Chapter 17
“She hates me,” Madison states as Mrs. Elmore gets smaller in the rearview mirror, leaning heavily on her cane.
“She hates you,” I agree, slumping back in the passenger seat. My head aches, and I know there’s a migraine building behind my eyes that started yesterday after my foray into unfriendly territory on social media. “I’ve never seen her hate anyone, but she absolutely hates you.”
Madison makes a face. “I don’t know why she hates me. No one hates me.” The look I give her makes her roll her eyes. “It was one time. It wasn’t even that big of a deal.”
“You compared her to a petrified tree.”
“Have you seen her?”
My lips twitch with the beginning of a smile, and I sigh while pressing an ice pack over my eyes to try to relieve some of the ache in my head.
“Remind me why I’ve left my house and traveled into the vicious sunlight?
” I consider telling her, again, that I’d rather be in my bed with my head under my pillow until further notice. “My head hurts.”
“Yeah, well, lying in the dark and curled up like a pretzel isn’t going to help it.” But I can just barely see the sympathetic, worried look she throws at me. “But I’ll bring you home before you turn into a pumpkin. And I’m buying.”
“You better be taking me to Gordon Ramsey’s restaurant then,” I grumble.
“You don’t even like steak.”
“I make exceptions for expensive steak.”
That gets a snort from her, and I can’t help feeling grateful that she’s dragged me out of my house, even with the headache. Truthfully, all I’ve been doing is feeling sorry for myself. Maybe a change of scenery and a break from lying in bed like a corpse will help me feel better.
Admittedly, I didn’t mean to fall asleep in the reclined passenger seat of Madison’s car. But with the low music and the warmth of the sun soaking into my hoodie, I fall into a blackness that’s a comforting relief.
It doesn’t last long enough, though. Madison gently shakes me awake some time later, and I open my eyes, face numb under the melted ice pack, to see the world through the blue gel that obscures most of my vision, turning everything into wobbly shapes and shadows.
“I’m up,” I sigh, sitting up my seat and letting the ice pack drop. My head pulses with the beat of my heart, reminding me that being awake is not preferable to being unconscious for this level of a headache.
“You’re up,” Madison agrees. She takes the ice pack and tosses it into the console, then waits for me to get my bearings before she opens the driver’s side door and gets out.
I take an extra moment, gazing at my surroundings. It occurs to me that I have no idea where we are, and I reach up to press the pads of my fingers into the back of my neck and my shoulders. One of these days, I really am going to go get a massage.
Finally, before I can sink back into the oblivion of another nap, I release my seatbelt and push the door open all in one movement.
Doing it quickly helps prevent me from giving up halfway through, though I end up blinking in the sunlight and feeling like I should hiss and claw at the too-bright light before scurrying under the nearest car.
“Where are we?” I ask, shielding my face to look up at the large complex. We’re definitely in Chicago, I figure, but I don’t recognize the sprawling building or sidewalks leading under archways to what looks like an interior courtyard.
“This is that new shopping complex I was telling you about. The one my dad consulted on.” She gestures towards a big, brand new sign reading The Meadows in fancy lettering.
“It’s basically an upscale outlet mall. Surplus designer stuff and some boutiques of the bigger brands.
” To show me what she means, she gestures to the first store we pass, with designer sunglasses gleaming in the window.
Quickly, I realize everything here is way outside my tax bracket—even for outlets. Without Madison, there’s no way I’d be here, and it feels like my grubby little fingers don’t belong on anything here, for fear of contaminating them with my lower-middle class germs.
Madison leads me past the shops, though my steps slow so I can peer in windows curiously every once in a while.
She puts up with it, even pointing out some things she’s interested in, before the shops open up into a courtyard covered by a glass and metal roof like someone’s interpretation of a modernized pagoda.
“Oh, wow.” I stop and look around, unsurprised to see that the place is pretty packed with people. “This is really cool. Sort of impractical, though?” I glance at Madison. “The designer knew we’re in Chicago, right? This won’t be usable for like, four months out of the year.”
“There are a few things to offset that. The roof, obviously. Some heaters. But yeah, I’m sure this will get closed once December hits and the temperatures start to plummet. Where do you want to eat?”
