Page 1 of Ghosted in Arkadia
Prologue
Ablob of reddish-brown stares back at me. The liquid has soaked into the white cotton of my underwear, staining it. My stomach flips as I grab a wad of toilet paper to clean myself from my first period.
It feels like I’ve been waiting my whole life for this moment. Now that it’s here, I can’t even think straight. Today is the day I might find my soulmate.
Most of the other girls in class started their periods last year. At least half of them already know who their soulmate is, and what kind of future to plan. The past year has been a special kind of hell for me as my friends have drifted away to form fresh groups.
Now that my menses have begun, I get to find my soulmate and my place in the world.
I finish in the bathroom, filled with nervous, anxious energy, before heading toward my bedroom. Waiting for this day has been torture, but the short walk down the hall feels like moving through a haze of static.
“Everything alright, kiddo? You look like you’ve seen a ghost?” My dad puts his hand on my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks.
I hadn’t even realized he was there. My head moves on its own to look up at familiar brown eyes that match my own, the color of melted chocolate. His eyebrows remind me of black caterpillars crawling toward one another; displaying a look of concern. His gaze ping-pongs, assessing my expression. He’s always been a reasonable father, though slightly lacking in affection. Or at least toward his only child. My dad’s heart has always belonged to my mom, his soulmate.
They both love me, of course. But I know that if it came down to saving one of us from a fire, neither would pick me. That is the nature of finding your soulmate. Now that I have reached puberty, I could start my search for someone who would choose me.
“I started my period.”
My dad’s concern morphs into a look of relieved shock before looking around the empty hallway. “Come on.” He releases me to hurry toward the kitchen.
My feet shuffle after him while my mind runs through a list of questions and comments, worries, and dreams. The short walk feels like a ceremonial march down an aisle. As soon as I step into the kitchen, the smell of baked apples hits me; one of my dad’s favorite dishes.
My dad goes over to my mom and whispers in her ear before they both look my way. I take root in the middle of the room while nervous prickles cover my skin.
“So…” my mom starts, taking a step forward with a wide smile. “Dad says your menses have started?” There is a hopeful look on her face, like someone waiting for a pardon.
This display really isn’t helping. All I want to do is go into my room and try to contact my soulmate.
Alone.
“Yeah.” I look down at the wooden floorboards, focusing on them rather than the churning sensation in the pit of my stomach.
“That’s wonderful, Kira.” My mom sighs, clasping her hands together in front of her chest.
The prickling sensations turn into a simmering rage when I see the thinly veiled joy in her eyes. The celebration isn’t for me. It’s about finally getting rid of me. I take a deep breath and huff the air out while my fingers involuntarily curl into fists.
“I’m going to go to my room now,” I say, lifting my head to look both my parents in the eye.
“We thought you might want company when you attempt contact.” Dad says, stepping directly behind Mom. His hands come down on her shoulders, holding her to him.
A visual display that they are united as one, and I am alone.
Was alone.
“I think this is more of a personal thing.” I nod to show them what they need to do. Agree.
“Whatever you want, kiddo.” My dad releases my mom and grabs a cardboard box off the dining room table. He offers it to me with a look of something like an apology.
At least they cared enough to get a kit.
I force a smile and grab the box before turning to head for my bedroom. The churning energy charges toward excitement with each step. Soon, I will have the part of me that’s been missing. I will have someone to talk to. Someone who cares about me above everything else.
The sound of the lock clicking into place makes me breathe easier. I know my parents won’t interrupt now. They have been waiting for this day for as long as I have.
I bring the box to my bed, setting it down on my cream-colored comforter. The drawer on my bedside table sticks at first, but I pull it open with a yank to grab the small pocketknife stashedinside. My original plan was to slice into my palm like everyone else did in the movies.
A kit saved me from resorting to that.
