Is the Prophecy a great humanizing force keeping us from returning to our ritualistic animal nature, or is it a source of injustice, a power that ultimately maintains a corrupt status quo by limiting human evolution? Abigail, now accepting her fate as both an adolescent and a young woman, deliberates with her family on these questions. Despite this acceptance, Abigail continues to struggle with her identity as she tries to find her true feminine self and avoid regressing to a state where even her teenage friends would question her behaviour.

I said, “It is a disease. A disease of the mind. You remember what Mr. Atwater said about the Sidereus Prophecy. It is meant to keep humanity distracted, sated in a pop culture mash that turns us away from issues that matter, from those who steal from us and control us. Without the Prophecy, we could have a world where we aren’t controlled by images and advertisements. Imagine a world where little girls grow up without being inundated with pictures of the perfect body.”

“It goes beyond that, too. Without the wash of celebrity culture, our world could be a utopia. What if instead of discussing which Kardashian they like more or watching the child exploitation that is Toddlers in Tiaras, people actually discussed issues that mattered? You say that it is the status quo, but what if it isn’t? What if we are meant for more? This is an ancient prophecy. What if it wasn’t fulfilled? What kind of world would we have?”
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DISCLAIMER:
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Part 7

Chapter 58

The screen said, “Ethan Rayner and Abigail Grenier are now in a relationship!

Two seconds later, a comment appeared from Alyssa, “FINALLY! YAY 4 U 2 LOVE U XD!

Ryan’s comment was congratulatory, but hardly appropriate, “Congratz man, Abby’s super hot.”

The significance of my action did not strike me until a few moments later. I had forgotten to see if there was a way to change a relationship status secretly. Samantha, who had thankfully stopped hanging around Ethan once I was firmly in the picture would see that Ethan was my boyfriend, but unfortunately so would Amélie, Steven and Andrew. I filled Alyssa in on all the details via text, and then I used Amélie’s makeup remover on my face.

I sat at the computer and clicked on accept for every single friend request, bringing my total from five to forty-five in under two minutes. I told myself that I wasn’t going to go on it beyond answering messages about the band or chatting with Alyssa or Ethan, but I did have the urge to snoop. Facebook was as much a time-vampire as any Massively Multiplayer Online game. It would take me from my studies, which I had been rather lax in recently.

I found myself looking through Ethan’s entire timeline, from the time he created his page, seven years ago to his recent relationship change. There was no need for me to see his physical photo albums. There were no embarrassing baby pictures, but I was able to see his entire life from age eight to now. I commented on a few pictures and teased him about the Pokémon PJs I found him wearing Christmas 08. A few minutes later, Alyssa sent me a request to help her in Farmville, which was a time waster built into Facebook. Before I knew it, it was past eleven. I dragged myself into bed. I texted Ethan a smiley face, and a few minutes later, he texted one back. That little action, as insignificant as it was, kept a smile on my face as I gently fell asleep.

***

“When are you going to do those dishes?”

I said, “After breakfast.”

Amélie said, “They’ve been sitting there for two days.”

I said, “Why don’t you do them?”

Amélie looked at me sternly, “Because we agreed that you would do them. I do enough around here. After breakfast, no excuses.”

I rolled my eyes, “Fine.” It was Sunday morning, and I was eating my cereal and toast at a snail’s pace. I took tiny insignificant bites of the toast and ate the cereal in slow motion.

Amélie huffed, but she didn’t bite, at least not at first. If I ate breakfast this way, it was going to take me over half an hour to finish. I continued my antics, and Amélie’s patience, already worn thin by the fact that Chloe didn’t eat her breakfast, was cleanly severed by my shenanigans.
Amélie sighed heavily, “Would you just eat your breakfast normally, Abigail? I get that you are pretending to act like a kid, but it won’t be very funny when you start acting like that without realizing it.”

I put down my toast and raised a brow, “What do you mean?”

Amélie said, “You are playing a kid. I get it, testing your boundaries, and you are doing it consciously now, but what if it changes and you don’t even realize you are doing it?”

I blinked, “Cut it out. That’s not funny.”

Amélie said, “Did you even realize you were doing that?”

I said firmly, “Stop it.”

Amélie narrowed her eyes, “Then smarten up.”

I asked, “So when can you meet Ethan’s parents?” I flitted from one topic to another now, much like Alyssa, and it always seemed to return to Ethan.

Amélie sighed, eyeing the wedding band on her finger. She looked at mine and said, “I think it’s time we had a talk.” She started to firmly yank on her wedding band, until it came off. I stared at her absolutely aghast as the ring I had placed on her finger lay in the middle of the kitchen table.

Amélie said, “Our marriage has been over for a while now, Darren.” She tended to alternate names, calling me Darren when I behaved and invoking Abigail’s name when I didn't. I could hear Chloe playing with her toys in the TV room, completely oblivious to what was really the end of her parents’ union.

She continued, “And you’ve made official, what everyone knew. What I desperately tried to stop. I knew that the stricter I was with you, the more you’d rebel, and it would throw you right back into his arms, but I had to try for everything we’ve built together. I was fooling myself. The way you look at him, the way you smile when it’s clear you are thinking about him.”

She said brokenly, “Y-you used to look at me like that, when we first met.” She covered her face with her hands and took a deep breath. It was amazing to watch her because I could already feel the tears rolling down my face, my emotions were overcoming me while Amélie swallowed hers.

I muttered sadly, “I-I’m sorry, Amélie.”

Amélie sniffed, “It’s OK, I understand that you like boys, and now you’ve even got a boyfriend. It’s all very normal for a girl your age. As much as it tears me up inside, I need to accept this. Not only that, but I’m your guardian too, and you know me. I don’t allow myself to fail. I need to start being a much better guardian.” As much as Amélie’s words said she accepted this situation, the way she said boyfriend sounded like she was trying to remove some horrible taste from her mouth. She wanted to spit the word out.

Amélie continued, “It’s time too, that I come clean with you. We both have to move on here. You’ve been able to, and I think I should have the same choice.”

She cleared her throat, “I’ve been seeing Martin for a month now.”

My eyes filled with red hot coals, and my crying ceased. My face felt hot, and I wiped away the remains of my tears with a quick swipe of my sleeve. “A month? That means you were seeing him in September! That was back before I’d even accepted I was going to be Abigail forever. Back before we found out the only way I could get back to normal was to sacrifice Alyssa!”

I yanked at the ring on my finger and managed to force it off, slamming it down on the table.

“There you go. Now you can go fuck his brains out for all I care.”

Amélie said calmly, “I know you don’t mean that. It’s just your emotions. I know it’s hard to hear now, but it’ll get easier. You can’t think that it would be fair for you to have a boyfriend and for me to have nothing.”

I said through clenched teeth, “You were dating him back when I still had a chance to be normal. You were cheating on me. And what the hell do you know about my emotions or what I’m feeling? You can read all the websites or adolescent psychology books you want, but none of them have any idea what I’m feeling.”

I said, “You don’t know how I’m feeling. Nobody does.” As much as I said my behaviour wasn’t textbook, it was- but I was losing the ability to see that.

Amélie said, “None of this has been easy on me. Seeing my husband turn into a fifteen year old girl before my eyes. To be honest, when we found out about Mama Khalia’s spell, the one requiring the second. I never thought you’d use it. Your unwillingness to use the spell told me that you had chosen to be Abigail, forever.”

She continued, “We haven’t slept together or anything, but we are dating.”

I said, “Thanks- that makes me feel so much better.”

Amélie said, “If I’d let you in that alley way, I’m pretty sure you and Ethan would have gone pretty far, and then at his place. You aren’t blameless in this. I don’t feel great about what I did, but I have a right to be happy.

I asked, “What did you tell him about your husband? You know, the one in Vancouver?”

Amélie said, “That you wanted a divorce.”

I asked with fury in my eyes, “When were you going to talk to me about this exactly?”

Amélie said, “You’ve been so caught up in your Ethan drama that I doubt you would have cared. Think about things here, Darren. When was the last time you really felt our marriage had a chance?”

I said, “Before you rejected me in bed that one time.”

Amélie shook her head dismissively, “Stop being such a child.”

I retorted petulantly, “I’m not! It’s true. You-“ I caught myself. My thoughts made no sense, was I really arguing that Amélie had ruined our marriage because she wouldn’t become a lesbian? Realization struck and I managed to reply, “Sorry.”

Amélie said, “Look, this guardianship was thrown on me, and I’ve accepted it. I’ve accepted that you are going to be a whiny, emotional brat sometimes, and other times, a sweet girl. Think about it this way. You really like Ethan, right?” I nodded.

She continued, “Well Ethan’s going to be coming to dinner here probably, hanging out. You want things to be as normal as possible, right? I think that’s what we have to do now because this is what you’ve chosen. You are his girlfriend now. Am I right?” I nodded again.

She said, “Just like I’d like to have Martin over for dinner. You understand that that’s only fair, right? This is what we’ve both chosen, so let’s make the best of it.”

I said, “I don’t want him to boss me around. And if I’m really mature and everything, I want you to treat me that way. I don’t want you to treat me like a kid in front of him.”

Amélie sighed gently, “But to him, that’s what you are. He’s not going to try and be your father.”

I got up from the table, completely uninterested in eating a bowl of soggy cereal and now cold toast. I looked at Amélie firmly and said, “He better not. And he better not try to do the same with Chloe. I’m still her father.”

I walked out before Amélie could answer. As much as I was overjoyed that Ethan and I were going out, I was much less pleased that that allowed Amélie to bring men into our home. I went down to my room and plunked down on my bed. I grabbed my lyric book and started furiously penning the words to a song I titled, “Thief”. I was amazed how quickly the words were spilling out onto the page, but when I read them back, I was unhappy with the result.

“Hate your face/don’t want you coming round my place/leave her alone/don’t even call her on the phone”. The verse was awful, sounding like textbook teen angst. I couldn’t believe I had written something so lyrically bad.

The chorus was worse, but not for the same reason. “Hate you, burn you, fucking flay you, thief that stole my life, hope fucking dogs will rape you!”

I stared at the words, amazed that I had written something so vile, so grotesque. I had written songs about paedophiles and child kidnappers getting their due, but nothing this graphic, and this was my principal, an alright guy who just happened to be dating my…former wife. I put down my pen, feeling my anger sated by the lyrical outburst, but still astonished at what had sprung forth from my addled mind.

I was very opinionated, but I had never wished such horrible things on a person. I wondered if something was wrong with me, beyond the obvious. How could I ever last through a single meal without staring burning, disease-ridden, acid-dripping razor sharp daggers at Martin St-Valentin? I wanted to take those metaphorical daggers and stab him through the skull.

***

At school on Monday, Ethan and I walked from class to class holding hands. For the classes we didn’t have together, Ethan would walk me to class and then he would kiss me softly on the lips. I never thought I would want that sort of attention. I should have found him clingy, but I didn’t. I found myself drifting away from the lectures and my school work. As an adult, I was able to keep my mind on a task, even the most boring and tedious work, but with my adult self squeezed inside a teenage brain, I was having greater difficulty staying focused.

The science lecture on the chemical properties of something never even had a chance to stick. All I could think of was being free from the confines of the classroom, a space that used to be my soapbox, but was now my prison. Anything that kept Ethan and I apart from talking, laughing- kissing, was all an annoyance. My teachers were starting to notice it too. I wasn’t doing my school work. I wasn’t even on the same plane of existence with them any longer. I assumed I had the glassy-eyed stare I had seen in many of the students I taught who wanted to be anywhere but here.

Ethan and I spent the entire Career Studies class designing a logo and website for the band, completely ignoring the resume and cover letter we were asked to complete in preparation for the mock interviews on Friday. When M. Blanchard tried to tell us to get back to work, we ignored him. He kept me and Ethan after class.

«Mademoiselle Grenier, I thought we had an understanding. »

«Yeah, I finished my cover letter and resume in the first week of school. Why should I have to do another one? »

M. Blanchard’s expression was stern, but he remained calm. «The purpose of the exercise is to have you apply for a job you wouldn’t normally want so you can learn about another field. »

I said, «It’s a stupid exercise. » This brought laughter from Ethan. I continued, «I want to be a lawyer. Or in the music industry. What’s the point of this class? We are supposed to explore what we want to be, and it’s expected to be practical. The way you are teaching it is counterintuitive. Why would I write a cover letter for a field I have no interest in? I don’t want to be a stupid nurse »

M. Blanchard’s eyes narrowed, and his lips tightened. He cleared his throat, «You’ll do the assignment, or you’ll get a zero. The point of the exercise is that it’s random. You aren’t supposed to get something you like. You think you’ll always have jobs you like? »

I rolled my eyes, «No. But I can tell you I’m not going to be a stupid nurse. »

M. Blanchard shook his head, «I want you to stop wasting class time. Just do the assignment that I’ve asked you to complete. The same goes for you M. Rayner. »

I looked him right in the eyes and said, «No. It’s a nonsensical assignment. Ethan and I were designing logos and a website for our band. This is Career Studies. What we were doing is relevant. »

M. Blanchard said, «Another outburst like that Mademoiselle Grenier, and I’ll send you to the vice-principal’s office. »

I smirked, «What, so she can see how poor your classroom management is? You sent Ryan to the office for looking at ‘porn’ today. And yesterday you sent Justin because he mouthed off to you. Just be happy even half the kids in here are doing your stupid assignment. » This again elicited laughter from Ethan.

I said, «We are going to be late for our next class. »

M. Blanchard dismissed Ethan, and then he stood over me. My elbow was on the desk with my hand propping up my head. I sighed heavily and then tilted my head, leaning my elbow out further. I was splayed out over my desk like a stereotypical delinquent teen.

M. Blanchard said, «I know I’m not the school counsellor, but I know what’s going on here, Abigail. You say you want to be a lawyer, but you’ve been really slacking lately. I haven’t received any work from you in weeks. I know this isn’t your favourite class, but if you don’t start doing the work, you are going to fail. »

I smirked, «I think I have an argument there. I worked in a law firm over the summer. This class is a joke compared to that. I got real, practical experience. I think I could argue that my experience there is worth a Career Studies credit. »

M. Blanchard said, «That’s not how high school works, Abigail. Just because you photocopy some documents and get coffee for some lawyers does not excuse you from this class. »

I could tell that I had struck a nerve with him. His expression had lost the calm resolve, his tight lips formed into a slight sneer.

He regained his composure, «Look, I’m worried about you, Abigail. All your teachers are. These last few weeks, we’ve all noticed a distinct lack of effort on your part. I know we had a deal where you could work on band stuff in class when we are doing aptitude tests, but this isn’t that kind of assignment. I don’t want to have to tell your sister about this, but your grades are slipping. Myself- all your teachers, we want to help you, but we need to see some effort on your part. »

I said, «I don’t care if you tell Amélie. »

M. Blanchard frowned, but he dismissed me a few moments later. Ethan was waiting for me, “That was sick, Abby! How’d you know all that stuff though? Like the teacher stuff.”

I replied, “Darren was a teacher. He told me how it works.”

Ethan nodded, “Darren sounds really chill. I wish we had him for Careers or anything. Does he like Vancouver?”

I nodded, “Yeah, he thinks it’s OK. He really misses Amélie and Chloe.”

Ethan grinned, “I’ll bet. Your sister is a total MILF.”

I raised a brow, “You know what that stands for, right?”

Ethan nodded, “Relax, Abby. It was just a joke. You wanna skip gym? We are doing lame track and field, and it’s freezing outside!”

I was willing to skip gym. We were playing basketball, and while I was never a pro dunker as Darren, I was insanely quick, having the ability to easily steal the ball from all but the most talented dribblers. I had played against a guy who eventually went on to win championships in university, and I used to be able to steal the ball from him 50% of the time. I also had a decent shot. I was a natural athlete, excelling in anything that required speed, accuracy and coordination.

Playing basketball when you are 5 feet tall and uncoordinated is torture. First of all, the ball was massive in my hands, so protecting the ball by dribbling was nearly impossible. Even if I managed to reach the basket, the taller girls (100% in my class) were able to easily block my shots. Any attempted jump shots were stuffed, as we called it back when I was in high school the first time. I also missed easy layups because I couldn’t seem to get my feet and hands to cooperate.

It was last period, so we left school early. I knew that my mom would be home with Chloe, so we went to Ethan’s place. His mom wasn’t home, but for the sake of privacy, we went down to his room, where we made out for a few hours. Ethan seemed content just to put his hand in my shirt and feel around in there, squeezing my boobs. I was fine with this because I was honestly still nervous about going any further. I definitely wasn’t ready to see what was in Ethan’s pants.

We did the same thing the next day, but this time we skipped two classes. When there were no repercussions from yesterday’s truancy, it was an easy decision to make. Amélie hadn’t said a thing, nor had she made a peep about the growing pile of dishes on the kitchen counter. Ethan held my hand as we walked back to my place, after another marathon make out session.

Ethan said, “How come you wear that leather jacket? It’s Darren’s, isn’t it?”

It was getting colder by the day. I had taken to wearing the long stockings as part of my school uniform, but I also wore my leather jacket, a wedding present from my father. It was aviator style.

I nodded, “How’d you know that?”

Ethan said, “It doesn’t fit you, like that hoodie you wear all the time. What was with you two, how come you were so close?”

I said, “He turned me onto all the best music in the world. We played video games together. He was like my big brother.”

Ethan said, “And he doesn’t mind you wearing all his stuff?”

I shook my head, “No way. It’s warm in Vancouver. He’s probably at the beach, while we are freezing our asses off.”

Ethan smirked, “I’d like to meet Darren one day. He sounds like the chillest adult. I bet he let you do whatever and now that it’s just you and your sister, she’s way harder on you.”

I said, “Something like that.”

Ethan asked, “You know, you don’t have to tell me, but is there a reason you don’t live with your parents? Did something happen?”

I sighed, “It’s complicated. I lived in a town with a smaller population than our school. My parents thought because I love music and law, that I’d be better off. There are way more opportunities here. I still see them every few months.” It was true, my ‘parents’ did come and visit, and in fact, they were coming down for Chloe’s second birthday next week.

