Page 5 of Married in Misty Mountain

After ten years, I still recognize the girl who made the whole class laugh daily with her antics.

The way Shenna would douse people with water during art classes, snap every crayon in the box, or trip over her own feet when she got called up to the stage during chapel to recite her verses. And when she didn’t know her verses, Principal Floydene’s face would puff up and turn beet red with anger, which made us all like Shenna even more.

She may have bottle blonde hair now, fake blue contacts, and lashes so thick and long that she could fly away when she blinks, but it’s definitely Shenna Blake.

She was tall back then but is now a full five foot ten, with long, muscular legs. My top lip sweats at the sight of them.

“What the heck are you doing in my store?” Shenna squawks in fear and outrage.

I laugh at the indignant girl I remember from years ago. So little has changed beneath that disguise.

“Your store? This is Jack’s store,” I inform her.

She squares her shoulders. “I’m the assistant manager. Mildred.”

Mildred? My ass.

I snort. “Since when?”

Her nostrils flare angrily. “Since an hour ago.”

I want to ask what in the hell she’s doing here, in Misty Mountain.

I’ve often wondered what happened to a lot of the kids I went to school with back in the days before I was shunned by the church.

I was cut off at 16, and I’ve been on my own ever since. I never expected to run into an old classmate here. I especially never expected the giraffe on roller skates to grow up so… grown-looking.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Are you going to explain yourself, or do I need to call Jack?”

“I don’t have to explain myself.”

“You’re breaking and entering,” she says.

“My ass. I have a key.”

She lowers her head and gives me her best intimidating stare. She looks like an adorable gremlin, and I bite back a laugh. “That would fall under the explaining yourself umbrella, buster.”

“Buster?”

“Well? Do I have to call the police, too?”

“I’m picking up my packages. Checking the list for new client sign-ups. There. I explained myself.”

I bend over and start to pick up the cans of chili beans rolling around.

She follows me to the shelf and tries to wrest the box of cans away from me, but I’m taller, bigger, and better at this game of “keep away.” Can’t she see that I’m helping?

I do my best to ignore her fussing and then, when finished, go on the hunt for my packages.

“Oh no you don’t. You don’t get to pilfer through the store’s stock room,” Shenna says.

I sigh and lean one hand against a grocery shelf of peanut butter. “Jack keeps my packages here for me. I pick them up whenever I want. That’s why I have a key.”

She squints. “Why would you come in after hours?”

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