CHAPTER 22
Caitlyn finds us in the morning, wrapped up under Lucas’s comforter. “Natalie! You spent the night! You could have slept with me!”
She jumps on the bed while Lucas rolls over and groans. “Want some breakfast?” she asks me.
“Nat’s going to make us scrambled eggs,” he mutters from under his pillow. I pinch his butt and he yelps.
“Would you like scrambled eggs?” I ask Caitlyn.
“No, I want the fairy cereal!” She takes off for the kitchen without us.
I really don’t know how to make scrambled eggs. Mom is the gourmet in our house. Next time I’ll remember to bring cupcakes with me.
Assuming there is a next time. I glance at Lucas, still hiding from the light of day. Is he having regrets? “Do you have to go to work today?” I ask him.
He lifts his hand to my hair, where there is still glitter. I’ve left glitter all over his pillows. “No, we don’t have to be anywhere until the show tonight.”
I press a kiss on his shoulder. I need to get home. And face whatever consequences are waiting for me. I throw my clothes back on before Caitlyn can come back.
* * *
Lucas and Caitlyn both drive me home after we all share a quick breakfast of cold pizza and cereal. He pulls his truck up in front of my house, behind the line of family cars parked out in the street. I take a deep breath. Maybe everyone is still asleep.
“Can you come back tonight?” Caitlyn asks from the seat between us.
I blush, but can’t help looking over at Lucas. He’s blushing too, and it makes my head feel floaty. “We’ll see,” I say, opening the car door.
Lucas reaches around behind his sister to give my curls a tug. “Need a ride to the theater tonight?”
“Raine said she could come and get me if David wasn’t willing.”
“Don’t be silly,” Lucas says. “We would be honored to pick up the Fairy Queen.”
“Then I’ll see you around six?” I ask, opening my door.
Lucas smiles at me, his hazel eyes blazing. “It’s a date.”
I feel like I’m floating as I walk up the steps to our front door and put my key in the lock. I turn to wave at Caitlyn and Lucas one last time and suddenly I can hear my parents yelling before I’ve even got the door open.
Crap. They are definitely awake. The floaty feeling evaporates and now my chest is heavy with dread as I go inside. The smell of burnt something hits me. Carrot cake? Spice cake? Oh no.
Mom is in the kitchen banging things around. Dad is standing in the hallway in his wrinkled green scrubs, rubbing his head. “I don’t know what else you want me to say.”
“I don’t want you to say anything.” Mom’s voice is quiet but deadly. Defeated.
“Elaine,” Dad says, sighing. He looks up and sees me. And sighs again. “Hey kiddo. Sorry about last night. How did it go?”
“It’s okay, I understand,” I say.
“She was magnificent,” Grandma says, coming down the stairs. She looks at me. “Did your brother get a new car? That wasn’t his old truck you got out of this morning.”
My stomach twists. I am so busted. I stare from her to Dad, trying to come up with an explanation before Mom comes out here, too, and they both start yelling at me.
But Mom is too angry to pay attention to Grandma. She yells from the kitchen, “Troy, did you just hear your daughter? She shouldn’t have to be understanding and forgiving when you miss important events in her life.”
Dad ignores me and Grandma and steps into the kitchen to answer Mom. “If you want me to feel like the world’s worst father, then congratulations. I already do. And the world’s worst husband. And the world’s worst son.”
My heart breaks for my dad. And for my mom. I hate that they are both so unhappy right now. I glare at Grandma and try to move past her toward the stairs.
Grandma smirks. “If David would just fix that damn car out there for you, you wouldn’t have to be getting rides from strange boys.”
I spin around. “Grandma, please.” My parents are still yelling in the kitchen and I’m exhausted from last night and now I’m terrified that she is going to say something that will get me grounded until I’m thirty. And probably make my parents yell even more. “He’s a good friend,” I whisper. “Please don’t say anything.”
She rolls her eyes. “Just promise me you’ll be careful?”