Ethan replied, “Oh. Hey, um, so Halloween is coming up. There’s a dance at school, but it plays all this shitty dance music. We usually score some candy and then mess around. Do pranks and shit. Last year we scared the hell out of these two kids. I think one of them pissed his pants!”

I frowned, “That’s mean.”

As a jumpy person, I was used to being the butt of jokes. My father took full advantage of this. He used to creep behind me during scary television shows, and as the music reached its crescendo, and the killer or villain neared his prey, he would shout or put his hand on my shoulder suddenly. One time, I was so frightened, I threw a cup of milk in my face.

Ethan said, “Well, we could do something else. I agree that it was kind of mean, the kid was really scared. He cried and stuff. Ryan wanted to take his candy, but I didn’t let him.”

I said, “I wouldn’t mind going trick or treating. I haven’t been in years.”

Ethan looked at me strangely, “Huh? Like how long ago?”

I quickly backpedaled, “Oh, since I was twelve.” Three years to a kid Ethan’s age was a long time.

I said, “Oh I forgot that Alyssa wanted to go out with me. She could come with us.”

Ethan sighed gently, “Yeah, I guess.”

I added, “And Eric too. Maybe not Ryan though, if he’s going to do stupid stuff.”

Ethan sighed again, “I guess. I think I could convince Ryan to be cool though.”

We had reached my block. As we turned down my street, I could see that my parents’ SUV was still out front. We reached the house, just as my mother, my real mother, was leaving. I thought about pushing Ethan into a bush to hide him from her, but that would have been too hard to explain. After all, they were Darren’s parents. He didn’t know that, but what if he met my fake parents? I sighed, realizing that this lie was getting more complicated by the minute.

My mother spotted us, and I said awkwardly, “Uh, hello- Mrs. Lawrence.”

My mother’s eyes widened as she saw me holding hands with Ethan. It wasn’t the same expression of disgust and contempt that Steven had for us when he caught us obnoxiously making out, but it was still shocked. Her mouth followed suit with her eyes, opening in surprise, but she shut it rapidly. My mother replied evenly, “Hello Abigail. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

I nodded uncomfortably, “Bye, Mrs. Lawrence.”

My mother unlocked the SUV and sped off. I didn’t have time to dissect the brief interaction with my mother because Ethan pulled me behind Amélie’s SUV, and then he opened the gate and led me inside the backyard. Our backyard was sizable, having once had an above-ground pool that we removed when we moved in. Ethan’s lips were on mine as he crushed his lean but lightly muscled body into my softness. After a few minutes of passionate making out, Ethan broke the kiss.

I asked, “What was that for?”

Ethan grinned, “Just cause. So Halloween, we on?”

I nodded, “Yeah, but I’ll have to be back by nine.”

Ethan nodded, “K. See ya tomorrow, Abby.”

He took off through the gate, leaving me standing there wondering what had happened. Was Ethan playing games with me? He had certainly left me wanting more. Was he taking advice from his dad, or a men’s magazine? Did he just do it because he wanted to? I slunk into the house, and upon entering, I immediately heard Chloe shrieking. Even though she was still a week away from being two, she had entered the terrible-twos a few months ago.

I took off my shoes and entered the kitchen. I noticed that there was no plate at my usual place setting. I turned to Amélie, “Hey, what gives? Did you guys get McDonalds or something?”

Amélie, who was trying to calm a crying Chloe, said firmly, “I’m not making dinner for you until you do those dishes, Abigail.”

I shot back, “I can just make my own dinner.” I got a pot out of the cupboard, filled it with water and put it on the stove. Pasta was quick and easy.

Amélie sighed, “Why are you fighting me on this so much? It’s just dishes. If you do them every night there won’t be a huge pile like that. I need your help around here.”

I replied, “I don’t have time for them. I have a lot of homework.”

Amélie shook her head, “You are such a liar. Your Career Studies, Science and Math teacher called me worried about you, and the automated system called my cell. You skipped class again today. What are you doing if you aren’t in class?”

I said, “None of your business. And what does it matter? You are sleeping with the principal.”

Amélie narrowed her eyes, “I told you we haven’t done anything like that.” She sighed, “Do you not understand how important it is that you do your homework and behave in school? I got a call from the social worker, she’s going to be finalizing her report and her recommendation in mid-November. Aren’t you scared what could happen?”

I put the spaghetti noodles in the pot and then put on another burner to heat the sauce. I shrugged my shoulders, “I don’t really care. I don’t think anything will happen.”

Amélie shook her head, “You are so frustrating. I think you are getting worse by the day. What are you doing downstairs if you aren’t doing your homework?”

I replied, “Just talking to people.”

Amélie replied, “One thing you’ve been doing is going on Facebook, a lot. I can see from the updates on your page.”

I said, “It’s band stuff. That’s all.”

Amélie shook her head, looking furious as Chloe continued to wail, “I know it’s not. You lied to me again!”

Amélie said, “What if the social worker recommends that you go and live with my parents? No band and no Ethan.” Now, she had my attention.

I replied, “I still don’t think anything will happen. I’ve been good, and it was only three classes. I hate Careers, and gym sucks too. So what does it matter?”

Amélie shook her head, “You can’t choose what classes you go to. Let me guess, you’ve been seeing Ethan. Did he convince you to skip class and go to his place? Don’t lie to me.”

I turned away from Amélie, choosing to say nothing to avoid incriminating myself or Ethan.

Amélie said, “No more Facebook or Internet before you finish your homework. In fact, I think I’m going to cancel our Internet for a month. Then you can just concentrate on your studies. If you keep this up, I’ll take away your phone. And as for your skipping, your mom is going to pick you up after school, so you’d better be there.”

Amélie shook her head, “That boy is a really bad influence on you. I know you’ve fallen for him, Abigail, but you can’t ignore everything else. It doesn’t go away.”

I smirked, regarding Amélie derisively, “You’ve been talking to my parents haven’t you? My mom tried that no dinner thing and at the time, I couldn’t cook anything. I’m pretty self-sufficient now. As for the no-Internet, that might have worked when I lived with my parents, but do you really think you can go a month without Netflix? And if you think you can just take my cord or do something to my Internet. We share it, right? I’m also the only one who knows anything about it, so good luck there.”

For a minute, as I wore an overconfident smirk, I thought that Amélie was going to hit me or swear at me until she was red faced, but she eventually took a deep breath followed by a long sigh. She gave Chloe her milk and then she went into the bedroom. I sat down to eat my dinner, content that I had been victorious, and the dirty dishes stayed there, while Chloe watched her shows in the living room.

Thirty minutes later, I heard a knock on the door. I was downstairs in my room chatting with Alyssa. We were talking about Halloween costumes. After buying a winter jacket and boots, I now had twenty dollars to my name, so I couldn’t exactly buy one. I heard my father’s voice, “Abigail, come upstairs.” It was firm, and much like the voice I remember from my childhood when I misbehaved. I quickly moved upstairs.

My father was standing next to Amélie who was sitting at her usual place at the table. Amélie said, “Abigail, why won’t you do the dishes every night like I asked you?”

I said, “Because it’s not fair. I go to school and you go to work, it’s not that different. I want to only do them every second day.”

I wasn’t sure why my father was here. Was he going to act as a mediator between the two combatants in the argument that had turned into World War III?

Amélie said, “I think that’s-“ My father interrupted, “Don’t negotiate with her, state what you want her to do, and state the consequence for disobeying.”

Amélie nodded and said, “Abigail, you’ll do the dishes every night, or you’ll lose your phone privileges for the next day.”

The thought of losing my phone for a day was like losing an appendage for a day. Alyssa, Ethan and I probably sent a hundred texts to one another in a given day, many of them in class.

I shot back petulantly, “You- can’t take my phone away. I need it! Could you get through one day without your phone at work? We always used to text back and forth.”

My father looked at Amélie and said, “Don’t get drawn into an argument with her. Just restate the consequence.”

Amélie nodded, “Do the dishes every night or I’ll take your phone away.”

I stared daggers at my father, “Hey, what are you doing, mentoring her? And stop calling me Abigail, you know that’s not my name, Dad!”

My father looked to Amélie, “If she’s rude, do your best to be calm. Don’t use empty threats on her, unless you are ready to see them through. Don’t yell at her either, if you feel yourself getting upset then stop, just tell her you’ll talk to her about it later.”

I shouted at my father, “Stop it! This isn’t funny.”

Amélie looked at me, “Abigail, are you going to do the dishes? I will take your phone away if you don’t.”

I rolled my eyes, “Fine. I still think it’s unfair you don’t have to do the dishes too.”

My father acknowledged Amélie’s success with a head nod. “Now establish the rules.”

Amélie looked at me firmly and said, “Abigail, you will clean your room, the downstairs bathroom and sweep the entryway every week. You will be home every night, no matter if it is a school night or not at nine pm. You will do your homework before any TV, video games, Facebook, or texting with your friends. I’m going to be talking with your teachers regularly to ensure you are doing your homework. You will also attend all classes no questions asked.”

Amélie confidently and calmly continued to lay out my fate, “You will not have Ethan in the house at any point if I’m not home. You will not go to his place if his parents aren’t home. I will be talking to his parents to make sure they are aware of this too. Finally, you will wait by the school doors for your mom to pick you up at three thirty every day.”

I said, “That nine pm curfew is totally unfair! None of my friends have a curfew like that. I want to fight the court order. Amélie, you said you’d help me with that.”

My father said to Amélie, “Don’t negotiate, but be willing to have discussions. What we used to do is set a certain amount of time for the behaviour to improve before we budged. A month is usually a good amount of time. If she can show she’s responsible and follow the rules, then you can have a dialogue with her about some of the rules. It’s always up to you which ones change, even if she brings up a good argument. Now the consequences.”

Amélie said calmly, “If you break any of those rules, you’ll be grounded for a week.”

I shot back, “I don’t care. I’ll just go on my computer if you ground me.”

Amélie looked at my father, and he nodded, she replied, “When you are grounded, you can’t have any friends over.”

I shrugged my shoulders, “So what. I’ll see Ethan and Alyssa at school.”

Amélie replied, “That includes Steven and Andrew.”

I blinked, “What? You can’t keep me from having band practice! Band practice is different. It’s more serious. We are a legit band. You can’t do this.”

Amélie said, “Just so you know I’m serious, because you skipped class and didn’t do your cleaning. You are grounded for a week, starting tomorrow. “

Rage blinded me as I regarded Amélie, not as my ex-wife, or as a woman I had any respect for, but as an obstacle to everything I wanted to do. “And what the hell am I supposed to tell Andrew and Steven? Sorry guys, I can’t jam this weekend, I’m grounded? They are grown men, they won’t understand. And we were supposed to record and start planning the video. And it’s Halloween on Friday night, this is totally unfair. You just told me the rules, and now you say I broke them!” To be fair, those were always the rules- they just didn’t have any consequences.

I shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at Amélie, and as I realized that I wasn’t going to be able to hang out with Ethan on Halloween or have band practice this weekend, I sneered, “You fucking fat bitch! I-I hate you!”

I stomped out of there, leaving a shocked and hurt looking Amélie to receive consolation from my father. Once I reached my room, I cranked my stereo, the same one that had been bought for me when I was seventeen, and put on the loudest, angriest music I could find, which was Marilyn Manson’s “The Beautiful People” from his album Antichrist Superstar. It was actually Amélie’s album, but it didn’t matter. It was so loud that it hurt my ears, but I didn’t stop. I knew that it would needle Amélie and my father.

I listened to the entire album at that volume. Amélie and my father never came to tell me to stop. Eventually, I just turned it off because my ears were ringing. The next morning, I was still feeling angry, and because I was already grounded, what did it matter? If Amélie was going to keep me in the house, I was going to make her regret it. Last night was only the prelude to what I had planned.

***

I was trying to put eyeliner on, and I knew that I had to catch the bus. I had watched a video last night while Marilyn Manson’s shrieking vocals expressed my rage, but I was having difficulty. I had twice removed it because I had given myself racoon eyes.

I heard my mother’s voice, “Abigail, you are going to be late for school! Hurry up! What are you doing down there?” I heard footsteps. I grabbed a cloth and dabbed some makeup remover on, desperately trying to hide the evidence of my experimentation.”

My mother opened my door and again, her eyes widened and her mouth opened slightly. I had only managed to wipe it off one eye, and looking in the vanity, it looked like I had an impressive shiner.

I sniffed, “Can you please not call me Abigail? You have no idea how much it hurts when you and dad do that.”

My mother said, “I’m sorry, Darren. I promised Amélie I would make sure you got to school on time. Listen, I’ll help you with your makeup and then I’ll drive you. .”

I shook my head and proceeded to remove the other eyeliner, “It’s OK. I don’t want you to.”

My mother nodded, “Join me in the car when you are ready. I shouldn’t leave Chloe up there by herself for too long.”

A few minutes later, I was sitting next to my mother in Amélie’s SUV. Chloe said, “Daddy’s school!”

I looked back at her and nodded, “Yes, we are going to Daddy’s school.”

She was starting to ask more questions. Mommy went to work and Daddy went to school, which was true if people continued to believe that Darren was enrolled in law school in another province.

My mother pulled out of the driveway and said, “I told her we were going to see your school. She remembers it, I guess from when I picked you up for the dentist.” She smiled.

She asked, “How have things been, Darren?”

I sighed, “Terrible. I feel like I’m going crazy every day now. There’s so much going on in my head, and I’m getting pulled in all these different directions, so I can’t focus nearly as well I used to. I think worst of all, I was awful to Amélie last night. Like I have never called her names like that before. I just couldn’t believe how mad I was. Like I couldn’t control it.”

My mother frowned, “Yes, Dad told me what you said to her. Look at it this way, you’ve realized you made a mistake. That’s the first important thing. The second is that you start to build your bridges back with Amélie. She loves you, and I know you love her.”

I sighed, “It doesn’t feel that way. Every time we talk it’s a fight. But what can I do? It feels like I’ve ruined everything.”

My mother nodded, “Well the obvious thing is tonight, when you get home, do the dishes right away. It might take you over an hour, but that’s a start. Apologize to her and start following her rules.”

I shook my head, “Yeah, but I still think it’s unfair that I’m grounded. She can’t keep me in the house anyway. What’s she going to do, put a lock on my door?”

My mother frowned deeply. She shook her head, and I could see her eyes tearing up.

I blinked, “What’s wrong, Mom?”

She sniffed, “Nothing, sorry. I think that you need to look at it differently. You want to go out for Halloween right? With your friends?” I nodded.

She continued, “You might be able to compromise. Your father mentioned that Amélie is planning on going to a Halloween party, so you might be able to convince her to let you take Chloe out trick or treating. I’m sure Chloe would love to go with you, and then you could see your friends for an hour or so, and go back in.”

I nodded eagerly, “Thanks Mom! Yeah, that’s a really good idea. Um, thanks for the help.” Why hadn’t I thought of that?

My mother leaned over and hugged me tightly, she said, “I love you so much, Darren.”

I hugged her back, but I noticed a few kids from my grade watching the exchange, so I broke it. I said, “Love you too, Mom. I-I, um, thanks again for the help.”

She smiled, but there was sadness in her eyes. I couldn’t understand why because she had given me the perfect plan. I was already planning my costume.

***

Alyssa asked, “So, Abby what are you going as?” She was standing at our lockers, still looking absolutely exhausted. The dark circles under her eyes gave her an unintended gothic look.

I said, “Well I can’t afford to buy anything, but Amélie has this dark angel costume that I could probably fit into. I was kind of hoping you could help with my makeup for it.”

Alyssa grinned, “Ooh, I bet Ethan will love that! Super-hot, Abby! And yeah, sure I’d love to!” Alyssa bubbled with excitement.

I asked, “Are you OK, Alyssa? You still don’t look like you are sleeping well.”

Alyssa sighed, “I’m not. I feel like such a little kid, but I have the same nightmare no matter what.”

I said, “I have some sleeping pills you could take. They are Darren’s, but I’ve taken them before. They really work.”

Alyssa furrowed a brow, “But if they are Darren’s, should we be taking them?”

I shrugged, “I don’t know. Maybe not. Still, I want to help you. I just can’t give you money anymore. I had to buy a new winter coat and boots.”

Alyssa blinked, “Well aren’t you getting an allowance now that you aren’t working? I get twenty bucks a week.”

I shook my head, “No, not yet. Amélie and I haven’t really figured that out. With Darren not working, she’s paying for everything. Money is getting pretty tight. Darren’s parents are great though, they are really helping us out, especially because we don’t have to pay for daycare.”

I said, “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you.”

Alyssa said tiredly, “I will, Abby.”

***

For the next few days, I was an absolute angel at home. Wednesday after school, I took my mother’s advice and did the dishes, even though it took me well over an hour to complete them. I actually had to stop halfway through and dry the larger pots and pans because the dish drainer was full. I also apologized to Amélie for my behaviour. I continued with my good conduct on Thursday, doing the dishes right after dinner.

I met my mom every day at 3:30 PM. I also completed all my homework and studying. I didn’t even talk back to any of my teachers, even though M. Blanchard really pushed it sometimes. I even said hello to M. St-Valentin, acting as cordial as possible and trying to avoid imagining dogs doing terrible things to him.

Friday after school, I raced home to do my homework. I didn’t want to give Amélie any ammunition whatsoever. It had been three days, and I had clearly demonstrated that I could be responsible. I had followed all her rules, and I had even cleaned the entire house on Thursday night.

I was excited. I had always enjoyed Halloween, and I used to go all out with costumes, even well into adulthood. While I was teaching, I dressed as a Second World War Canadian paratrooper. I went overboard on detail, buying a used helmet from a military surplus store, and using netting to set branches and bits of twig. I even printed off an authentic badge from the actual battalion. In recent years, I had lost some of my spirit for the holiday, but without the burdens of adulthood, that spirit was restored.

Amélie said, “You are in a good mood tonight. Planning on watching some Halloween specials on TV?”

