Day 14: A Promotion and a Decision

Geez, I've been working so much, this is the first chance I've had to get back to my diary for awhile. I've been keeping so busy with work that the only thing I've really had to do in my sparse free-time is exercise and sleep.

Things are going really well at work. In fact, yesterday afternoon, Joanie called me into her office where she told me she's officially promoted me to Automated Spell-Checker Checker. “Since you already do a better job of catching our mistakes than the computer software, anyway!” she explained. I rolled my eyes at that, but thanked her, and when I announced it to my coworkers, one of them, Doreen, cheerfully suggested a girls' night out.

They took me to a local tavern, Varg's, where we danced and had drinks. Doreen invited her daughter, Serena. They look nothing alike, and I didn't make the relative connection at first because Serena is apparently married and has her husband, Rick's, last name.

Anyway, we had our fun last night, and I came home and passed out pretty early. I guess I must just be feeling optimistic from my promotion and the new friends and everything, because I've made a decision: I'm going to write my book. I've been waffling back and forth about it for several years now, and I've finally decided to just do it. In fact, I sat down and wrote the introductory chapter today, and I already know what I'm going to call it: Unnaturals Among Us: A Study of Contemporary Unsolved Cases and their Paranormal Possibilities. I have a lot of research saved up from when I was working at the Revealer on several different cases, but I think for this one I'm going to focus mainly on the vampiric deaths, since that's the majority of the evidence I collected while living in Bridgeport. Anyway, I'm getting excited about writing it, now, so I'll wrap this up and get to it.

Day 3: Questions

My first day at the Daily was mind-numbingly simple, but it was good to be back to being productive again. 

I distributed the orders to various addresses in the morning, then spell-checked a few things in the afternoon. I caught where one of the other girls had misspelled the mayor's name in a story about a recent community festival, and when I brought it to Joanie, she seemed impressed that I had caught it after only having learned his name this morning on my route. I sense a promotion on the horizon!

After work, I felt the urge to exercise again, but the sky looked like it might rain, so I decided to try out the local gym, Bell's Barbell House.

It wasn't exactly state-of-the-art, but my old apartment building back in Bridgeport had a really nice workout center, so I'm sure I was spoiled. Anyway, it had treadmills, which was really all I needed. I warmed up on low for a few minutes then turned it up and ran for awhile, watching the close-captioned news. I didn't notice anyone else until I heard a woman's voice exclaim behind me. An elderly woman had tripped on the treadmill. I hit pause and immediately jumped off to go help her, casting a glare at the inattentive desk clerk who was bobbing his head to the beat of the music on his iPod and paying no attention to anything beside his magazine.

Having ascertained that the woman was alright and didn't need further assistance, I introduced myself. She smiled and shook my hand. “Flora Goodfellow,” she told me. Apparently she lives with her son, daughter-in-law, and granddaughter here in town. I told her I had just moved to Dorsey from Bridgeport, and she welcomed me warmly. “You'll like it here, it's beautiful.”

That's when I noticed her wings. I guess I just hadn't been standing at the right angle, because they were pretty thin and diaphonous, easy to miss. Anyone else would've just thought they were seeing things. I leaned in and whispered, “Um, excuse me, but... what are you?”

“What do you mean?” she asked me, wide-eyed.

“You have wings,” I pointed out.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

I frowned. “What do you mean you don't know? They're right there behind you!” Flora got very tense suddenly and she almost looked frightened, so I attempted to reassure her. “Don't worry, I'm not trying to hurt you or anything, I was just curious.”

She looked around the mostly empty gym, then stepped closer. “You... you can see them?” I nodded, and she frowned. “Well, that's odd.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Well, most mortals can't see them,” she said.

“Mortals?” I echoed, getting excited. “What are you?”

She studied me for a moment, then sighed. “Well, you did me a good turn, young lady, so I'll trust you. But beware the wrath of me and my kin if you betray that trust!” She gave me a glare so ferocious that I thought for a moment I might spontaneously combust from the effort of meeting it. But then a brilliant smile lit up her wrinkled old face, and she leaned over to whisper in my ear. “I'm a fairy.”

I gave her a skeptical look, and she sighed again, shaking her white head. “I knew you wouldn't believe me. Here,” she said, and took something out of her pocket. Holding it out to me, she instructed me to cup my hands, and she released a stream of fine yellow dust into my hands.

“What is it?” I asked, poking a finger into the tiny pile in my palm. My finger left an indent and came away coated with the shimmery powder.

“Fairy dust,” Flora said, in an isn't-it-obvious tone. “Be careful with it, though, a little goes a long way. And that's precious stuff! Don't waste it!” Then a car horn honked outside, and the guy at the desk took one earbud out and looked toward us. “Your ride's here, Miss Flora,” he called, replacing his earbud. Flora started. “That'll be my daughter-in-law. I have to go, dear. It was nice meeting you, Sofia. And remember,”-- there was that icy glare again-- “this is our little secret!” With that, she was out the door, and gone before I could collect my things and come looking for her.

When I got home, I put the dust Flora had given me in a little glass jar I found in one of the cabinets, and inspected it. I knew it wasn't cocaine or anything like that. I had run into that enough times covering stories back in Bridgeport to be able to identify it easily: crackheads see some pretty loony things when they're high. This stuff was different, more like gold powder used by artists. It didn't look like anything particularly special. Finally, I put it away, laughing at myself. Here I am, in a new town, and the first person I meet who isn't a coworker is a crazy old lady who thinks she's a fairy. But then I thought about those wings again. They had looked real... they even moved. Was it possible? Could she actually be a fairy? Or were those just some really impressive high tech fakes, maybe her son's way of playing into his mother's aging delusions. But then what kind of son would do that to his elderly mother?