“I promise.” When she nods, I give her a quick thanks and run upstairs to my room. I flop down on my bed without bothering to change into my pajamas. I fall asleep almost immediately, with the muffled sounds of Mom and Dad still arguing downstairs.
* * *
I wake up before my alarm goes off, because Mom is sitting on my bed again. “Natalie?”
I sit up, shocked to see her looking calm. And maybe happy? “Are you okay?” I ask.
Her face relaxes into a smile. “I think your father and I just need to take some time for ourselves and get away. Ms. Susan next door has offered to stay here with Grandma tonight. We’re driving over to Hilton Head to stay for the night. Just the two of us.”
This is much better news than anything I was expecting to hear. “You deserve a break, Mom. And so does Dad. You need to have some fun.”
“David is going to be coming home with you after the play so he can keep an eye on Grandma, and so Ms. Susan can go home. Will you please not drive your brother crazy?”
“Do you promise he won’t drive me crazy?”
Mom leans over and kisses me on the cheek. “I love you.”
“Have a good trip,” I tell her, hugging her. I can’t wait to tell David the good news.
CHAPTER 23
And run through fire I will, for thy sweet sake,
—A Midsummer Night’s Dream, act 2, scene 2
I am useless tonight. All I can think of is Lucas. His scent, his touch, his kisses. How soon I can be back in his arms again. I’m going to ruin the show with a distracted, moony-eyed Titania. I’ve already stepped on my own costume twice, tearing the hem and causing Melinda to have kittens. The flowers for my hair are missing and now goth girl is threatening dreadlocks again. The fact that we really don’t have time for her to backcomb all of my hair is the only reason I manage to stay dread-free.
Starla offers to help put my hair up in a twist, but goth girl shoos her out of the dressing room. Starla comes back not ten minutes later with a tiara to replace the missing flowers.
“Every queen should have a crown,” she says, running her fingers through my hair.
It looks beautiful.
“So, are you ready to talk about what happened with you and Lucas last night?” She is smiling at me in the mirror, but it looks forced. She’s trying hard to accept that Lucas is moving on. And I hate that I’ve broken one of the sacred girl rules by falling in love with her ex.
“I’m so sorry,” I say.
She squeezes my bare shoulders. Hard. “Don’t be sorry. He deserves a nice girl like you. I’ve moved on too, you know. It was for the best.”
While I wonder if it’s Hunter she’s moved on with, I can’t help but ask, “Why did you and Lucas break up?”
“It’s complicated,” she says sadly. “I never felt like my love was enough for him.”
Raine snorts. “Because you didn’t only love him, Starla. You also loved Michael and Fer—”
Starla elbows Raine in the stomach as Mrs. Green sweeps into the dressing room.
From the corner of my eye, I see something dark scurry across the mirror. When I turn my head, it’s gone. It must have been my imagination. Mrs. Green is telling us how important tonight is for the fund-raiser.
I nod, worried about the dark thing in the mirror. There are no ghosts here.
I stare at the mirror and the dark shadow behind Mrs. Green’s reflection grows. I gasp.
“Darling, are you all right?” she asks.
I shudder. “Yes, ma’am.” Did I take my medicine yesterday? Or the day before? Oh no. I can’t re
member.
Her cell phone chimes. She gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze before answering. There is a minor crisis in the sound booth and she is needed up there immediately.
Raine crosses her arms. “You look nervous. Want something to drink? Just a little bit?”
I shake my head. Trying to avoid making a fool out of myself will be hard enough sober. “I’ll be fine once I get back into character.” Titania doesn’t have the same problems that Natalie has. Just a psychotic fairy husband who drugs her to get his way.
“I know a way to help you with that,” Starla says. She opens the closet and rummages through the hanging garments until she finds a long silk scarf. It’s a green paisley and I don’t think it goes with my costume at all.
“There was a famous actress in Russia who used this technique to help her focus.” She places the scarf over my head. “It helps to block everything else out of your mind. Close your eyes.”
