Eve is miserable.
Smelling of burnt milk and ineptitude, her dress is ruined. Abandoning the bun entirely, her messy, dried, foam-filled hair sticks out in every direction. She needs a shower…and chocolate. Only a sugar high could temporarily distract her from the disaster that is her life.
Parked outside the high school, she finally spots Maggie heading down the steps, unusually chipper. At least one of them is having a good day.
Spotting Eve, she waves casually, unhurriedly strolling to the wagon. Maggie gets in, slams the door, takes one look at Eve, and snorts.
“Did you take a bath in coffee? Not that I’m complaining…you smell delicious!”
“Bertha hates me.”
“Bertha…who is she? And why do I like her already?”
As Eve exits the parking lot, Maggie scans the students…until her shoulders slump. No luck. Her disappointment in not seeing West again is tangible. They apparently only have first period together, and she was hoping to catch a final glimpse. Yes, they will see each other again tomorrow, but the anticipation is already driving her mad.
Thankfully, Eve is a welcome distraction as she divulges to Maggie all that has transpired. Walking into the café feeling confident, and walking out feeling like she had been run over. Twice.
“If we weren’t so broke, I would just tell you to quit. But I thank you for your sacrifice,” Maggie teases, trying to cheer her up but doing a poor job of it.
“There is one thing that I didn’t tell you….”
“And that is?”
“I met our new neighbors.”
Maggie’s palms slam onto the glovebox, thrilled.
“Me too! Well, I just met West! And what do you mean? All of them? Just two? Did they come into Jill’s? What did they say?”
Maggie’s questions are so numerous and rapid-fire that she only overwhelms Eve further. But her older sister tries her best to give her “the deets.”
“The other four. You met the youngest? West? We’ll come back to that. Okay, get this. Yes, they’re brothers. There’s Martin—he seems harmless, kind of nerdy. Rowan is way too into himself, the one with the braids? Total player. You. Avoid. That leaves…Tate, yuck, he’s a brute. Serious anger issues if you ask me. And…Luca.”
At his name, Eve pauses. For some reason, she doesn’t want to talk about him.
For now, Luca will be off-limits.
“Brothers? I told you! Oh my God, where to do I start? I mean, how do I choose just one?”
Maggie looks as if she might explode in excitement. Normally Eve would be horrified, but she finds herself wistful. A little bit of Maggie’s fire is back, and she doesn’t want to put it out with her judgmental nature.
“Jill? What did Jill say?” Maggie inquires, enraptured.
“Jill, well…not much. At least not until they left. It was so weird! She turned frigid when she walked in from the back and they were standing there. I mean, she was downright hostile! All she told me later—and trust me, I tried—is that our families went way back. They’re the Quinns, and apparently, we should stay away from them.”
“Did you tell her that might be kind of hard, seeing as they are literally shacked up in the shack next to our shack?”
“I failed to mention that,” Eve admits, pondering why she didn’t divulge that pertinent detail to Jill.
“Lips are sealed, big sis!”
Maggie makes a zipping motion over her mouth and continues.
“Did you tell Jill that we’re going to dig a hole and bury her stupid Dracula thing? That cutout creeps the hell out of me. Every time I go to the kitchen it’s just there.”
Eve chuckles, having forgotten about their cardboard guest.
“Yes! Apparently, she decorates the café every year for Halloween, and she wanted something that we wouldn’t miss seeing, with the sticky note. Agreed, though, she could have made a better choice….”
Eve falls silent, pondering her choices recently and wondering for the zillionth time if she could have made better ones. The girls arrive home and Maggie cooks dinner for once, picking up on Eve’s pure exhaustion. Nothing fancy, just canned spaghetti sauce and noodles with some semi-frozen meatballs (their arctic freezer being the likely culprit).
On the plus side—they finally have internet installed, and the speeds are somewhat respectable. It’s the one luxury they can afford, apart from a shared cellphone plan. Curling up on their drop cloth-covered couch, the girls prop Eve’s outdated laptop on a chair in front of them and watch an episode of some British show at Maggie’s request. The eldest Abbott feels significantly better after her shower and a half-cooked meal. She could have fallen asleep right there, on that under-stuffed sofa, lulled by foreign accents and the warmth of Maggie by her side.
But for some reason, she resists.
Instead, pulling the necklace tucked beneath her shirt out, she studies it once again. For some reason, this piece of jewelry—that possibly belonged to June—is giving her comfort. In a way, she relates the chain and the pendant to herself. A small, lost thing, hoping someday that someone will find her…and when they do, she hopes that she, like this necklace, will be treasured.
A low-battery warning invades the laptop screen, to Maggie’s protests. Checking the computer’s clock, Eve notes that it’s past ten. In order to be up early again tomorrow, she calls it a night, heading to her room. Splitting off on the second-floor landing, Maggie asks to borrow her laptop and charger, and Eve acquiesces. If Maggie wants to be exhausted for school tomorrow, that’s her choice. Eve has done enough parenting for one day.
Crawling into her new soft bed, no sooner does Eve’s head hit the pillow than she is fast asleep.
And dreaming.
I’m going to drown.
The circular tank that entraps me is filling.
Pounding my hands against the thick, transparent surface, the sound reverberates.
Blue lights in the floor.
Evenly spaced, like a grid, embedded in the concrete.
They too, are trapped. They too, will never leave this room.
I am crying.
Ink-colored tears, staining the watery surface.
Seeing my faint reflection in the glass, how I have changed.
My gray skin.
My gray eyes.
My gray soul.
Shackled.
I am shackled to the floor of my watery tomb.
They are to blame. I know they are watching.
I cannot see them, but I know they are there.
In the shadows.
Always waiting.
The water is now to my waist. Soon, it will be to my neck. It flows quicker, and quicker.
It caresses my chin.
I am going to die.
Today, this day, is my last.
My bitter sobs fall only on my ears.
And then, there is light.
“Wake up! Wake up, Eve, goddammit!” a gritty male voice screams in the darkness.
Her eyes fly open.