I said, “Well I was thinking that with you going to that Halloween party I could take Chloe out trick or treating. It would be a shame for her to miss out, you know? I know you said I was grounded, but I think that I’ve shown by my behaviour recently that Tuesday night was simple a lapse, and not how I will behave normally.” I had been practicing what I was going to say all day.

I continued, “I think Chloe would have a lot of fun.”

Amélie regarded me seriously at first. Was she trying to remember everything that my father had tried to instil in her during their quasi-mentoring session? Her eyes softened, and at that point, I knew I had her, “I guess that would be OK. I think you’ve really got the message. But we’ll have to set some rules, OK?”

I nodded eagerly. “Um, and what about band?”

Amélie said, “I’ll think about it. We’ll see how tonight goes. As for the rules, I don’t want Chloe out past nine. She’s got dance in the morning, and she’ll be cranky if you keep her out late. Plus, you need to be home for curfew anyway. Don’t give her any candy. And don’t let anyone into the house, except for Alyssa. She can stay with you, and I’ll drive her home after.”

I didn’t really hear everything that Amélie said because once she said yes, my brain focused almost entirely on how I was going to put my costume together, and how I was going to make the most of my short time with Ethan.

***

“Daddy pretty! Pretty!” Chloe reached out and touched the gossamer wings that extended from my back. She stroked the soft black feathers that lined the edges of the artificial appendages with wonder in her eyes.

Alyssa said, “She’s so cute, Abby! How come she calls you that though? That’s what she called you when you brought her to dance last week too.”

I said, “It’s just a phase she’s in I think. I think she misses Darren, and I guess I play with her like he does.”

Alyssa grinned, “It’s so adorable.” She looked down at the little girl and said, “Who am I?”

Chloe said enthusiastically, “Alssa!” Alyssa beamed and hugged the little girl tightly, “How old are you going to be next week?” Again, Chloe replied with the same youthful exuberance, “Two!”

Alyssa asked, “Hey, do you know if I’m invited to her party? I’d love to go!”

I shook my head, “It’s family only, actually. My cousins and aunts and uncles. You won’t really know anyone.”

Alyssa frowned, “But I know the birthday girl! Come on, Abby, can you talk to Amélie about letting me come? I’d love to help out. Like I could do face painting or something!” Alyssa’s exuberance almost matched Chloe’s. She added, “Plus, we have this really cute thing we do. Watch this!”

Alyssa traced a circle with her hand in the air, and Chloe proceeded to complete a pirouette, or the equivalent for a child who was not even two. She mostly turned in a circle, but she did put her hands in the “flower basket” position as she had learned.

I smiled, “Good job, Chloe!” I looked to Alyssa, “You are a great teacher, Alyssa. She learned that quickly.”

We were in my room. It was a place that Chloe rarely went, since she couldn’t climb down the stairs by herself, but since she had restarted dance, she had become enamoured with Alyssa, and she had to go everywhere her teacher went. Alyssa seemingly forgot about the party because after Chloe’s dance move, she returned to applying her artistry to my face.

Alyssa looked at her handiwork with a smile, “You look amazing, Abby.” I looked at myself in the mirror, noting the dark eye makeup, but also the elaborate silver tears that lay just below both of my eyes. Alyssa also painted my lips black. She added, “The costume itself is totally sick, so you don’t need much. Do you like it?” I nodded.

Alyssa was already in her costume. She was dressed like an 80s popstar, with massive hair, jean shorts with leggings and a painted jean jacket. Her makeup was elaborate with vibrant, bold colours throughout. She even used neon eye shadow, which I thought looked a lot like yellow highlighter.

We took Chloe back upstairs, preparing to dress her in the staple adorable child Halloween costume, the little pumpkin. It was both cute and safe because the green on the stem was glow-in-the-dark and the pumpkin body provided cushioning for any unfortunate falls. Ethan, Ryan and Eric stood at the doorway, Alyssa might as well have been invisible because the boys had their full attention on me. I felt a little tingle in my head, and a little smile appeared on my face. I realized I liked the attention.

Ethan blinked, “Woah, Abby! You look sick!”

Ryan said with a grin, “Way to keep the Slut-to-ween tradition alive, Abby.”

I walked slowly up the stairs, enjoying all the male attention, and since the guys were occupying the entryway, I had to slip past them, but in the process my boobs brushed up against Ethan’s chin.

Amélie’s eyes widened as she saw me. She said, “Uh, Alyssa, can you watch Chloe? I need to speak to Abigail for a minute. Maybe you could help her into her costume.” Alyssa readily agreed, and Amélie whisked me into my former master bedroom.

Amélie said, “Are you sure that’s how you want to leave the house? It’s a bit much. I’m worried about the kind of attention you are going to get.”

I raised a brow, “What’s the problem? I’m only going out for an hour. I’m going in a big group too. Alyssa, Ethan, Eric and Ryan will be with me.” I stood there with a slight frown on my face, arms crossed underneath my chest. I was actually taller than Amélie, but only because I had borrowed a pair of Alyssa’s black boots, which had a six-inch chunky platform heel, so thankfully walking wouldn’t be an issue.

Amélie frowned, “When you dress that way, you have to be ready to get some looks. I’m not sure you are. Guys can be real assholes, too. Look at how your guy friends reacted. They were staring at your boobs and your ass. And that Ryan kid, is a pervert.”

I shook my head, starting to get frustrated, “But you wore this costume, what’s the big deal?”

Amélie sighed, “But I was an adult when I did, and I wore tights, I don’t like you dressing this way. There’s a lot of creepers on Halloween. Girls your age, they shouldn’t put themselves on display. Like this corset, you are showing way too much cleavage. Don’t you remember too, when you were a teacher and you said how uncomfortable you were when teenage girls dressed provocatively in class? Now you are doing the same thing.”

Amélie asked, “Do you think it’s appropriate for a fifteen year old girl to dress that way? In an adult costume? Are you dressing this way for Ethan?”

I shook my head, “No. I wasn’t even sure you were going to let me go out, so it was all last minute. That’s why I chose it.”

Amélie said, “And what about the neighbours? Chloe’s been on a few playdates with the boy across the street. You aren’t going trick-or-treating there are you? I’ve told most of the neighbours you are my sister. And they all know Chloe. That reflects really poorly on me if I let you leave the house that way.”

I rolled my eyes, “So? It’s Halloween. And why do you care so much what people think about you?”

Amélie looked at me knowingly, as if victory was assured, “By dressing this way, you are following blindly. You are acting exactly like a teenage girl would. You’ve written all these songs about not bowing to celebrity culture, rejecting what is shallow and vacuous, and standing out from the crowd. Well, now you are a part of the crowd. Is that what you want?” My eyes widened as I realized that Amélie was one-hundred percent right. I looked at myself in the mirror, and saw the costume for what it was- slutty but worst of all, it was conformist.

I was dressed like a very promiscuous dark angel. The ebony corset I wore had a built-in push-up bra that thrust my breasts upwards, completely revealing more than just the top part of my boobs. A few more inches, and it would be nipple city. It also squeezed the orbs together, making me look larger than I was, and I didn’t exactly have a modest chest before. The skirt, if it could be called that, was more like a black tutu, and it was made of the same gossamer material as the wings. My fleshy ass hung out, bound only by the black panties that I wore. To add a meagre sense of modesty, the costume included fish net stockings, but I realized they made me look more like a prostitute than anything else. I didn’t want to be the girl in this costume.

Amélie could clearly see the cogs working my brain. I realized I was dressed like a teenage streetwalker.

She said with a smile, “It’s cold too. Here let me help you.”

She replaced the fishnet stockings with a pair of black tights, which still suited the costume, but also, covered my ass. She undid the tightly bound corset, lowering my breasts to an appropriate level where only just the top could be seen, but barely. Amélie took a half leather jacket from her closet and put it over my shoulders, “You can wear this too, if you still find it too much.” I rummaged in the closet and found a gun belt from a cowboy costume I had worn. I drew the six-shooter and then aimed it at the mirror. I liked what I saw- it was more me. It was sexy, but it wasn’t slutty, I looked like Lara Croft, if she entered a goth phase and dyed her hair blonde.

Before I left the room, I turned to Amélie, “Um, thanks. I guess I, um, wasn’t thinking.”

Amélie smiled, “It’s alright. Now go have fun with your friends.”

I left the room, and we began our trick-or-treat adventure, armed with pillow cases and voluminous plastic bags, ready for oodles of candy. Chloe had a little plastic jack-o-lantern, which matched her pumpkin costume perfectly. It was overkill, but she was toddler so it was absolutely adorable. I was excited. I hadn’t gone door to door begging for candy in seventeen years. I bounced along beside Alyssa, all the while holding Chloe’s hand. The little girl stared at all of us in wonder. Ethan was a vampire, but not the sparkly variety as witnessed by the fake blood lining his mouth. Eric was a zombie, wearing shabby clothing, with a very realistic looking knife wound in his back. Ryan’s costume was the laziest. He said he was supposed to be the Incredible Hulk, but he only had a pair of toy hulk hands. He didn’t even paint his face green.

Ryan laughed, “That’s weak, Abby! Your sister is such a buzzkill. It was a lot better before.” He looked to his friends, “You are with me, right guys? Ethan, man- you’ve gotta be disappointed!”

Alyssa frowned, “Maybe Abby wanted to change her costume herself. Right, Abby?”

I nodded, “It was too cold. She just suggested I make a few changes. That’s all.”

Ryan shook his head and laughed, “Face it, Abby. Your sister’s got you on a tight leash. Bark for us.”

Ethan narrowed his eyes, stepped toward Ryan and said, “Watch it, man.”

Ryan smirked, “Your girlfriend has the same curfew as my little brother. He’s eleven. Oh, except he can stay out later on the weekend.”

Ryan rolled his eyes, “Uh, come on, we are going so slow. Abby, your fucking niece is soooo slow! Let’s go. We’ve only hit three houses.” In the time since I had started dating Ethan, and Eric and Alyssa had become chattier and Ryan’s behaviour had changed. He had always been the ‘bad boy’ of the group, goading Eric to complete dangerous stunts, urging Ethan to buy racy video games, looking at porn in class, and he had been the one who suggested they do the prank with the RV and the fence. He had become progressively worse as his two male friends got female companionship, and he became the obnoxious fifth wheel.

I wasn’t sure if he liked me, but he often looked at me in class, and when he saw me come up the stairs dressed like a street-walking fallen angel, he had one eye glued to my boobs and one glued to my ass. Was he jealous of Ethan or just a pervert?

Ethan said, “Stop being a dick, Ryan. If you want, you can go by yourself.”

Ryan moved to the back to stand next to Eric, who had been gradually working up the confidence to stand next to Alyssa. But once Ryan was near, Eric’s movement toward Alyssa ceased. Alyssa seemed unaware that Eric had been making the slowest move in the history of almost dating. Ethan, meanwhile, was relegated to the periphery because Alyssa stuck close to me, and I was already holding Chloe’s hand. After a few more houses, he moved back to walk with Eric and Ryan. I could hear Ryan muttering something to them. I definitely heard the words 'ditch' and 'party'.

I tried to ignore the plotting that was going on behind my back, doing my best to enjoy Chloe’s first trick-or-treating experience, but I really hoped Ryan would fail in convincing Ethan to ditch us.

We walked up to the next house, ringing the doorbell and holding out our bags, all the while shouting, “Trick-or-treat!”, although Chloe’s chant sounded like “Tic Teet!”

A tall young man opened the door. He was dressed in a Batman costume, although he didn’t have a mask. He was probably in his early thirties. He smiled and turned his attention on me, “What are you supposed to be?”

I replied, “Uh, I’m like a dark angel assassin. Yeah.” I wasn’t really sure what I was exactly, and I had answered differently depending on who asked. All I knew was that I was getting an awful lot of candy. The costume with the little touches, like the six-shooter and belt and the way Alyssa had made up my face seemed to get a lot of attention. Chloe and I were cleaning up. She was cute, and I was- something else. I noticed that Alyssa tended to get more candy from those who said, “Oh I remember when I dressed like that!” Ethan and Eric were doing okay too. Ryan, on the other hand, wasn’t getting much. Most people who took an even passing glance at our costumes gave him two pieces of candy at the most.

Ryan sighed heavily, “We should just head to Véronique’s party. She’ll have tons of stuff we can raid. Come on, let’s get out of here, and let Abby get home before her fourth grade curfew. We can scare some little shits out of their stashes too.”

Ethan and Eric looked at each other, and it seemed they were considering it. I had barely spent any time with Ethan since we started, and I knew I would have to return home soon because Chloe was getting cranky. I wanted at least another twenty minutes.

I blurted out, “We’ve got three whole boxes of candy and lots of chip bags at home. My sister went to a party, so there’s no one giving anything out at our place. Uh, you guys can have it. If you want.”

My desperate plea seemed to work. I managed to eke out another fifteen minutes before Chloe entered full meltdown mode, which meant hanging off my arm like a twenty-four pound dead weight. Thankfully, when she got upset, she tended to want Amélie, so her cries of “Mama,” didn’t blow my cover- not that anyone would have believed I was her father.

We returned to my house, where I quickly unlocked the door. Before I could say a word, everyone followed me into the house. I turned around, surprised to see Ryan standing right behind me. “Uh, hey, you guys could wait outside for the candy. I, um, I’m not supposed to have anyone in the house if Amélie isn’t here. Except Alyssa.” Alyssa pushed her way to the front, clearly trying to block Ryan from climbing the stairs. By this point though, Chloe was bawling. She was fighting to free herself from my arms, screaming for her milk and Amélie.

I rapidly pulled her into the kitchen and poured her milk. The second I gave her the sippy cup, she took off on me, sprinting back into the living room. I yelled, “Chloe, get back here!”

The toddler jumped up and down shouting, “Elmo! Elmo!” I knew exactly what this meant. She wanted to watch an episode of Elmo’s World, which was the toddler version of Sesame Street. Unless you were Chloe’s age, the high-pitched Muppet warbling mixed with psychedelic crayon drawings was a painful torture of sights and sounds. I said firmly, “Only one.” I took a look at the stairs, and the boys were still there with Alyssa standing at the top. I could hear them muttering, but I couldn’t make out exactly what was said. I didn’t get a chance to spend any time with Ethan, but I knew I needed to get rid of them before Amélie arrived home.

I put on Netflix, which was a godsend to parents who didn’t have a PVR, and Chloe was soon enjoying her show and guzzling her milk. I went into the kitchen and returned with three full boxes of Halloween candy.

I said, “OK guys, here’s your candy. Sorry, but you have to leave. I’ll get in trouble if Amélie gets home and you are still here.”

Ethan sighed sadly, “Even me? We hardly got any time together tonight, Abby.”

I saw a glint in Ryan’s eyes. It was the same look I had seen as a teacher when a student had mischievous intent. Ryan said, “Come on, Abby. She’s never going to know we’ve been here. As soon as we hear the car, we’ll take off out the back door.” Suddenly, my house, completely free of parents or guardians was the potential site of a raucous teen party, but I didn’t want Ethan going to Véronique’s party either, where he would certainly see Samantha.

I shook my head, “You aren’t going to convince me. My sister’s already been kind of mad at me this week. If she catches you guys in here, there’s no way I’ll be able to have band tomorrow.”

Ryan said, “Stop being a fucking coward, Abby. Are you going to let your sister run your life? Tell you when you have to be home? Telling you who you can have over? Stop being a little pussy.”

Alyssa frowned, “Maybe you guys should just leave.” She looked sadly at Eric. She had spent as much time with him as I had with Ethan tonight.

Ryan, who had been playing bad cop, moved to good cop, “Don’t you want to hang out with us? You’re our friend, right?”

Ryan added, “Don’t you want to hang out with Ethan?”

I faltered, lowering my head to the floor and sighing, “Yeah. Of course.”

Ryan said, “And what about you Alyssa, don’t you want to hang out with Eric? Cause we’ll go to Véronique’s party if we can’t make one here.”

I blinked. I felt my shoulders lower as I gradually bowed to peer pressure. “Party? I mean, you guys can stay, but no party. Just you guys.”

Alyssa frowned again, “Are you sure about this, Abby?”

I really wasn’t, but everyone was looking at me. Eric, Ethan, Ryan, and even Alyssa- their gaze bore into me, eating away at any remaining resistance. Tomorrow seemed like such a long time away when Ethan was right here. Technically, Amélie had said I couldn’t have Ethan over if we were alone, but in this case- we weren’t.

I felt excitement well within me, creating a bubbly sensation in my head, but there was also fear at the prospect of being caught. The guys moved into the house like scavengers, Ryan ripping open the box of Halloween candy and shooting back an entire pack of M&Ms in one go. Eric did the same with another box, tearing open candy bar wrappers at a frantic pace. Ethan wasn’t interested in any of this as he quickly moved next to me on the loveseat, putting his hand on my thigh. Within seconds, we were making out hardcore- with tongues and everything. I could see from the corner of my eye that Chloe was approaching us.

Ryan had turned off her show and put on a slasher flick in its place, and while she had protested initially, she seemed far more interested in what Ethan and I were doing. Chloe looked up at us and with a massive grin, she said, “Daddy kissing!” She pointed at me.

Ethan broke the kiss and looked down at the little girl in bewilderment, “Huh? What did she say, Abby?”

I said, “Because I’m her father. Really. We have a special link, and she just knows who I really am.”

Ethan raised a brow at me, he looked me over, and then he, along with Eric and Ryan, burst out laughing. Even Alyssa, who seemed to have mixed feelings over allowing the boys into the house was laughing.

Eric said matter-of-factly, “You don’t really act like her father. Like you were sitting there making out with Ethan and completely ignoring her.”

I shook my head, “I was not. I could see her still.”

Alyssa laughed, “I know that I’ve joked you act like you are in your thirties, Abby, but there’s no way. I mean beyond the obvious, and that was when we were first hanging out. You act more immature than I do sometimes. Like when we were in the mall the other day and you thought it would be funny to crawl into a big thing of pillows. Like totally randomly!”

Ethan looked at me with a wide grin, “So, is there something I should know about you?”

Ryan smirked, “Yeah, do you have a dick or something?”

Ethan glared at his friend, “Not cool, man.”

