Miss Patty frowns. “Ari, can’t you see I’m with a new team member?”
Ari stares blankly at her. “I just need the paperwork and I’ll be out of your way.”
Miss Patty smiles again, but her eyes bulge slightly as if it’s taking a great deal of effort to do so. “Megan, this is my daughter, Arianna.”
“Hey,” Ari says, and she gives me a look like she knows her mom is in serious need of some counseling and/or medication.
“Articulate as ever,” Miss Patty mutters.
Ari rolls her eyes and I almost wish I were back with Mr. Roy.
“Nice to meet you,” I say, trying to act like there isn’t an incredible amount of tension smoldering in the air between Ari and Miss Patty.
“I’m not quite finished with the paperwork, Ari,” Miss Patty says. “You’ll have to do it tomorrow.”
“But I’ve got auditions tomorrow.”
Miss Patty lets out a long sigh. “Auditions are not all day long. Surely you’ll find some spare time.”
The phone rings, and Miss Patty holds up a finger to me. “Just a second, Megan, honey.” She fluffs her hair with her hands, like whoever is on the other end might see her, and then picks up the receiver.
“Yes?” She takes a deep breath as her cheeks redden. “They were supposed to be here a week ago! How are we supposed to serve popcorn without bags? Look, hang on.” She pushes a button on the phone. “Ari,” she says sweetly. “Would you mind showing Megan where the costume room is and get her dress and shoe size on the Snow White clipboard?”
“Anything to help you out, Patty,” Ari answers in the same syrupy tone.
Miss Patty picks up the phone again, and Ari tilts her head toward the door.
I take my information packet and follow her out.
“She’s my stepmother,” Ari says as soon as she closes the door. “She always forgets to add that part. She thinks just because she married my dad when I was like three that makes her my real mom.” Air gives me a sly smile. “It drove her crazy when I started calling her Patty a couple of years ago.”
“I’ll bet,” I say, thinking that if I had a stepmom like that, I might like to stick it to her once in a while too.
“Anyway, she’s a complete nut job—her new thing is shaving off her eyebrows so she can pencil them in. She thinks it makes her look like Pamela Anderson.”
Knowing how it feels to have a mother who’s slightly off, I decide to sacrifice my reputation in hopes of making her feel better. “Well my mom dances in competitions with my golden retriever.”
Ari’s eyes grow wide. “Seriously? She dances with your dog?”
“Yup! A fully choreographed, costumed routine. Google ‘Fergus and Sally’s Fantasy Freestyle’ and you can see them in action for yourself. She’s recently added footage of their new number, ‘Hopelessly Devoted to You,’ in which she’s wearing a miniskirt she decorated with a BeDazzler.”
Ari shakes her head in disbelief. “Wow! I guess both our moms are nutters, then.”
I don’t say anything and wonder if my mom was always ‘nutters’ or if it happened after the accident. No. I remember when she and I were close—when she’d let me help her cook. I was Mom’s little angel, but now—now I’m nothing.
We walk down the hall, and I look at the old black-and-white photos of the park hanging on the walls. I’m actually impressed they were able to turn what looks like a glorified petting zoo and carousel into the halfway decent amusement park it is today.
Ari turns to me. “So you signed up for Snow White, huh? The bodice is itchy.”
“You’ve been Snow White?”
Ari scoffs. “Patty makes me help out, but I draw the line at walking around the park in character. I’ve heard some of the girls complain about the costume, though. And here’s a tip: If you’re posing for a photo op with a family, try to keep the kids between you and the dad. Some of them are horn dogs who’ll try to cop a feel while the flash is going off.”
“Thanks for the warning,” I say, thinking I should beg Diane to give me my job at the bookstore back.
We turn the corner and I gasp. Remy is standing at the end of the hallway, twirling one of her braids in her left hand. She waves. “Meggy,” she calls out and starts walking toward us.
I turn to Ari, but she’s rattling on about something to do with her stepmother and Botox, oblivious to the fact that my dead twin is heading our way.
I just knew she was going to show up here! Go away, Remy!
“I said this is it.”