I don't know. I have more questions than answers at this point. I'll have to figure out where the Goodfellows live and see if I can pay Miss Flora a visit. Perhaps her daughter-in-law can clear things up for me. We'll see.

Day 2: Acclimating

I had an interview this morning for a job as a paper girl at the local newspaper, the Dorsey Daily. I'm a little annoyed that I have to start over at the bottom of the totem pole when I was second only to the editor-in-chief back in Bridgeport, but at least I got the job. My boss is a woman named Joanie MacDuff, and most of my coworkers are women too, so work promises to be a fun little estrogen-fest.

After my interview, I went for a walk around the north end of town. I found an interesting old barn in a misty field.

The place felt rife with mystery. I could practically feel eyes watching me from the boarded up windows. There was even a water well up on the roof. I'll have to remember to ask Joanie if she knows anything about that. It's kind of an odd design decision. I wonder if it links back to any of the town's origins? Maybe the early settlers here had superstitions regarding the storage of their water, or they didn't want it to be contaminated by ground-dwelling creatures. Hmm...

Anyway, while I was exploring I happened into Gypsy's Landing Park along the river, and discovered the fortune-teller's caravan. I was excited: psychics may not always be genuinely talented in and of themselves, but they do tend to have an “in” on the supernatural and otherworldly occurrences in the vicinity, and often make great sources for leads. So I figured I'd go give this one a try.

Total waste of money! After spending over 100 simoleans, I walked away with nothing more useful than advice “not to ask a ghost for healthy living tips.” The man who read my palm was a total charlatan, and probably not even a real gypsy. He looked more homegrown Anglo-German descent than Romani, despite his costume, which even under dim lighting was obviously bought at a store during Halloween. So much for that lead! I guess if this town is hiding supernaturals, I'll have to find them on my own.

After my laughable fortune-telling, I decided to jog home, since my funds are getting tight and I really can't afford any more cabs. What with packing and the move, I haven't had time to fit in a good jog for almost a week, so it was nice to stretch my legs and get some fresh air moving through my lungs.

That is one definite advantage to this little town: less pollution. The mountain air is refreshing and clean, and even a little crisp for May. Must be the altitude.

On my way back to my little redneck paradise, my cell rang, but I was enjoying the exercise so much I didn't bother answering it. I checked it when I got home, though. It was my Aunt Maria. She and Uncle Saul were just wondering how I was settling in. I called her back, of course, and entertained her with descriptions of the tiny little backwoods town I had discovered. She didn't say as much, but I could tell she was worried about me. She and Uncle Saul are always so anxious when it comes to me. I swear, it's like every time they look at me they still see the quiet, shy, traumatized ten year old I was when I first came to live with them. I'm not that girl anymore. I mean, sure, I still think about mom and dad. I even cry for them sometimes, late at night when I've had the dream again, and I wake up with that awful face in my mind and the smell of phantom smoke lingering in my nostrils. But I'm hardly the breakable china doll Aunt Maria takes me to be. I'm a grown woman, almost thirty years old, with a career (or the shredded remains of one, anyway) and goals of my own.

Of course, my goals are probably part of the reason she worries about me. She and Uncle Saul are staunch Catholics, and resolutely refuse to admit the possibility of the existence of anything supernatural. That used to be a real point of contention between us when I was a teen, especially that time when I got in an argument with Father David after mass. My cousins used to tease me incessantly: Spooky Sofi, they called me. That only bothered me until I saw my first episode of X-Files. Then I considered it a compliment. Like Fox Mulder, “I want to believe”.

And further, I'm determined to find proof and share it with the world. I know there are others out there, other like me, frightened children and jaded adults who have seen the creatures that go bump in the night and who are teased mercilessly by others until they doubt what they know to be true: that supernaturals exist, and that there are some things science cannot explain, or hasn't explained yet, and that those things prey on us, on our blind ignorance and innocence. I know they're out there. I've seen them, at least once, and I won't rest until I've proved it to all the well-meaning but ignorant people like my aunt and uncle out there who refuse to believe in anything they can't see and touch.

Day One: Arrival in Dorsey

Well, here I am. The cab driver made pretty good time from the airport, so it was still late morning when he dropped me off.

I'm a little drowsy from my overnight flight, but happy to be here. Well, I was, anyway, until I saw the house. Geez, what a crappy rental! This place is basically a trailer. Gotta love the green astroturf. The inside looks like it was decorated in the eighties and then flash-frozen to preserve everything. The bedroom is complete with faux wood paneling, and everything smells like patchouli, so I can only imagine that the lady who rented this place to me has a deadbeat grandson who likes to hang out here with his friends and hasn't caught gotten the memo that certain scents are commonly associated with potheads.

This place is so retro, it even has little pink plastic flamingos out front. I couldn't help myself. I was so annoyed when I arrived that I kicked one over.

I decided to leave it like that-- it adds a touch of pained irony to the place. And of course, no sooner did I put my clothes away than I looked out the window and saw this:

So on top of bad decorating and the odor, it comes with it's own pest problem too. If I see a roach, I am calling that woman and demanding my money back. First priority after I get a job: find a new place! I have a little saved up, but not much. The move ate up most of it.

Damn, I'm still seething from that. That self-righteous dirtbag, Carter! How dare he fire me? I was his best writer on that paper, hands down! He's told me as much himself, several times! I uncovered the story about that string of dead prostitutes killed in Bridgeport with bite-marks on their necks. I even revealed Matthew Hamming's secret donations toward immortality research! And after all that, when I refuse to make up news on a slow newsweek, he up and fires me? Me?! I don't care if it the Revealer IS a supermarket tabloid, I still have standards. I don't mind digging up a story, but I refuse to make one up! Bastard! Guess this is what a reporter gets for having standards. But there are enough weird things going on out there in the world without making up lies to put on the headlines! Things like my parents' death...