Ryan threw up his hands, “Hey man, I don’t have a problem with you liking herms.”

Ethan raised his fist, “Shut the hell up man. I think I’d know.”

Ryan shook his head, “Yeah right. I bet you haven’t even seen her tits.”

I had meant to make a joke, but the result was not at all what I had intended. I blushed fiercely, realizing not only that my friends saw me wholly as one of them, but also because- well I couldn’t really explain it. I didn’t like Ryan speaking that way. I guess it was because I wanted to keep any talk of my body parts between Ethan and me. I really hoped he didn’t talk about me in front of the guys in the locker room.

Ethan got up off the couch and pushed Ryan, “Fuck you man, why don’t just you screw off? Nobody wants you here.”

Ryan pushed Ethan back and then stormed into the kitchen. I could hear him rifling through the boxes of Halloween candy.

Ethan took my hand, “Hey, you want to go downstairs?”

I blinked, surprised by Ethan’s boldness, but I soon found myself saying, “Um, yeah- sure.”

My heart leapt as Ethan and I stood together. He gripped my hand firmly, confidently. We walked down the stairs, and quickly entered my bedroom.

Chapter 59

The moment we entered the room, Ethan took off his cape and spit out his vampire fangs. He closed the door, leaving the room pitch black. He then proceeded to lead me to my bed. I didn’t resist as he lay me down and started kissing my neck, his hands roaming all over my body, squeezing my ass and boobs. He lay on top of me, and I knew he was turned on. He started to slowly rub his crotch against my thigh. He was kissing me hard on the neck, hard enough to leave ‘love bites’ but the intensity of his kissing, or rather sucking made me forget about the consequences. I put my arms around him, pulling him tightly into my body, leaning my neck to the side, to provide easier access.

I thought about Chloe momentarily, but figured that Alyssa could handle putting her to bed. It was amazing to think that Alyssa was behaving more responsibly than I, but Ethan’s ministrations clouded my mind to what I had become. I could feel him playing with the strings on my corset. I wasn’t wearing a bra because the corset had a built-in push up, but the boy was still having difficulty kissing me and undoing the corset. Eventually, he stopped kissing and focused all his attention on removing the corset. He fumbled in the dim light, managing to untie it, but then he started yanking on it, trying to pull it down so he could see my boobs.

Ethan stopped and reached behind me to open the blinds a smidgen, allowing just enough moonlight into the room to allow him to finish his task. I could see the anticipation on his face as he unwrapped me like a Christmas present. His eyes lit up like fireworks when he saw the first glimpse of completely naked boob. He grinned widely and pulled the corset away from my body entirely, then his hands moved to my boobs and began kneading, tugging and squeezing them. He experimented playing with the nipples, watching for my reaction. He played with my boobs for what felt like a solid ten minutes, marvelling at them. He was like a child with a new toy. There is a reason why some men called them ‘fun bags”. He eventually moved back to my face, kissing me hard on the lips and trying to bury his tongue in my throat, while he played with my left boob.

All of his attention was arousing me, and my hips started to move gently, in rhythm with his own as he thrust his crotch against my thigh. He stopped and began frantically tugging at my tights, pulling them down my legs and ripping them in the process. It was at this point that I realized our make out session was becoming something else entirely. I was naked, except for my panties. Ethan took the opportunity to remove his pants, and his shirt. He lay back down on me, but instead of thrusting his crotch against my thigh, he positioned himself directly over my crotch and resumed thrusting. Even through the panties, it felt incredible. I knew I likely wouldn’t be able to go that way, but it still felt amazing, like tiny pleasurable pin-pricks throughout my body, all of which in combination could bring about a crashing wave.

I took this opportunity to explore Ethan’s body with my hands- something I hadn’t done yet. I felt along his ropy arms, thick with muscle but not at the level of a body builder like Alexandre. I traced my nail along his stomach, feeling his abs and then rubbed his shoulders. The feel and smell of him caused the movement of my hips to quicken.

The boy himself was incredibly turned on. He was madly thrusting against me, almost as if he were trying to puncture my panties. I could see it in his eyes, in his touch. He was so enamoured with my boobs that I doubt he could have cared less about my little love handles and my stomach roll. I did notice that his hand didn’t spend much time in those places, but then, he had my boobs, right? His hand moved down to his boxer briefs, and in a moment, they were gone, revealing a now completely naked Ethan. I thought I would be frightened, disgusted by what I saw, but he moved quickly to put his hand on my hips, slowly pulling down my panties, and I felt no revulsion or fear.

Completely lost within our own world, I ignored the sudden banging and yelling upstairs . I also thought I heard the doorbell, even though it must have been too late for trick-or-treaters. Maybe Ryan had called some other kids, intending to try and have a real party, but I didn’t care. As Ethan approached me, seemingly intent on taking my virginity, I heard him say, “Oh…shit!” Two seconds later, I felt something warm on my thigh.

Ethan backed away from me, “Oh…shit! Sorry, Abby. Oh man, I- I was trying, and it was, well you-, and everything. D-do you want me to get a towel? Fuck!” He frantically looked around my room. I stared at the wetness on my thigh, and on my bed with wide eyes, but that wasn’t what worried me most. Ethan hadn’t even mentioned a condom, and I hadn’t even thought to bring it up. Everything I said about those girls on the teen pregnancy shows were the words of a massive hypocrite. Just as Amélie had predicted, I was lost within the moment, a moment that had nearly taken my virginity.

Ethan grabbed a bath towel from my desk chair and tried his best to clean the wetness on my bed. It wiped away easily from my thigh, but there was still a noticeable spot on my bed spread. Ethan kept looking at me, but I just stared off into space, still in disbelief at what I had almost let happen.

Ethan said, “I was- I was just trying so hard not to think about it, but you- you are so hot, Abby. And your boobs, your ass, I was trying to think about anything else- anything! I couldn’t though, and everything just felt so good. I’m really sorry. I fucked it up.”

Eventually I was broken from my trance, I looked back to Ethan, looking like a- well like a teenage boy who was mortally embarrassed. I smiled, “It’s, um, OK. It still felt nice.” I grew more serious, “Uh- do you think we were ready for it though?”

Ethan lay beside me on the bed, still completely naked. His arousal hadn’t completely gone away either. He said, “I dunna, I mean, it felt like we were. You seemed really into it. I know I was.”

I said, “Well it’s just- I didn’t even think to have you use a condom. I mean I could get pregnant.”

Ethan grinned, “Well if you did, you could be on that show on MTV. My sister liked watching it sometimes. We could be on the Celebrity Edition, you know cause we are going to be famous.”

I said, “This isn’t something to joke about.”

Ethan put his arm around me, “What do you want me to say? I don’t know what makes people ready. I guess I wasn’t thinking about condoms, I was thinking about us and just how good it felt or whatever.”

I raised a brow, “Do you have any condoms?”

Ethan shook his head, “Uh, no- I don’t- but I mean, I-I can, I could get some. If you want.”

I nodded, “I think it’s a good idea.”

We lay there just looking at each other and smiling. He pulled me close to him, and then I pulled the covers over us. Ethan looked into my eyes and smiled, “You are really beautiful, Abby. I mean I k-know- you probably real-“ I stopped him there, hugging him fiercely and then passionately kissing his mouth. I couldn’t believe how good he made me feel. I wasn’t sure, but I think I loved him.

A few minutes later, the door thrust open and the light was turned on. Everything after that happened in a blur. Mrs. Warner, the social worker, burst into the room and pulled the covers off us, sending a frantic Ethan running for his clothing. Amélie also pushed her way into the room past Mrs. Warner. She looked at the stain on the bed, and then at my nudity, an expression of absolute horror lining her face. Ethan eventually managed to grab his clothing and then shut himself in the bathroom.

I was told to get dressed and then come upstairs. The scene that greeted me there made me realize that I was likely not going to see the light of day for a long time, except when I went to school. I knew teenagers could be messy, but teenage boys are absolute filthy animals. There were candy wrappers and chip bags all over the floor. As I entered the kitchen, I saw the milk had been left out, as it was clear our fridge had been completely raided. There were also various spills that hadn’t been cleaned up, along with broken pieces of potato chip all over the floor. I saw a very sick looking Alyssa. The girl was swaying back and forth, then suddenly she darted toward the washroom. I saw a few empty beer bottles on the kitchen table, and more on the counter. The once full case that Amélie had bought in anticipation of the party next week was half empty.

Eric and Ryan were nowhere to be seen. Ethan retreated hastily from the house, offering only a quick goodbye to me. I could see him running down the street. Mrs. Warner didn’t bother saying anything to me.

She addressed Amélie before she left, “First thing Monday morning, I am going to get a court order to have Abigail removed from your care. You are a wholly incompetent guardian, Ms. Grenier. Based on my interview with your parents next week, I will determine if Abigail would be better off with them or in foster care. What were you thinking leaving alcohol in the house with unsupervised teenagers? I think beyond your incompetence as a guardian, you are a profoundly stupid woman. Abigail is clearly not safe in your care. Good night, Ms. Grenier.”

After Mrs. Warner left, Amélie took a still very sick looking Alyssa home. When she returned to the house, I had done my best to clean up, sweeping the wrappers and chips, and wiping the spills. I collected the empty beer bottles. Instead of yelling at me, Amélie just told me to go to bed, with a sorrow-filled look on her face.

***

I crept my way up the stairs from my room. I could hear my parents and Amélie discussing my fate in the aftermath of last night’s disaster. Amélie had told me to stay in my room, but I wanted to know what was being said. I moved on my hands and knees, hoping that my weight would be more equally distributed, reducing any noise. I was pleased that the baby gate was open, as opening that would have certainly given away my presence.

I heard my father’s voice, “Amélie, I know that you mean well, that you want to give Abigail a lot of leeway because of who she was, but you can’t. We have to accept that Darren isn’t in there anymore. Just a teenaged girl who needs serious and consistent discipline.”

My mother’s voice sounded strained, “But- I still think Darren’s in there. I can see him in Abigail’s eyes. Maybe we need to take a different approach. She’s fighting so much against these rules because she had so much freedom as an adult.”

My father said, “No, Pamela. I see Darren in there too, but Darren when he was a kid.” He added, “Amélie, you said that Abigail was really helpful. She did everything you asked her to do since the blow up on Tuesday night, right? She was basically an angel?”

Amélie replied, “Yes, that’s exactly it. I thought she’d changed completely, that she’d learned her lesson.”

My father said firmly, “That was one of Darren’s tactics to get his way, and then once he got it, the bad behaviour would return. Just like it has in this case.”

I could hear Amélie sighing, “So what am I supposed to do?”

My father replied, “I am going to suggest a two week grounding. No phone or video games. No band practice, even if she begs you to let her, and even if her behaviour improves to the point where you think you are living with Mother Theresa, don’t give in. You need to be consistent with the punishment, even if she’s good, she’s still grounded. When she realizes you are serious, she’ll smarten up. ”

Amélie said, “And what about Ethan? Should I tell her she can’t see him?”

My mother sounded like someone was trying to choke her. She was having great difficulty getting the words out. “I-Is it true, y-you found them together- naked??”

Amélie replied, “Yes. And there was a stain on the bed. Abigail told me nothing happened, but they were naked, so it’s hard to believe.”

My father said, “You will have a lot of trouble with that-”

I had heard enough. I stomped into the kitchen and shouted, “You can’t make me! I’ll see Ethan whenever I want!”

My father ignored me stoically. He turned to Amélie, “You can’t forbid her from seeing him. I learned that with Allison. I think you should have a talk with his parents with both Abigail and Ethan present. You can calmly discuss what appropriate and inappropriate behaviour is, and hopefully, his parents are on board.”

Amélie looked at me sternly, “Abigail, I thought I told you to stay in your room.”

I sighed, “I’m supposed to have band practice today. You know that the Coffeehouse is in three weeks, right?”

Amélie nodded, “I never said you could have band today. I made it very clear that the only person allowed in the house last night was Alyssa. You disobeyed me. I already told Andrew you are grounded. He’s going to tell Steven.”

I looked at Amélie and sneered, “But it’s Saturday, and my homework is done. You took away my phone, and I don’t have any Internet. I’m bored!”

Amélie said, “I want you to do all the assignments that you missed over the last two weeks. I know you have a History test and a Science test coming up, so prepare for those first.”

I stared at Amélie, my eyes narrowed in hatred, “No. I’m going to have band today, whether you like it or not. I don’t care what you say. Give me my phone back, now. ”

My father looked at Amélie anxiously, and he and my mother exchanged worried looks. Amélie stood her ground, “Abigail, you are grounded for two weeks. No negotiation and no argument. Now go back to your room.”

I approached Amélie and said firmly, “No. I won’t. I can’t believe you are treating me this way. It’s totally unfair!” I looked to my mother, who had always been the soft one compared to my father, “Mom, don’t you think what they are doing is unfair? I mean you know who I am, Dad and Amélie seem to have forgotten.”

My mother looked at me sadly, “Listen to Amélie, Abigail- she knows best.”

I shrieked and looked at those assembled at the table, “I hate you! You have no idea what this is like. If you did, you wouldn’t be doing this to me.”

Amélie stood up and said, “Not another word from you. You go down to your room now and do as you were told. Or it’ll be three weeks, and you’ll miss Coffeehouse completely.”

I looked at my mother again and shook my head dismissively. She had betrayed me. As I slowly trudged down the stairs to my room, I thought about the events that brought me to this point. No matter how I looked at it, it was somehow Amélie’s fault, and the fault of my parents. I wasn’t sure what they had done exactly, but whatever it was, it was all their fault that I was grounded for the next two weeks.

***

“Abigail, I’m very pleased to see you.”

Mr. Atwater wore his typical smile, the knowing grin. It was Saturday night, and I was fast asleep, except it was apparent that Mr. Atwater had returned me to his realm.

I sneered, “What do you want?” I crossed my arms underneath my chest and stared at the man who had murdered Darren Lawrence.

Mr. Atwater said amiably, “To offer you a warning. I know that Amélie wants you to tell your entire family and the rest of your friends about the Sidereus Prophecy and your role in it, but I must advise against it. If you go ahead with your revelation, I will have to play a very unpleasant card. I will not relish playing it, but it will have to be done to maintain the subterfuge concerning the Prophecy.”

I replied angrily, “And why would it make a difference this time? Steven and Andrew know. And so do their wives. Amélie, her parents, my parents and my sister. They all know. What changes if I tell my whole family?”

Mr. Atwater replied, “I am not at liberty to tell you, all I can do is offer you a warning. Besides, do you really think your family will believe you are Darren Lawrence?”

I nodded, “Of course! Why wouldn’t they?”

Despite my apparent confidence in the face of my tormentor, my words lacked the usual punch. Would my cousins, aunts and uncles really believe it was me? I was starting to have my doubts.

Mr. Atwater smiled inhumanly, looking like a hyena about to tear into a fresh carcass, “You are lying to yourself, Abigail. You know they won’t. Don’t force my hand here.”

I turned my back to him as I felt tears gently roll down my cheek. He was right. There was no way they would believe who I was, I had changed too much. Mr. Atwater put his hand on my shoulder, “I have seen what they did to you, Abigail. And you are right, it’s not fair. You are a wonderful girl, and you don’t deserve to be treated like that.”

He looked at me with compassion in his eyes, “They are the ones who took everything from you. They made you go to school, do your homework and study, when you already have two university degrees. They sold your car. They make you follow that ridiculous curfew. They want to keep you and Ethan apart. They are the ones that treat you like a child, Abigail. Don’t you see that now?”

I sniffed, and Mr. Atwater gently took my hand. “I want to help you. I can make this all go away, everything, if you just sign the contract. Then you and Ethan can be together, and you’ll be rich and famous, and you won’t have to listen to anyone. No more homework, or stupid, pointless rules, and no grounding. You will be free, Abigail! Don’t you want that?”

Despite Mr. Atwater’s apparent warmth, his touch was ice cold. I shivered and pulled my hand away. I looked into his eyes, and his fearsome presence was gone, but I still had grave doubts that I could trust him. I said weakly, “I-I don’t know.”

The longer I looked in his eyes, the easier it was to see his malevolence, the darkness drew me in, filling me with fear. The horror inside the man overwhelmed any notion of trust. More than that, the strange power he had to reveal my greatest fears remained. Before when I looked in his eyes, even when I occupied Darren’s body in his realm, I always saw an image of Abigail staring back at me. The girl would laugh at me, giggle and preen, but since I had essentially become her, I stared at different horrors now. I started screaming.

Now, I saw Ethan and me breaking up for a multitude of reasons, each time a different one, sometimes believable and sometimes not, but either way, the images struck at my core. In one, I was severely overweight, in another skin and bones, and amazingly, in the last one- I was Darren Lawrence. I broke my stare, immediately turning away.

Mr. Atwater said, “I’m sorry you had to see all that, Abigail. Please consider my offer, and remember my warning. I don’t want to have to act, like I did when you invoked that spell. You won’t like the consequences.”

I blinked, “Wait, what do you mean? What did you do?”

Mr. Atwater simply smiled, “Why don’t you ask Alyssa?”

I woke up crying. I fumbled in the dark for my phone, but I soon remembered that Amélie had taken it. I heard a gentle knock on my door. “Are you OK, Abigail? I heard you screaming.” It was Amélie.

I said, “Go away. I don’t want to talk to you.” A minute later, I heard her leave.

***

“My mom was so mad when I got home. I was sick all over our family quilt.”

It was Monday morning, and Alyssa looked terrible- hung over and exhausted. The perkiness and happiness that I had seen on Halloween night was gone. She looked like she was ready for the joyless profession of a paper-pushing bureaucrat, and it was all my fault. I knew what Mr. Atwater meant. The nightmare she had every time she closed her eyes was his doing, but it was my fault for involving her. I knew I could stop them if I signed Mr. Atwater’s contract, but that would mean fulfilling the Prophecy and becoming everything I hated, a puppet that sung without a voice. Not only that but by signing, I knew that I would play my part in the dumbing down of society, and the influence I would have would scar millions of girls too. Was it worth it to save my best friend from sleepless nights?