Ari is pointing to a door label YE OLDE COSTUME SHOPPE. “Oh. Sorry, I, uh, was just thinking about what you said about the dads.”
“Don’t worry too much about it. The really bad ones tend to gravitate toward the Bo Peep girls. Something about the petticoat—or maybe it’s the way they hold the staff that gets their shorts all aflutter.”
I smile, but I’m really thinking I need to get out of here. I look past Ari, see the hallway is empty, and exhale. Hopefully Remy just appeared because she likes that I’m at the park, and not because she has something she wants me to see.
Ari opens the door and turns on the light. There are hundreds of brightly colored costumes hanging on rolling stands. “So,” Ari says, looking me up and down. “Size six?”
“Eight,” I say, wondering if she was just being nice. “And I’m eight in shoes too.”
Ari heads to the Snow White rack and pulls out a costume. “Here it is, your golden ticket to playing friend of forest creatures and tiny little men!”
I groan. “Is it too late to cross ‘character actor’ off my application?”
Ari laughs. “Despite the potential for being groped, wearing a costume is actually a hell of a lot better than being chained to a ride for hours on end. Except for some scheduled stops in the park, you can pretty much do whatever you want. And you’re lucky your hair is black. You won’t have to wear the wig, which I’d bet sucks when it’s ninety degrees out.” Ari hangs the costume back up. “Can you sing?”
“God, no! Do I have to?”
“No, but Patty’s been talking about maybe having a character sing-along.”
“Yeah, I think my voice would clear the park, but my best friend sings. She’s in the White Mountain Chorus. Actually, she’s waiting for me, so I should—”
Ari’s mouth drops open. “I’m in the chorus too! Well, I was last year, and I’m trying out again tomorrow. Who’s your friend?”
“Nicki Summers, and like I said, she’s waiting—”
Ari claps her hands. “Oh my God, I know Nicki! She has an amazing voice; she kept beating me out for solos. I can’t even believe they’re making her try out. I mean, everyone knows she’s gonna make it. So she’s here?”
“Yeah, she’s in the parking lot, but Nicki told me the old director left, so everyone’s starting from scratch this year.”
“Huh, I didn’t know Mr. Sherman left. Of course he would’ve told Nicki—they were tight.” Ari starts stalking around the costume rack. “I’d love to find out what she’s singing. Let me put your info on the clipboard, and then I’ll go out with you.” She shakes her head. “Damn, it’s not here. Patty probably left it in the laundry room. Let me run down and see if I can find it. Hold on.”
As soon as Ari leaves, the temperature in the room rapidly drops. “Remy,” I say, my breath frosting in the air. “I don’t want to play with you.” The lights flicker and a cold sweat breaks out on my forehead.
“Meeeeggy.” Her voice echoes in my head. “I have something to show you.”
I back up toward the door, legs trembling, and scan the room for Remy. “I don’t like the things you show me, Remy.”
The door slams shut behind me and I jump. “Fine! What is it?” I yell, sounding braver than I feel. I learned long ago that trying to ignore Remy just pisses her off, and I should get this over with before she starts throwing things.
Remy appears by the Snow White rack. Water drips to the floor from the hem of her dres
s and the tips of her braids. She frowns and beckons to me with her small seven-year-old hand. “Meggy, come see.”
“What? The costumes?” I picture trying on clothes from the dress-up box Grammy gave us when we were five, and a tear rolls down my cheek. “I’m gonna play dress-up this summer, Remy—as Snow White.” I point to the costumes and hope I can divert her attention from whatever it is she wants to show me. “Do you wanna see me put one on?”
Remy nods and puts the end of one of her braids in her mouth, and I remember how Mom used to dip the tips in Tabasco sauce, trying to break her of the habit.
I walk slowly toward her, and she points to a costume in the middle of the rack.
As I reach out for the satin sleeve, Remy touches my arm. An icy chill runs through me, and the room disappears. I see a girl wearing a Snow White costume lying on the ground in a wooded area. It’s dark, and I squint at the black stain on her bodice. I bend down and realize the bodice is unlaced, and while the blouse is soaked in what I think is blood, the darkest stain is actually a hole—a hole in her chest cavity where her heart should’ve been.