Take this town for instance: of all the sleepy little hamlets in the country, this one keeps popping up every time I investigate strange or unusual cases involving supernatural phenomena. Plus, Dorsey has the highest rate of mortality due to “natural” causes of any town with a similar population in the country. Add in the fact that there have been multiple UFO, ghost, and Bigfoot sightings in the area, and there's even a “vampire” hangout, and you've got a hotspot of supernatural mysteries just waiting to be revealed. And I swear, when I write the expose that proves the existence of supernaturals to the world, I am going to relish the opportunity to rub Carter's smug face in it.

Well, I guess I should get some sleep. This town is hiding secrets like nobody's business, and starting tomorrow, I'm going to figure them out. Ugh! If I can get any sleep with all this racket. Damn raccoons!

Chapter XIII: Crime and Punishment

(Note: Sorry, pics are acting up again. I could only use some of the ones I uploaded, so they don't start until late in the chapter, and some of them are clearly with the twins from a younger age than they were in the wedding pics. Please bear with me, hopefully this will be the last of the technical difficulties.)

“Suspended! Lilah Hemlock, what is the matter with you?!”

Mom's obviously furious, and I don't say anything. It doesn't matter what I say anyway. Even if I told her the truth, that that idiot Bobby McGee started the whole thing and I only got in a fight with him because he kept calling me a “Psycho-dyko” and shoving me into lockers, she would only call me a liar. Besides she doesn't even know I'm gay, and I don't need to give her one more reason to freak out right now.

Psycho-dyko... I snort. It's not even a creative insult. At least I have the satisfaction of knowing my left hook knocked the smug grin off that troglodyte jock's face.

“Suspended!” she shouts again, and one of the triplets, strapped into their car seats in the back of the car, starts to cry.

“Shhhh, it's okay Izzy,” Mom soothes her, shooting me an accusatory look.

“What? You're the one shouting!” I say defensively, and that just earns me another aggravated sigh.

“Lilah, what am I supposed to do with you? Your grades are in the toilet, you're moody and rude every chance you get, you pick mercilessly on your little brothers, and now you've just been suspended from school for getting in fights!”

“A fight,” I mutter.

“Excuse me?”

“A fight, Mom. It was only one.”

“Whatever! I don't care if it was a million. Your behavior is unacceptable! And on top of it I had to come all the way down to your school and pick you up with all three babies. I am calling your father as soon as we get home, and we are going to sit down and have a serious talk. Something needs to change, Lilah. I have had enough of this.”

I roll my eyes and say nothing, staring out the window as we drive toward home. I can only imagine my punishment will be more of the same: extra chores, helping around the house, grounding, etc. Nothing new there. I sigh. My life sucks.

* * *

My hands were still shaking as I dialed Xander's cell number. As soon as we got home, I made Lilah help me put the triplets down for their nap, and then I sent her to her room. Now, as I listened to my phone ringing, I could hear her in there muttering to herself as she so often did. Normally that behavior worried me, but right now all I could feel was anger. How could she do this?! What had happened to my good little girl in her onesie that had transformed her into this teenaged monster?

“Hey, babe.” Xander sounded out of breath, probably just having come in off the playing field at practice.

“Xander, I need you come home early.”

“Okay. What's wrong?”

“Lilah was suspended from school.”

“Suspended? What did she do?”

“I guess she she got in a fight with one of the boys in her class. Anyway, I had to pack the triplets and drive down and pick her up and bring her home. She's not allowed back at school for a full week, and I just don't know what to do with her.”

“I hope she knows she's grounded,” he said imperiously.

“You know, Xander, I don't think grounding is gonna do it in this situation. That's why I need you to come home. We need to talk about some more serious consequences this time.”

“What did you have in mind?” he asked.

I sighed. “I don't know. But something. She needs to learn that she can't just get away with whatever she wants. She needs to grow up!”

Xander was silent for a moment, and I thought I heard one of the triplets cry out. But then everything was quiet.

“Okay, babe, I think I have an idea. But I gotta go right now. Coach wants us to have a meeting and then I'm gonna come home and we'll talk. Okay?”

“Okay,” I replied, sullenly.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He hung up, and I went to knock on Lilah's door. Her murmuring voice went silent as I approached. “Lilah?” I asked, opening the door.

“What?” she groaned irritably, paintbrush in hand as she stood at her easel. She was painting another picture of a woman, and the thought briefly struck me that she never seemed to paint men. Odd. “You're father's on his way home. We're going to have a family meeting when he gets here.”

“Okay,” she said, rolling her eyes and turning back to her easel. I sighed and closed the door, willing my husband to get home as soon as possible.

* * *

Mom was serious about the talk. As soon as Dad got home, he sent the twins-- whom he had picked up from school on his way-- to their room and he and mom and I sat down in the living room. Now they're both looking at me with that condescending you're-in-big-trouble-young-lady look I know so well.

“Here's the deal, Lilah,” Dad says. “You need to grow up and learn a little responsibility. Your mom and I both agree that you get away with far too much, and you've never really had to deal with the consequences of your actions. So I have an idea, and I'm going to give you a choice.” I raise an eyebrow, only mildly interested.

“Moriah, this was going to be a surprise, but I won a free cruise in a raffle at work. I was going to take you for our anniversary, but I think this is better timing. I know you've been completely frazzled around here, juggling all the kids and now with this, so I want to take you away for a week and let you relax.”