Even though the scarf is light, it does make me feel cut off from everything.
“Sort of like a sensory deprivation chamber,” Raine says. “Huh.” She stares at Starla with her arms crossed.
“Exactly,” Starla says. “Take a deep breath, Natalie, and focus on Titania. We’ll leave you alone so you can concentrate.”
I don’t know if I want to be alone right now, but I thank them anyway. I close my eyes. I can’t take a deep breath because the scarf smells like moth balls and gives me a headache. I am not thinking about Titania. I am thinking about being able to breathe.
I pull the scarf off my head, but Starla has turned the light off too, and with no window in the room, it’s pitch black. I stumble toward the wall, feeling for the light switch.
I find the doorknob before I find the light, but it won’t turn.
This is stupid. The dressing room should lock from inside, but I can’t get it to open. The lock on the door knob spins uselessly when I turn it.
There’s a noise above me, coming from the air conditioner vent. The ancient air conditioner turns on, I believe, but the noise begins to sound like a low voice. Moaning.
“Stop it!” I scream.
The doorknob behind me begins to shake. Someone is out in the hall.
I beat against the door with the palm of my hand. “It’s stuck! I can’t get out!”
The doorknob stops. It grows silent in the hallway.
I try opening the door again, but it’s still locked.
I’m worried about the time, but I have no idea where my phone is. My purse was on the dressing table, so I stumble across the room, hoping I’m headed in the right direction.
I hold my skirt up so I don’t trip, but bang my knee against a chair.
“Dammit!” I scream. I feel for my purse and accidentally knock it off the counter in my clumsiness. I drop down to the floor, my hands outstretched until I feel the familiar leather strap. Or is it a strap? I drop it, certain it just hissed at me.
The room is silent again, except for my hard breathing. What is wrong with me? Even in the darkness, I know there’s nothing dangerous in this dressing room. But knowing and believing are two different things.
I reach out for my purse again, tentatively. Yes, I’m certain it’s my purse, and I rummage through it searching for my phone.
I have no idea what time it is, or how long until the curtain goes up. I’m sure I need to hurry. That someone is going to notice me missing any time now.
I can’t find my phone. I am trying not to panic.
Why would Starla do this? Did she lock me in here on purpose? What did she tell her aunt?
Will Lucas come looking for me?
I turn my purse over, shaking it until everything is out on the floor in front of me. I run my hand back and forth, searching. My phone has got to be here.
But it’s not. I’ve become more angry now than scared. I stand up again and try to find the light switch. I misjudge the distance and stub my toe on the wall. I’m going to look like I’ve been beaten up by the time I make it on to the stage.
I find the light switch, finally. The dressing room is flooded in fluorescent light and I blink. Then I scream. On the mirror, in dripping red letters, are the words “Crazy Bitch.”
I slide down the closed door, trying to take deep breaths. I’m not crazy. I’m not crazy.
I can’t help the sob that comes out of my chest.
“Natalie?” It’s Lucas calling from the hallway. “Mrs. Green is looking for you!”
I turn around and beat on the door. “I’m stuck! The door won’t open!”
Crazy Bitch.
No. I’m not crazy!
“Nat?” Lucas’s voice is closer now. “What do you mean you’re stuck? The lock is on the inside.”
“I think it’s broken. It won’t unlock.”
He jiggles the doorknob, to test for himself. “All right, I’ll be back with someone to help. Are you okay?”
I stare at the words on the mirror once more. Crazy Bitch.
“Yes,” I lie.
I’m mad at myself for screaming, but I’m shaking all over. That can’t be blood. It has to be paint. Or . . . I make myself go closer to investigate . . . food coloring?
What the hell?
Giggling behind me makes me shriek again. The noise is coming from the closet.
I’m shaking I’m so angry and so frightened. What is happening? This is no ghost. I don’t think it’s a hallucination, either.
My heart is pounding so hard I think I’m going to throw up. I hear the giggling again and I take a step toward the closet. Am I hearing things? It doesn’t sound very ghostly. In fact, I think I recognize that voice.
