The closer they got to the Mayfair manor, the more anxious Phoebe found herself becoming. She was nervous about what her family had planned. Was it going to be one of those big glamorous parties like they used to hold for Ruth?
Would it be a small family affair like she requested? What if she failed to smile or cry? What if she was so nervous that she puked?
"You are going to hyperventilate, breathe Phoebe, breathe." The Saxon spirit encouraged.
But how could she breathe easily when she felt as if she wanted to just turn around and run for the hills? She would rather have faced malicious ghosts than have a birthday party.
Grandma Mayfair sensed Phoebe's unease and she squeezed her hand gently, giving her an assuring smile. All Phoebe saw was sharp evil clown teeth ready to gobble her up.
"Oooh,,this is is so not good." she mumbled.
The rate at which she was panicking, Phoebe was sure that she would faint before the party even started.