Mom gives Dad a doubtful look, and stammers, “But, what about the kids--?”

Dad smiles. “That's where Lilah comes in.”

I don't follow, and I echo Mom's doubtful look. “Excuse me?”

“One of your biggest issues, young lady, is disrespecting your mother. She works hard to take care of you guys and make sure you have a good life, and yet you are rude and disrespectful to her every chance you get. I think its time you learned a little of what it's like to be her.”

“Xander, I don't--”

“Trust me, Moriah, I have this all planned out.” He turns back to me, all businesslike. “Here is your choice: you will spend the entire week that we are gone and while you are suspended taking care of the house and your siblings. You will cook, clean, change diapers, and make sure the twins get on and off the schoolbus on time. You will not leave the house unless there is an emergency, and you will call us every night to check in.”

“But, Dad--”

“I will have Dorie Hart come check on you a couple times during the week, and if the house is dirty or your siblings are not well-taken care of, she will let us know immediately, and you will be punished when we get home.”

“Punished how?” I ask, crossing my arms. I can't imagine a punishment worse than the one he's already giving me. A week playing Susie Homemaker? Ugh!

“Military school.”

Both mom and I do a double-take, staring at him wide-eyed. “Military school?” I echo in complete disbelief. Dad nods, confidently.

“This is your last chance, Lilah. If you can't be whipped into shape by a week in your mother's shoes, then your only choice is to spend your last year and a half of high school in military school. It's up to you.”

“Xander, can I speak with you, please?” Mom hisses, and they stand up and walk into the kitchen, where mom begins whispering frantically to him. I just sit, stunned.

Military school...

On the one hand, I think maybe it would be nice to get away from the school full of morons I'm currently imprisoned at, and especially to be free of Bobby McGee and his goons. But... I'm no fool. I've heard about the military and their less-than-friendly stance toward homosexuals. And I'm sure they start 'em young at places like that. I can hold my own against a single jock, but I wouldn't stand a chance at a place like that, where probably all the kids were trained in hand-to-hand combat since they were three or whatever. I'd be dead meat before I even hit first period. I shudder.

Dad's calmed mom down somewhat, and they both come back and sit. She keeps looking at him uncertainly, but I guess he must have convinced her, because looks pointedly at me. “So, Lilah, what's it gonna be?”

* * *

I watched my daughter's face anxiously, halfway hoping she'd just choose military school. But as if sensing my thoughts, she only considered a moment before slumping her shoulders and agreeing to Xander's terms. “Fine, I'll watch the brats,” she said in a monotone voice, and I felt my blood pressure spike.

By the next morning, Xander had booked our cruise and our bags were packed. I had called Dorie to explain the situation and she assured me she would be happy to be our eyes and ears while we were gone. “Don't worry about a thing, Moriah,” she said. “I think Xander has the right idea here. Hopefully this will really open Lilah's eyes and teach her to appreciate everything you do. And I'll make sure and mix it up so she doesn't know when I'm coming, and you get a really good idea of how things are going.”

I thanked Dorie and hung up, feeling only a little better about leaving Lilah in charge. Sunday came, and the taxi pulled up to the curb and honked. “Come on, Moriah, sparkling white beaches and crystal clear waters are calling!” Xander called, taking our bags out to the cab.

I kissed each of my children goodbye and bade them be good for their sister. Timo bristled a little. He was a teenager himself and felt it unjust that Lilah should be left in charge of him, but Mattei hugged me and assured me that he and his brother would make sure everything was fine until I got home. Then I came to Lilah.

“Mom,” she said in a businesslike manner.

“Lilah, honey,” I said, nervous. “Please, just make this work, okay? I know you can do this. I'm trusting you. And don't be afraid to ask for help if you get overwhelmed. Dorie's number is on the fridge.”

“Mom, I'll be fine,” she growled. “Just go.”

I hugged her, and she stood stiffly, waiting for me to let go. Finally, I walked out to join Xander in the cab. He waved to the kids and shouted his goodbye, then got in beside me. As we pulled away from the house, I tried not to worry so much. Xander took my hand. “It's gonna be okay,” he assured me. “Lilah's gonna step up, I know it. And Dorie will make sure she does. Come on, beautiful, just think: in a few hours we'll be on our way to the tropics with a drink in our hands and nothing to worry about but a week of relaxing.” I smiled at him and tried to stop worrying. Maybe he was right, maybe it would all be okay.

* * *

I watch my parents leave for their cruise with a sinking feeling in my stomach, but I swallow my fear, and as their cab disappears around the corner, I turn to the others. “Okay, guys, it's naptime for the triplets. Timo, Mattei, help me get them all upstairs.”

Timo crosses his arms and lifts an eyebrow, and Mattei peeks at me over his twin's shoulder and mouths the word “please”.

“Uh, please?” I add, and Timo rolls his eyes, crouching to lift Isabella.

“Thanks,” I say, and pick up Illian. Mattei gets Inigo, and we head upstairs. Here we go, I think.

Surprisingly, the week went more smoothly than expected. The cooking was a breeze. I stuck mostly to making autumn salad for the boys and myself, and the triplets were still on milk and cereal, so that wasn't too hard.

Juggling the triplets was pretty difficult at first, and it never got easy, but as I sent more time with them, I started to learn their individual patterns, which made it easier to anticipate their needs.

The housecleaning was a pain, especially since the boys didn't really help much. I definitely started to realize just how busy mom was during the day while we were all at school. I'd always thought she just sat around watching TV, but between caring for the triplets and cleaning up after the boys and myself, I barely had an hour to sti down before the twins were back from school and it was time to make dinner and start on homework. Mattei did help in the evenings occassionally, and I even managed to get some of my own backlogged homework done with Timo one night.

