Page 118 of Cackle

Jonestown?

Yeah, I type. Would I drink the Kool-Aid?

It was grape Flavor Aid.

Grape?!?!

You wouldn’t have drunk it because it was grape & we’re leery of people who choose grape.

Why have grape when you could have cherry?

I’m looking it up now. Flavor Aid had cherry, raspberry, tropical punch, pink lemonade, orange-pineapple, strawberry, mango, kiwi-watermelon . . .

MANGO?

Mango and they chose to go out with grape.

No, thank you!

See? You’re fine.

Thanks, I type.

It’s the longest interaction we’ve had in months. It feels so good to talk to someone who knows me. It feels so good to talk to him. Sam.

Also, it’s Valentine’s Day, and he texted me back right away. Maybe he’s not with Shannon. Maybe they’re not together anymore. Maybe.

My stomach flips.

What if?

I miss you, I tell him.

A minute passes. It’s a bleak minute.

Then,

I miss you, too.

SOME DECEPTION

I pass out on the couch, cake crumbs crusting my mouth, my phone clutched to my chest. I wake up there to the sound of a door shutting. I blink into the morning.

“Annie, darling?” I hear, followed by the distinct click of the dead bolt turning. The knob twists, and the door swings open.

Sophie stands there dressed in all black. Feathers and velvet and lace and fur. Her hood covers her eyes and casts a shadow over the rest of her face.

I look up at her, at this hooded figure, and feel an extraordinary, suffocating fear I’ve experienced only since I came to Rowan.

This fear is interrupted by the pitter-patter of many tiny legs clambering in from the bedroom.

Ralph.

Sophie removes her hood.

She’s beautiful, smiling. Amber eyes electric.

“Hello, little friend,” she says to Ralph. She lowers herself to the floor and pats his head with a long elegant finger. He shimmies with satisfaction.