by Jo Gibson
“You can stop worrying.” Steve grinned as he took Donna in his arms. “I just talked to Miss Adams, and she wants you to write another section for your article. You’re supposed to describe exactly what happened to Lisa, and how the old woman took the shoes.”
Donna nodded. “I can do that, but it won’t help. Everybody saw what happened to Lisa, and even if they don’t believe in the curse, they know that the red shoes are dangerous. No one in Jefferson City will buy them, but the old woman could sell them somewhere else.”
Steve nodded, and Donna frowned slightly. He didn’t seem at all concerned. “Steve—this is important!”
“I know, but we’ve got it all figured out. One of Mr. Simon’s college classmates owns a big newspaper chain. When you’re all done with your article, he’s going to publish it in every one of his papers.”
“What?” Donna could hardly believe what Steve was saying. She’d never been published in a real newspaper before!
“And Coach Harrison has a friend who works for UPI.”
Donna nodded. “United Press International?”
“That’s right. And Miss Adams knows somebody at Associated Press. They’re going to make sure that every newspaper in the country prints your story.”
Donna didn’t say anything. She just took a deep breath, and hoped she wouldn’t faint. But Steve was still grinning and she had to ask. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”
“Just one little thing.” Steve said. “One of your jobs as the new editor of the Gazette is to send copies of your article to every other school in the state. That way you can warn them, too.”
Donna’s mouth dropped open. “The new editor?! But Steve . . . the contest hasn’t even been decided yet!”
“Yes, it has.” Even though Donna had thought it was impossible, Steve’s grin grew even wider. “The faculty committee was so impressed with your article, it was a unanimous decision. You won the contest, Donna. And Miss Adams thinks you’ll be the best editor the Gazette has ever had.”
“Oh, Steve!” Donna was so excited and so happy, tears started to roll down her cheeks.
“What’s wrong, Donna?” Steve looked worried. “Why are you crying?”
Donna wasn’t sure what to say. Her best friend, Lisa, was going to be fine, she could stop worrying about the cursed red shoes, and she was the new editor of the Jefferson High Gazette. And to make everything even more perfect, she was going out with the guy of her dreams!
“Donna? What is it?” Steve held her tightly. “Please tell me why you’re crying.”
“I’m crying because I’m so happy!”
“But that’s nothing to cry about.” Steve smiled down at her.
“You’re right,” Donna said, as she threw her arms around Steve and gave him a hug, right there on the dance floor. Steve hugged her back and then he kissed her, a light, friendly kiss that promised much more. And then they started to dance a long, slow dance, and neither one of them even realized that the band had stopped playing.
Epilogue
Two Months Later in a Different State
There was no doubt about it Shirley Conway was having a horrible day. She’d been shopping at the Grand Forks Mall for over three hours, and she hadn’t found a single thing to buy.
“Come on, Shirl—let’s go, huh?” Ronni James, Shirley’s best friend, had reached the end of her patience. “We’re already late. We were supposed to meet the guys ten minutes ago!”
“Don’t worry, Ronni. They’ll wait.” Shirley turned to survey the strip of booths in the center of the mall. “My Christmas party’s tomorrow night, and I still don’t have the right shoes.”
Ronni sighed. Shirley was stubborn and she wouldn’t leave the mall until she’d found the perfect pair of shoes. “Okay, Shirl. Which booth do you want to try next?”
“That one!” Shirley pointed toward the booth on the end. “Just look at those shoes, Ronni. They’re incredible!”
Ronni nodded. The shoes really were incredible, and so was the booth. It was a huge tent made of oriental carpets, right next to a big, artificial tree. Pairs of boots, and shoes, and slippers hung from the branches like sparkling jewels, but something about the booth made Ronni feel very uneasy. It was hauntingly familiar, although Ronni was sure she hadn’t seen it before. And something about the old woman who ran the booth made Ronni want to turn around and run for her life!