Toward the end of the week, I was starting to settle into a routine. Surprisingly, even Grandpa left me alone most of the time, and I was finding it rather pleasant to spend the day busy with repetitive chores that allowed me time to think, about my life, about the future, and about my own dreams. I even started to enjoy pruning Mom's garden.

Of course, not all of the day was calm and busy. Sometimes the triplets would keep me practically frantic all day, but we had some sweet moments too. Holding them, I started thinking about what Grandpa wanted me to do, and I've even started to look forward to it. It might be nice to have my own little baby to take care of.

But Grandpa hasn't really said anything about it lately, and I got the feeling he'd decided to let me off the hook until I was a little older. With Mom and Dad breathing down my neck like they always are, it's not exactly like I can go find some guy to impregnate me. Besides, I'm sure the last thing he wants is to become the child of a teen mom whose parents kicked her out because her getting pregnant was the last straw.

Anyway, Mom and Dad are due back today. They just called to say they're in port, and I've had my hands full trying to keep the triplets clean and happy long enough for them to come home and see the good job I've done. Mattei's been a huge help, and I'm starting to understand why he's Mom's favorite.

* * *

The cruise had been seven days of absolute paradise, basking in the hot tropical sun, getting massages at the on-deck spa, and sipping beverages with Xander as the sun dipped below the horizon. With voicemails awaiting us from Dorie at every port assuring us that Lilah was doing a competent job keeping the house in order and the babies happy, I'd actually even managed to relax and enjoy myself.

But now that we were on our way home, I was nervous again. I believed Dorie that Lilah had stepped it up impressively, but I still wasn't sure of what Xander seemed so confidant about, that a week in “my shoes” would result in a better relationship between her and I. Still, I couldn't really imagine things being any worse between my daughter and I, so as we drew up to the house, I took a deep breath and prepared for the aftermath.

I got out of the car and headed toward the house while Xander tipped the cabbie. I couldn't believe how much I'd missed my babies, and as I opened the door, their cherubic faces brought tears of joy to my eyes. I rushed to Lilah, who was holding Isabella, and gave them both an awkward, heartfelt hug. “Oh, I missed you guys!” I said, kissing Izzy on the head. I hugged and kissed all the boys too, then took Izzy from Lilah, and finally looked around. The house looked... good! The counters had been wiped and the floor vacuumed, and even the kids toys were put away. The triplets were all dressed in matching clean jumpers and looked healthy and happy. Even the twins looked fine. I turned to Lilah, beaming. “I'm so porud of you, sweetheart,” I said. She rolled her eyes, but I caught a smile before she saw her father walk in.

We both watched Xander anxiously for his reaction. After setting down our bags and walking around the house, he came back to stand in front of Lilah and pulled her in for a hug. “Good job, honey. You've passed the test.” You could practically feel the breeze as everyone in the room let out a collective sigh of relief.

“Now, this doesn't mean you don't still have some work to do, though,” Xander admonished Lilah. “I still expect you to get to work raising those lousy grades next week. And until they're up, you're under lock-down, no going out. Understood?” Lilah nodded mutely, and I smiled. Maybe... just maybe, there was hope for my little girl after all.

Chapter XII: Rejection

(NOTE: Oh my goodness! This makes me so mad! I uploaded pictures for this entry, but for some reason, even though they are listed in My Studio, they aren't coming up when I try to open them. I already uploaded and deleted everything from my launcher, so I can't go back and reload them again! So please forgive me, I had every intention of giving you pictures of this chapter, but I guess now you'll just have to imagine it all.)

I'm muttering to myself again. Timo and Mattei tease me, saying I look crazy when I do that. But I'm just so angry, I can't help it. Mom had it out with me again. My report card arrived, and I got a D in pretty much every class. “Lilah, this is unacceptable! You are so much smarter than this! You should be getting A's!” she ranted.

“Well, maybe I would be if I wasn't always having to help you raise the kids you keep insisting on having!” I shot back at her. It was true, but it probably wasn't the smartest thing I could have said if I wanted to stay out of trouble. I can't help it though. I love seeing the look of shock and pain in her face when I nail it to her in an argument. Call me sadistic, but it's almost pleasurable.

Needless to say, she grounded me, or rather extended my current grounding. I had to sneak out of the house to keep my date with Sandi. We agreed to meet at the movie theater, and I'm terrified she might get there and think I stood her up because I'm running late. I feel an overwhelming urge to choke myself out of frustration, and semi-jokingly struggle with my arm. The taxi driver looks at me in the rear view mirror. “Uh, you okay, miss?” I blush and lower my arms.

He drops me off in front of the movie plaza, and I look around anxiously, wondering if Sandi has already gone home. But then I see her. She is radiant, wearing that same pink dress she had on the day we met, and when she smiles at me, I feel my stomach knot in anticipation. Today is the day. I have promised myself that I am going to tell her everything, that I am going to confess my feelings for her. But I am so nervous I can barely get a greeting out.

“Hey, Lilah,” she says, walking up.

“Hi,” I answer, and before I can try to say more she engulfs me in a hug and I breathe in the scent of her. Mmm... floral and sweet... perfect.

“So what movie did you want to see?” she asks, taking my arm and walking us toward the theater. “They've got one about llamas that looks pretty funny.”

I hesitate. I just know that if I sit through a whole movie without saying anything, I'm going to lose my nerve. It's now or never.

“Sandi, I need to tell you something.”

She turns to look at me, a spark of concern in her beautiful eyes. “Is everything okay?” she asks. “Did you get in another fight with your mom?”