I asked, “What happened when Ethan and I went downstairs?”

Alyssa sighed, “After I put Chloe to bed, I sat with Eric on the couch and we just talked, it was nice. But Ryan kept acting like a jerk, trying to get Eric to leave and go to Véronique’s party. And then Ryan found the beer, and he gave one to Eric.”

Alyssa continued, “I didn’t really want one, but Eric offered me one, and I saw that he was kind of acting different, like less shy. And I thought it would do the same for me. It kind of did, for a bit. We kept talking, and it looked like he was going to kiss me. But then I started feeling sick. That’s when I heard the doorbell.”

I nodded, and Alyssa continued, “Well we wouldn’t answer the door. Obviously. That would have been really stupid. I thought about getting you, but your door was closed. So we let it ring, and ring. And ring. Then this crazy woman comes in, saying that we have to let her in or whatever, then she saw the beer and freaked out, like totally bat-shit crazy as Ethan would say. She starts yelling, where’s Amélie. I tell her I don’t know. Then I guess she called your sister.”

It sighed. “She’s the social worker. She wants to put me in foster care I think.”

Alyssa frowned, “That sucks, Abby. I really hope that doesn’t happen. I’ll miss you so much.”

I frowned too, “Me too.”

I thought though, maybe it would be for the best? How could I tell her that my selfishness was slowly ruining her life? The girl would lose her mind eventually, haunted forever by that night.

***
On Thursday night, during my first week of grounding, Amélie came to my room. She knocked and then immediately entered, giving me no chance to bar her entry. I was sitting at my desk, doing my homework. As angry as I was at Amélie and my parents, I didn’t want to miss Coffeehouse, so I dutifully abided by their rules, completing my homework and chores over the past week.

Amélie said, “There’s a couple things I want to talk to you about, Abigail.”

I shrugged and put my pencil down, at least I had received a reprieve from my math homework, which I continued to struggle with. “I don’t really want to talk with you, but whatever, it’s not like I can go anywhere.”

Amélie sighed, her expression tightening. She took a deep breath and said, “I first wanted to say that your behaviour has really improved. I think you understand how important it is that you continue to do well in school, and that you follow my rules. I also have some good news.”

She smiled, “I managed to get a stay of decision on Mrs. Warner’s court ordered removal. There'll be a hearing, but you won’t be taken to immediate foster care, which is what was going to happen.”

I blinked, “When did you have time to do that?”

Amélie said, “I worked on it when Chloe went to sleep.”

It made sense now. Amélie was looking more tired lately, and she had heard me scream the other night. She must have been up working on the stay of decision.

I was flabbergasted, “Why did you do that? I thought you hated me. I thought you’d be happy to get rid of me. That’s why you are treating me so badly, isn’t it?”

Amélie put her hand on my shoulder and gently rubbed it, “That couldn’t be further from the truth. I love you, Abigail, and while it might be hard to believe - because I am hard on you. I just want what’s best for you.”

My mood improved as did my body language, which had been hostile when Amélie initially entered the room. “So you’ll think about ungrounding me?”

Amélie shook her head, “A little more than one week to go. You can come up for Chloe’s party of course. I still want you to tell everyone who you really are. Oh, and Alyssa can come to the party. We’ll just have her come a little later. Do you know what’s wrong with her though? Every time I see her, she looks sick. Has she seen a doctor?”

I frowned, “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about that. She’s been having these nightmares. Every night. That person, the one who did this to me, he did that to her because of the spell I cast. And he said something bad will happen if I tell everyone at the party.”

I turned away from Amélie, “Besides, no one will believe that I’m really Darren anyway.”

Amélie squeezed my shoulder, “I think they will. You’ve changed, but I still see him in you.”

I looked at Amélie hopefully, “Really?”

Amélie nodded, “Yes. And as for Mr. Atwater, I don’t believe it. He’s probably just trying to scare you, to convince you to sign the contract. I’m sure Alyssa will be better soon. She’s probably just staying up too late.”

I shrugged my shoulders, “I guess. I’m still not sure I want to tell everyone. What if something terrible happens? I’ll never forgive myself.”

Amélie shook her head, “It’ll be alright, and you’ll feel better when we don’t have to lie to our friends and family.”

I nodded, but I wasn’t convinced. Not only that but I was certain that once my friends knew who I was they would have no interest in being friends with a fifteen-year old girl. To be honest, I didn’t really want to hang around with them either.

Amélie asked with a measure of difficulty, “There’s one other thing. I-I want to know. How do you feel about Ethan?”

I lowered my head, and a little smile grew on my face. I spun in my desk chair, but Amélie put a stop to my childishness with her foot. Amélie said, “You can tell me. I understand that you like him, Abigail, and that you want him to be part of your life.”

I looked at Amélie’s face, and sighed gently as happy thoughts pierced my brain. “I-I think I love him.”

Amélie lowered her head momentarily. She took another deep breath and then looked at me calmly, “I think that it would be best, and especially with what happened on Halloween, if you went on the pill.”

I shook my head, “It was stupid, I know, but next time he’ll have condoms. I told him to get some.”

This time, Amélie visibly flinched. She cleared her throat and replied, “I’ve made an appointment with Dr. Alberts for you. I want you to speak to her. I’m not going to force the pills down your throat. I just want you to be informed. Does that sound OK?”

I sighed and swung my feet, trying to spin my chair again, but Amélie’s foot was still on it. “Yeah, I guess.”

Amélie smiled gently, “Good. Your appointment is tomorrow afternoon at two. I’ll ask your mom to-”

I interrupted Amélie as my face turned bright red, “Oh god, please don’t ask my mother to take me there! I’ll take the bus. I’ll come home after. You can trust me.”

Amélie raised a brow and said, “Alright, I’ll trust you, Abigail.”

***

“Hey sweet, you got an absence pass! I love getting out early on Fridays.”

Ethan was looking at the little pink print out in my hand. It was lunch time, and I had just returned from the office. I had given the office staff a note that Amélie had written. It excused me from afternoon classes.

Ethan said, “You got a dentist appointment or something?”

I said, “Uh, no- it’s a doctor’s appointment.”

Ethan said, “I could blow off the afternoon and come with you, then we could go to my place after.” He lowered his voice, “I got them. Um, the…uh condoms.”

I frowned, “I’m still grounded. I mean Amélie doesn’t know we’ve been going to the park off school grounds at lunch to make out, but I have to be home. Or I won’t be able to play Coffeehouse.”

We were heading to the very park I had mentioned. Alyssa wasn’t upset that I hadn’t spent lunch hour with her in a few days. This was mostly because she and Eric were spending lunch together, away from Ryan. That, and she knew I was grounded, so I couldn’t see Ethan outside of school hours.

Ethan shook his head, “Amélie is acting seriously weak. She’s like your grandmother now or something. I wish you had my parents. I could still come with you though. I’ll walk you home.”

I shrugged my shoulders, “It’s, um, girl stuff too. You wouldn’t want to come to the appointment.”

Ethan looked at me curiously and then he made a face, “Gross like your period or something? Oh nasty. I still remember my sister one time leaving her bloody ass disgusting tampon on the bathroom floor. She said it fell out of the garbage, but I think she was trying to make me barf.” He laughed, but I didn’t.

He looked at me apologetically, “Shit, Abby. Don’t look at me like that. I’m just being stupid. I mean, you aren’t sick, are you?”

I shook my head, “No, I- well I guess I’m thinking about going on the pill.”

Ethan’s eyes widened, “Damn, well that’s sick. One of the guys in the locker room said that you don’t have to worry at all. You can just have sex whenever you want.”

Ethan looked worried momentarily, “I-I guess I heard it can make girls super bitchy too, and I, um, would you get fat? My sister seemed to worry about that a lot.”

Did that mean he didn’t think I was fat now? Because I certainly felt like it in my school uniform.

I blinked, surprised by Ethan’s candour, “I-I don’t know. Would you be grossed out if I got fat?” I had just put a loaded gun to Ethan’s head, but I wanted to know his answer.

Ethan looked at me carefully, like he was navigating a mine field where every step meant certain death. He said, “I don’t know, I mean probably not. I mean, I liked Véronique, but that was cause she was nice, and I had known her since junior high, but I guess she was a bit skinny. I don’t feel the same way that I did with her that I do with you. I think you are the hottest girl in the school. I thought that from the first time I saw you throw your shoes in that bush before your job interview. I was like, this is a girl I need to get to know.”

I blushed and smiled, feeling my head wavering, “Really? I was kind of mean to you then.”

Ethan grinned and shook his head, “You just didn’t know how funny I was then! Or how cool.”

I smirked, “I am still waiting for evidence of this coolness, but you do make me laugh, so I’ll give you that.”

Ethan put his hand behind his head, “So, uh, do you think you’ll go on the pill? Like I said, I don’t care. You make me feel incredible, Abby. Like I-I really…care about you. Whatever you decide, I’ll support you. Although that promise is breakable if you become a three-hundred pound bitch-a-saurus-rex.”

Despite Ethan’s crude words, I laughed, saying, “You are such an ass.”

He grinned, and then I kissed him. He kissed me back, and our make out session began, ending only when I frantically ran to the bus, realizing that I had only a minute to make it. Thankfully, I caught it. The entire time on the bus, I kept thinking about how our conversation had gone. Did Ethan like chubbier girls, the same way I had? Or did he just like boobs? I assumed it was the latter. It had taken me a long time to realize my preference.

I also thought about telling Ethan that I loved him, for all it was worth. Would he say it back? For a moment, I thought he was going to say it. Was he thinking it? Most importantly, what would it even mean if we were in love? I knew that Amélie didn’t believe that teenagers could be in love, real love, and I would have agreed with her before, but not now. I knew the truth.

***

“Abigail! It’s so good to see you.” Dr. Alberts smiled happily as she entered the room. I looked up at her and gave her a little smile. She asked, “How is school going?”

I shrugged my shoulders, “It’s OK.”

Dr. Alberts asked, “What grade are you in?” I saw that she was taking notes as we spoke.

I replied, “Tenth.”

Dr. Alberts said, “And do you like it? Your sister tells me you are in a new school. Have you made a lot of friends?”

I shrugged again, “Yeah, it’s OK.”

Dr. Alberts said, “Fair enough, Abigail.” She smiled wryly, “I understand the international sign for get to the point. You aren’t here for small talk. I knew it from the second I walked in.” She smiled, “Your sister asked if I could be your regular doctor, so I wanted to get to know you a little better. I see a lot of young ladies your age.”

She added, “In any case, you don’t need to decide right away. Even if I’m not going to be your regular doctor, I still need to do a routine checkup. If that’s OK?”

I nodded, and then the doctor asked me to disrobe and put on a gown. Dr. Alberts then gave me a physical, testing my lungs, which she said were very healthy, and my blood pressure, which despite my recent meltdowns, was perfectly normal. She weighed and measured me, noting that I had gained seven pounds since she had seen me last, and even more depressingly, I hadn’t grown an inch, not even a centimetre. So I was still 5 feet tall, and now, 133 pounds. It was no wonder my school uniform didn’t fit properly, but if I asked for a larger one, or had mine altered it was like giving up. Oh god, I sounded like Amélie when she was trying to lose her baby weight!

It made sense to me now though. I just wanted to fit in my clothing. I was tired of the waistband on my skirt digging into my skin. At the same time, my gross aversion to the whole diet industry as Darren had made it more difficult to accept that I really needed to at least start watching what I ate. I clearly didn’t have the same metabolism, and my workouts, which were sporadic, probably needed to be more consistent. I sighed inwardly. What was next, a twenty-minute discussion on the yoghurt that claims to taste like cheese cake but would actually help me lose weight? I bet Mrs. Rayner ate them. I hated the idea of becoming a girl like that, but I also wanted to fit in my clothes comfortably.

Dr. Alberts said, “OK, Abigail, if you could just get up onto the table. We’ll do your smear.”

I did as she asked, but my eyes widened as I saw the doctor pull a pair of thin metal bars from underneath the examining table. I could see that the bars were actually attached to the table, and at the end of each was a small padded stirrup. The doctor gently guided my legs into the stirrups, as I felt myself stretch- down there. I was wide open to the world. I instantly wanted off the table, and the doctor could see it.

She raised a brow, “Are you OK, Abigail? You’ve had a pap smear before, haven’t you?”

I shook my head, “Uh, I don’t really remember. Does it hurt?”

I started trying to pull my legs out of the stirrups, but the doctor held me there firmly. Despite the resistance she offered, Dr. Alberts said kindly, “No, Abigail. It doesn’t. It’s necessary to make sure you are healthy. It’ll be over quickly.”

I saw the doctor remove a piece of surgical tubing from a drawer and then she applied some kind of oil. At that point, I closed my eyes, desperately trying to think of something else. I had been a girl for eight months, but nothing made me feel more like a member of the fairer sex than the invasive exam I was receiving.

The doctor shook her head, “Even in a small town, I would expect a girl to get regular checkups. You did didn’t you?”

I nodded, “Yeah, sorry. I guess I don’t really like them.”

Dr. Alberts smiled gently, “No one does, Abigail! I’d be concerned if you did actually. I’m nearly done. I just thought it was odd, you were acting like you’d never had one before. I know when I have mine, I joke about going horseback riding. It just takes your mind off of it, right?”

I nodded and tried to think about hockey, Ethan, music, and eventually, I settled on Ethan.
Dr. Alberts managed to get me to open up during the exam. We talked about my friends, the band, and some of my problems with Amélie. I even opened up to her about Ethan. She had such a compassionate and caring face that I felt like I could trust her. I actually did want her to be my doctor. I got dressed and Dr. Alberts asked me to sit down.

She said, “So this Ethan, he’s your boyfriend I take it?” I nodded happily.

She asked, “Please don’t feel compelled to answer any of these questions, Abigail, but in order to help you make some difficult choices, I may have to ask you some embarrassing questions, is that OK?” Again, I nodded.

She said gently, “Are you sexually active?”

I said, “Well, um, I guess. Almost.” Didn’t she know I was still virgin from staring down there for half the appointment?

The doctor nodded, “That’s alright. I don’t need to know specifics. Were you using protection? Did the boy have a condom?”

I shook my head, “We didn’t really know it was going to happen like that. He didn’t have any. Nothing happened though. You know that right?” I pointed down toward my crotch.

Dr. Alberts smiled, “Of course, Abigail. Are you planning on becoming sexually active?”

I nodded, “Uh, I think so. I know he wants it. He was excited that I might be going on the pill.”

The doctor frowned, “Let me guess, he said he couldn’t wait to get you on the pill because it meant that you could have all the sex you wanted, any time- am I right?” I raised a brow and nodded.

She said with a grin, “I’ve been doing this for many years, and one thing never changes. Teenage boys are always horn dogs. That’s what we called them when I was your age.” She grew serious, “Now, I understand your sister wants you to start taking birth control pills. How do you feel about that?”

I shrugged, “I don’t know. I know she thinks it’s safer, but I think Ethan and I are mature. I know condoms protect you from more than just getting pregnant. Like diseases or whatever.”

Dr. Alberts said, “I’m not here to tell you how to proceed one way or the other, Abigail. You are right about condoms, but they can also break. And you can even get pregnant while taking the pill. It’s just a much lower percentage. Sex isn’t something to take lightly. If you are mature enough to have sex, you are mature enough to realize the consequences. Would you agree?”

I nodded, “Yeah, it makes sense.”

Dr. Alberts said, “I don’t want you to make a decision today. I have some websites I want you to go on. They do a good job of explaining your different options. I don’t prescribe things willy nilly, Abigail, and I explained that to your sister. I prefer my patients to make informed decisions. So you can come back, if you’d like, and we can have another chat based on what you learned. OK?”

I smiled and nodded, “Um, I think I’d like you to be my regular doctor.”

If I had to have an oily tube stuck in me once a year, I wanted it done by Dr. Alberts over anyone else. I genuinely liked her, and her approach. She didn’t treat me like a kid, unlike Amélie who thought I was sex-crazed and stupid or something. Amélie probably envisioned fathers locking up their sons, shouting, “Oh no, Abigail is loose!”

The doctor beamed, “Wonderful, Abigail. Speak to Phyllis out front and she’ll make another appointment. How about in two weeks? Oh, and please bring your health card. I don’t like having to make you pay upfront.”

My health card had still not arrived. Amélie had submitted the forms soon after I told her and my parents that I was going to be Abigail for the foreseeable future. Without it, as an out-of-province patient, I had to pay the doctor’s fee.

As I rode the bus home, I wasn’t thinking about birth control or even Ethan. I was worried about Mr. Atwater’s warning. If he hurt Chloe though, I would kill him, without hesitation. While I hadn’t been the best father to Chloe recently, I loved my little girl. I was determined to show her and Amélie that I could still be her father. Halloween night was my wake up call, making me realize that while Chloe still called me Daddy, I hadn’t earned it, and unfortunately, like my exercise regimen, my fathering was sporadic.

My concern about Chloe also surfaced because Amélie had completely stopped calling me Daddy in front of Chloe. She always referred to me as Abigail or Abby, and I needed to put a stop to it before Chloe started doing the same thing. Most of all, I wanted to prove that Amélie was wrong. That victory, considering all she had put me through lately, would be sweet.

When I got home, Amélie was already there. She had taken a half day off work to prepare for Chloe’s party. I smiled as I entered, smelling freshly baked cupcakes. There were red, yellow and orange crepe paper streamers hanging from the ceiling, and a huge banner that said HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHLOE. Amélie and I discussed my appointment briefly, but I told her simply that I hadn’t made a decision yet.

Even though it was Friday, I was still grounded, but I was allowed to come upstairs and help with the party preparations. With my strong lungs, I was able to blow up all the balloons, while Amélie iced the cupcakes. Eventually, it was Chloe’s bedtime, and I volunteered to read her a story. Chloe said exuberantly, “Daddy!” and pointed to the book she wanted. Halfway through, the little girl’s head started to droop, and I gently lay her in the crib. I said, “Good night, Chloe. Daddy loves you.” Chloe muttered gently, “Love too, Daddy.” I stroked her head and left the room.