Ronni swallowed hard. “Shirl—listen to me. There’s something about that booth that scares me. I don’t want to go over there.”
“Oh, don’t be silly!” Shirley grabbed Ronni’s hand. “We have to go. I need party shoes.”
Ronni thought about pulling away and running for the safety of the parking lot, but she didn’t want Shirley to laugh at her. She was tired after their long day of shopping, and her imagination was playing tricks on her. There was nothing wrong with this booth, nothing at all.
“What have you got that’s really fantastic?” Shirley’s eyes were sparkling as they arrived at the counter. “I need the most wonderful pair of shoes in the world for my Christmas party!”
The old woman nodded and led them into the tent. “Please come with me, young ladies. My special shoes are in the back. Each pair is one-of-a-kind.”
Ronni frowned. Something about the old woman was familiar, too. She wore a long black skirt that swept against the floor, and a huge black cape with flapping arms. She looked like some kind of giant black bird . . . a raven? Or a crow?
Suddenly Ronni remembered, and her throat went dry with fear. She’d read an article in the newspaper about a place called Magical Footwear and a pair of cursed red shoes. This booth and this old woman were almost exactly the same as the writer had described!
The old woman had stepped behind a curtain to get several boxes of shoes. Ronni leaned close to Shirley and spoke very softly in her ear. “Remember that article about the cursed red shoes, and Magical Footwear? I think this is the same booth!”
“Come on, Ronni.” Shirley gave a little laugh. “It’s not the same at all. I saw the sign and this booth is called Charmed Feet.”
Ronni knew she should drop the whole thing before Shirley got mad, but she had a duty to warn her friend. “I know the name’s different, Shirl. But she could have changed it.”
“Stop being ridiculous!” Shirley’s voice was sharp. “That story was fiction. They just made it up to sell papers!”
Ronni sighed. “Maybe you’re right. But don’t buy your shoes here, Shirl. I just have a bad feeling.”
“I don’t know about you, Ronni. You’re really weird!” Shirley stopped speaking as the old woman brought out a display case. She set it on the counter and Shirley clapped her hands in delight. “Those shoes are gorgeous, and they’re exactly what I need! Let me try them on!”
The old woman smiled as she opened the display case. “Certainly, young lady. I am happy to oblige.”
Ronni shivered as she caught sight of the shoes. Their color was so deep, it was almost luminescent. And the shoes were red, the same as the cursed shoes in the article she’d read!
“If they fit, I’ll take them.” Shirley reached out to grab the shoes.
“Shirl—please don’t!” Ronni knew she had to keep Shirley from buying the shoes. Shirley wouldn’t listen to another warning about the curse, but she might be swayed by fashion advice. “They won’t match your dress. I’m sure of it.”
“So what?” Shirley glared at Ronni. “I want these shoes! And if they don’t match my dress, I’ll just buy another dress.”
“But, Shirl—”
“Cut it out, Ronni! I’m getting sick of this. Why don’t you just get lost?!”
Ronni turned away with tears in her eyes. They’d been friends for years, and Shirley had never been mean before. As she walked toward the exit, her head hung low, Ronni heard Shirley’s voice again. And what Shirley said made Ronni shiver in dread.
“Ring them up, and I’ll take them.” Shirley’s voice was high and excited.
“And don’t bother to put them in a box. I love these red shoes so much, I’m going to wear them home!”
The Dead Girl
One
The Denver airport was small compared to Heathrow or Zurich, and the customs inspection area was tiny and cramped. Euro-World Flight 503 had been scheduled to stop for customs at Kennedy in New York, but they had landed fifty minutes late. To save time, the passengers who were flying on to the West had been asked to stay on the plane and go through customs in Denver.
“Miss Forrester.” The inspector looked up at her with a frown on his face. “Are you here for business, or pleasure?”
Julie felt like saying yes and letting him guess which one she’d meant, but this wasn’t the time for joking around. She’d been through enough customs checks to know that an inspector wasn’t hired for his sense of humor. “I’m not sure how you’d classify it, sir. My parents died, and I came here to live with my aunt and uncle.”
