by Ivy Smoak
I was expecting it to look completely modern like Felix’s apartment, but the Pruitts had gone in a different direction with their interior decorating. Everything inside looked like it was an antique. There was art in gold frames, fancy vases on display, and even a statue in the middle of the foyer. I just stood there, afraid to move in case I broke something. It reminded me more of the decorating in Matt’s huge mansion. Is that why he came over here to hang out with her? Because it felt like his creepy vampire-esque home? I swallowed hard. I didn’t want to live here. I already knew I’d have nightmares and never be able to sleep. Even if it had been homey and quaint, I’d still have nightmares living down the hall from Isabella.
“The stylist is upstairs,” Miller said. “I’ll give you a tour after your fitting.”
“Okay.” My voice echoed around me. The thought of being alone in the foyer was enough to pull me out of my thoughts. I hurried after him up the stairs. We passed a few rooms and the smell of fresh paint hit my nose. He guided me to the room all the way at the end of the hall. I peered inside. There was a woman with thick glasses and wiry hair standing in the middle of the room with a long rack of clothes. It was an odd sight, but I was more shocked by the room itself.
The room didn’t match the aesthetic of the rest of the house at all. Everything inside was light and airy. There was a white fourposter bed with pristine white sheets and a poofy white comforter. There was a matching nightstand and dresser. A huge window was on the far wall with a view of the city. But the most shocking thing of all was that the whole room was painted bright yellow. Almost the exact shade that my mom’s kitchen had been.
“Sorry about the smell,” Miller said. “The painters just left.”
“It’s yellow,” I said.
“You didn’t choose a color when Mr. Pruitt asked your favorite, so he chose for you.”
“He chose this color?”
Miller nodded. “If you don’t like it, you can just choose a new one and I’ll call the painters back tomorrow.”
“No. No, I like it.” Actually, I loved it. The yellow hue couldn’t be a coincidence. Yellow wasn’t exactly a safe choice for a teenager’s bedroom. Mr. Pruitt knew my mom’s favorite color. He chose it because he wanted me to feel like this was home. Right? The thought made my chest ache. What else did he know about my mom? What else did he know about me?
“We don’t have much time,” the stylist said. “I have another appointment in three hours.”
Three hours? What was she planning on doing with me for three hours?
“Miller gave me a guess on your measurements so you’d have a few things to wear this weekend. But come, come, so I can get you fitted perfectly.” I swore it looked like she pulled a measuring tape out of thin air.
I looked up at Miller. He’d guessed my measurements?
“I’ll be back in a bit,” he said without looking at me and closed the door.
I turned back to the stylist. Her eyes were magnified by her glasses and it seemed like they were about to bug out of her head. She hurried over to me and started measuring every inch of my body. She rapid fired questions at me about styles I knew nothing about. I wasn’t even sure how she was talking because there was a handful of pins sticking out of her mouth.
She forced me to try on every single item on the garment rack she’d brought in, even though I insisted I didn’t need anything. And the whole time all I could think about was how did she get this rack of clothes up the stairs? It looked like the metal beam holding all the hangers was about to snap from the weight of all the clothes. She said it was just for stuff to wear this weekend. How often did the Pruitts change in one day?
She tightened a skirt around my waist and put a pin in it. “Perfect, perfect,” she mumbled. “I’ll alter that one but the next one should fit fine.” She handed me a dress to change into.
I stared around at the comforting yellow of the walls as I pulled what felt like the hundredth garment over my head. I stared at my reflection in the floor length mirror. I’d never worn anything so beautiful in my life. My fingers traced the sequins on the shoulder.
“A perfect fit,” the stylist said.
I smiled. For just a second, it felt like this random woman was my fairy godmother. And that maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.
“Wear that one tonight,” she said. “Mrs. Pruitt loves red.”
The idea that this was my fairy godmother quickly disappeared. Because all I could think about was that Mrs. Pruitt loved red. A shiver ran down my spine. Red was the color of blood. No matter how hard I tried to shake away the image, I couldn’t.
