Wishing Pearl

by Nicole O'Dell

  The pot went around the circle a few more times until only a few nubs lay in the green metal ashtray. Olivia couldn’t tell if the haze filling the room had come from the smoke or if it was because of her own dizziness. She held her hand up in front of her face and giggled at her wiggling fingers. What was so funny? Olivia had no idea. Life was funny.

  The other girls joined in, cracking up at nothing until tears ran down their cheeks.

  Tara took several deep breaths and held her stomach. “Why are we laughing?”

  “I don’t know,” the other three girls replied in unison, which sent them into another fit.

  “I’m going to the bathroom. Nobody leave, okay?” Bailey slurred her words.

  “Where would we go?” Olivia giggled.

  “I dunno. I’m just saying.” Bailey turned toward the bathroom. “Hey!” She pointed her finger and flung a wobbly arm at Jordyn. “Do you have any mac ‘n’ cheese?”

  “Oh, I love macaroni and cheese.” Tara let out a belch, which started her on another round of laughter.

  “Oh yeah! That sounds so good.” Jordyn stumbled to the kitchenette and flung open all the cabinet doors. “Found some.” She held up two boxes of spiral Kraft and opened the refrigerator door.

  Emma located a pot under the stove and filled it with water.

  Jordyn stood in front of the open fridge for a full minute. “What am I looking for?”

  “Milk and butter for mac ‘n’ cheese?” Emma asked.

  “Oh, right.” Jordyn bit her lip. “I have yogurt.” She moved a few things around and pulled out a jar of powdered coffee creamer. “I know. We’ll mix this with water to make milk and use yogurt instead of butter.”

  Olivia finished her beer and rose to help, holding on to the countertop as she made her way. “That’ll probably be even better than the regular way. Maybe we can patent that recipe and get independently wealthy.”

  “Here, put some of this in there, too.” Bailey handed Jordyn a jar of bacon bits.

  “Ooh! Perfect.” Emma pinched a few bacon bits and placed them on her tongue.

  Thirty minutes later, after a big bowl of bacon-macaroni-yogurt-and-cheese and a couple of more beers, Olivia held her stomach and moaned. “I don’t feel so good.”

  “Now that you mention it, I’m not feeling too hot either.” Bailey zigzagged in the general direction of the bathroom.

  Olivia sank to the floor and crawled to the sofa. She climbed onto the cushions and dropped her head on a velvet throw pillow. “I’m just gonna lay here for a little bit. Save me some more of the good stuff.”

  Chapter 6

  Hot coffee breath tickled her cheek, but it hurt to even think about opening her eyes. She threw an arm over her head and moaned. So bright. Whoever was there didn’t seem to be planning to move anytime soon. If those girls were about to do something to her with cold water, she’d have to kill them.

  Okay. Open your eyes. You can do it. Olivia pried one eye open and found a man staring at her, just inches from her face.

  No!

  Oh wait, it wasn’t Charles. Then who? Olivia let her eyes rove a little farther down the man’s face. Uh-oh.

  “Nice of you to join the living, missy.” The policeman shook his head.

  Olivia searched for the girls and evidence of their party.

  Oh boy. Busted—big-time. Jordyn, Emma, and Bailey sat at the dinette with all their contraband piled in front of them. Tara was nowhere to be seen. Lucky girl—she must have left before the cops arrived. Olivia furrowed her eyebrows at Jordyn, who had her head on her arms.

  A thirtysomething man with a Santa Claus beer belly, wearing pajamas, nodded toward Jordyn. “No, Officer. I didn’t know they were here. But, like I said, she’s my daughter. If I’d known she and her friends were the ones hanging out in here, I wouldn’t have called the police.” He glared at Jordyn and shook his head. “I’m sorry for the trouble.”

  Jordyn peered up at her dad with puppy eyes. “I’m really sorry, Dad.”

  “Well, problem is we’re here now.” The officer leaned his mouth toward the radio on his shoulder and pressed the button. “We’ve got underage drinking. The use of a fake ID—she’s only nineteen, but that’s still an adult supplying minors with alcohol. Plus possession and the use of a controlled substance.” He lifted the ashtray and shifted it, exposing all three of the butts. He held it up to his buddy. “They smoked at least three. No wonder this one crashed out on the sofa.” He gestured to Olivia.