“Umm…” I barely recognize any of the places, though I’m not upset to see a lack of fast food options. When I have a headache this bad, greasy, fast food only makes it worse. “Your choice? I’ve only heard of the potato place, and I’ve heard their stuff is pretty spicy.”
Madison flashes me a grin. “I was sort of hoping you’d let me pick,” she admits. “But just because I like to think I know you well enough to know what you like to eat.”
“I’m not that hard to please.” My voice comes out with a low snicker, but I follow her to one end of the food court where she gets in line for a place that offers a fusion of Chinese and American food.
From what I can see, most people are walking away with bao buns—fluffy dough wrapped around fillings like fried chicken or pulled pork.
Madison is right. She does know what I like to eat, sometimes better than I do. My stomach growls, reminding me I haven’t eaten any food since yesterday, and suddenly I’m starving. My mouth waters for the amazing-smelling food that keeps drifting by on paper plates as people get their orders.
“Trust me to order for you?” Madison turns to cock her head, surveying my face. “You look like you should go sit down.”
“That’s a really nice way of saying I have all the charm of a soon-to-be corpse.” But I nod my head, one hand coming up to press against my face. “I’ll see you over there?” Dropping my hand, I point to a cluster of empty tables near-ish us.
“Give me a few minutes, and yeah.”
I make my way over to the tables, grateful to find a few empty ones that are a little distance away from the crowds. With my headache, I’m not at all interested in constantly bumping into other people today, when all I want to do is collapse on my arms and play dead until food shows up.
Stupidly, my foot catches on the chair leg and I nearly face-plant the table, though I manage to save myself and my dignity by sitting down like a semi-normal person, my ass thumping into the plastic seat.
It’s nice here, I think to myself, people watching with the thrum of the crowd’s voices in my ears like white noise.
I could never shop here. This is way above my tax bracket.
But it’s nice to sit here with the sun sinking into the black material of my Texas Chainsaw Massacre hoodie, with my ankles crossed under the table, and just exist. Even with a building migraine, I can appreciate Madison dragging me out of the house so I’m not just moping and making it worse by curling up in unrealistic positions that only serve to tie my spine into knots.
“Excuse me.” The voice drags me out of my reverie, and I look up, afraid I’ve taken someone’s reserved table.
An apology bubbles up my throat, just in case, but I pause when I see two girls, maybe a couple years younger than me, standing by my table.
One has her phone out, and she glances from me to it, biting her lip like she’s hiding a smile.
“Am I at your table?” I ask, bemused. “I can move—”
“You’re Scaredy Cat, right?” the blonde asks, cutting me off.
“Uh, yeah.” Getting recognized in public has only happened to me a few times before, and I’m definitely not expecting it now. Especially while I feel like death. “Do you guys follow me?”
“No,” the black-haired girl assures me, her deep-set eyes looking over me almost disdainfully. “We only know about you from the Squad Ghouls livestream.”
Oh.
“Okay.” I don’t know what else to say, so I leave it at that as I sit back in my chair. I try not to look like I’m suffering, and drop my arms to a more casual, relaxed position across my lap.
“You saw what the manor posted about you, right?” the other girl asks almost excitedly.
Her smile turns unfriendly, and she sets her phone down on the table, where I can see the post of my face with the whiskers and ears drawn on it in marker.
God, this really is going to haunt me for the rest of my life.
I don’t know what to say, but I definitely don’t want these two to sense weakness. Defensiveness makes me shift uneasily, though I force myself not to change position or let my expression change to anything uncomfortable.
Maybe if I just look bored, they’ll go away.
“Yeah. Nice of them to give me the extra attention for people who might not know about me,” I compliment. “I’ll have to give them a shout-out on my next post.”
The two girls look at each other, obviously not expecting such a polite, blasé answer. “They weren’t complimenting you,” the dark-haired girl states coldly. “Have you read the comments?”
“I don’t really have that kind of free time.
I’m thrilled that you both do, though.” It’s a subtle dig, but not really enough to make either of them do anything other than frown.
My knuckles tap against my thigh, and I look toward the restaurant where Madison is currently paying for our food.
Thank God, I think to myself. She shouldn’t be much longer.
“Don’t you think it’s hypocritical?” The question draws my gaze back to the girls, and I look at them with raised brows, trying to exude an aura of boredom instead of discomfort.