“No. I mean, well, yes, but that's not...” I stop, take a deep breath, refocus. Just say it. “Sandi, I love you.”

I watch her anxiously. Her eyes widen momentarily, and a nervous smile pulls at the corner of her mouth. “What?” she asks.

“I love you,” I stammer. “I think I have since the first day I met you. You're beautiful and wonderful and... I'm crazy about you.” There, I said it. Nervous, I drop my gaze to the pavement and study my shoes. “I just... needed you to know that.”

“Wait... so... you mean 'love' as in like...more than friends?” Sandi asks, and my heart sinks. I look back up at her, nodding.

“Oh,” she says, and stands there for a moment. “Well... I... I'm flattered...”

I frown. “You don't... feel the same way?”

“Oh, Lilah,” Sandi says, and in the tone of her voice, I hear everything I need to hear. I turn away before she can see the tears that are threatening to overwhelm me.

“No, it's fine. I get it. Whatever,” I choke out. I feel her hand on my shoulder and shake it off.

“Lilah, let me explain...”

“No, Sandi, I don't think you need to explain. It's perfectly clear how you feel. You're beautiful and popular and smart and I'm not, so I'm sorry, I don't know what ever made m think I had a chance with you.”

“Lilah, that's not--”

“Just leave me alone!” I shout at her, and storm off. I can hear her calling my name, but I can't look back. The tears are flowing now, and I'm already mortified. Anything else would just make it worse. I stumble into the empty parking lot behind the theater and keep going until I'm lost, surrounded by residential homes. I slow down then, and my cell phone rings. I know it's Sandi, and I ignore it. I don't want to talk.

“Your phone's ringin',” Grandpa's voice whispers beside me.

“Go away,” I growl, swiping self-consciously at my tear-streaked cheeks.

“Guess the reveal didn't go so well, huh?” he gloats.

I stop, turning toward him and screaming at the top of my lungs. “GO AWAY!”

“Alright, alright, we'll chat later,” he says, and I can feel his voice fading as he leaves. I look around and notice a couple of kids playing in a nearby yard, staring at me. I hunch my shoulders and keep walking.

Of course she would never return my feelings. Look at me. I'm ugly. I'm too skinny. I'm poor and wear nasty ripped clothes. I'm stupid. Nobody likes me. And on top of it all, I look completely crazy, talking to a ghost nobody else knows is there. A perfect girl like Sandi French would never go for a total misfit like me. I sob, deep into self-recrimination. How could I have been so blind to this? How could I actually have thought she might feel the same? She probably doesn't even like girls. She's probably grossed out that I'm a lesbian and wants nothing to do with me. I wouldn't blame her.

It's getting dark out. I round a corner and suddenly I'm on a familiar street again. Sandi's street. Her house is standing there in the middle of the block, lights shining cheerfully out of every door and window. I feel a sudden wash of rage, and as I'm passing a trash can on the sidewalk, I see half a container of rotten eggs sitting on top of the other garbage. I grab them and sprint toward Sandi's house, taking an egg and flinging it at her front door as soon as I'm close enough. The egg makes a muted splatt as it impacts, and gooey greenish-yellow yolk slides down the frame. I throw another. And another, til I run out of eggs. I'm winding back to throw the empty carton when the front door opens. Sandi steps out, and suddenly, I lose my steam and drop the carton to the deck.

“Lilah? What on earth are you doing?” she asks.

I stare at the ground, speechless.

“You... egged my house?” she asks in disbelief. I nod. “Why?”

When I look back up at her, there are tears in my eyes again.

“Oh, honey,” she says, and takes me in her arms. I bite my lip and sniffle, trying to keep from losing it again.

“Lilah,” she murmurs in my ear. “You didn't let me explain earlier, so listen to me now. This isn't just about me not feeling the same way. The fact is, I understand. Believe it or not, I know how you feel. You're a wonderful girl, and-- well, please don't tell anyone, since it's not exactly public news yet, but-- I like girls, too.”

“You do?” I ask, voice muted against her sweater.

“Yes, and if I had to choose a girlfriend, I would want her to be just like you.”

“Well, then, why...?” I start, pulling back so I can see her face.

“Lilah, I just turned eighteen. I'm an adult now.”

“So?”

“Honey, you're only fifteen. And I'm about to graduate. I'll be going away to college soon, and I just don't think a long-distance relationship would be good for either of us.”

“Why not? We could make it work!” I protest, but she looks at me sadly and I trail off. She shakes her head.

“I have a lot of goals, Lilah, and much as I love you, it wouldn't be right for either of us to get into a relationship right now only to end it or put it on hold when I leave at the end of the summer.” She lifts my chin so I am looking her in the eyes. “You understand, right?”

I can feel my lip trembling, and I say nothing. But she can see the acquiescence in my eyes, and she pulls me in for another hug. “Thank you for understanding,” she whispers, then she releases me.

“It's late. And a school night. Go home and get some rest,” she says, and gently pushed me toward the porch stairs. I stop and take a last, longing look at her. “Sorry about the eggs,” I say. “And Sandi... let me know if you ever change your mind. I'll be here.” She smiles sadly, and then turns to go inside. I walk down the porch stairs and head home.

Once I get there, it's late, and I manage to sneak in unnoticed. Dad and Mom are passed out in bed, the triplets are all asleep, and even the twins are quiet in their room. That is one good thing about my crazy family: with the triplets here to keep her busy, Mom is a lot less observant now and rarely notices my absence. I could probably disappear for days and she wouldn't miss me unless she needed a babysitter while she ran an errand.

