Chapter 2
Cecily
“I will,” I say with a soft smile, kneeling down to pick up the shards of a broken glass. “I’m so sorry, miss,” the elderly man, Mr. Cavendi, a regular customer, says apologetically.
“It’s perfectly fine, Mr. Cavendi. Please, go take a seat. I’ll be with you shortly,” I reassure him, my voice gentle.
Today, like every day, is a balancing act. When I’m not at work, I’m at school, and when I’m not at either, I’m with Lark. My life has been a whirlwind of responsibilities ever since my mother left. There’s never a moment for myself.
I sigh, placing a small sign next to the pile of glass shards.
I hate blood. I can handle it, of course, but it always makes me feel terrible.
I gather the last few pieces and take them to the back room, dumping them in a small trash can.
Catching a glimpse of myself in the grimy mirror, I almost gasp.
My once-neatly tied blonde curls are now a mess of flyaways, a testament to a hectic shift. My simple makeup has done nothing to hide the exhaustion in my eyes. My cute skater skirt and pink cropped top are both stained with some unidentifiable substance.
I do my best to tidy up before heading back out to sweep the rest of the glass. It’s just another part of working at a diner.
My shift ends not long after the incident.
As I step outside, I swear I see two figures between the trees.
One is lying on the ground, either unconscious or dead, and the other stands over him in just a pair of grey sweats.
I don’t wait to find out. I walk faster, a chill running down my spine. I must be going crazy.
I hum along to the music playing in my headphones, trying to erase the disturbing image from my mind, mentally preparing myself to see Lark. A grateful sigh leaves my lips as I reach our small apartment complex. I rush inside, practically running up the stairs, and unlock the door to apartment 105.
“CeCe?” My angel’s voice rings out before she barrels into me, her small arms wrapping tightly around my thighs. I look down at my five-year-old sister, a genuine smile finally gracing my face. I tuck a strand of her golden hair behind her ear, looking into her mismatched eyes—the same as mine.
“Hey, Angel Cakes. What’s Cara cooking?” I ask, referring to my best friend and Lark’s babysitter.
“Spaghetti!” she squeals, pulling away and racing toward the kitchen. I follow her.
“Heyyyyy bi—” Cara starts, but I shoot her a pointed look, with a glance down at Lark. She rolls her eyes with a dramatic sigh but relents, placing a plate of pasta in front of us.
“There’s this party on Saturday night,” Cara says, tossing her long, perfectly straight brunette hair over her shoulder. I curse her genetics.
“Nope. I couldn’t go even if I wanted to. What would I do with Lark? Also, you al—”
She cuts me off with another dramatic sigh. “If you’d just let me finish. It’s a fancy-schmancy party hosted by this guy called Gareth. Kids can come too. It’s being held in the town museum. You have to wear fancy dresses, and it sounds amazing.”
Cara’s description catches Lark’s attention. “I wanna go! Can we go? Pwease, CeCe?” she pleads, giving me her signature puppy-dog eyes.
I close my eyes with a huff. “We don’t even have anything to wear,” I point out.
Cara immediately shoves a wad of cash into my hands. “I’m not taking your money,” I say firmly.
“Yes, you are. Tomorrow we are going shopping,” she squeals, grabbing Lark’s hand. “I didn’t even—” I start, but they’re already gone. It looks like we’re going to a ball.