she painted stripes and whiskers and a dark red nose on top of hers. She finished up with black lipstick and eyeliner.
Hey, I look pretty cute as a cat. Maybe I should suggest “Cats!” to Mr. Baxter. It’d be fun. Except I’d have to wear a skintight cat suit. Not too keen on that idea. People might make fun of my bony ass.
She realized that she was feeling a little less sorry for herself. If nothing else, Granny’s madness was a happy distraction. And she’d been feeling stronger ever since she put the choker around her neck. The terror of the previous night had faded… only the anger remained.
There were still several minutes to go before sundown. She spent half of them making crazy cat faces at herself in the mirror—and the last few feeling completely foolish.
Okay, Felicia. You’re now certifiable. One fry short of a Happy Meal.
Someone knocked on her bedroom door.
Not now. Please. She tried to ignore it.
“Felicia?” It was her mother’s voice, with the slightly peevish, snoopy tone that warned she wasn’t going away without a hassle. Followed by louder more insistent knocking.
Jesus, what now? Can’t they respect my privacy?
“What is it? I’m studying.”
“You sure you don’t want to come down and have some dessert? Peach pie and ice cream? Vanilla ice cream!” she added with too much excitement in her voice.
“Maybe later, mom. I really need to study now, okay? I’m trying to concentrate.”
“Okay,” her mother’s voice sounded a little guilty. Felicia knew that little quiver was intended to stir her own guilty heartstrings, but instead she felt victorious.
Good. Maybe now they’ll leave me in peace.
She breathed a sigh of relief as she heard her mother pad away down the hall, followed a moment later by a hushed conversation with her father. She didn’t have to hear their words; the tone of their voices spoke volumes. Concern… disappointment… and finally resignation.
Satisfied that she wouldn’t be bothered again, Felicia turned toward the window and gazed at the evening sky.
The sun was a hazy white ball against a backdrop of deepening color. As it touched the horizon the sky flared bright with a final burst of orange, then quickly went dark as if a slate-colored curtain had suddenly dropped down from heaven.
Felicia’s heartbeat thickened as the last fading rays of the sun died away, and the gray sky turned purple-black, speckled with a thousand tiny stars.
She drew an anxious breath and turned to look at herself in the mirror… but felt nothing. Nothing at all, other than an empty feeling of disappointment.
Maybe I didn’t do it right.
She looked at her unchanged human hands and chided herself for being so gullible. Suddenly feeling like a total fool. With her face painted up to prove it.
Jesus what was I thinking? I better get to the bathroom and wash my face before one of the parental units comes up and sees me.
She started to stand but froze as a sharp spasm tugged at her belly, as if her stomach muscles were contracting all at once. It wasn’t exactly painful, but it also wasn’t a pleasant sensation.
She forced herself to take another step, still thinking she was headed for the bathroom to wash the silly paint off. But her leg muscles turned to jelly and she stumbled and teetered off-balance. She braced herself on her vanity, balanced on rubbery legs.
The contractions continued, tightening then relaxing then tightening again. Terrified of falling, which would no doubt bring her parents running upstairs to investigate, she steered her drunken legs toward her bed and flopped uncertainly against the top edge of the mattress.
Her head was spinning and she felt herself sliding to the floor. In a moment of panic she tried to brace herself with her legs on the floor but her feet kept sliding forward. She just couldn’t get any traction.
Great! Now they’ll hear me fall and come running and find me in this stupid make-up.
To her surprise the fall
Hey, I look pretty cute as a cat. Maybe I should suggest “Cats!” to Mr. Baxter. It’d be fun. Except I’d have to wear a skintight cat suit. Not too keen on that idea. People might make fun of my bony ass.
She realized that she was feeling a little less sorry for herself. If nothing else, Granny’s madness was a happy distraction. And she’d been feeling stronger ever since she put the choker around her neck. The terror of the previous night had faded… only the anger remained.
There were still several minutes to go before sundown. She spent half of them making crazy cat faces at herself in the mirror—and the last few feeling completely foolish.
Okay, Felicia. You’re now certifiable. One fry short of a Happy Meal.
Someone knocked on her bedroom door.
Not now. Please. She tried to ignore it.
“Felicia?” It was her mother’s voice, with the slightly peevish, snoopy tone that warned she wasn’t going away without a hassle. Followed by louder more insistent knocking.
Jesus, what now? Can’t they respect my privacy?
“What is it? I’m studying.”
“You sure you don’t want to come down and have some dessert? Peach pie and ice cream? Vanilla ice cream!” she added with too much excitement in her voice.
“Maybe later, mom. I really need to study now, okay? I’m trying to concentrate.”
“Okay,” her mother’s voice sounded a little guilty. Felicia knew that little quiver was intended to stir her own guilty heartstrings, but instead she felt victorious.
Good. Maybe now they’ll leave me in peace.
She breathed a sigh of relief as she heard her mother pad away down the hall, followed a moment later by a hushed conversation with her father. She didn’t have to hear their words; the tone of their voices spoke volumes. Concern… disappointment… and finally resignation.
Satisfied that she wouldn’t be bothered again, Felicia turned toward the window and gazed at the evening sky.
The sun was a hazy white ball against a backdrop of deepening color. As it touched the horizon the sky flared bright with a final burst of orange, then quickly went dark as if a slate-colored curtain had suddenly dropped down from heaven.
Felicia’s heartbeat thickened as the last fading rays of the sun died away, and the gray sky turned purple-black, speckled with a thousand tiny stars.
She drew an anxious breath and turned to look at herself in the mirror… but felt nothing. Nothing at all, other than an empty feeling of disappointment.
Maybe I didn’t do it right.
She looked at her unchanged human hands and chided herself for being so gullible. Suddenly feeling like a total fool. With her face painted up to prove it.
Jesus what was I thinking? I better get to the bathroom and wash my face before one of the parental units comes up and sees me.
She started to stand but froze as a sharp spasm tugged at her belly, as if her stomach muscles were contracting all at once. It wasn’t exactly painful, but it also wasn’t a pleasant sensation.
She forced herself to take another step, still thinking she was headed for the bathroom to wash the silly paint off. But her leg muscles turned to jelly and she stumbled and teetered off-balance. She braced herself on her vanity, balanced on rubbery legs.
The contractions continued, tightening then relaxing then tightening again. Terrified of falling, which would no doubt bring her parents running upstairs to investigate, she steered her drunken legs toward her bed and flopped uncertainly against the top edge of the mattress.
Her head was spinning and she felt herself sliding to the floor. In a moment of panic she tried to brace herself with her legs on the floor but her feet kept sliding forward. She just couldn’t get any traction.
Great! Now they’ll hear me fall and come running and find me in this stupid make-up.
To her surprise the fall
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