Page 11 of Deck of Scarlets

“I’m sorry,” I apologized, watching her shoulders slump with a deep sigh. Even though saying sorry was at the bottom of my list of favorite words, she was still my mother, and at times I took things a little too far.

“Would it kill you two to just be nice to each other?” asked Mom, the hurt in her voice clear as the morning sky.

Was she right? Of course. Would I admit it? No. My silence was an obvious sign of my stubbornness, which led her to toss a pile of mail aside. “Columbia sent you more mail.”

I stared at the pile. “Thanks.”

“Aiden leaves tomorrow morning. We have dinner reservations tonight. Please behave.” Without another word, she left the room, the mail scattered all over the counter.

Not hungry anymore, I picked up what was mine and went upstairs.

Taking the carpeted staircase two at a time, I retreated safely inside my room, crawling back into bed. Family gatherings were overwhelming; I was part of the problem, but so was Aiden.

Dropping the mail on my bed, I looked over to the picture frame of Grams and clutched it in my hands, admiring one of the most influential people in my world. Features that any model would kill for, her smile was wide with freedom, her light hair blowing in the breeze on a field in northern Vermont. Her death took a toll on me; I stayed underwater in despair for a while, afraid to resurface to let the pain in again. It was sudden and left me hollow until recently. Until a small silver flask became my companion.

It’ll be a year this December, and I never got to say my final goodbye.

If she were here, I knew things would be different.

I kissed the picture and put it back, letting the emotions in for a moment before shoving them back down.

I sifted through the mail, consisting of pre-qualified credit card crap, a copayment bill for a hospital visit when I sliced my hand open on a can lid two weeks back, and then a thick white envelope from Columbia. Tossing the junk aside, I tore open the welcome package, another painful reminder of my future. It amounted to a multitude of pamphlets offering all types of services, info on tutors, library access, and lists of sports I could join. A pile of junk I would be sure to set on fire at Peter’s place later tonight.

I reached inside to see if anything was left, discovering an average-sized envelope at the bottom. Strangely, it seemed heavier than the welcome package. With nothing written on the front, I proceeded to open it, finding a scarlet card with a large letter S on the front. The card was thick and had vines of an engraved rose intertwining with the S.

“What the hell is this?” Flipping it over, the back showed words written in an elegant scribble addressed to me.

To Miss Remi Marie Watson,

We are pleased to have chosen you to be inducted into the Order of the Scarlet Quill. It is the highest honor to be selected, and you are the perfect fit to complete our last spot in this exclusive society.

Below is the date, time, and location for your induction. We hope you can come and accept our invitation.

Date & Time: September 23rd at 7 pm.

Location: Cathedral of St. John the Divine.

Attire: All black.

I sat back against my bulk of pillows and gawked at the card, distinctly remembering I’d ripped, burned, and flushed anything regarding clubs or sororities down the fucking toilet, and they still sent me this shit. I chucked the fancy piece of rubbish at my trash bin, hitting the rim, and it landed underneath my desk. Rose would dispose of it later.

“No, thank you,” I muttered.

No, thank you, indeed.

Chapter Five

Curled under a homemade quilt on Jeremy’s leather sofa, Nickie began dumping the contents of our favorite local Chinese food into various bowls, while Jeremy set up the mini projector in his living room. His parents, big-time lawyers, had their law firm here in New York, so they typically worked late hours. That gave the three of us alone time while raiding their expensive cheese collection.

After several profanities from Jeremy, he finally got it set up, dimmed the lights, and popped in our all-time favorite movie.

“I told my parents to just mount it on the wall, but nooo,” Jeremy complained, stealing some of the blankets. “So, where did you run off to the night of SummerFest? You were missing for quite some time.”

I rolled my eyes at his shitty question. “You know where.”

Jeremy flicked my nose and said, “Bitch, tell me!”

Taking one of the many pillows on his couch, I hit him square in the face. “Stop doing that!”

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