I stop to grab a snack out of the fridge and head straight to my room. I can feel Grandpa waiting there for me, but I ignore him and flop onto the bed.

“Well?” he says.

“What?”

“Have you had enough of your way of doing things now?” he asks.

I sigh, pulling a cookie out of the package and chewing on it slowly, thinking.

“My dear girl, I'm not asking you to change who you are for me. Just give me a child. You don't even have to tell the father if you don't want to, or have him involved in any way. Give me a new body to live in and I'll take care of you. You will want for nothing. Nobody, including that meddling mother of yours, will be able to tell you what to do anymore. I will protect you, watch over you, love you, and give you everything you'll ever need. Just trust me.”

I picture Sandi's sad eyes gazing at me, and I feel the dull ache in my chest expand a little. “Fine, Grandpa. I'll do it. I'll give you a baby,” I say dully, rolling over and curling up into a ball.

“Good girl. We'll start looking for a mate in the morning.”

I let the tears fall, and I feel him hovering beside me, quiet and comforting, and once again the only friend I have.

Chapter XI: A Different Perspective

I can't get her out of my head.

As I stand here painting, listening to mom in the kitchen outside my door trying to manage the twins while heavily pregnant again, I try to focus on the colors, the strokes of the brush across the canvas. I try to shove all thoughts of dad and mom, of my constant punishments, my failing grades, my noisy family, my miserable school life out of my head. Only her face remains, hovering there in my mind's eye. Beautiful. Perfect.

I'm in love.

With a steady brushstroke I trace the outline of her face, her perfect body, across the canvas, trying in vain to bring her beauty to life with my art.

“Quit wasting time mooning over some girl. You have more important things to be doing. You need to be practicing your magic.”

“Shut up, Grandpa,” I murmur, adding a touch of blue to the painting. He's still around, though he's faded a bit since death, no longer showing up corporeally. He likes to linger in my room and try to startle me when he thinks I've forgotten about him, but I've long since stopped jumping at the sound of his gravelly voice in my ear, and I think it annoys him.

“Don't you tell me to shut up, you little trollop! You're lucky I chose you. I could have--”

“You could have what? Chosen one of the boys when they were still barely toddlers? Boy, that would have been interesting.” I roll my eyes. “Here, Timo, just learn to walk and talk first, and then Grandpa's going to teach you how to rule the world with your dark arts!” The thought is actually quite amusing, and despite my morose mood, I giggle.

“You little wretch! That boy has twice the talent you'll ever have!”

That stings, but I grit my teeth and say nothing, instead adding a shadow to the pale cheek of the girl in my painting.

Grandpa Buster didn't realize when he chose me as his apprentice that I hadn't inherited my mother's talent with gypsy magic. He had put all his eggs in one basket with me, betting on the fact that I had both his blood, through my father, as well as Moriah's, to manifest into magical talent later on. “You're just a late bloomer,” he had assured me. “You're powers will be manifesting in no time, and you'll have a head start with the things Grandpa is going to teach you, my dear.” Grandpa had convinced me with so many promises that things would be better, that I would learn to wield power over others, that I could make myself more beautiful and talented, that kids at school would like me, and if they didn't, they would at least learn to respect and fear me. But the years passed, the twins grew into children, and while Timo began manifesting his powers, mine and Mattei's never showed up. And Grandpa, though he was still around, was too long dead to form another bond with the living. I was all he had left. And what with my lousy relationship with my parents and never being able to get along with people at school, for a long time, he had been all I had, too.

Until she came along.

She was several grades ahead of me, and usually ran with the popular crowd. I had never really noticed her until now, halfway through my freshman year. I had been sitting at a table in a corner by myself, eating lunch and trying in vain to understand the homework the teacher had assigned, which was due the very next period. I'd been too busy helping Mom wrangle with the twins and make dinner the night before to get around to doing my homework, and now, here it was due in less than an hour and I couldn't even understand the first question. I had started to cry, tears leaking down my nose and into my cup of soup, when I heard a musical voice.

“Hi, there. Are you okay?”

I looked up, startled, and a beautiful, pale girl in a pink dress stood before me. Her hair was cut short, and with her angular features, she looked like a fairy straight out of a fantasy novel. I glowered at her, sure she was just here to make fun of me like all the other kids normally did. They took delight making fun of my worn out, hand-me-down clothes, my flat, short-cropped hair, my stupidity... apparently everything about Lilah Hemlock was fodder for the cruel teenage masses.

“Get lost,” I growled at her, but she cocked her head to one side, ignoring my surly manner.

“Geometry?” she asked brightly, looking at my book. I shrugged, intent on ignoring her, but she sat down beside me, looking at my paper. “Mr. Filson is a stickler for these word problems. Let me see if I can help.” I stared at her, but she dragged my book over and studied the problem I was working on. “This used to be hard for me too,” she said, apparently unaffected by the daggers I was stabbing into her with my eyes. “But then I realized that if you treat the logical argument like writing a poem, it suddenly becomes so much easier. I don't know about you, but I'm much more of a right-brain type of person. I love reading. Anyway, if you pretend that the solution is like writing a sonnet or haiku, with certain rules for the format, it sort of erases the mental block you might have when you're dealing with logical subjects like math.” She took the pencil from me and began explaining the problem, and as much as I hate to admit it, she was right. Suddenly the problem made much more sense, and by the time the bell rang to signal the end of lunch, she and I had managed to finish the entire homework assignment. As I packed up my things and prepared to go to class, I paused, extending my hand. “Thanks... um...”

“Sandi,” she said, taking my hand with her own soft, warm one. “And you're Lilah, right?” I nodded, looking down. “Well it's nice to meet you. Good luck on your homework grade. I think it'll be a good one. And if you need any more help, let me know.”