  Oh no. Olivia didn’t feel so great. Her stomach roiled at the sight and smell of the ashes, and her head felt like it might split in two. She swallowed a few times as her mouth started to water. “I … I … have to …” Olivia covered her mouth as her stomach heaved. She knocked over a chair in her rush to get to the bathroom, where she vomited into the toilet. She feared she’d never be able to breathe again as the spasms rocked her body.

  Her stomach empty, Olivia wiped her mouth with a wad of toilet paper and splashed cold water on her face. She stared into the mirror. What would happen now? What had she done? Would she go to jail? Had they called home already? Mom would be so disappointed. Charles would probably kill her. There was one sure way to find out for sure what was going on, but she didn’t want to go back out there. Ever.

  “Miss?” A light knock sounded at the door. “You’ve had plenty of time. Come on out.”

  Olivia creaked open the door and stepped across the swaying floor back into the kitchen. The cabin stood completely empty except for the police officer who had called her out from the bathroom. His name tag read OFFICER MARK STAPLETON. “Where are my friends?”

  “They’re in the squads. We’re ready to take you home now.” He held the door open and helped steady her by the elbow as she wobbled onto the gravel path.

  Olivia hung her head and followed him through the backyard and around the house to the waiting police car with its lights flashing. She slid into the backseat beside Bailey. “Where is everyone else?” Olivia whispered as the police officer stood outside the car speaking into his radio.

  “Tara took off around the back when the cops pulled up. They’re leaving Jordyn here with her dad. Emma got arrested and hauled off to jail.” Bailey’s voice caught, and her chin quivered.

  “What?” Olivia’s stomach sank. “Why her and not us?”

  Bailey rubbed her forehead. “Come on, Olivia. She’s nineteen, used a fake ID, bought liquor for minors, and smoked pot. What do you think?” She shook her head. “Look, I don’t want to talk right now, okay?”

  Olivia slid down in the seat and turned away from the window, hoping no one she knew would see her. The ride took forever, and yet no time at all. She felt every bump as she fought back waves of nausea and scrunched her eyes against a glaring headache. Oh, what she would give to have the chance to do this night over again.

  They approached Bailey’s house first. Her dad stood on the porch with his arms crossed on his chest. The cops must have called him already. Did that mean Mom and Charles had received a call, too? Olivia’s stomach convulsed. She swallowed and lifted her face to gulp fresh air as the door opened for Bailey to step out of the cruiser.

  Olivia watched Bailey shuffle up the sidewalk with her hands in her pockets and her head hung low. It reminded Olivia of the look on a prisoner’s face when he walked from his death-row cell to his final destination. Would Bailey even get a last meal? She couldn’t watch any longer and slid even farther down in her seat, avoiding the scene on the porch.

  After a few minutes, the policeman returned to the car and pulled out of the driveway without a word to Olivia. He turned in the direction of her house.

  My turn.

  “If no one answers the door, I’ll have to bring you with me to the police station.” Officer Stapleton rang the doorbell again. He turned his mouth toward the radio on his shoulder and pressed the button.

  Olivia shook her head in horror. “But … but I have the security code. I can just let myself in the house.”
Maybe Mom and Charles wouldn’t have to know after all.

  “I have to turn you over to your parents. I can’t just drop you here and leave.” He pressed the buzzer one more time. “Looks like you’ll have to come with me.” He stepped off the porch and motioned for Olivia to follow as he spoke into his radio.

  Oh no. Please! At that moment headlights shone on them like the spotlights that illuminated Olivia at the concert just hours before. If only she still sat in her seat with her oboe in hand, then none of this would be real. Olivia wanted to look away as the sleek BMW pulled up beside the squad car with its flashing police lights. She didn’t want to witness the expression on her mom’s face as she put the pieces together or the anger that would surely darken Charles’s face. But, like watching a train wreck, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t tear her eyes from the scene.