Chapter 8
Friday
I sat down on the edge of the bed and practically sank into the cushiony mattress. My butt had never touched something so soft before. I sighed. Half my closet and a few of the dresser drawers were already filled with the most expensive clothes I had ever touched. I should have been grateful. But all I felt was…empty.
I ran my fingers across the white down comforter. I didn’t need a soft mattress or nice things. All I needed was a home where I was loved. And this would never be it.
I pulled over one of the boxes that had been stuffed in the closet. There were a few school books, some pictures that had been on my walls, and… It felt like something was caught in my throat as I pulled out Matt’s varsity jacket. I’d never even gotten a chance to wear it. I’d never even gotten a chance to go to any of his games.
There was a knock on the door and I shoved the jacket back into the box. “Yes?” I said. I didn’t know who was on the other side of the door. The last thing I needed was an impromptu torture session from Isabella. Wasn’t eating all our meals together enough? And I didn’t even want to think about what she’d do if she saw this jacket. I closed the flap of the box.
“Dinner starts in a few minutes,” Miller said from the other side of the door. “Do you still want that tour real quick?”
Not really. But walking around the house with him was better than sitting here alone. I smoothed down my dress and opened the door.
A smile stretched across his face. “That dress looks great on you.”
I wasn’t even sure why I blushed. It was probably part of his job description to be nice to the ladies in this apartment. “Um. Thanks.” I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear and waited for him to start the tour. But he didn’t move. “You mentioned a tour?”
“Yeah. It’s just…you need shoes.”
I looked down at my bare feet. I could see that maybe it seemed a little silly to be wearing such a fancy dress and no shoes. But I had my reasons. One being the fact that my black flats I’d worn to the funeral pinched my heels and I’d been enduring their wrath for the past two days. I also hadn’t unpacked my Keds yet, but I had a feeling that Isabella’s parents would appreciate them about as much as she did. And my uncle wasn’t here to fix them if they threw food on them. Oh, and then there was the most obvious reason. “But we’re inside.” The only other thing I’d consider wearing were slippers. And I had a feeling the Pruitts would frown upon that too.
“Right. I’m just letting you know that they usually wear shoes to dinner.”
Who wears shoes to dinner? The first answer that popped into my head was Nazis. I’d bet the zero dollars I had that Nazis did in fact wear shoes to dinner. “I think I’ll take my chances,” I said. I wasn’t a Nazi or a Pruitt, and I wanted to keep it that way.
“As you wish,” he said and stepped to the side.
I padded across the plush carpet as Miller pointed out a hall bath.
“Is this the one I’m supposed to use?” I figured humoring this arrangement was better than letting anyone know I’d be fleeing to Felix’s tonight.
Miller gave me a weird look. “No, you have your own bathroom. In your room,” he added when I didn’t respond. “Didn’t you see it?”
There was another door in my room. It looked just like the one for the closet and I just assumed it was more room for all
the garments the stylist was shipping me. “Oh,” I said. “Yeah, right. Sorry.”
He smiled and continued down the upstairs hallway. He pointed out a few guest rooms. An office. Some locked door that he skipped entirely. He frowned when I tried to open it.
“Just ignore that room,” he said.
Okay. Why was Mr. Pruitt obsessed with creepy locked rooms? There was even one in his other apartment. Or rented apartment. Or whatever it was. We’d reached the top of the stairs.
“Isabella’s suite and the master suite are on the other side of the hall.” He gestured toward the hall that stretched out to the right of the staircase.
It was fitting that I was on the side of the hall with the guestrooms. And not just on that side, but at the very end of it. Like if I was far enough away maybe they could forget I existed.