“Be careful, Meggy,” Remy whispers as everything goes black.
TWO
Hey, are you all right? Can you hear me?”
I feel hands gently shaking my shoulders. I open my eyes and see I’m lying on the floor of the costume room. A guy about my age with dark, worried eyes is kneeling beside me. I reach up and my fingers automatically flutter across my chest like they were expecting to find a hole.
“Yeah, I think so.” I push myself up and wince as a sharp pain stabs the back of my head. “Ow,” I groan, touching the egg-size lump.
“Maybe you’d better stay down. I’ll get Patty.”
“No, it’s okay. I just fainted. I do that sometimes.”
He reaches out and I let him help me up. His hand feels warm, and I’m so cold, I almost don’t want to let it go. He runs his fingers though his curly black hair and stares at me like he’s afraid I’ll pass out again. “I was heading to the woodshop when I heard you scream.”
My cheeks flush. “I didn’t know I screamed, but it was nothing. I thought I saw a, uh, mouse.”
“Oh,” he says, eyebrows raised. “I figured it had something to do with your sister.”
My heart races as my eyes flash to the spot where Remy was, but there’s only a small puddle of water on the floor. I swallow hard and turn back to him. “You—you saw her?”
He holds up a hand just below his chest. “About this tall, dark braids, freckles?”
“Uh-huh,” I squeak out, both stunned and relieved that someone else has seen her.
“She said her name is Remy and she asked me to tell you she’s sorry.”
“She talked to you?”
He nods. “It’s no big deal really. I’m kind of a ghost magnet—runs in the family. Remy is the forty-seventh one I’ve met. Well, the forty-seventh since I started keeping track in second grade. But besides introducing herself, she told me your name is Megan, she hates peas, and she’s pretty bummed her cat was hit by a car.”
“Wow,” I whisper. “I don’t get that much out of her. I mean, she talks, but a lot of the time it’s incoherent …” I pause, trying to get the image of the girl in the Snow White costume out of my head. “Unless she wants to show me something—usually something bad.”
“Did she show you something here?” he asks, worry furrowing his brow. “Is that what she was she apologizing for? What did you see?”
He looks at me expectantly. I move closer to him, not sure I can actually say it out loud. “Uh, yeah. She, uh—”
“It was in the laundry, but I put your name down and …” Ari is saying as she enters the room. She pauses when she sees I’m not alone. “Luke, what’re you doing here?” She looks back and forth between us and frowns.
Luke takes a step away from me and runs a hand through his dark hair again. “Hey, Ari. I was just passing by on my way to the shop when I heard someone in here. I thought maybe it was you and I came in to say hello.”
“Oh,” Ari says brightly. She hangs the clipboard on the Snow White rack and smiles at him. “So you’ve met Megan, one of our drones, I mean enchanted team members.”
Luke gives me a military salute. “As one drone to another, welcome aboard.”
Ari walks over to him and links an arm with his. At first I think they might be going out, but then he pulls away from her slightly, so maybe I’m wrong.
“You won’t see Luke out in the park too often,” she says. “He spends most of his time in the shop down the hall squandering his talents.”
“I’ll have you know, Ari,” Luke starts as he gently unhooks himself from her and folds his arms across his chest, “that your dad got all teary eyed when he saw my Sleeping Beauty mural on the wall leading up to the girls’ bathrooms in the Fairy Tale Forest. And your mom went nuts for the brick and vine work I added to Rapunzel’s tower—she took about fifty pictures of it and compared me to da Vinci.”
Ari scoffs. “Not counting the fact that Patty is nuts, I’d reserve the da Vinci comparison to the stuff you did before you started painting plywood murals that people stick their used gum on.”
Luke bites his lip and hugs his arms tighter. Obviously, Ari hit a sore spot. “Hey, at least your parents appreciate what I’m doing.”
Ari looks at him defiantly. “I appreciate what you’re doing too, but I’m not gonna let you forget that you’re too good to be decorating the bathrooms!”
“Gum-covered princesses are about all I can handle right now,” he says. “I thought you, of all people, would understand.”
