Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
“I have learned that treating things like people and
people like things just makes you pathetic.”
—excerpt from the unpublished memoir,
Darling, I Must Say by Gloria Hayes
Clearly, I’d let all the confidence of the first three days go to my head because when I arrived on Monday to pick up Hallie from the day camp, I knew something wasn’t right.
I parked and went into the lobby. A quiet buzz filled the area, mostly moms of varying ages. I recognized more than a few. Instead of mingling, I shrunk into a quiet corner and kept checking the time on my phone. I thought I was pretty well hidden until a voice called out my name.
“What are you doing here? I know you don’t have any kids,” Megan Tillman asked.
She’d been three years ahead of me in school, a senior when I’d been a freshman, which hadn’t stopped her from noticing me.
She’d always had a comment about my clothes or my hair.
I should introduce Missy to her. They’d be the best of friends.
I had history with Megan. One day when I was in high school, she asked if I would be spending Christmas visiting my dad in prison.
I’d already been in a bad mood so the decision to punch her had been easy.
It was the only time I got in trouble in school.
Even with the surprising hand pain, it had been worth it.
Some things just were. Like eating chocolate every day.
Never compromise on daily chocolate and punching mean girls.
My smile was more of a grimace. “Megan. Good to see you.”
“How have you been?”
Oh, please. Like you care. “Great. And you?”
“So good.” She flipped her long blonde hair (totally extensions) over her shoulder, making sure to flash the giant ring on her left hand. Yes, yes, Megan, you snagged a rich guy. We are all very happy for you. “What are you doing here?”
“I just like to spend my time watching other people’s kids. Sometimes I take pictures of them to post on the internet. Everyone needs a hobby, you know?”
Megan stared at me in horror.
I rolled my eyes. “I’m picking up a friend’s daughter.”
“Oh, well, good. How old is she? Wouldn’t it be fun if she’s in the same class as Audrina?” If I remembered correctly, Megan was her rich husband’s second wife and Audrina was her stepdaughter.
“She’s nine. Her name’s Hallie.”
“Oh, they’re the same age. Maybe they’ve become friends.”
I couldn’t take this sickly sweet, completely made-up conversation anymore. “Like we did in high school? Besties forever, right?”
Thankfully, the kids were released just then so I skirted around her to make my exit.
I practically danced off. That had felt good.
Really good. Though Mae might have something to say about it when it got around to her.
And it would get around to her—welcome to life in a small town.
Really, the government should start putting small towns in charge of the emergency alert system.
The Two Harts’ gossip hotline could spread a rumor faster than you could butter a piece of toast.
The space cleared quickly as kids found their parents. There were only three adults left when Hallie showed up. Shoulders curved and head down, she walked slowly toward me.
“Hey, how was it?” I asked when she was close enough. “Did you have fun?”
She stopped in front of me. “Can we go home?”
“Sure. Sure. Let’s go.” All the way to the car, she was weirdly silent. No steady stream of chattering. Not a single question.
Once we got settled into the car, I adjusted the rearview mirror so I could see her. “I was thinking we could stop and get an ice cream cone. What do you say?”
Hallie shrugged and played with the hem of her (purple) jean shorts.
“Come on now. If I’m having a bad day, ice cream helps a little. For that matter, if I’m having a good day, too. Ice cream is for all occasions.” I put the car in drive and headed toward the ice cream shop in downtown Two Harts.
Don’t be fooled by the “downtown” descriptor.
It was four blocks on Main Street. But it’s where the cute little tourist traps lived—the high-end shops, specialty stores, clothing boutiques, and especially the antique malls that changed owners about three times a year.
There were older establishments on Main Street, too.
The Sit-n-Eat, the post office, the corner mom-and-pop grocery store.
After we each got two scoops, I drove us over to Legacy Park.
Despite the heat, we took the half mile walk to the Legacy Tree in the middle of a large clearing.
