“Megan,” Miss Patty says with a hint of a Southern drawl as she extends a well-manicured hand with rings on each finger. “It is such a pleasure to meet you! I’m Miss Patty, your enchanted team leader, and it’s my job to get you ready for your enchanted summer!”
“Nice to meet you,” I say, trying not to stare. High, pointed arcs have been drawn on her forehead way above where her eyebrows should’ve been, and one of her false eyelashes is crooked. Her face has a brown leathery look to it—like she’s spent way too much time in tanning booths—and her curly blond hair extensions don’t match the rest of her overly processed, thinning hair.
Miss Patty points to a pink polka-dotted chair and I sit. I look up at the boar’s yellowed tusks and ratty fur and can’t understand why this woman, who’s obviously very concerned with her appearance and the color pink, would have something so totally gross in her office.
“Here’s our introduction packet. It has the W-2’s and emergency contact forms you’ll need to fill out, plus general park information, shift times, and a training schedule. Do you know CPR?”
I nod, picturing myself performing CPR in the Snow White costume, and wonder if it’s too late to run screaming from her office.
“Excellent!” She opens a folder and scribbles something on the paper inside. She looks up at me and flutters her thick eyelashes. “Oh, I would kill for a complexion like yours!”
I hear the door behind me open and turn to see a girl about my age with a thick white-blond ponytail and ice blue eyes. “Patty, Daddy said you had some things for me to file,” she says.
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 step mother,” 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.” Ari 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 labeled 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 o
ut 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 dress 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.
About the Author
AMANDA MARRONE is the author of Uninvited, Revealers, Devoured, and Slayed for teens, and the Magic Repair Shop series for younger readers. She grew up on Long Island, where she spent her time reading, drawing, watching insects, and suffering from an overactive imagination. She earned a BA in education at SUNY Cortland and taught fifth and sixth grades in New Hampshire. She now lives in Connecticut with her husband, Joe, and their two kids. You can read more about Amanda Marrone’s work at www.amandamarrone.com.
The Cursed Ones have made their presence known, and the world will never be safe again.…
From the New York Times bestselling authors of the Wicked series
NANCY HOLDER AND DEBBIE VIGUIÉ
COMING FALL 2010
From Simon Pulse
Published by Simon and Schuster
From the New York Times bestselling author of Thirst No. 1
REMEMBER ME
Christopher Pike
Her death will not go unpunished….
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
New York City
Interview with Kiki Crusher for Jennifer-Kate Magazine
Devoured Teaser
About the Author
Slayed Page 17