I joined Amélie in the kitchen where she was putting the finishing touches on the cupcakes. She said, “Thanks for putting Chloe to bed, Abigail. It was a big help.”

I sighed, “You’re welcome. Look, can you just talk to me the way you used to? I don’t need all this positive reinforcement.”

Amélie blinked, looking surprised. She nodded, “Sorry, you’ve just been so…well I guess- well you’ve just been acting like a kid a lot lately. I’m glad that you are starting to take some responsibility. I hope I never have to ground you again. I don't enjoy it. I haven’t forgotten who you are, but it seemed like you had.”

I nodded, “It’s really easy to just focus on one thing. It’s like I have no peripheral vision sometimes. All I can see is what is right in front of me, and I just obsess about that.”

I said, “I want to talk to you about Chloe, and me being her father. I know that we can’t tell anyone outside of those who already know, but I’m really serious about this. I’m going to totally focus on this. I want to help you with her more. I’ve been so caught up with Ethan and everything, I couldn’t see that I was neglecting her.”

I added, “I want you to call me Daddy in front of her.”

Amélie frowned gently. She went back to icing the cupcakes, but I moved into her line of sight and said, “Please, Amélie. This is the last thing I have. Everything else has been taken from me. For some reason that little girl thinks I am her Daddy, despite how I look and sound. She knows it.”

Amélie said gently, “I-I just don’t think it’s a good idea, D-Darren.”

I shook my head and said petulantly, “I’m going to show you how wrong you are. That I can still do it.”

Amélie looked at me sternly, but her expression slowly softened. There was compassion in her eyes, “Parents have to make sacrifices for their children. Do you want me to call you Daddy in front of her for your sake, or for hers?”

Words fell from my lips multiple times, but I was unable to answer Amélie’s question. She had rendered me speechless. I walked out of the kitchen and moved downstairs to my room, still absolutely lost in thought.

***

I woke up to the sound of hysterical crying. I moved upstairs, ready to help as I had promised. Chloe’s bedroom door was already open, and I could see Amélie trying to comfort the wailing toddler. My eyes widened, “W-What’s wrong with her? I’ve never heard her cry like that before.”

Amélie looked at me, and I could see instant worry in her eyes. There was only one other time I saw that look. Chloe was only a few months old, and Amélie decided to try using a bottle for the first time. Chloe, who was used to controlling the flow of milk from the nipple, began choking on the fast-flowing milk from the bottle. Amélie started to pat Chloe’s back, but it did nothing, so she applied even more force. I called 9-1-1, and the paramedics soon arrived. In the end, she was fine, but it was a huge scare for us.

Amélie said, “She’s been throwing up constantly. Now there’s nothing in her stomach, but she keeps dry heaving.” Amélie sounded distraught, “I just don’t know what to do. Should we take her to the hospital? I’m worried she’s going to dehydrate.”

Amélie was almost in tears now, “What about her party? Oh god, what if it’s the stomach flu?”

My eyes widened in horror at the prospect of the stomach flu entering our house again. I had been hospitalized before my change last winter. I immediately took a step back and put my hand over my mouth. Amélie cradled Chloe in her arms as the little girl starting to vomit. As Amélie had predicted, there was nothing left in the toddler’s system to throw up, so she painfully started dry heaving, as her face turned red from the constant crying. The poor thing was miserable.

I fled downstairs, away from the microscopic germs and my crying daughter. I closed my door and started pacing the room. I did this for an hour, and then I just lay in bed, terrified to go upstairs. I desperately did not want to catch the stomach flu. Eventually, I grew too tired and fell back asleep.

When I woke up, it was early morning. I crept upstairs, ashamed at my cowardice, but still fearful of the bugs that Chloe carried. I saw a bleary-eyed Amélie on the couch still cradling Chloe in her arms as she had when the girl was an infant.

I said, “I’m so sorry, I just didn’t want to get sick. I really wanted to help.”

I mustered my courage and said, “I want to help now. Why don’t you get some rest? I’ll take care of her.” I was ready to make a sacrifice, even if it meant getting sick again.

Amélie, who had regarded me angrily at first, quickly softened. I held out my arms and Amélie deposited the little girl in my waiting embrace, then she stumbled off to sleep. Before opening the door to her room, she said, “I’ve been giving her water for the last hour, and she’s kept it down. Just a teaspoon every five minutes. I already sent the message to call off the party. I don’t want anyone to get what Chloe has.”

I nodded and gently rocked Chloe. I looked down at her, her blonde hair was matted with sweat, cheeks red and eyes bloodshot from a night of crying. She feebly held onto my hand as I fed her a spoonful of tap water. I did this for two hours, and thankfully, she kept everything down. She had also wet her diaper, which was a welcome sign.

The more I looked down at her, the more I started to think about her growing up. I tried to place myself within the future memories as Abigail, but I found it difficult. It wasn’t because I was missing from them, I just didn’t fit where I wanted to fit.

As Darren, I used to think all the time about her growing up, and how she might be. Would she think I was a cool dad or a lame one? Would she be embarrassed to bring her friends by to meet me? Would she be rebellious? Would she be a Daddy’s girl? All of this came flooding back to me, thoughts seemingly long since buried. The connections that I had failed to make before were clear before my eyes now. These memories would never be mine, not if I stayed as Abigail.
I would never be able to meet her first elementary school teacher, or attend parent-teacher interviews. I wouldn’t be able to meet her first boyfriend and introduce myself as her father. I wouldn’t be able to tell the other parents I was her father, not without embarrassing her. So she would call me Daddy at home, and then go off to school and tell the other kids about her Daddy who looks like her Mommy? I didn’t want that for her, and the ridicule that would follow. I could see that I was being selfish, and that I insisted that Amélie call me Daddy because I wanted it, not because it would benefit my daughter. No, I did it to hold onto the last vestige of my former life, while twisting the mind of my daughter to think that someone who looked like me could be her Daddy.

I knew what Amélie meant now about sacrifice. I gently stroked Chloe’s head, hoping that the little girl would eventually fall asleep, while tears softly fell from my eyes.

***

Chloe’s recovery was slow, but by Sunday she was back to eating solid food. Amélie and I were getting along, and when she called me Abby in front of Chloe, I didn’t correct her. Would I tell her the truth as she grew older, that her father was actually her young aunt? I wasn’t sure. At what age would she actually be old enough to understand what happened?

Monday at school I almost ran to my locker, hopeful that I would meet Alyssa there. I couldn’t believe how hard it was to go without a phone. We didn’t have a home telephone, just my cell and Amélie’s, so without my phone, I was completely cut off from the outside world. I was disappointed when Alyssa never came, but I learned from Ethan that she was sick. Apparently, she had bronchitis. Speaking of Ethan, we went off to the park and picked up where we left off on Friday. We talked as we walked back to class.

Ethan said, “So you’ve got one more week of grounding left right? Oh man, I was thinking about you Saturday night. It sucks that you don’t even have your phone!”

I nodded, “Yeah, and then it’s Coffeehouse. We should try and get two practices in next week.”

Ethan asked, “What do you think about those shows we couldn’t do? Those excuses Andrew and Steven gave were lame, don’t you think?”

I nodded, “Definitely. People put way too much importance into weddings. I guess I could see where Andrew was coming from with his job. He couldn’t leave. Man, if I won the lottery, I would pay all you guys to be in the band, and I’d just do music all the time. Think about it. We would get an album done in a few weeks that way!”

Ethan grinned, clearly sharing my enthusiasm, “Yeah, I’d do the same thing! That’s a sick idea. I wish we could do that. We could do it if we got signed, then no more school or teachers or anything.”

I said, “Well I’d probably suggest maybe a tutor. You’d want to get your high school at least if the music thing doesn’t work out.”

Ethan laughed, “You know it’s funny, Abby. Sometimes you act a lot like a kid. Like before our last show, and I showed up, and you started bouncing all around and making these faces. You were so excited and happy. And then other times, you get these ideas and it’s like oh yeah, that’s a really smart and good idea. Like something my mom would probably say.”

I raised a brow, “What’s your point?”

Ethan smiled, “I like both parts. That’s all I meant. I know some people don’t, like when you lecture or whatever. It just kind of makes you, I don’t know, um, different? But in a good way. ”

I reached out my hand, and Ethan took it. He walked me to gym class, and we kissed just outside the girl’s change room.

Ethan said, “Oh yeah, like I was saying. So about the shows with Porcelain? Are we just gonna let Steven and Andrew do that? Like those could have been sick shows with them. What if they do it again?”

I replied, “I guess. I mean it’s the same thing, right? I was grounded this week, and I couldn’t practice at all. We’ve all got shit in our lives. They are really good guys. We need to trust them.”

Ethan said, “Okay, but they are adults, they have the choice. You couldn’t do it cause you wouldn’t be allowed to play Coffeehouse. So what, they skip a wedding and they can’t play Coffeehouse or practice for a week cause their wives say they can’t? I wouldn’t let my wife talk to me like that. Those guys are so whipped.”

He grinned, “I’d be like, get back in the kitchen and make me a damn sandwich.”

I recognized this type of humour as it was prevalent on YouTube. It usually involved YouTube comedians commenting on a video and then stating that the girl in it should return to the kitchen and prepare food, usually a sandwich. It was somewhat dated, but because videos could go ‘viral’ multiple times, meaning they could gain incredible popularity, the humour often returned to popular culture.

I smirked, “Why not try some fresh material? Maybe yo mama jokes?”

Ethan said, “Be honest, if we were married, would you want to play a show or go to a stupid wedding? Same weekend. We can’t do both.”

I said, “Oh definitely the wedding. I’d make you come shopping with me for hours until we found the perfect dress, one with sequins and doilies. Then the perfect shoes, and then the clutch. Can’t forget that. It’s like a purse. Why isn’t it called a small purse? I don’t know.” By this point, Ethan was laughing uncontrollably.

I said, “Of course the show. Unless, it was my sister’s wedding, I mean I’d probably be in the bridal party if that was the case.”

Ethan asked, “Isn’t your sister already married to Darren? When’s he coming back?”

I shrugged, “I don’t think he is. And I think they are getting a divorce.”

Ethan frowned, “Sucks. Poor Darren. I really wanted to meet him, you know talk music with him. That would have been sick. I hope things work out.” The warning bell rung, indicating that I had two minutes to get into my gym clothes.

I nodded, “I better go.” Ethan kissed me softly on the lips, and I walked into the change room with a smile on my face.

***

A day later, when I arrived home from school, I noticed a large legal-sized envelope in the mailbox. It was addressed to Amélie. The sender was unclear, and despite the weight of the package, there were no stamps. Had someone in the neighbourhood just put it in our mailbox? It was impossible to tell. Despite the strangeness of the envelope, I brought it inside. My mother started supper, and I played with Chloe, helping her put together a plastic train set.

Twenty minutes later, Amélie arrived home in a dismal mood. She burst through the door, sighing heavily as she did, and then she shut the door with enough force to knock one of the pictures in the hallway off the wall. My mother rushed to the top of the stairs, and I followed. Chloe peered at her mother anxiously.

My mother said, “Amélie, what’s wrong? Are you OK?”

Amélie threw her purse down and shook her head, “I got fired today.”

I blinked, “How is that even possible? You work for the government. When I worked there, I knew a guy who read three newspapers a day. He used to give me all his research. And isn’t there a process, like you can grieve it and everything, right?”

Amélie said, “They said that I gave some bad legal advice. It’s going to end up costing the government millions of dollars after the litigation is over. Oh god, it’s going to be in the papers tomorrow. I had a bunch of journalists in my face when they escorted me out. Someone leaked the story.”

She walked into the kitchen and set her phone down on the kitchen table. I picked up the phone and browsed to the web-page of Ottawa’s most-read newspaper. The main article said, “Disgraced public servant costs taxpayers millions.” Not surprisingly, in this day and age, the story would easily beat the morning paper.

Amélie was close to tears, “I don’t know how this happened. My manager always looks over my work, and she’s usually meticulous. My rulings are always backed up with precedents or at least sound interpretation. And I can’t grieve because I allegedly breached the terms and conditions of my contract. They say that I gave the advice negligently.”

My mother gently patted Amélie’s back. “It’ll be alright, you’ll get another job.”

Amélie put her hands over her face and took a deep breath, “No, it won’t. My law career is ruined. No private firm is going to want to hire me. I might as well go and apply at McDonalds.”

On a hunch, I tore open the large envelope. My eyes widened, but I was not surprised by the contents. I threw it on the table where Amélie was sitting.

Amélie’s eyes widened, “Is this w-what I think it is?”

I nodded. It was the Sidereus Agency contract. Mr. Atwater had even supplied a pen in the package.

***

A few nights later, Amélie, myself and my parents crowded around the dining room table to discuss the contract. The time had given Amélie the chance to go over the contract thoroughly, searching desperately for any loopholes. We all knew that it was Mr. Atwater’s doing. Chloe’s illness, Amélie’s career and, of course, Alyssa’s nightmares.

I stared at the contract, noting the little SIGN HERE stickers. They pointed out each place I needed to sign throughout the document.

My father said, “We can support you two for three months at the most. We are willing to do it of course, while Amélie tries to find another job. Are you eligible for employment insurance?”

Amélie shook her head, “It can’t be in law. I’m going to have go back and be an administrative assistant or something. And no, I’m not. You aren’t eligible if you were fired. I could appeal it, but we know it’s Atwater’s work.”

My father replied, “You should also apply for a childcare benefit for Abigail. It’s not a lot, but it’s extra money that you are entitled to as her guardian.”

I shook my head, “Is that really necessary? We have that for Chloe, but she’s a toddler. That’s what it’s for.”

My father said, “You are a dependant. Amélie should claim you on her taxes as such this year as well.”

I hated the idea of being a dependant again. At least when I worked at the law firm, I had my own money. Now, I wasn’t anything more than just another mouth to feed. I contributed nothing financially, and in fact, I was probably more of a drain than Chloe.

I sighed, “Amélie, what did you find out about the contract? Is there a way to avoid signing it and avoid additional punishment? Do you see anything in there at all we can use against Atwater?”

Amélie said, “It’s a really well-written contract, probably one of the best I’ve ever seen. It was drafted by an entertainment lawyer probably, so I’m not familiar with some of the terminology, but I guess I’ve got plenty of time now to look it over.”

She added, “One thing that is very clear is, that after signing, if you don’t breach the contract, you can return to your old life in two years time. I couldn’t find any catches to that.”

I shook my head, “I don’t get it though. Atwater said that Britney had a very similar contract. Why would she choose to stay that way?”

Amélie replied, “Exactly the reason Atwater told you I’d imagine. Two years into her career, Britney was the biggest thing in the world. She was headlining the Superbowl, she had multi-million dollar endorsements- she was an international megastar. She probably had a hard time going back.”

My father nodded, “The allure of fame was probably too much for her. It is arguable, too, that her effect on society at large was relatively minor, beyond little girls wanting to show their bellies. It’s not like she razed cities in some horrible bloody war.”

My mother snapped, “I hope you aren’t trying to encourage Abigail to sign that contract.”

My father looked pensive at first. He was carefully considering his words, “I’m not suggesting that Abigail sign the contract. Not now at least, but there might come a time when she has no choice. Atwater is going after our family, and it may come to a point where Abigail will have to choose to become what she views as a blight on the world, or allow her family to be seriously harmed.”

My mother looked at my father angrily, “Richard, that’s enough! This is always going to be Abigail’s decision. No matter what happens. She should be able to choose what she wants to be in this life.”

My father said, “We must be realistic here, Pam. There’s an entity out there playing with us. We are casualties in this. I don’t want the contract signed either, but we have to think about this. We are dealing with the status quo. A signed contract doesn’t start a war, it creates something that our son will hate, but it’s not a disease, a plague that will wipe out millions.”

I said, “It is a disease. A disease of the mind. You remember what Mr. Atwater said about the Sidereus Prophecy. It is meant to keep humanity distracted, sated in a pop culture mash that turns us away from issues that matter, from those who steal from us and control us. Without the Prophecy, we could have a world where we aren’t controlled by images and advertisements. Imagine a world where little girls grow up without being inundated with pictures of the perfect body.”

“It goes beyond that, too. Without the wash of celebrity culture, our world could be a utopia. What if instead of discussing which Kardashian they like more or watching the child exploitation that is Toddlers in Tiaras, people actually discussed issues that mattered? You say that it is the status quo, but what if it isn’t? What if we are meant for more? This is an ancient prophecy. What if it wasn’t fulfilled? What kind of world would we have?”

My father sighed gently, “Your optimism is admirable but when faced with the possibility of someone you love being hurt, would you sacrifice them for the world? Again, we are talking about the status quo here. I know how you feel about celebrity excess and the superficiality of their existence, but let’s say you sign the document. What’s stopping you from being different from the others? You write your own music. What’s stopping you from having a voice?”

I shook my head, “The Prophecy. The whole point is that the music is inane and meaningless, but popular, insanely popular. It’s not supposed to evoke complex thought. Look at “Baby Hit me One More Time” or “Oops I Did it Again.” Britney’s songs, most of them are completely shallow, not only that, but there is innuendo that Britney herself had a problem with. We all know how she ended up.”

My father looked at me evenly. I could see the respect in his eyes, and a measure of surprise. I was a little surprised myself. I could still debate with the best, but my focus tended to wane over time. This wasn’t a high school class discussion about the pros and cons of school uniforms. This was my life, and what I felt was also the fate of the world. Was I overreacting to being possibly thrust into a life of superstardom where I would have my dream of being a famous artist fulfilled, but also live a life where I knew that I was contributing to everything I hated?

My father said matter-of-factly, “That boy, Ethan. What would you do if Mr. Atwater went after him? He’s already gone after your daughter, and Amélie. He’s ruined her. What’s next? What if it was him? Would you sign?”

I turned away from my father, “That’s not fair. I don’t want to think about that.” I sniffed, and then crossed my arms underneath my chest.

My father looked at me sternly, “Life’s not fair. You know that. Look, I can’t imagine what you are going through. I know that this is against everything you stand for. Everything you care for. But look at what has happened to your family so far, is it really so terrible for you to be what they want? I can’t imagine how Mr. Atwater is going to take further defiance on your part.”

