Page 3 of The Hallows Queen

Standing up straight, I toss the device back into my purse and place my hands on the edge of the sink to lean forward. I stare at myself in the mirror, fixating on my bloodshot and wild green eyes. When they start to well with tears, I want to smash my fist into the mirror.

Sucking oxygen into my lungs, I stand up straight and shake out my shoulders.

I can’t break down in this tiny, smelly, poorly lit airplane bathroom. I’ll let myself break down later, when I’m locked away in the comfort of my own home, after I see my parents for the first time this year and finally dip my toes into the cold of the Atlantic Ocean again.

The thought of the beach makes my lips tingle with a smile.

That’s the main thing I’m looking forward to outside of seeing my parents – the little strip of Luxington Beach I grew up on.

I haven’t tasted the ocean or rolled around in the sand for almost an entire year, and my soul feels fucking empty from the loss. It was the one constant I had growing up – the beach. No matter which corner of North Carolina the foster care system sent me to, I always found a way to the ocean. Even if it took me hours on the bus, or I had to steal money from my foster parents for a cab, I made it there.

When my parents adopted me, I thanked just about every god I could think of that they lived in Luxington and I could walk to the beach whenever I wanted.

Shaking my shoulders one last time, I grab my purse before I push the bathroom door open and go back to my seat.

Katie’s movie has ended, and she’s scrolling through her phone when I slide past her to buckle into my seat again. She lifts a perfectly manicured eyebrow at me in question, and I shake my head, smoothing my hands over jean-clad thighs.

“You good?” she asks. “You were in there for a while.”

“Fine,” I answer too quickly, digging around in my purse to get a piece of gum.

I’m popping it into my mouth when the captain’s loud, clear voice cuts through the atmosphere of the plane.“Passengers, please fasten your seatbelts for our final descent into Raleigh. Thank you for flying with us today.”

“Oh, thank you, Lord,” I mumble, getting Katie’s attention again.

“Excited?” Dropping her chin to her shoulder, she looks over at me. I meet her deep hazel eyes and shrug.

“More nervous than anything.” I take a deep breath. “Just glad you agreed to take the trip with me.”

I met Katie during freshman year – we lived in the same dorm at WU. She majored in interior design and minored in making bad decisions with me. It was the type of friendship that felt natural the moment we met; we’re similar in so many ways.

She’s got an eye for design, and can turn anything into personalized luxury. She puts her own vision and personal touch in everything she does, and it’s going to take her far.

Katie smiles up at me. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Plus, I have one more week of freedom before I start my new job, and someone needs to help you decorate your new place.”

“Or, we can spend this time together making poor decisions like we used to.” I wiggle my eyebrows.

She laughs, lifting her head as the plane dips downwards. “We’re grown-ups now, Pen. No more acting like fools.”

I scoff. “Speak for yourself.”

She narrows her eyes playfully. “What’s your plan?”

“Going back to my former glory,” I say with a smirk. “Toxic girl energy only.”

She laughs, shaking her head dismissively.

The fire inside of me that I tried to stamp out in the last year has grown restless, and what better place to unleash it than my old stomping ground? Luxington taught me how to be wild, and I’m ready to have some fun again.

“For someone that just went through a breakup, you sure seem like you’ve moved on.”

I lie back on the headrest, turning my head to look at her. “I have. I’m moving 3,000 miles away. Am I supposed to stay up at night crying over my loss? That relationship was a sham.”

She hums between her lips, but doesn’t say anything else. I know what she’s thinking, though; it’s what everyone thinks – how can I,a woman, be so perfectly okay after losing such a gold star man like Daniel? Because we’re all supposed to be damsels in distress who need a man to be able to breathe.

Not me. Daniel and I were neverserious.Even though we were together for so long, we both knew from the get-go it was never aforevertype thing. It was satisfying, sure. But tying myself to a 6-foot finance major was never the long-term plan. He was my normal phase; I was his rebel phase. We were too different for it to work. He liked to cook pot roasts on Sundays, for fuck’s sake – the kind where all the vegetables taste amazing because they’ve been cooking with the meat. I’m not that girl. I’m a gin on the rocks, hit the fast-food joint at 2 a.m., flash my tits to the Uber driver to get a free ride type girl.

He was placating a part of me that felt like I was required to be in a conventional, safe, andboringrelationship, and now that I’ve left that behind, and come to my senses, one thing has become very clear to me – there’s absolutely nothing wrong with the way I’m wired. I’m chaos and impulse and that’s okay. I can’t pretend I’m something I’m not anymore.

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