“I don’t know.”
“Don’t make me force you to go. I’ll do it.” She takes another bite, making her threat even less invasive.
“I don’t even know Lincoln’s dad. I’m worried I’ll come across as rude if I use his party as an opportunity to climb a social ladder.”
Poppy shakes her head, covering her mouth with her hand because she’s too impatient to finish chewing. “You’re going to put on a cute dress, do your hair, and go woo everyone.”
“Woo them?”
She drops her chin. “Yes, woo them. Dazzle them. Impress them. Show them exactly who Raegan Eileen Lawson is.” Her tone is direct, her stare an order. “Do this, Rae. Go.”
I reach into one of the bags of food that’s now balanced on her lap, digging to the bottom for the package of Skittles. My best friend may not be quite so encouraging if she knew I was asking her because I needed her to push me—was counting on the fact. Then again, she probably would. She’d just start pulling down these smoke screens I’ve been hanging like art in a dark hallway, distracting from the cold darkness that is actually there.
“I’ll help do your makeup. What time?”
“I have to be ready by five-thirty.”
She nods. “We should do your nails. Do you know what you’re going to wear?”
I feel my heart beating in my stomach. “I have no idea. I don’t know how fancy it is.”
“I’m guessing fancy.”
I expel a deep breath, but before my mind can start panicking, Poppy’s gripping my hand. “It’s going to be so busy. I doubt you’ll have to do much except smile. Just find this doctor guy, flash that killer smile that makes people bend to your will, and boom. Done.”
“What smile? This one?” I scrunch my nose and stick out my tongue.
Poppy rolls her eyes.
“Or is it this one?” I pull on my ears and cross my eyes.
She puts her hand on my face, pushing me back into my seat. “Thank God, the game’s about to start.”
Laughter again finds its way out of me, making me feel lighter and happier than I have since before Maggie left.
“Rae!” Mom yells from downstairs. “I’m leaving!”
I pry one eye open to look at the alarm clock. It’s barely after ten. I close my eyes, lying back and snuggling deeper into my blankets. Last night another crane was on my windshield, this one like the others, filled with angry words that kept me up, questioning too much.
“Rae!” Mom yells again, this time louder, echoed by the hallway. “Did you hear me call for you?”
“I didn’t realize you were expecting a response.” I sit up again, wiping the sleep from my eyes. Most days, my parents come and go without telling me. Perhaps it’s because Grandpa watched me from a young age, and then Maggie and Pax shared the task, and before this pattern was established, I was already capable of taking care of myself.
The door opens, light from the hallway pouring in before Mom flips on the light in the corner. “This came for you.” She drops a large box at the end of my bed. “Did you order something?”
I squint, my eyes struggling to adjust to the light. I have no idea what’s in the box, but I nod, recalling Lincoln telling me something would be arriving today. “Yeah. It’s just something for school,” I tell her. “Where are you going?”
“I’m meeting a few people this morning to discuss the current superintendent retiring.” The superintendent role has been my mom’s ultimate goal for as long as I can remember.
“Really? It’s becoming available?”
Mom sits next to the box, her red manicured nails grazing the top. “It wasn’t planned. His wife is sick, and she requires a lot of extra help. It’s a sad situation.” Her gaze is unfocussed with thought as silence comfortably settles, allowing me to notice how tight her jaw is.
The edge of that hammer that has been waiting to fall comes into view. My gut twists as I wonder if this is it, if she now knows Dad’s secret. “Are you okay?”
She blinks a few times before meeting my gaze. “Yeah. I just always thought if I got the opportunity to work in the role of superintendent, I’d do it for a public school where I could do the most good.” She rolls her eyes, chuckling at herself. “I’m getting way ahead of myself. I’m not even sure this is a job offer. They might just be asking for my professional opinions. Plus, why am I complaining? This would still be a huge honor.”
I nod, reaching forward, resting my hand on one of hers. She smiles, her eyes which are greener than blue focus on mine. “You okay? You seem a little jumpy?”
I shake my head. “No. I’m fine.” I smile to assure her.
Her smile grows wider. “Do I look okay?” She sighs as she stands, spinning in a circle. “I was doing so good, and my pants were starting to feel baggy, and now they all feel tight.” She pulls the navy-blue blazer tighter as though to cover her body.
“You look beautiful, Mom.”
“I don’t look like I have six chins?” She lifts her chin higher.
“No. Right now, you don’t even have one.”
She laughs. “It’s probably going to be a long day. I’ll be home late. Do you have any plans?”
“I’m going to a party tonight.”
“With Poppy?”
I nod because it’s easier to lie than explain it’s for Lincoln’s dad and explain it’s not a date. Or how I’m hoping to impress a scientist who leads an independently funded team here in the Pacific Northwest who studies orcas, a dream of mine.
“Be careful, okay?”
“You be careful,” I tell her.
She exhales deeply, glancing at the ornate mirror beside my closet. “There’s coffee downstairs and some of those banana muffins Camilla made.” She walks to my door before turning around. “And, Rae?”
I’m already looking at her, trying to understand her apparent nerves when Mom so rarely has any when it comes to her work. Mom has worked tirelessly to earn her position, and though she frets over tough decisions, she has a nearly unmatched confidence.
“I’m sorry for being so distant lately. I appreciate you talking to me, and I love you.”
“Love you, Mom.”
I eye the box as Mom disappears. It’s massive—the size that, if found under a Christmas tree, would have anyone itching with anticipation. I climb out of bed, ignoring the cold that attacks my bare flesh as I cross to my desk to retrieve a pair of scissors. Careful to not slice too deeply, I cut the tape and pull back the flaps, revealing a mass of tissue paper that crinkles and creases under the slightest pressure. I set the scissors down, using both hands to peel back the layers until cool, sleek fabric is revealed. It’s a pale, blush pink, a color I generally avoid because of my light complexion. With gentle fingers, I lift it out of the box, revealing a floor-length dress, the bodice a deeper shade of pink, embroidered with intricately patterned beads sewn to the floor in a darker shade. The pale pink is a train attached to the back of the sleeveless dress that is the most beautiful and heaviest piece of clothing I’ve ever held. I stare at the shimmering beads, the rich gloss of the fabrics, the sleek lines—it’s stunning, something out of a fairytale.