I sighed, looking down at the contract, “I-I don’t know. I just don’t want to be that. Mom’s right, I should be allowed to choose. I don’t want what Britney had, again- look at what happened to her! She went crazy.”

Amélie, who had simply been watching the exchange, said, “I agree. She should be allowed to choose. It’s not fair of us to force her to sign. What we should do is keep looking over the contract, searching for a loophole. Something- anything that will get Abigail out of this.”

My father shook his head, “And so Alyssa continues to have nightmares? Never enjoying a good night’s sleep. The poor girl will be driven mad. Just so you can moralize? It’s pop music, not incurable cancer. I’m worried what is going to happen next. Will he cut our brakes? Do you think it’s fair that your mother sits up at night, and has since doubled her sleeping aid dosage, worried constantly that something is going to happen to you, or Amélie and especially Chloe now that she knows these horrible things aren’t just coincidences?”

I looked at my mother with tears threatening, “Is that true Mom? Are you worried that much about this?”

My mother replied, “You know I can’t help it. I worry when your father is at the store too long. I still think that we need to give Amélie more time, though. This Mr. Atwater is smart, but I think giving us the contract is a mistake because it just gives Amélie the chance to poke holes in it.”

My father sighed, “Fine, but you know how I feel about this.” He looked at me, “I think you are putting all of us in danger.”

The tension between my father and me was palpable, but, thankfully, my mother made an excuse for them to leave. As Amélie was putting Chloe to bed, I flicked on the television in the living room. I quickly tuned into an episode of Instant Star. I had seen it, but I was nearly two weeks without television! Instant Star was harmless, right? It was just a show about a girl trying to make it in the music business.

As part of the bedtime routine, Amélie brought Chloe to me. She still called me Daddy, but we agreed not to correct her. We figured she would eventually autocorrect when everyone else called me Abigail or Abby. Amélie put Chloe to bed. When she returned, she frowned as she saw what I was doing, “You are supposed to be grounded. No TV until next Monday night.”

I looked at Amélie and shook my head, “Okay, I just made a life affirming decision, which both you and my mother agreed with. And you are still treating me like a kid? I’m sorry to play the broken record here, but this isn’t fair. I act mature, do the dishes every night, and I do my homework every night. You still won’t give me back my phone. What do I need to do to show that I am mature? Get a job as a banker?”

Amélie said, “I may have seen a lot of Darren in that discussion we had, but I see a whole of Abigail right now. The mature thing is to accept the rules as they are, now it’s time for you to go downstairs and do your homework. I don’t want to hear another word out of you. Or it’s no Coffeehouse.”

My eyes widened, “You can’t do that! There’s been posters up for weeks at school. And on the announcements too. And didn’t my Dad say to you not to yell or get upset. Calm down.”

Amélie narrowed her eyes and said, “You are an ungrateful little brat. Your Dad was 100% right about you too. You act all nice, and you suck up, and then when you think you’ve got your way you start acting like a brat again. I lost my job because of you, and you don’t have the decency or respect for me to just do as you are told? I’ve spent hours looking over that contract for you. And you can’t do this one simple thing?”

This was the most angry I had seen Amélie in a long time. Maybe ever. I withered under her wrath. For a moment, I thought she was going to hit me.

I said timidly, “I’m sorry. I’ll go downstairs.”

Amélie said nothing as she watched me quickly leave the room.

***

The following week we managed to get two practices in before Coffeehouse. I got my phone back, and Amélie even managed to locate a small loophole in the contract. According to her, I could sign any contract. It didn’t have to be the one sent by Mr. Atwater. This made sense because during an earlier conversation, I remember Mr. Atwater stating that I could have signed the contract that would have likely been offered by Alexandre’s father. I could have signed with his label. The Prophecy itself was only fulfilled once my status reached a point where I could influence the masses. While I thought that my band was certainly starting to take off, we didn’t have any interest from labels, so my only option was the Sidereus Agency contract. Still, it was fantastic news during a time that was filled with unpleasantness. There was growing tension between my father and me. He called me a few times during the week leading up to Coffeehouse to explain his side again, but I would have none of it, especially after Amélie found the loophole.

Nothing else had happened either. Amélie was still out of a job, and unfortunately, she had become a social pariah. She was accosted by journalists at the supermarket who nearly caused an accident as they chased her through the parking lot. I could sense too, that despite Amélie’s willingness to help, a part of her wanted me to sign if it meant getting the press to leave her alone.

Alyssa had missed a full week of school due to bronchitis, and along with Chloe’s sudden illness, I was tempted to sign the contract. I felt terrible for Amélie obviously, but Chloe was just a little girl, and Alyssa was a kid. She also didn’t know what had caused her ailment either. That left me feeling tremendously guilty. Alyssa only returned to school on Thursday, a day before Coffeehouse. I met her at her locker, and she looked sickly. Her face was pale, her eyes bloodshot, and her gait slightly wobbly. She walked a lot like one of the zombies from Walking Dead. Okay, maybe that was pushing it, but I was guilt-ridden.

I said, “Hey, uh, are you feeling any better?”

If an artist were painting the scene before us and trying to capture the atmosphere in the school hallway, the multi-coloured lockers would have juxtaposed greatly with the girl painted all in grey. It was clear that Alyssa’s bright light was gone. Again, I thought about signing the contract.

She mumbled, “Um, sort of I guess. I probably could have stayed home again today. My mom’s worried I’ve been missing too much school, though. I’m going to fail everything, anyway.”

I said, “Don’t say that. I’ll help you. We can study together.”

Alyssa sighed, “I’m just stupid, Abby. I hate school. And don’t say I don’t apply myself. I’m just dumb.”

I shook my head, “You aren’t at all. You are too hard on yourself.”

Alyssa said, “It’s more than that. I’m just so tired all the time. I can’t stay awake long enough to study. D-Do you still have those sleeping pills? You said they were Darren’s.”

My eyes widened, “Yeah, but I don’t- I just don’t know about you taking them. My doctor said they can make you depressed. They have a different effect on teens.”

Alyssa shook her head, “I’m desperate. Can you just bring me some tomorrow?”
I said reluctantly, “Yeah, I’ll see what I can do.”

Alyssa smiled weakly and said, “Even though everything sucks right now, I’m so excited for Coffeehouse tomorrow. So are you still going to sing Fireworks? You’ll let me do your hair and makeup, outfit? Everything, right?”

I nodded, “Yeah, of course.”

When I answered, I could see the light dancing within the girl’s eyes, a vibrant spirit that threatened to break through murkiness placed there by Mr. Atwater. Even though I had been less than enthusiastic about singing a pop song, I realized that I could bring a little bit of happiness back into Alyssa’s life. I promised myself that I would sing the hell out of the song for her.

***
“Amélie, maybe you should take a break? You’ve been staring at that thing since Chloe went to bed.” It was Thursday night.

Amélie said, “I think I’m onto something. If you sign the contract, but do so in bad faith, I think there’s a chance it could nullify it. There’s a clause in here that says... ”

I shook my head, “That makes no sense. If I sign a contract in bad faith, then I automatically breach it. It means I had no intention, from the very beginning, of adhering to the stipulations. It’s duplicitous.”

Amélie sighed heavily, looking at me with surprise again, “Damn, you are right.”

I said, “Hey, don’t sound so shocked. I did work at a law firm for most of the summer. I’m good at this stuff. It just takes a bit more concentration than it used to.”

Amélie nodded, “That’s why I’m doing this. I want you to have the choice. You’d be an amazing lawyer, you just need to have the chance. No one would take you seriously in a courtroom if they knew you’d been a popstar.”

I sat down at the table across from Amélie, “That’s kind of what I want to talk to you about. I’m thinking about signing the contract.”

Amélie’s eyes widened, “What? Why? I feel like I am so close to getting you out of this.”

I said, “Alyssa. She’s still sick. She’s missing school, and she’s too tired to study. That’s all my fault. I was the one that involved her. Maybe- maybe I should just sign it, do my two years and try and rebuild my life. I think that my dad is right. Anyone close to me is in danger.”

Amélie regarded me sternly, “No, it’s not time to give up. I am going to figure this out and then shove it in Atwater’s face. I really think I’m close to another break through.”

I said, “She wants me to bring her my old sleeping pills. She’s getting desperate, Amélie. She hates school, and it’s just getting worse with her missing so much class. I’m super grounded, and I’m the last person to get taken in by celebrity culture. I’ll shun it.”

Amélie frowned, “Here’s the problem. If you sign this contract, you’ll be thrust into that life. Not only that, but there are stipulations in the contract that state you must “be the very essence of a pop princess”. I know you’ll want to fight it, but to avoid being in breach of the contract, you need to act like you are enjoying it. What happens if you start enjoying it, for real?”

I blinked, “It says that, really? Essence of a pop princess?”

Amélie nodded, “It says you need to give interviews when asked, attend award shows. There’s even one in here that states “under no circumstances can the signee shirk her duties in attention to her fans, the media, and other known celebrities. She must always act in expectation of the Sidereus Prophecy, and failure to do so, as determined by her ward, will be considered breach of contract.”

She added, “If Selena Gomez or Miley Cyrus want to have sushi with you, and it is within the expectation of the Prophecy that you would, then that’s what you have to do. I’m trying to add some levity here, but if you sign this contract, you sign your life away basically. You have free will, but you can’t exercise it.”

Amélie flipped to a section of the contract with many highlighted portions. “Give me a few more days with it at least.”

I nodded, “Okay.” I still wasn’t convinced I had made the right decision. On Friday morning, I put the sleeping pills in my book bag.

***

School was a blur on Friday. I couldn’t remember one thing that I learned that whole day. I was energized, counting down the hours until Coffeehouse. The students had heard some of our recorded material as part of the announcements for Coffeehouse, and they were eager to hear more. They came up to Ethan and me in the hallway, asking us when we were going on. No one asked me about the other song I was set to sing. In fact, the only people who knew that I was going to sing “Fireworks” was the teacher supervisor, and Alyssa.

I had always loved Coffeehouse, and it was one of the reasons I got back into music after teacher’s college. The night was meant to showcase student musical talent. It wasn’t a competition with prizes or anything. It was open to all students with an interest in music. For some of the students, it was their opportunity to show talent in an area outside academics. Bands and solo artists were encouraged to perform. I knew we were on the bill with other student bands, but there would be singer-songwriters who played guitar, and also performers who used backing tracks, like I would for my solo performance.

The performer order was released on Friday afternoon. My band had twenty minutes, and apparently, I was closing the show with “Fireworks”. The twenty-minute set was not unusual for a Coffeehouse because it was about showcasing as many student acts as possible. I knew that Andrew and Steven wouldn’t be impressed with such a short set. We were also in the middle of the pack too, which was unusual because we were probably the only band that had played a real show.

Ethan asked, “Hey, what gives, you are closing the show? By yourself? How come you didn’t tell me? We could have done a guitar thing or something. You know like we did during the summer. Still, I thought our band would close the show.”

I said, “Well, I guess I thought you’d make fun of me. I know Steven will, and I agree, I think that we should close out the show. I really thought they were going to put me in the middle. I should speak to Madame Soucier.”

Ethan said, “What are you singing anyway?”

I said, “Something for Alyssa.”

Ethan smirked, “Okay, so that narrows it down to a Katy Perry song.”

I said, “See, that’s why I didn’t want to tell you. You are already making fun of me. I think it might be embarrassing a bit too. Alyssa wants to dress me, do my makeup and everything. Anyway, I’ll ask if we can get switched.”

Ethan said, “Alyssa’s got good taste. And she’s been making her own clothes and stuff since junior high. I think you’ll look really hot.”

I smiled and leaned in for a kiss. Ethan met my lips, and a few of the students around us, mostly grade nines, obnoxiously cheered. They were such little kids. It was amazing that I considered the students in my grade sophisticated compared to the ‘minor niners’, but they really did seem more immature. Still, most of them were still taller than I was. I had heard of girls wishing for the boob fairy to come and visit them, and as ridiculous as it sounded, I secretly hoped the fairy that made basketball players would have a little excess height for me.

Véronique walked up to us, looking like she was ready to start a fight. “So, how much sucking up did it take for you to get the closing spot tonight?”

Véronique was one of the first performers, which meant she would set the bar for the show. However, I knew that my band would shatter that bar once we took to the stage.

I said, “None, I’m as surprised as you. I’m going to go and speak to Madame Soucier about it. I want to get switched. I want my band to finish the show.”

Véronique said angrily, “Well I’m going to talk to her too! I know I’m a better singer than you, Abifail.”

Véronique’s insulting nickname for me hadn’t really caught on. I wasn’t exactly the most popular kid in school, but my stock had risen when I started dating Ethan. Véronique and her posse were the only ones who called me ‘Abifail’.

Véronique took off toward Madame Soucier, who was speaking to a group of students. Maybe we weren’t the only ones surprised about the performance order. I rolled my eyes and walked after her. Ethan smirked as he followed me, and I gave him a look. He said, “What?”

Ethan said, “You two are hilarious. She’s like your arch enemy. The looks you give her. Do you really hate her?”

I nodded, “Did Alyssa tell you what she did in the locker room? She’s a snarky bitch.” Although, compared to Mr. Atwater, she was like my best friend in the world.

Ethan nodded, “Yeah. I agree. I just find it kind of funny though.”

I raised a brow, “Oh yeah, like you and Alexandre? Are you ever going to tell me what he did to you? I won’t tell anyone else. Everyone already knows what happened to me.”

Ethan sighed, “I don’t want you to know. I don’t want you to picture me like that. Think that was ever me.”

I could hear Véronique arguing with Madame Soucier. I looked at Ethan seriously, “Why? Because it makes you look vulnerable or weak? You know that there’s nothing wrong with showing emotion, or showing a little vulnerability. You did it with that song you wrote. It’s beautiful. I want you to contribute more to the band like that.”

Ethan said, “I’ll tell you another time, OK? Let’s see if we can get the last slot.”

I nodded, and we made our way to the circle of discontent that surrounded Madame Soucier. She was one of the oldest teachers at the school, but she had a reputation as a caring and benevolent educator. She respected her students, and despite the age difference, she did her best to understand the problems of adolescence. Apparently, she had been volunteering to help out with Coffeehouse for the last twenty years at St. Jo’s.

She said, (Listen to me all of you. The performance order is staying the same. I know some of you are unhappy, but that’s the way it’s going to be. I realize that bands used to finish out the show, but we’ve found in recent years that the bands sort of take over the second half, so we are mixing it up this time to give everyone a fair shot and to encourage everyone to stay. That’s why we have two stages this year too. This is a like it or lump scenario folks.) Véronique continued to complain, but Madame Soucier told her to leave.

The crowd dispersed. Madame Soucier turned to leave, but I acted quickly, (Wait, Madame Soucier, could I speak to you, please?)

The older woman nodded and smiled, (Of course, Abigail. I assume you aren’t here to complain about closing the show? I know that senior bands usually finish the show, but we wanted to change things up.)

Ethan said, (We were kind of hoping our band could get the last slot.)

Madame Soucier shook her head, (We’ve arranged it this way for a reason. Your band still has a great slot. And, you are getting five more minutes than the others. I know that you guys are serious, and your stuff is great.)

I blinked, (Really? I didn’t expect you to like it.)

Madame Soucier sighed, but then a little smile appeared on her face, (I hope you aren’t calling me old, Abigail. From what I’ve heard on the announcements, and what M. Blanchard played in the videos he had, it’s really good. Great rhythm, hot solos and fantastic vocals. There’s such maturity in your voice too, Abigail. I’m very impressed.)

I said, trying to hide the shock that likely appeared on my face, (Wait, videos? How’d he get those?)

Madame Soucier smiled, (He was at your last show at Club Saw I believe.)

Again, I tried to hide the shock on my face, but I actually felt my mouth widen slightly, so I had likely failed in the attempt. I said, (Really? I thought he hated us. Ethan and me always kind of mess around in his class.) Ethan confirmed my statement with a quick head nod.

Madame Soucier said, (Teachers are people too. We don’t just go back on a shelf every night.)

I said, (So there’s no way I can switch spots with someone? I don’t really want to finish the show.)

Madame Soucier said, (But don’t you want the show to end with a bang?) Ethan and I groaned, and Madame Soucier just grinned. (Break a leg tonight, kids.)

***

I raised my arm, counting 1-2-3-4, and then I attacked my guitar strings. Sound exploded from the stage, drums pounding, angry wailing guitars and chest rattling bass. The students at the front of the stage formed an immediate mosh pit, throwing their bodies against each other. We fed off this, with Ethan and me slamming into each other as we thrashed through a chorus. Teachers left the periphery of the cafeteria turned concert hall. I recognized Ethan’s gym teacher and M. Perreault, the burly physics teacher. They gave warnings to the students, but there simply weren’t enough teachers to control all those who were slam dancing, throwing their fists out. The teachers allowed the mosh pit, as long as the students inside, who were flailing their limbs, gave a wide berth to each other. One student was removed when he continually came too close to hitting another student inside the pit. Teachers could be such buzzkills. I didn’t see anything wrong with the pit the students had formed.

It continued like this, until we played the ballad, “The girl I’ll never know”, and calmed the crowd down. We finished the set with a raucous song featuring dirty guitars and haunting lyrics, which again woke the mosh pits. We drew frenetic applause and shouts of “Encore! Encore!” as we finished. We obviously couldn’t play another song, and unfortunately, it left a poor girl trying to sing some lame pop song very unpopular. Our performance and our energy were the reason why we should have been the last act. Amongst the student bands, we were wholly professional and polished. We were far and away the best band there. When I got off the stage, there was a buzz around us. Students started asking me for CDs, t-shirts, any kind of merchandise available. We didn’t have anything, except for a website. I blamed this partly on Andrew and Steven. We should have had at least a demo recorded by now. I guess my two-week grounding didn’t help either.

