Chapter 10: The Words In The Wardrobe

Her tears only lasted so long. For better or worse, she wasn't willing to just lie there and be pathetic any longer. The girl she was would have pulled herself into a ball and tried to disappear. But Alice no longer felt the need to vanish.

She sat up and looked around her, the last of the sunlight fading over the back yard, throwing long shadows across the overgrown garden, a looming angel statue standing at mournful attention over a dark stretch of empty yard. Something to explore later. Right now, she had a room to finish. Alice listened at her door a moment, just in case. She didn't feel like talking to her mother right now. But the hall was empty and silent, microscopic debris hanging in the air from the final rays of the sun. She dashed up to the attic, which yielded some empty boxes, plastic totes they'd brought with them from Denver. Alice quickly filled them with the old clothing from her room before returning the totes to the attic.

When she re-entered her now uncluttered room, Alice felt her entire being sigh in happiness. It was like this room was meant for her, made for her. And the wardrobe with its gaping doors beckoned.

At least she'd thought to bring her things upstairs last night instead of waiting. Her suitcases full of clothes and personal items were already waiting to be unpacked. Alice slid her hand inside her backpack and pulled out the doll. It flopped softly in her hand, the little dress smooth under her fingers as she carried it to the head of the bed and set it carefully on her pillow.

The box with the pins went under the night table, hidden from view. That job complete, Alice tackled her clothes.

Not that she had much, really. Most of her things were a bit worn and too small. She'd grown a couple of inches in the last six months. At least her baggy sweatshirts didn't make her feel uncomfortably squeezed, but she'd have to convince her mother to take her shopping at some point. Alice wrinkled her nose at the thought of buying second-hand, but she knew they didn't have a whole lot to keep them going right now thanks to the move, despite the free place to live.

The hangers inside the wardrobe were all wood, matching stain, with ornately wound metal hooks. Alice ran her fingers over the carvings, rose vines winding the length of each hanger. She felt odd slipping her ordinary clothes over such pieces of art, as if her things weren't worthy of the amazing wardrobe. But it made her feel somehow even more at home as piece after piece slid perfectly within.

As Alice bent to retrieve a pair of gym pants she'd dropped, she glanced up and into the wardrobe. The faint shadow of something scrawled on the left wall appeared, visible from her angle. Alice straightened, sliding her clothes aside, peering into the dark of the wardrobe to look closer. Some kind of writing. She couldn't read the language, but from vague memories of French class thought she knew a few words. Alice stepped one foot inside the wardrobe, her hand exploring the writing. Carving. Etched into the beautiful wood in scrolling script. One single word stood out to her as she squinted into the dark.

Grace.

Excitement speeding her heart, the mystery of the writing sparking through her and awakening her sense of adventure from finding the doll and then her bathroom experience, Alice spun and dug through her second bag, coming up with a digital camera and her small flashlight.

After a quick inspection with the light shining full on the writing, Alice took careful aim and snapped a photo, the flash reflecting back from the wardrobe. She'd download it into her netbook and see if she could find a translation.

Careful examination of the rest of the wardrobe, under the bed and all of the walls revealed no further secrets. Alice closed the doors, hugging herself as she pondered what the writing could mean.

"Alice!" Betty's voice echoed from down the hall, just penetrating the bedroom door. "Supper!"

Was it so late? A stubborn ball of rejection settled inside Alice. Despite the rumbling in her stomach, she shouted back.

"I'm not hungry!"

Alice held her breath. No way her mother would accept that. Maybe from Evan, but never from her. And yet, after a moment, the sound of Betty's footsteps retreating down the stairs told Alice she'd won.

A chocolate bar she'd been hoarding served as her supper. Alice kicked herself when she went looking for her computer and realized it was still in the living room. She forgot to bring it upstairs. So no research, unless she actually wanted to face her mother.

Alice didn't. Instead, she curled up on her bed with her latest book and got lost in make believe.

***

The sound of voices in the hall jerked Alice from the battle between two rival werewolf clans and into reality. She could just make out the words, creeping closer to her door until both voices were clear.

"Ñstay home for once." Betty sounded irritated.

"For God's sake, Mom, what for?" Evan's petulant tone made Alice smirk. "I did what you wanted today, didn't I?"

"And complained the whole time. When you were working." Betty's heavy sigh was loud enough to reach through the door. "I'm not asking, Evan. You're staying in tonight, and that's final."

Footsteps walked away, soft enough to be Betty's. Evan's cursing started up shortly after, his door slamming down the hall and around the corner.

Alice sat back, hugging the doll to her chest, wickedly pleased her brother was finally being put in his place.

Startled, she looked down at the doll she pressed to her chest. When had she picked it up? She didn't remember carrying it with her to the door, but she must have. Alice shrugged to herself and returned to her book.

***

By the time she turned the last page, the heroine safe (for now) and in the arms of her werewolf boyfriend, Alice's stomach wouldn't let her ignore it any longer. The house was quiet, dark, as she eased her door open and peeked into the hall.

Her mother and brother must have gone to bed. A quick check of her watch told her it was well past midnight. Flashlight in hand, Alice crept down the stairs and to the kitchen, wincing at every noise the old house made under her feet.

The light from the refrigerator lit the whole kitchen in a cold, white glare. Alice scooped up some left over spaghetti, wrapped on a plate and felt a twinge of guilt. Her mother had left it for her, she was sure. Alice's previous feeling of success standing up to her mother faded as she looked down at the cold plate of pasta, carefully wrapped in plastic and left for her.

The microwave hummed until Alice opened the door, careful not to let the bell ding.

Sound carried in the house and, while she knew Betty left the food for her, she didn't want a late-night confrontation. Alice shoveled a large forkful into her mouth, chewing quickly, the ache in her empty stomach easing a little. She had just lifted the second giant portion to her lips when she froze.

A footstep. Another. Coming closer. Quiet. Not her mother.

Alice let out a little shriek as a tall, dark figure loomed into the kitchen, dropping her fork and spitting out bits of spaghetti. It wasn't until she heard the grunt she knew it wasn't some supernatural visitor at all, but her brother.

"What are you doing up?" Evan was dressed. Jacket, jeans, sneakers. Keys in his hand.

"Mom told you to stay home." The words were out before she could stop them.

Evan lunged for her, grabbing her arm, squeezing the place Betty had earlier, a twinge of pain racing up Alice's arm from her injured elbow. "Mind your own damned business."

Alice tried to free herself, but Evan was much stronger than Betty. "Let me go." She hated the whine in her voice that reminded her of being small and nothing again.

"You tell Mom," he said, the scent of weed on his breath as he leaned into her, "and I swear I'll ruin your life."

"Whatever." Alice turned away from him. "Like I care where you go. Or do. Leave me alone."

Evan held her one more moment before shoving her back. Alice barely caught herself from falling off her stool as Evan backed away, a nasty grin on his face.

"Watching you." He pointed two fingers at his eyes then spun them around at her. "Always. Lice."

Alice choked down a couple more bites as she fought off tears after Evan snuck out the kitchen door. Unable to eat any more, her stomach rebelling and appetite gone, Alice crept back up to her room and curled up on her bed, hugging the doll to her chest as a core of hate grew in her heart.

"I don't want to go to the stupid dance," she whispered to the doll. "I don't want one of Claire's stupid dresses. I just want to be left alone." The doll lay there in her arms, button eyes looking up at her. "I hate them all." As she does, It does. Her hate is Its hate. It feeds her anger, the newborn part of the mistress It has woken, knowing once her rage reaches the breaking point, there will be a time to act at last.

It can't wait.

***