  Peering out the car window, Mom’s eyes roved up and down the length of Olivia’s body, checking for injury, no doubt. She glanced at the closed garage doors.

  Don’t worry, Mom, your precious car is safe and sound.

  She turned back to Olivia, her face a picture of defeat.

  Or was that fear?

  Charles’s red pockmarked face looked subhuman in his rage. Of course, he instantly assumed she’d done something wrong. In this case, he happened to be right. He was about to have the perfect opportunity to play self-righteous, indignant father. Or whatever role he chose.

  They climbed from the car. Mom hesitantly approached the officer, still gripping the carryout container holding the remains of her dinner.

  Standing with his feet apart and his hands on his hips, Charles thundered, “I demand to know what is going on here!”

  Officer Stapleton’s head jerked back in surprise at the outburst. He glared at Charles. “Sir, you need to calm down.”

  Charles glared back at the police officer and pointed one white-knuckled bony finger at his face. “I want some answers. Now.”

  I’m going to throw up. Olivia’s hands grew clammy, and her stomach burned and gurgled. Feeling woozy, she dropped down to the porch step so she wouldn’t vomit all over the policeman’s feet.

  With the back of her hand pressed against Olivia’s forehead, Mom sat beside her on the porch. “Was there an accident? Are you hurt?”

  “What are you thinking sitting down like that?” Charles stormed across the driveway to tower over Olivia. “Show some respect and stand up. What have you done?” Without waiting for a reply, he turned to the officer again. “I demand some answers. And Ginny—get away from that little twit until we get them.” He glared up at the dark sky, shaking his head in disgust. “Is she hurt, you ask. Stupid woman. She’s obviously drunk.”

  Stepping between Charles and Olivia, Officer Stapleton put his hand on his belt near the Taser. “Sir, you’re going to need to calm down immediately, or we’ll have to move this discussion to the station.”

  Charles closed his mouth and folded his arms across his chest, his eyes piercing the night with hate.

  Officer Stapleton nodded at Mom. “I’m sure she doesn’t feel well, ma’am. She’s had a lot to drink and some marijuana.”

  Mom gasped and covered her mouth. “Is that true?” She lifted Olivia’s chin and peered into her eyes. “What is going on with you? How could you do that?”

  “I don’t know.” Olivia put her head in her hands.

  “You don’t know?” Charles sputtered through clenched teeth as his face morphed into mottled blotches of red and white. His eyebrows rose to a peak in the middle like little horns.

  Olivia watched his ears turn beet red and expected smoke to billow from them at any moment. His hands clenched and unclenched several times, like he wanted to strangle something … her.

  “I’m through with you.” Charles looked from Olivia to the cop and back to Olivia with complete disgust before storming into the house. The door slammed violently, and the house seemed to shudder in fear.

  Olivia’s eyes pled with the police officer. Take me with you. She faced a rough night if she stayed in that house. As long as Mom stuck around, she might be okay. But once Mom went to bed … being arrested would be a much better option.

  “Ma’am, is everything going to be all right here?” He peered closer at Mom’s face. His eyes widened. “Don’t I know you from somewhere … um”—he checked his papers—”Mrs. Whitford?”

  Her hand still covering her mouth, Mom nodded. “You’re Mark Stapleton. We used to go to church together when I was still married to Olivia’s dad—before the accident.”

  “Oh wow. You’re Ginny Mansfield.” The officer grinned. “I haven’t seen you in ages. How are y–” His face darkened. “Oh, I’m sorry. I was surprised to see you and forgot what was happening here for a moment. How unprofessional.” He stuck his hand in his pocket and extended a business card to Olivia and one to her mom. “Please call me if you run into any trouble or need anything—either of you. My direct line is on there.”

  Mom took the card and stared at it blankly, her eyes dull and chalky. It didn’t look like things were computing for her. She opened her mouth and closed it several times. No words came.

  Officer Stapleton sighed. “You know”—he reached into the car and pulled out a pamphlet from under the visor—”I don’t normally do this, but in this case, I just can’t help myself. I hope it’s okay.” Officer Stapleton handed the glossy brochure to Mom.