I smiled. “Okay,” I replied, and hurried off.

I took her up on her offer, and Sandi and I spent many more lunch periods together after that. Turns out she was planning on majoring in Education when she went away to college next year, and she had heard from one of the many student-body gossip mongers about my failing grades. While I had initially started out as a pet project for her, we quickly became friends. She was so open and honest and sweet, I felt like I could tell her anything. Soon she knew all about me, my miserable and chaotic family life, and the recent death of my grandfather who had been the only person in my family I thought had loved and understood me. I didn't tell her about Grandpa still being around though. Sandi was my first friend my own age, and I didn't want to lose her because she thought I was crazy.

It has been a few weeks since I first felt the butterflies when I talked to her. I find myself thinking about her when I should be paying attention in class. Despite her help, my grades took a dip again, and I cover my notebook pages with sketches of her many expressions instead of answers to homework problems. It wasn't until that today, though, that I had realized the obvious truth. I am crazy about her. Her beautiful face, her smooth artistic hands, her lilting voice and clear green eyes...even her smell drives me wild.

All through growing up I haven't felt the slightest interest in boys, but still, this new attraction to a girl took me by surprise. I obviously couldn't tell my mom about it, but even when I told Grandpa, his response wasn't exactly encouraging. “Nonsense,” he grumbled. “You're just going through a phase. You need to refocus and find a suitable boy to give me an apprentice.”

Even now he's repeating the same tired order, like a geriatric disembodied broken record. “... put down that paintbrush and go get my wand. Just because you have no talent doesn’t mean you don't need to practice so you'll know the basics to teach to my great grandchild. I think I've found a boy in town who has some talent, but you're never going to impress him with your painting.”

“I'm a lesbian, Grandpa. I'm not interested in boys, wizard or otherwise!” I reply, trying to keep my voice steady. The last thing I need is to have mom overhear me. She wouldn't know whether to be more worried because I was gay or because I was talking to myself. “Besides,” I say, turning away from my painting to face the apparently empty bedroom. “What good would it do you if I gave you a baby anyway? You said yourself, you're too weak now to make another connection with a living person, no matter how young they are.” Grandpa is silent, and I turned back to my painting, hoping he stormed off to bother some psycho-sensitive household pet. But he's still here, and I hear him sigh.

“Lilah, my dear, you just don't have a mind for these matters at all,” he says wearily, and I roll my eyes again. Of course he's right, but story of my life: one more person to disappoint because I'm not bright enough, responsible enough, Gypsy enough... at least Sandi seems to like me the way I am.

“Obviously I won't be trying to make a connection with the child,” Grandpa says didactically. “I'll be the child.”

“What do you mean you'll be the child?” I ask, frowning.

“It's called possession, Lilah. You give me a new, young body, and I'll have a chance at living again.”

I feel a creeping, cold sensation slide along my skin. “Possession?” I echo, nervously. Grandpa's never revealed this part of the plan to me before. I'd always assumed he'd need the magically talented mate he insisted on me finding to strengthen him through magic somehow so he could form this psychological bond with my baby. I never realized he was planning on using the baby itself as a second chance on life for his tired old spirit.

“Precisely. What else did you think I would want with a baby? Talking to a hormone-addled teenage girl is tedious enough. I don't have the patience for childish lisps.”

“But... what if... would it... hurt the baby?”

Grandpa chuckles. “What do you care? You're a lesbian, you're not interested in things like reproducing, right?” I scowl, and Grandpa's tone grows serious again. “No, of course it wouldn't hurt the baby. Well, not in any sort of physical way. I would simply slip in and take over before it had formed a personality of its own, and I would become your child. Horrifying as that sounds.”

An image of cleaning up Grandpa's poopy diapers comes to mind, and I grimace. “I don't... know...” I start, but Grandpa cuts me off.

“Lilah, you made a promise to me. I teach you how to have the life you want, and you provide me with an apprentice. I'm dead now, so I need your help more than ever. You can't just go changing your mind because the details make you squeamish.”

“But you're not talking about an apprentice now, you're talking about a new life!” I shoot back.

“It's the only way now. Much as I love you, Lilah, you cannot be my apprentice without any power of your own, and I cannot communicate with anyone else in my present state. I need a new body and life again to find a suitable apprentice, and I need your help to get those.”

“Well what's in it for me? It's been three years now since I made you that promise, and where has it gotten me? I'm still the most unpopular girl in school. Mom hates me, Dad ignores me, the twins are constantly pestering me. My teachers think I'm dumb as a brick. Literally the only person I have in my life who is worth anything to me is Sandi.” I turn back to the painting, studying it with a deep longing. “And she's graduating this year.”

“Oh, my dear girl,” Grandpa says, and his voice is gentle now. “Things will get better, you'll see. This is a difficult age for everyone, and even moreso for a girl like you, with so many expectations riding on you. But I promise, just stick to our deal, and things will get better. When you give me a new life, I will make sure you get one as well.”

I sigh. “I just don't know, Grandpa. I think I might have a chance with Sandi, and that's something real; not just a promise from a ghost.”

His voice is skeptical now. “Really? Have you told her about your feelings yet?”

“No, not yet. But I'm going to.” I can almost hear him nodding, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

“Well, then,” he says finally. “By all means, don't let your poor dead grandfather stand in your way. If you think you can achieve all your wildest dreams by throwing away our deal like so much garbage, then be my guest.”

I resist the guilt I know he is trying to make me feel and smirk at him. “I just might do that, Grandpa,” I reply, touching brush to pallet.

“Good luck!” he whispers, and then he's gone.