It was one of the prettiest spots in all of Two Harts, and historical, too.
Rumor had it that one of the two Hart brothers who founded Two Harts carved his initials in this tree along with his love’s name.
“Remember this place? This is where your Aunt Ali got married. You were pretty little though.”
Hallie’s nose scrunched as she turned in a slow circle. “I got to be the flower girl.”
“You were excellent.”
A tiny smile teased her mouth. She had a bit of chocolate peanut butter ice cream on her chin. “It was fun.”
We sat together on a bench that faced the tree. “You want to talk about it?”
Hallie stared down at her feet as they swung back and forth. “The girls are mean.”
“What did they do?” I asked, feeling a wave of protectiveness.
She shrugged. “Just said stuff.”
“Did you say stuff back?”
“I tried not to. I didn’t want to be mean back ’cause I know that’s not the right thing to do.”
“Good point. Very mature.” I wasn’t feeling so mature, though. “Do I need to say something?”
Hallie’s head whipped around. “No! Don’t say anything. It will be okay. I just need to try harder to be friends with them.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You promise you’ll tell me if it gets worse? You don’t have to put up with that.”
“I promise.” She patted my leg. “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”
Spoiler: Everything was not fine.
When I picked Hallie up the next day, her favorite t-shirt, the purple tie-dyed one she’d made with her grandmother the month before, had a tear in it.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Don’t know.” That was all. When I had a chance to inspect the shirt, I realized it wasn’t a tear at all, it was a cut. Someone had cut her shirt.
The day after that, she had tears in her eyes when she climbed into the car. I was moving quickly from concerned to downright mad.
“What’s wrong?” I asked as we headed back to the house, my hands clutching the steering wheel.
Silently, Hallie stared out the window. Just as we pulled into the driveway, she said softly, “One of the girls is having a party. She gave everyone an invitation except me.”
“Oh,” I said, trying to sound calm and not like I wanted to rip the heads off young children. People frowned on that. “Who is it? Maybe they just forgot?”
“Audrina,” she whispered.
Of course. Like stepmother, like stepdaughter.
In the house, I got Hallie set up with a snack and an episode of some anime show that was on Abe’s pre-approved watch list. After, I sent out a few texts to people who knew every person in this town. It took all of ten minutes to track down Megan Tillman’s phone number.
ME: Hi, Megan. This is Iris Sampson. I was wondering about the details for Audrina’s birthday party. It looks like Hallie’s invite got lost.
MEGAN: Oh, it’s not a birthday party, it’s a meet-and-greet. It’s for all the girls in the pageant.
ME: What pageant?
MEGAN: The Miss Two Harts Pageant. They’re bringing it back this year and I’m the organizer for the Little Miss division. All the girls who got invites have expressed interest. I didn’t think Hallie was interested.
ME: Well, maybe she is. Send me the details of this meeting. We’ll be there.
I threw my phone down and found Hallie in the living room, curled up on the couch. “You are going to that party.”
“I am?”
“Yep. You are absolutely going. It was a mistake. Of course you’re invited. It’s in a couple of weeks.” I sat down next to her and paused the movie she was watching.
She sat up, the look in her eyes hopeful. “That’s really what happened?”
“The truth?” I sighed. “It’s not a birthday party.”
Her brow creased in confusion. “It’s not?”
“It’s for the girls who are interested in the Little Miss Two Harts pageant.”
“Oh.” Her nose scrunched. “A pageant?”
“Yeah. I know, right. Who wants to do a pageant?” I bumped her shoulder with mine. “But, where people gather in Two Harts, there’s always good food. We’ll go, eat all their snacks, and leave. How’s that?”
Besides, I wanted a chance to meet the Mean Girls of Day Camp. Maybe put a little fear into them. But subtly, without anyone noticing.
“So, you’re coming with me?” she asked.
I threaded my fingers together and cracked my knuckles. “Oh, yeah, I’m coming.”