  “Diamond Estates?” Mom turned the paper over and studied the back.

  How could that be? The old stone castle pictured on the front proved it was the exact same brochure Jodie had given Olivia earlier that day. Coincidence was one thing, but this seemed like some sort of cosmic conspiracy against her.

  “It’s a place where troubled girls can get real help in all areas of their lives—physical, mental, and spiritual. The director, Ben Bradley, and his wife, Alicia, are doing some amazing work there—even their son, Justin, pitches in. I’ve been out there to help twice. Building projects … stuff like that. Wonderful thing they’ve got going on.”

  “But … we don’t need … Olivia’s not troubled.” Mom shook her head, her eyes confused.

  He put his hand on his radio. “I’m not going to say any more. I could get into trouble for even bringing it up to you while I’m on the job. Just take a look at it. You know your situation far better than I do.” He gave one swift nod and got into his cruiser. The flashing lights stopped as the window rolled down. “You call me anytime, okay?”

  Olivia nodded but refused to look at her mom.

  He gave a soft smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling with kindness, then drove away with a wave.

  When the rumble of his motor and the beam from his headlights faded into nonexistence, Olivia stood trembling. Exposed. “Mom?”

  Mom’s head snapped back, and her eyes popped wide open. She shot a look up to Olivia’s bedroom window, her face dark with fear. “Olivia. I don’t want to talk about any of this right now. You need to go into the house. Go to your room and lock the door—stay out of sight for the rest of the night.”

  “But …” What was going on? Mom actually seemed scared. Had Charles hurt her, too? Could it be that she knew the truth? If so … how could …? No. Surely Mom would have done something to put an end to it if she’d known.

  “Just do as I say. Right now.” Mom pulled her gaze from the upstairs window and jerked her head toward the house. “Go.”

  Olivia scurried past her, through the front door, and up the stairs as though an unseen ghost was gaining on her. She could feel its evil presence all around her but had no idea where it hovered. She propelled her body toward her room with the force it would require to speed through quicksand and finally reached her doorway.

  She panted as she looked both ways down the hallway. Seeing no one, Olivia stepped inside her room and slipped the chain into the lock. Safe. Olivia slumped back against the door and gushed a big sigh of relief.

  A sinister taunt came from the direction of her bed. />
  “Running from someone?”

  Chapter 7

  Dread fell like a cloak over Olivia’s body. Like a robot, she inched herself around until she faced the right side of her room.

  There he sat, on the edge of her bed, with a lecherous grin on his face. His legs were crossed, and his hands were clasped around his knees. He’d seem relaxed to a stranger, but Olivia saw the white-knuckled grip Charles had on his leg and the twitch that pulled at his right eye and the corner of his mouth.

  Olivia reached behind her head and released the chain lock. Not that Mom would come—she never had before.

  “What do you think I’m going to do, beat you, girl? You think you’re worth my effort?” He snorted and pulled a half-empty bottle of amber liquid from behind his back. He lifted it to his lips and took several long gulps.

  A beating would be a welcome reprieve from his usual repertoire. It didn’t matter. Whatever he did to her, Olivia was done cowering in a corner. She’d stand up to him for once.

  Charles drained his bottle and threw it at the wall, where it shattered, raining millions of glass tears onto Olivia’s floor. He swiped his forearm across his upper lip and shook his head. “No. I don’t care anymore. I’ve given you everything I could think of. Everything your money-hungry mama could think to demand, that is. But I’ll never live up to the saintly image of your dearly departed father.”

  You’ve got that right, you psycho creep.

  “So I’ll tell you what. I’m going to leave you alone. In two years, you’ll never have to see me again. Who knows, maybe sooner if I shake my leg until your mom falls off. Which might be much sooner rather than later, since I saw her flirting with that pig outside.” He stumbled toward her and jabbed a crooked finger in her face. “Just stay out of my sight. I don’t want to hear a peep out of you or that ridiculous oboe ever again.” Charles teetered out of the room and down the hallway like a pinball bouncing off the walls.