LACY

The funeral is three days away. I have four more days in this village before Miss Wilson comes to bring me to a more current placement.

Jessica has grown busy—she spends hours in her nana's cottage—and Hella only leaves her house with spend time with Jessica.

I walk down the street, breathing in the fresh air. Not many people are out. I turn the corner, and I see an elderly woman walking down the street.

She stares at me. I paste a smile onto my face and wave. "Good day, ma'am." Her eyes widen slightly when I near her.

"Dear God," She mutters, "reincarnation must be real." The woman scurries off before I can say another word, leaving me feeling utterly confused.

Did she think I am a reincarnated person? Do I look like someone she knew? Her daughter, perhaps? Jessica did say I resemble a girl on her grandmother's mantle.

"Hey, it's Stranger!" A voice calls behind me. I whip around and see James jogging towards me, still wearing classy clothes trying to pretend to be casual.

James flashes me a crooked smile. I frown and take a subtle step back, yet James seems to notice it and frowns.

Something about this boy is off. He seems to know me, yet I don't know him. But there is something in his eyes...something that fills me with nostalgia.

It's silly, I know. There are many people who share the same eye color this strange English boy possesses. But there is a different sparkle I find so comforting.

"Don't mean to startle you, Stranger. I just think we can be friends. Don't you?" He holds out his hand once again. "Mind telling me your name?"

By the looks of it, I highly doubt that this James will leave me be. So, I exhale a sigh and clasp my hand around his. My hand is small compared to James'.

"My name is...Lacy."

James slightly falters in his cheery persona. He raises an eyebrow at me. "Lacy, is it? Nice name," His grin returns to his face. "I'm sixteen, Lace. How old are you?"

An interrogation. I'm familiar with them. Throughout my life, I have been brought to the police station on multiple occasions. I seem to be receiving more by the townspeople here, though.

"I just turned," I bite my lip, "fourteen."

James smiles widely. "What a coincidence, I had a sister who must be fourteen now, too! Her birthday would've been a few months back."

Why is he talking about his sister in past tense? Did she die? Disappear? Or perhaps I am reading too much into this. Perhaps his sister is in his home right now.

I flash a polite smile. "Agreed—what a coincidence."

A phone begins to ring. James reaches into his pocket and pulls out a gleaming, expensive phone. He glances at the caller ID, then at me. Smiles again.

"Sorry, Lace. Gotta go!" In a blink, he has vanished from my view. I narrow my eyes at nothing. James can't be as nice as he seems.

Everyone is always hiding something. Even if they put on a cheery front, deep inside of their soul, darkness churns. Everyone has darkness.

I can't let that knowledge control me, and I can't let my paranoia dictate everything I do and everyone I interact with during my day.

The Johnsons are just friendly and hospitable. Jessica is just lively and energetic. James is just charming and kind.

Nothing more. Not everyone I see is holding malicious intent in their heart, prepared to make my life a living Hell.

I turn on my heel and continue down the street. Instead of walking directly to the beach, I make a stop at a store filled with dresses.

An old man emerges from a backroom when I enter. A bell rings above me overhead. The man's eyes widen when he sees me, but he smiles nonetheless.

"G'day, miss. Welcome to Paul's Palace of Prettify. I'm Harold." His smile is warm and inviting. "Feel free to browse, just now stealing." He winks.

"Who's Paul?" I ask.

Harold laughs. "He's my husband. But if you want to know where he is, your guess is as good as mine. Sleeping with sloths? Running with cheetahs?" He shrugs.

I smile and let out a small chuckle. The old man goes to do something behind the cash register, and I walk past the rows and rows of dresses.

My eyes catch onto a mystic blue dress. It's wispy and long, but still has a fitted bodice and lightly puffed sleeves. My hands want to reach for it, but I keep them back.

I step away from the dress, and walk back towards the door. "Goodbye, miss!" He calls out with a chuckle in his tone.

I'm about to respond when all of the air is knocked out of me. I see a man watching me, leaning against a fancy black car.

The man wears a black suit and his eyes are covered with black glasses, but he is unmistakably watching me. He notices that I have noticed him and turns his head away.

I don't even have time to breathe before I am flying away. My feet pound down the street as I try desperately to distance myself from the man.

~~~

I collapse on the floor of the bedroom I moment I reach it. My heart beat is still going a mile a minute, and I am heavily panting.

My fingers curl together, forming fists. I clench my eyes shut, and try my hardest to breathe in, breathe out. In and out. It's not the best method, but I've been doing this for years, since age seven.

I stare at the essay paper in my shaking hands. A 0%. For cheating, the teacher said, even though I didn't do anything.

Mandy Willerman, one of the meanest girls in school, informed our science teacher that I was cheating off her on the state test.

Dad will have my head when I get home. Stella and Jackson never get bad grades, and I never, either, so I don't know the punishment. All I know is that I'll by bloody by midnight.

Tears begin to trickle down my cheek and past my chin. Little droplets of water form onto my shirt. I immediately begin running from the school steps.

I run down the street to the park that no one ever uses because there are more weeds than flowers occupying the land.

By the time I sit down on the bench, and lean against the back, my breathing is out of control. I heave and heave and I can't stop it.

"Stop it, Lacy Clark! Breathe," I mutter and mumble, over and over. I press my hand to my heart and squeeze my eyes closed until everything around me stills.

The wind slows. The birds quiet. My body relaxes onto the bench, and I curl up onto it, tucking myself into a small ball. Peaceful and undisturbed.

The beating I received that night was twice as bad since I got home after nightfall upon waking up from the park bench. Dad said people would talk if anyone saw me acting homeless.

My parents—specifically my mother—were obsessed with their perfect public image. They painted this sunny picture and used me as a show-off thing, their sunny, sweet daughter.

I got so used to acting bright and cheerful in front of everyone outside the walls of my home that I am just tired now, now that they're dead.

I can't keep a smile on. I just need a break from my performance, from my acting. I open my eyes and sit up, pushing myself off the floor.

Penny sits on my bed. She spares me a glance. "You can sleep on the bed. The floor is hard; it's not comfy for sleeping."

"Have you been watching me?" I ask, mildly petrified.

She shakes her head. "Not for long. Mummy said it's dinner, but you were sleeping. So I sat down and waited. Mummy likes patience."

I nod slightly. Penny hops off the bed and goes to the door. She is halfway out when she calls, "Why do you look like my dead auntie?"

———

Hello, loves!

What are your thoughts on the man watching Lacy?

Any ideas on what Penny means?

Vote and comment!

Au revoir,

Eva