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“Oh, honey, you know why,” Aunt Beth said with that there-there tone that Lucy hated, the one Marilyn said was “patronizing.”
“Mom’s sick.”
“But she’s getting better,” Lucy said, repeating what they’d told her, and then she saw it, that knowing look that passed between her older sister and her aunt. “Isn’t she? That’s what you said.”
“These things take time,” Aunt Beth said, and offered one of her sad, almost smiles as she scooted closer to allow a stewardess to pass by.
“How long?”
Marilyn let out a huff. “God, Lucy, don’t be a baby, okay? You’re eight years old, for God’s sake, almost nine. No one knows.”
“It’s been a long time!” Once again, Lucy had the feeling that she was being left out of an important conversation, if not lied to. “Really long. And why is she sending us to Australia?”
“Austria!” Marilyn said loudly. “Salzburg’s in Austria! That’s where we’re going!”
A woman a row up in a red hat turned to stare at Lucy in a way that said she was accusing her of being a brat. So what?
“I just want to know why Mama doesn’t want us!”
“Oh, get a life! It’s not that she doesn’t—”
“Girls! Hush. Enough!” Aunt Beth glanced around to the passengers nearby, the closest ones a bald man and a pudgy woman, each with a thick English accent that Lucy had overheard as they’d ordered their meals.
Slipping a new disc into her player, Marilyn sent her sister an oh-grow-up look, then adjusted her earphones to sink into the teen angst of Nirvana. “It’s her fault,” she said. “She’s weird.”
“Marilyn!” Aunt Beth shot her oldest niece a sharp look.
Lucy’s sister lifted a shoulder. “It’s true.”
“Don’t be silly.” Aunt Beth gave Lucy a pat on the shoulder and whispered, “Not much longer and we’ll be in Salzburg.”
Who cares? Lucy thought. She was tired and grumpy, sick of Barbie dolls that she hated anyway. She swung her legs and hit the seat in front of her, and a man in a hat turned and glared at her.
“Stop it,” Marilyn warned, pinching her arm.
“Ow!” Lucy shrank away from her sister and actually held back from sticking out her tongue because Marilyn was sure to call her a baby again and Lucy hated that. She sat glumly for the rest of the flight, tapping the toe of her shoe on the seat in front of her just to bug her sister and watch the old guy in the hat turn his head more than once to stare at her as the jet’s engines droned in the background.
She turned back to her Barbies and made a face. Just last week, upon learning about this trip, Lucy had found her blond Sun Jewel Ken doll and his date, long-maned Glitter Hair Barbie, dressed them up in a tux and long gown, and pretended that they were walking the red carpet, as if they were at the premiere of one of Mama’s old movies and Lucy’s favorite, Tina Champagne in Love Goes Rogue.
Going to that movie was the last thing that particular Barbie and Ken had ever done as a couple.
Later that night, Lucy had decapitated them both.
Cascade Mountains, Oregon
Now
“Lucy? Looooocy? I know where you are,” the shapeless, dark figure whispered, stretching out her name and darting through the shadows. “You can’t hide from me. Loooooocy.”
“No!” she tried to cry, but the word wouldn’t come, was stuck in her throat.
Run!
But her legs wouldn’t move. It was as if they were mired in quicksand, and when she raised her hands she saw that they were covered in blood. Thick, warm, sticky blood.
“Looooocy,” the figure hissed, and she tried to scream.
Lucy’s eyes flew open, and for a second she didn’t realize where she was. She blinked and focused on the dark, unfamiliar room.
