widen as I stare down at the one thing that could really explain why I turned the way I did.
Written one week ago: (Since it seems to be the epicenter of my destruction)
No one will believe me. Everyone will believe him, but not me. The rumors I’ve heard disgust me, “Cecily seduced him” and “Did you see how short her skirt is? What a skank.” That’s not even all of them! But if I said
that he touched me, no one would believe me. And he said other things, bad things, which I can’t say. He says that the school psychologist thinks I’m screwed up and dark; and that Iles, my painting instructor, said that my art suggests that I’m suicidal. Even when I went to tell Sheriff Copper, he was there talking to him as well. I am all alone, and no one will believe me because I’m a troubled teen.
I’ve already lost Papa and Bandit and now this . . . I can’t do this anymore. Adie has Mom and I can see that there is no room for me in their happy little picture, which has been that way forever. Papa is dead, so he can’t protect me. I don’t fit into the picture of happy family with the girls anymore, in fact it’s been months almost that I’ve interacted with them. I don’t belong with them anymore. They love Adie, but they don’t love Cecily. All I do is cry and I’m so angry at everyone! I can’t do this anymore.
Hazel is all I have, but I worry that I am dragging her on my path to Hell.
Perhaps it will be best if I take my life and end the suffering now.
Written six days ago:
I refuse to go to school and be tampered with by him. I will go to my other classes, but I won’t go to that one. And it’s baggy clothes from here. The one time I wear a mini skirt and . . . I’m not finishing that sentence. Anyway, I don’t have to worry about that right now, so I am just going to sleep all weekend and hide away from the world. Huge bruises cover my skin from him and I don’t want anyone to see them. Not even Hazel. I’m a disgusting, worthless, slut! I will never ever be loved, not like I deserve to be . . .
Pausing in my reading, I look down at the purple and brown bruise on the tender flesh of my chest once more. Tears sting my eyes. My hand rests over it and I close my eyes, wishing his vile hands had never done this to me. Sniffling, I continue reading:
. . . I’ve had nightmares, they’re never ending. This time I sat on a cliff and did drugs and other things, I think. Next thing I know, I am flying through the air and land on the ground below. I jumped off the ridge and killed myself. Mom wants to me see the school psychologist, again. She is worried about me and how dark I am getting. She doesn’t know anything! She doesn’t know how it feels to be me! To be depressed and lonely and scared! She just doesn’t know me anymore! She just cares about Adie! Why did Papa have to die?
