Page 67 of Shadows in Bloom

From my spot against the far corner of the entrance to the school, just out of sight, I watch as my meek, sweet, little backstabber of an ex-best friend blanches down at her hand.

I can’t for the life of me see what she’s looking at, but there’s no denying that horrified look on her cute mousy face.

Try as I might not to care, I find myself growing more and more curious by the second. Not only curious, but worried—much to my irritation—especially when a familiar purr of satisfaction scratches at my awareness.

What did you do? I find myself asking silently.

There’s a quiet responding hmmm that tickles my ears, as if I was the one to make that sound. Then?—

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

And yet, a knowing, barely contained snicker trails the disembodied feminine voice, telling me that’s a lie if there ever was one.

I stiffen, teeth mashing.

But before I get a chance to press for an actual answer and remind her of our deal, Winifred finally shakes out of her little panicked daze, and rushes up the steps to join the tail-end of students flooding into the school.

Taking that as my cue, I wait a couple seconds before doing the same, catching Sister Gertrude’s attention right before she can close the doors on me.

When I brush past her, I don’t miss the way she closes her eyes and lifts her rosary to her lips—murmuring a kiss into the Crucifix.

I have to choke back a snort, especially when the thing in my head spits, “Bitch!” all but shaking in her rage—thrashing against my skull.

My vision pulses red around the edges as pain shoots through my temples, yet my lips twitch with the makings of a rueful smile, one that is stiff, if only because it’s mine… and not the workings of the puppeteer that lives inside me.

Behave, I think back cajolingly.

She huffs, before receding deep within the caverns of my subconscious. So deep, I can almost pretend she finally released me. Given me back my mind.

Breathing a little easier now that the crushing grip on my skull is gone, I hold my head high, and stride confidently through the foyer and into the hall, toward my locker, pointedly ignoring the dodging looks and hushed mutterings as the girls filling the hall all but throw themselves out of my path.

At my locker—the very same one I’ve had for twelve years—I twist in the combination on autopilot. After storing my bag and grabbing what I need, I make my way over to the bulletin board where homeroom assignments for the year have been listed.

Lovely, I think, when I see my name—along with the rest of the graduating class, made up of a whopping sixteen girls—listed under Religious Studies with Sister Christine, Room B3.

Just what I need first thing in the morning.

I suppose, on the plus side, at least it means I get to get it over with first-thing.

Hanging back, I keep a safe distance from the others as we all make our way toward B hall. Not surprisingly, Trinity and her little posse lead the way, ever the faithful sycophants. I’m sure God’s favorites are just thrilled to start their day rotting what’s left of their brains, devouring all things Good Book.

It’s not until they round the corner, that I realize one of their own is missing.

After a brief sweeping glance over the others shows no sign of her, I glance back over my shoulder with a frown, only to find no one there.

Where is she?

It’s not like Winifred to be running late. She’s usually right on the heels of her blond bimbo of a bestie.

My mind travels back to outside—to the spooked state she was in. I know she didn’t turn around and bolt—I saw her enter the school with my own two eyes.

Was she not at her locker?

Being that she’s at the beginning of the alphabet, hers is right near the entrance. I would’ve walked past her.

Maybe she got an early start to class...

It is our senior year after all. If there’s ever a time to suck her way up to the top of the brown-nosing food chain, it would be today.

---