I tear the closet door open.
Starla falls out, laughing so hard she is clutching her stomach. “Oh my God! You should see your face! This is too funny!”
“Starla?” I stare at her, feeling cold and hot at the same time. “What are you doing?”
She picks herself up, straightening out her gown. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You locked me in here.”
“Why would I do that?”
A light in the back of the closet draws my attention. It’s coming from an open door at the opposite end, leading into the bathroom. How did I not notice before the rooms were connected by the extra-large wardrobe closet?
“You wrote that on the mirror,” I say, pointing to the red mess that isn’t legible anymore. “And the handprints the other day in the bathroom.”
Starla looks at me with pity in her eyes. “Nat. It’s okay. You can trust me.”
I realized she’d been hiding in the closet that day, too. “How did you make the fake blood?”
She smiles smugly. “It pays to have friends in the makeup department at SCAD. They know just how to whip up a batch of fake blood and which makeup remover wipes are scent free and leave no streaks on a mirror.”
“Let me out of here,” I say, backing toward the door. “Show me how to fix the door.”
“I really don’t know what you’re rambling about, Natalie.”
“Why are you trying to make me think I’m losing my mind?”
“There you go, rambling again.” Starla takes a step toward me. “You’re starting to worry me.”
“Natalie?” Lucas’s voice makes me relax a little. “Still doing okay?”
“I’m fi—”
“Lucas! Natalie’s going to hurt me!” Starla screams. “She locked me in here with her!”
I stare at my friend in shock. My blood runs cold. She’s not my friend anymore. And she probably never was. “I don’t feel safe in here,” Starla says, her eyes glittering with hatred.
“Why would you say that?” I ask. “You’ve been doing this all along. There was no ghost. It was you. I thought I was seeing things. Hearing things. And it was you all along.”
My throat feels heavy. My eyes sting, but I’ll be damned if she’ll see me cry. “Why would you do this?”
She grabs my hands and swings me away from the d
oor. I’m too startled to scream. “Lucas was mine until you moved to town,” she hisses.
“But you broke up with him. You didn’t want him anymore.”
“That doesn’t matter.” Her fingernails tear at the skin on my wrists. She raises her voice. “Lucas, she’s trying to hurt herself. I’m afraid she’s going to hurt me next.”
“Natalie? What’s going on in there?” Lucas is beating on the door.
How can I defend myself against Starla?
“I know all about your craziness, psycho. It’s been so funny watching you try to hide it all summer.”
“You knew?” My head is reeling. I don’t know why she’s attacking me and have no clue how to defend myself.
“Natalie?” Mrs. Green is now outside the dressing room with Lucas. “Please open this door right now.”
“It’s stuck!” I shout. “Starla did something to the lock.”
“She’s lying, Aunt Carol!” Starla is glaring at me. “I saw you last spring when I went to visit Lucas at that horrible place,” she hisses. “I recognized you when you first showed up at the Pirate House.”
“O . . . kay, why are you telling me this now? Why would you keep it a secret for so long? And why, for the love of Shakespeare and all that is holy, would you wait until right now to attack me?”
There is an awful noise on the other side of the door. I don’t know if they’re trying to kick it down or dismantle it. The screws for the doorknob are on this side. The hinges are on this side.
Starla shrugs. “Why do crazy people do the things they do, Natalie? I can’t even begin to guess how your weird little mind works.”
“Starla, open the door before they break it down.”
“I didn’t do anything. What did you do to that door, Natalie?”
The door shudders. I hear Mrs. Green and Lucas yelling, but I can’t understand what they’re saying anymore. I don’t understand any of this. Starla has been messing with my head all this time. She wanted me to think I was psychotic. My legs give out from under me and I find myself sitting on the floor.
The door bursts open and Starla throws herself down on the floor, too. “She hit me!” she wails. “Oh God, Natalie! I thought we were friends!”