I realized Miller was already walking down the stairs. I quickly followed and tried to remember every turn that took me from the dining room, kitchen, and the staff kitchen where a few people were busy preparing dinner. And then we made another turn into some kind of sunroom, a small library, a living room, a family room, a second more grand office, a room that just had a piano in it, and a few rooms that I’m pretty sure were just to show off more antiques? Even though the interior design was the opposite of Mr. Pruitt’s other apartment, it was the same in that it looked like no one ever touched anything. Did they all just stay in their bedrooms when they were home? Or maybe there was a separate family room reserved for purebred Pruitts or something.
“And that leads to the lower floor where the staff stays,” Miller said and nodded to a door.
“Wait, you live here?”
“I’m on duty 24 hours a day. So if anyone ever needs something in the middle of the night, I’m around.”
“Don’t you…have a family or something?”
He shoved his hands into his suit pockets. “I’m not supposed to discuss that kind of stuff with you.”
“Just like you’re not supposed to tell me your first name?”
“Yeah.” He gave me a small smile. “Like that.”
“You know I’m not one of them, right? You can tell me your first name.”
He shook his head even though that smile remained on his face.
A bell sounded from somewhere behind me. I was so turned around that I had no idea where we were.
“Dinner is ready,” Miller said. “Do you need me to show you the way back?”
I laughed. “Yeah, I have no idea where the dining room is.”
“Follow me.”
“Do you eat with us too?” I asked as we made our way backward through the tour. This time I didn’t try to pay attention. It wasn’t like I was going to actually have to stay here.
“No.”
“Where do you eat?”
“In the staff kitchen with the rest of the staff.”
“How many staff members are there?”
“Well, you met the chef and his assistant in the kitchen. And you know one of the other security guards from yesterday.”
Mhm. How could I forget? He was the one that had knocked Matt down on the steps of the church. Although I wouldn’t say I knew him.
“There’s one more guard. One for each family member, but sometimes we have different assignments. And then there’s…”
“Wait, so who are you usually assigned to?”
“Mr. Pruitt.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
He laughed.
I hadn’t even realized I’d said the words out loud. And he didn’t get the chance to tell me about the rest of the staff because we’d wound our way right back to the entrance of the dining room.
I was pretty sure I was wearing the most expensive dress I’d ever worn in my entire life, but the whole family was staring at me like I was a barbarian. I looked down at my bare feet. I should have just worn the stupid shoes. The way they were staring, I might as well have been butt naked.
Isabella smiled at me the same way she had right before she poured milk down the front of my blazer. I forced myself not to wince as I let my gaze wander to her mother. Mrs. Pruitt was a spitting image of her daughter. Unnaturally so. The skin on her face looked oddly stretched out. Botox maybe? Or some kind of face-lift? Either way, she was still beautiful. But the way she was staring at me wasn’t.
She cleared her throat and set down her wine glass. “If you’d like to eat with us, you’ll need the proper attire. Miller, take her back upstairs for a pair of shoes.”
“It’s fine, Patricia,” Mr. Pruitt said to his wife and then looked back at me. “Brooklyn, sit.”
I stood frozen on the hardwood floors. What had I been thinking? This wasn’t a home. Only homes were for bare feet. I mean, Mr. Pruitt had instructed me to wear a dress. Of course that meant I was supposed to wear shoes. I swallowed hard as I looked back and forth between them. This was an awful way to start this already awkward dinner.
“No,” Mrs. Pruitt said. “Just because we let in a stray doesn’t mean we have to lower our standards.”
Ouch. “I don’t mind,” I said and took a step back from the dining room. “It’s no trouble at all. I’ll be right back.”
“Brooklyn, sit,” Mr. Pruitt said before I could flee. “Miller, get her seat. Now.” He snapped his fingers like Miller was a dog.
Miller stepped forward and pulled out my chair for me.
Who treated people that way? I wanted to run. I wanted to be anywhere in the world but here. But wasn’t this all kind of going according to plan? Mrs. Pruitt clearly hated me as much as Isabella did. I’d be kicked out in no time.
“Thank you,” I said to Miller and sat down in the chair.