“I see.” He stamped her passport, but he didn’t hand it back. “And you’re seventeen years old?”
Julie nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Forrester, but we’re not allowed to release minors until we’re sure that an adult is here to meet them. Are your relatives here?”
“Yes, they’re here.” Julie had a sudden inspiration, and she turned to wave to the group of strangers who were waiting outside. It wasn’t exactly a lie. Aunt Caroline and Uncle Bob were supposed be here . . . somewhere.
The customs official turned toward the window, and at that exact moment, an older couple waved at someone who was in line behind Julie. “I see them. All right, Miss Forrester. You can go. And welcome to Denver.”
“Thank you.” Julie picked up her carry-on and hurried through the door. It was a lucky break. She certainly hadn’t wanted to wait like a child until someone had come to claim her. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. She’d been on her own for four months now.
As she strode away from the customs area, Julie held her head high. She pretended that she didn’t mind that she’ll never see her parents again, pretended that she hadn’t been kicked out of Europe and shipped back to the States like some sort of undesirable alien, pretended that she loved the fact that her life had been turned upside down. She was playing the role of a supremely self-confident woman, the woman she hoped to become.
At least she looked the part. Julie let a smile cross her face. She’d worn her curly reddish-blond hair loose for the long plane ride. It was more comfortable that way. But right before they’d landed, she’d pulled it up in a twist and secured it snugly with the hammered silver barrette her father had sent her from India. She’d also changed out of her jeans and sweatshirt, and now she was wearing the smart black suit her mother had bought her in Paris during last year’s Christmas break. Julie cherished the memory of that Paris trip. It was the last time she’d seen her parents.
Julie’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she remembered the morning of her seventeenth birthday. Her parents had been scheduled to arrive that evening, and she hadn’t suspected that anything was wrong when the headmistress had called her into the office. Miss LaFond always presented each of her girls with a birthday present. It was a school tradition.
But when Julie opened the door to the office, there had been no birthday greeting, no gift-wrapped package on the desk. Miss LaFond had looked very grim as she’d asked Julie to sit down on the couch, instead of in the chair in front of her desk. Then she’d taken a place next to Julie, cleared her throat, and told her the horrible news. Her mother and father had been attending a company meeting in Beijing. They’d taken an early commercial flight, instead of waiting for the company plane, because they’d wanted to get back to Zurich for her birthday. But they hadn’t made it; their plane had gone down and there had been no survivors.
The time period immediately following Miss LaFond’s shocking announcement was still a complete blank. Julie didn’t remember what she’d said, or what she’d done, or how she’d acted, but somehow the minutes had ticked past on the old school clock hanging behind the desk. It had been ten o’clock in the morning when she’d entered Miss LaFond’s office. No one was ever late for an appointment with the headmistress. But when she’d looked at the clock again, it was twenty past ten and she’d been gathered in surprisingly gentle arms, her tears soaking Miss LaFond’s white silk blouse.
Someone gave a low whistle and Julie was brought back to the present with a jolt. She blinked back her tears and shook off the painful memory. She didn’t want to dwell on the past. That was then and this was now. She had to take each day as it came.
Julie turned toward the source of the whistle and saw three guys in college sweatshirts, grinning at her. She let a very small return smile play around the corners of her mouth, but she walked quickly past.
Although Julie had never been in Denver before, she was technically no stranger to America. She’d been born in Dallas, Texas, and she’d lived there for the first six months of her life before her parents had been transferred overseas. She’d traveled from country to country with her parents, attending the various American schools their company had established in foreign countries, and when she’d turned fourteen, she’d gone off to an exclusive Swiss boarding school. Julie had been happy there, although she’d seen her parents only on school vacations. And now her parents were gone; she’d never see them again.