Ari puts her hands on her hips. “Luke! I—”
Luke turns to me, ignoring her. “Nice to meet you, Megan. We should definitely finish our conversation sometime soon.”
He leaves, and Ari stares after him, her cheeks a fiery red. “God, he can be so impossible!” A shudder runs through her like she’s trying to shake him off. “Anyway, we have black shoes that we’ll set aside for you, but they’re kind of gross, so if you have a pair, I’d bring them. Your costume will have your name pinned to it, and there’ll be a ribbon for your hair too. Come on, I’ll walk you out.”
I follow Ari into the hallway, thinking this day has been a little too surreal and I should go and tell Miss Patty to rip up my application. But Luke saw Remy. He talked to her! Despite the weirdness, maybe there’s a reason I came here— maybe he can help me.
Of course, there is the little issue of the dead girl I saw. I try to conjure her face, but I was so focused on the hole in her chest, I didn’t look at her carefully. But the million-dollar question is: Was that something that did happen, or something that will happen?
You never know with Remy. She showed me a vision of Grandma Miller collapsing in her hospital room hours before the blood clot lodged in her brain and killed her. But our cat Pumpkin had been missing for two days before Remy dropped the catnip mouse on my pillow in the middle of the night and showed me his body flattened on the road a few blocks away.
Ari stops in front of a painting and waves her hand dismissively at the princess with large emerald eyes surrounded by butterflies. “This is one of Luke’s new paintings.” She shakes her head. “I’ve got a bunch of his old pieces in my room. I’ll show you, and then you tell me if you think he should be holed up here working on fairy-tale floozies!”
“Uh, okay,” I say, thinking Luke’s painting is a gazillion times better than the stuff hanging in her stepmother’s office and wondering if she’s implying that she’s going to invite me over to her house. We walk toward the front entrance and I wonder if Ari lives in the Tudor mansion up on the mountain above the park.
“He lives with his grandmother,” she continues, “but she’s too busy scamming tourists with her tarot cards and crystal crap that she doesn’t care he’s totally blowing it.” She shakes her head again and scowls. “Have you seen that purple house at the end of the outlet strip?” she asks.
�
��Yeah, it’s kinda hard to miss,” I say. You can’t go into town without driving by the lilac Victorian with the AMADOR’S PSYCHIC READINGS sign sitting in an overgrown yard filled with hundreds of lawn ornaments.
I’ve been tempted to go there on more than one occasion, hoping they could help me with Remy—help her move on to wherever it is she should’ve gone. But when I asked Nicki a few years ago if she thought they were legit, she laughed so hard she spewed the lemon water she was drinking across her kitchen table. When she finally got herself together, she said that anyone with more than twenty lawn gnomes in their yard was most definitely a psycho, not a psychic.
“Well, that’s Luke’s house, if you can believe it,” Ari says, wrinkling her nose. “And his grandmother is too wrapped up reading tea leaves to notice that’s he’s given up painting!”
“Well, technically he is still painting,” I say, not sure why I’m feeling an overpowering urge to stick up for him. “Maybe this is just what he needs to be doing right now— you know, like Picasso had his blue period; maybe this is Luke’s plywood period.”
Ari throws her hands up—my attempt at lightening the mood is obviously a bust. “Oh, please! Do you really consider Sleeping Beauty laid out snoring by the crapper art?”
“I guess not, but I did see Rapunzel’s tower on my way in; it was really good,” I add, knowing I’m pushing it, as she’s made it abundantly clear Luke Amador is a subject she’s very passionate about.
She turns to me with narrowed eyes.
Here it comes.
“Luke isn’t just ‘really good.’ Luke is someday-people-will-pay-big-bucks-for-his-work amazing. If I can get him out of this freaking park! I told my dad not to hire him, but everyone felt so bad for him after his sister disappeared last …” Ari pauses like she’s suddenly realized she’s said too much.
“Was that Luke’s sister on the posters that were up last summer?” I ask. “The girl with blond hair like yours?” She didn’t go to my school so at the time I didn’t give it much thought. I certainly didn’t think she’d still be missing a year later, though.
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