“That’ll be all, Miller,” Mr. Pruitt said. “I’ll let you know if we need anything else.”
Miller nodded and retreated into the kitchen. I would have done anything to be allowed to run away with him.
Mrs. Pruitt took a huge gulp of her wine and glared at her husband. “So this is how it’s going to be now? Utter chaos? Darling, we have standards.”
“It’s a pair of shoes,” he said and gave me a smile that he probably thought was kind. But it looked like a grimace. “She probably just didn’t have any that looked good with the dress. Right, Brooklyn?”
“Actually, I just thought…” I let my voice trail off as I eyed the salad in front of me. Were they going to serve a three-course meal during a family dinner? This was not the place to tell him my opinions of what a home should be like. Because I wasn’t even staying. “Yeah,” I said. “It’s that.”
“See.” He took a sip of his wine. “All will be remedied by tomorrow when her order arrives. Now let’s try to enjoy this delicious salad.”
Mrs. Pruitt rolled her eyes so hard I thought they’d pop out of her head. “I think we should get a second opinion.”
“On what? The salad?” He popped some lettuce in his mouth. “It’s delicious.”
“No, not the salad. On whether or not this child is actually yours.”
“Dr. Wilson ran the test twice,” he said.
“I mean a second opinion from another doctor. Obviously.”
“Dr. Wilson has been our primary care physician for years. Are you saying you don’t trust him now?”
“I trusted you too.”
“It was years ago, Patricia. And we’ve already had this conversation. Several times. You’ve exhausted it to death. The last thing we need is to hash it out again at dinner in front of our daughter.”
I wasn’t sure why I did it, but I braved a glance at Isabella. She was smiling like this was the most entertaining thing she’d ever seen. I looked back down at my salad. I wasn’t hurt by the fact that he’d said daughter instead of daughters. I didn’t want him as my family either.
Mr. Pruitt cleared his throat. “Where are my manners? Brooklyn, this is my wife, Patricia. And you already know Isabella.”
“Mhm.” My voice sounded so small. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Pruitt.”
She j
ust glared at me. I was pretty sure if I was smaller she’d flick me away like the nuisance she saw me as. “I’d like to say the feeling is mutual. But it is most definitely not.” She finished her wine in one big gulp. She snapped her fingers and someone came out and refilled her glass.
“How was your day, Isabella?” Mr. Pruitt asked, ignoring his wife’s comment.
“Fantastic, Daddy. I got an A on my physics test. James told me about his early acceptance to Harvard. He’s so excited and I’m so proud of him. We’re all supposed to meet up after that game tonight to celebrate his news and what I’m sure will be another Empire High victory. Oh, and I almost forgot! I had a lovely lunch with Brooklyn. We had so much fun we almost didn’t hear the bell for class. She’s just the sweetest. And we have so much in common. It’s like we’ve been sisters this whole time. Isn’t that right, Brooklyn?”
I was lucky there was no food in my mouth because I probably would have spit it out. But this was my chance. Even though the dinner was already tumultuous, I wanted the mayhem. I wanted to be kicked out. Disowned. Whatever it took to get out of this mess. “That’s one way to put it. The other would be that you poured milk down the front of my blazer and told me to never sit with you again.”
Someone’s fork clattered against their plate. And then for just a second, everyone at the table was completely silent.
Isabella’s laugh pierced through the silence. “Sissy, that’s too funny. She’s kidding. She’s always been a little bit of a prankster. Everyone at school says it. Tell Daddy that you’re kidding. Tell him.”
I wanted to run away or hide. But I’d already been strong once today when I told Matt off. I could do it again. And I’d already had to sit here listening to Mr. and Mrs. Pruitt talking about me like I wasn’t here. I tried not to think about what the repercussions at school would be if I went through with this. My life was already hell. What did it even matter? I swallowed down the lump in my throat. “I’m not joking. She said I was unwanted. She called me a garbage person like my uncle. And said that I’d never be her sister.”