Julie lifted her head and squared her shoulders. The time for grief was past. She’d finished the summer term at her boarding school, and supervised the packing and shipping of her parents’ possessions. Now, after almost seventeen years of living abroad, she was back in the States. She’d be living in Crest Ridge, Colorado, with Aunt Caroline, her mother’s twin sister. And after she’d completed her senior year of high school, she’d enroll at Vassar, her mother’s alma mater.
The thought of attending a coed high school made Julie smile. Of course she was a few weeks late; high school had been in session for almost a month, but she was a good student and she didn’t expect to have any trouble catching up with her studies.
The Swiss boarding school had been for girls only. There had been a boys’ boarding school five miles away, but the two schools had discouraged dating except at supervised social events. Miss LaFond’s girls had strict curfews and regulations. They were required to be in their rooms at ten P.M. on school days and by eleven on weekends. Julie had discovered several ingenious ways to sneak out of her room and back in again, much to the admiration of her classmates.
Julie’s eyes swept over the faces in the waiting area, but she didn’t spot Aunt Caroline. There was no way Julie could fail to recognize her, even though she hadn’t seen Aunt Caroline since she’d come to visit them in Tokyo over thirteen years ago. The reason was simple. Julie’s mother and Aunt Caroline had been identical twins, and they’d looked exactly alike. But there could be a big problem if Uncle Bob had come to meet her, alone. He hadn’t come along on the Tokyo visit, and Julie had never met him.
There had been an occasional family photograph, and Julie had studied them carefully before she’d packed her parents’ photo albums. The most recent had arrived two years ago, and it had shown Aunt Caroline, Uncle Bob, and Cousin Vicki, standing in front of the huge Christmas tree outside their lodge in the mountains. It had been a nice, clear shot, but the photographer had moved back to include the whole tree, and their faces had been tiny specks in the frame.
Julie sighed as she surveyed the crowd. She’d always dreamed of visiting her aunt and uncle’s lodge in the mountains, especially since Cousin Vicki had been her age. But now Cousin Vicki was dead, too, killed in a car accident last winter. It had been a year of tragedy for the whole family.
After the crowd had thinned, Julie walked to the airline counter and requested a page. Her aunt and uncle might have been delayed by traffic, or perhaps they’d gotten a late start. Julie wasn’t worried; she had enough money to tide her over, even if she had to stay at a nearb
y hotel for the night.
Paging the party meeting Euro-World Airlines’ passenger Julie Forrester—please pick up the red phone. The party meeting Miss Julie Forrester, pick up the red phone, please.
Julie laughed out loud as she heard the page. It was so garbled and full of static, she doubted that anyone could understand it. And the speaker’s accent was very thick. She’d ask the airline to try again, in ten minutes or so. Perhaps it would be clearer the second time.
“Sorry. No one’s answering.” The older man at the counter looked concerned. “Do you want me to try again a little later?”
“Yes, please. I’ll wait in the coffee shop.” Julie tried not to laugh. His accent was the same as the voice on the loudspeaker.
There was a seat at the counter in the coffee shop, and Julie stashed her carry-on at her feet. The rest of her baggage had been delayed, and the airline had promised to deliver it in the morning. She took the menu the waitress handed her and studied the specials.
“Can I take your order?” The waitress stood behind the counter, her pencil poised over her order pad.
“Yes, thank you.” Julie scanned the menu quickly for something familiar. “I’ll have coffee and . . . a Danish.”
The waitress placed a cup on the counter and poured Julie’s coffee. Then she went back to the kitchen and came back with the Danish. Julie cut off a piece with her fork, popped it into her mouth, and frowned. She’d expected to be served something similar to the Wienerbrod she’d eaten in Copenhagen, but this pastry wasn’t buttery or rich at all. It was what her mother had called a sweet roll, a thin piece of dough with a gob of jam in the center. She took a sip of coffee to wash it down, and her frown deepened. The coffee was also disappointing. It was weak and tasteless, more like colored water than the strong brew she’d grown to love.