I went backstage to help wind cables. I bounced around with a massive smile on my face. The four songs we had played had left the crowd wanting more. I knew that we were going to get way more traffic on the site. We would be able to post some videos too, probably. We worked quickly to remove our gear as the next band was scheduled to begin in under ten minutes. I then helped carry the cable bags and the guitars out to the cars. Ethan, Steven and Andrew were stuck with all the heavy lifting.

When we finished, we talked in the school parking lot. Ethan shouted, “Fuck yeah! Sick show! Like, they wanted to tear the place down! I felt kinda of bad for the girl who had to go after us. I even heard people booing.”

I said, “Not cool. Well we should head back in. You guys are staying, right? We should live it up, everyone in there was talking about us. We need some t-shirts!”

Ethan said, “Some people were saying they’d buy a shirt with you in a bikini, Abby.” I punched Ethan in the arm, but I maintained a grin.

Ethan got in behind me and squeezed my ass through my jeans. He had an air of ultra-confidence about him. He put his hands about my waist, while Andrew and Steven ceased to exist.

Andrew said, “We were thinking of heading off.”

Ethan replied, “Fuck guys, you’ve gotta stay. This is it. Like, maybe you could get some beers for us? That’d be sick! We could just drink out here and chill, until it’s time for Abby to sing.”

Andrew frowned, “I don’t really think that’s a good idea. I don’t think your parents would like that, Ethan.”

I said, “It’s one beer guys. Just to celebrate. Come on, don’t be lame. There’s a convenience store around the corner. Get a six-pack.” I really didn’t see the problem. It was one beer for Ethan and me. I was actually really hoping Andrew would agree because I was worried about what sort of costume Alyssa had planned for me to wear. I might need something to take the edge off.

Steven said, “You guys shouldn’t be drinking in the parking lot of the school. It’s stupid.”

I said, “Fine. Whatever. Then we’ll drink outside the store and come back. Don’t be so lame. Ethan and me can handle it. I’ve had beer lots of times.”

Ethan raised a brow, “Really? Your sister lets you have beer? My parents let me have a glass of wine at Thanksgiving or whatever. Tastes like shit, but it’s still booze.”

Andrew said, “Sorry guys, we really should head out.”

I said, “At least get us each a tall boy can.”

Andrew said, “Guys, let me put it this way. If we get you beer, and Amélie or Ethan’s parents find out. Do you really think they’ll let you go on an out of town show, ever?”

I sighed, “I guess I didn’t really think about that, but I wasn’t planning on getting caught.”

Steven added, “And Abby, you are just getting off a two-week grounding. You know how you complain about us not being able to jam? Well if you get caught, I doubt we’ll be recording the demo any time soon.”

Ethan said, “Damn, you guys are worse than my parents. So screw the beer, just stay and hang out. Come on. We hardly ever just chill anymore. You guys are always in such a rush to leave all the time.”

Andrew said, “The baby’s sick. That’s all you need to know. Be thankful I could come tonight. Anyway, we’ll talk about the demo and the video we want to shoot. We’ll do it soon, I promise.” Again, I felt like Andrew was speaking to me like a child, trying to reassure my adolescent impatience.

I sighed, “Okay. See you guys.” Andrew and Steven piled into the car and drove off.

Ethan said, “That was lame. Why do you think they took off?”

I said, “Maybe because they didn’t want to hang out with a bunch of kids?” Ethan shrugged. He took my hand, and we walked back inside.

***

“I don’t know about this Alyssa. I think it’s a bit much. I don’t really feel comfortable showing my stomach like this. And I don’t think I’m really made to wear skinny jeans.”

Alyssa shook her head as she carefully placed a light purple wig over my head, “You look amazing, Abby! Just like Katy! Besides, you promised me! It’s just a costume. Think of it like Halloween again.”

I said, “Yeah, but I wasn’t trick-or-treating in front of the entire school. What if they laugh at me?”

Alyssa looked confused, “What happened to the Abby that didn’t care what idiots thought about her? They aren’t going to laugh. They’ll think you look totally hot. Trust me.”

I looked down at myself, stuffed into a pair of Alyssa’s navy blue skinny jeans. I thought my legs looked like sausages, the jeans acting as the casing. The girl also had me wearing a crop top that showed my midriff, and with it, my slight love handles. The top actually only covered my chest, leaving my entire midsection exposed, except for a row of multi-coloured tassels that Alyssa glued to the bottom of the top. Each tassel had a small purple bead at the end.

Alyssa held up her phone next to me, comparing it with a picture that she had of Katy Perry. She then proceeded to paint my lips bubble gum pink, and then carefully placed three flowers in my purple wig, they looked like daffodils, but I wasn’t sure because they were pink. The wig itself had short bangs that ended just above my eyebrows. The purple locks curled slightly at the ends, long enough to gently rest on my shoulders. I had to admit that Alyssa had done an admirable job in turning me into the picture on her phone. I was glad she hadn’t opted for the hot pants, because I likely would have fought her to death if she had tried to make me wear the short shorts. Still, I was actually kind of glad that Steven and Andrew hadn’t stayed to see me close out the show.

Alyssa beamed at her handiwork, quickly ushering me out of the room and into the backstage area. A scream-core band was finishing up, and I was put in the unenviable position of having to follow them. Scream-core involved absolutely a bare minimum of lyrics, as the vocals were primarily primordial grunts and growls. This was mixed with blazing fast tempos and thrashing guitars. I tended to dislike it because the vocals usually lacked any melody.

As the music started, I gazed out at the crowd. I was surprised to see that the cafeteria was still packed. When I supervised coffee house, a lot of people left when the bands started to play, so maybe Madame Soucier was onto something. The spotlight gently covered me, bathing me in soft pastels. There were cheers as many in the audience recognized the song. Most of those cheering were teenage girls. The boys were hooting, and some were whistling in appreciation, likely to how I was dressed.

By the time I reached the first chorus, it was clear I had a captive audience. The cheering grew louder as I pumped out the chorus effortlessly. I never moved, and neither did most of the eyes in the audience. It was obvious that the teenage girls adored the cover I was doing, but I grew confused when I saw members of the scream-core band bobbing their heads in appreciation to the music. Even the boys in the audience, who had been making obnoxious comments regarding the removal of my top, stood there mesmerised by my voice.

I didn’t feel that I was doing anything differently. I liked the song, it was catchy, and it had a great message, which was simply, be yourself, accept yourself, and you will be happy. I caught sight of Alyssa in the audience, and she looked so joyful that I thought she was going to cry. I felt my heart lift, as I moved out of the bridge and into the final chorus of the song. As I sung the last few lines of the song, the chants for “Encore! Encore!” had already started. The audience had enjoyed my band, but they venerated my cover. The cheering was unbelievable!

I looked out into the audience, seeing hundreds of cell phone and camera flashes go off. I basked in the attention I was receiving. The audience was frantically clapping and shouting, the requests for encore nearly deafening. I felt the emotion, the energy and power of the crowd, and it filled me with an intense feeling of satisfaction. I downed their praise and devotion like sweet ambrosia as every muscle in my body felt like it was charged with electricity. Again and again, I drank from the fount of their worship.

I loved every second of it, and I realized that I desperately wanted more. It was intoxicating.

Chapter 60

It was Monday evening, and I was in bed, thinking about the day's events. The high from Friday night’s performance had worn off. I couldn’t understand what had happened to the audience during my solo performance, but once I took time to analyze it I started to suspect Mr. Atwater. The audience certainly didn’t react that way when my band played, and while I had sung my heart out for Alyssa, I didn’t think my performance was anything special.

At school on Monday, I was discouraged when no one mentioned anything about the band’s performance. I thought it had been our best show to date, but all anyone wanted to talk about was my solo performance. My teachers found ways to bring it up in their lessons, and students who I had never spoken to before came up and congratulated me, saying they enjoyed it. Some even saying it was the best thing they had ever seen. To me, the only really positive result from my solo performance was Alyssa’s reaction. She hadn’t asked me for the sleeping pills, and she was overjoyed to the point where she wept openly in front of me, thanking me profusely for singing the song.

My phone kept vibrating. I figured it was a phone call, but I wasn’t in the mood to talk. It was probably my father trying to convince me to sign the stupid contract. Amélie hadn’t reached any further breakthroughs with regard to the contract, but nothing bad had happened either, so I was willing to give her a few more days at least. I sighed as the phone continued to vibrate. Whoever was calling, wasn’t giving up. I thought about putting the phone on silent, but before I did, I checked to see who was calling. I feared it was my parents and something terrible had happened to them.

I could see no calls, but it was clear that Alyssa was trying to contact me. She had sent me twenty text message in rapid succession:

Alyssa: abby u need to look at ur fb OMG OMG OMG
Alyssa: abby r u there abby abby OMG OMG
Alyssa: look at ur fb!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Alyssa: abby
Alyssa: abby
Alyssa: abby

Me: k whats so important
Alyssa: ull c just check ur fb
Alyssa: check it
Alyssa: OMG check it!!!!!!

I sighed, but I was pleased that Alyssa was still in such a good mood. I rolled out of bed and turned on my computer. What greeted me was absolutely shocking. I had over six hundred e-mails in my inbox. As I opened my e-mail for Abigail, I noticed that most of the e-mails were friend requests from perfect strangers. Most of them were teenage girls, but as I scrolled through them, I could see at least 50 guys.

After my performance on Friday, I got fifty friend requests on Facebook, but this was beyond comprehension. What could have caused strangers to reach out to me on Facebook? My answer lay on the wall of my Facebook page, where there was a comment that had over three thousand likes, and two-hundred and fifty comments. It was from Katy Perry herself. It read simply:

Katy Perry: “Saw this girl’s (Abigail Grenier) cover of Fireworks, best one I’ve ever seen. This girl is going far! Check out the crowd reaction, unreal!”

I knew someone had posted the video of my performance because I was getting comments from Facebook as early as Saturday morning, but it was clear that Katy Perry, or at least someone in her camp, had posted a link to the video on her page. Everyone who frequented her page saw my video, and considering her page had more than 50 MILLION likes, a lot of people were going to see the link. Every person who had LIKED her site, would see the link for my video in their Facebook news update. Even as I was sitting there trying to go through the e-mail, more and more messages were coming in. In two minutes, I received forty additional messages, all Facebook friend requests. People also started to message me on Facebook. I couldn’t keep up, so I closed the Facebook page tab. My phone continued vibrating, and I grabbed it. Not surprisingly, it was Alyssa.

Alyssa: did u c it OMG katy!!!!!!!!!
Me: y i did its unbelievable i got 600 emails

I had started to use more and more abbreviations in my texts, for two reasons, one: I had trouble keeping up with Alyssa and two: because if I was texting in class, I wanted to do it as fast as possible, using abbreviations meant you could get your message out sooner and reduce your chance of being caught by the teacher.

Alyssa: wow!!!!!!!!! :) :) :)
Alyssa: abby this incredable i looked at ur video yesturdy it had 700 view
Alyssa: its got 100 000 now katy posted that link at 7 PM

I logged into YouTube and searched for the video, and just as Alyssa had described, the video, which was posted on Saturday morning, had over 100 000 views, and now 200 comments. Curious to see what others were saying, I dipped into the abyss that was a YouTube comment thread.

Most of the comments were flattering, although some were inappropriate:

LilyFlower13 said, “This girl’s voice is so beautiful. And she’s so pretty! OMG I want her outfit too.”

n00bkillah1390 said, “she’s fucking hot i would do her in my dorm room doggy style wat sweet ass.”

KittyPurry said, “@n00bkillah u know it says on her fb she’s only 15, u r desgusting :P :P :P

Some of the comments were cruel, and at one point the whole thread just devolved into a debate about whether I was too fat to wear an outfit like that, some of the meanest comments were from girls:

Sassyjess said, “Nice voice but she should consider wearing something else. She’s about ten pounds too big for that crop top.”

Bieberfever24 said, “u know they call them skinny jeans 4 a reason rite????”

TeamJacobYES said, “consider bulimia.”

Thankfully, there were those who defended me and my choice of outfit:

SmarterThanU said, “@TeamJacobYES this girl is super talented, as for her outfit choice and your comments, it’s people like you that kill normal looking girls like her

CuteyBunnyMDK said, “@SmarterThanU This ^^

By Friday, the video had over one million views, and I was getting so many e-mails that I got a special message from Microsoft asking if I wanted to invest in a premium business account, which would double the size of my inbox. The video had officially gone viral, and with that, my privacy at school was gone. At lunch, there were at least twenty people hanging around me at all times. Ethan and I even tried to go the park despite the fact that it was getting colder by the day, and people even followed us there.

YouTube had made me an instant celebrity at St. Jo’s. I was officially cool, and that meant everyone wanted a piece of me. There were those who shunned me because of my sudden celebrity, the truly cynical teens who hated me because I was cool.

Incredibly, I also got Facebook posts on my wall directly from the talk show circuit. As was the norm nowadays, YouTube sensations were brought onto talk shows for their so-called fifteen minutes of fame. I got requests from The Ellen DeGeneres Show, and even a few late night talk shows. The Ellen DeGeneres Show was even willing to fly me and my entire family out to California for the taping. There was apparently talk of having me on the show with Katy Perry.

Because my Internet celebrity was achieved through my solo performance, the music industry also started calling, or rather sending me Facebook messages. Five labels, including Britney’s former Jive/Zomba label (now under Sony BMG) also contacted me. They said I had to get my parents’ permission, but they wanted to fly me out to California for an audition. Did none of them know that I was in a band? I was pleased to see that Geffen was one of the labels interested in me. They were the ones who signed Nirvana to their first corporate rock deal.

I used my new-found Internet celebrity to constantly plug my band too, hoping that I could garner interest and more fans. Despite the fact that my celebrity was attached to Katy Perry, the band’s Facebook page quickly gained fans or in Facebook language- likes. The band videos posted on YouTube also gained a few thousand views, but it was nothing compared to the original video, which steadily climbed to two million views.

As for the auditions, Amélie didn’t like the idea of me going to California. She was worried it would look poorly on her as my guardian, especially because my school work would suffer. Because she wasn’t working, and during the time she wasn’t trying to find loopholes in the Sidereus Agency contract, she acted as my official representation. In between trying to spend as much time with Ethan as possible, hanging out with Alyssa and Eric, and trying to do my homework, I didn’t have time to deal with my inbox, which had become inundated with nearly a thousand e-mails.

Instead of trying to sift through the hundreds of friend requests and legitimate business opportunities, Amélie had the idea of creating a separate artist page for me, so labels would be able to contact her directly. After poring over the contract for weeks, she felt confident she could be both my legal guardian and my legal representation. I was fine with this because it freed up a lot of time. I stopped checking my e-mail, and I proceeded to accept all the friend requests from my personal Facebook page.

It all happened so quickly, that neither of us had time to really sit down and process it. Amélie managed to convince the representatives from Geffen to fly to Ottawa, where I would audition in a local studio. By Sunday night, I had three other auditions lined up. To me it made perfect sense to pursue my options. If I actually signed a contract, I would just pay Amélie to be my lawyer. Not only that, but I would be able to pay for Alyssa to see a sleep therapist. I would only sign a contract that gave me complete creative control, meaning I would be able to write my own songs, lyrics and arrangements, and I would be able to choose who would be in my band. I also wanted to be in control of my image, meaning the PR department would spin for me, not for the label. Was I getting a little full of myself? The labels stated they were only interested in me, so this certainly worked to stroke my ego.

***

Tuesday night, my parents came over for dinner, and the discussion centred on what was likely an inevitable contract signing. It seemed that Ms. Perry’s endorsement carried a great deal of weight, so the audition was merely a formality. Tuesday afternoon, she had posted another message on my Facebook page, which caused the video to jump to over five million views.

Katy Perry: Good luck, Abigail! A little birdie told me you are really close. Keep working hard, and hey, maybe you can sit with me at the Grammy awards? #katyandabby

I wrote her back:

Abigail Grenier: My BFF Alyssa Moore convinced me to sing your song. She’s probably your biggest fan. I want to say thank you for all you’ve done. You really are a genuine person. Check out my band too, not the same style, but you might like it. Let me know what you think. And please say hi to Alyssa on her page! She’s the reason I’m even talking to you.

I proceeded to post the link for my band, which Katy allowed. People tried post their band links on Facebook artist pages all the time, but those that were closely monitored quickly removed the links. Katy wrote back:

Katy Perry: Abigail, rock chick! I love it. Sweet tunes. #thisgirlcansinganything (for the uninitiated, the hashtags were references to tweets that would appear on Twitter, which was like Facebook except it was all about status updates, and mostly just celebrities using 140 characters to sound ridiculously stupid. Paris Hilton once famously tweeted, “No, no, I didn’t go to England. I went to London.”) If I ever engaged in the idiocy that was celebrity tweeting, I hoped it was only after a full-frontal lobotomy.

I showed my parents all the conversations after dinner. My mother said excitedly, “So, do you think you’ll really get to go on Ellen with Katy? The whole family would be able to come too? That’s incredible!”

I said, “That’s not in the plan Mom. Katy gave me her endorsement, but I’m going to use it to get my band signed. The further I move away from pop music, the further away I am to fulfilling the Prophecy. Sorry Mom, no Ellen Show.”

My mother sighed gently, “Oh, well that makes sense.”

Amélie nodded, “If we can get Abigail signed to a label that allows her full creative control, then we won’t have to worry about the Prophecy. Abigail and I talked, and she’s going to hire me as her lawyer, so we won’t have to worry about money.”

My father said matter-of-factly, “And what stops Mr. Atwater from hurting one of us if you go that route? That solves your monetary issues, but it doesn’t protect your family. How are you planning on dealing with that?”

I said, “The nature of a contract. I can only be signed to one label at a time, right? The Sidereus Agency contract states very clearly that I can sign any contract.”

Amélie said, “I also found this passage here that says, “Should the signee choose an agency other than the Sidereus Agency, the signee is bound to that contract for the duration of said contract.” I don’t know why it’s in there, but it is, and it gives us leverage. Most importantly, it seems to absolve Abigail of any signing requirement regarding the Sidereus Agency.”

I nodded, “Exactly, I am going to use this against them. The Prophecy may find it easier to control the populace now because of mass media, Facebook and Twitter, but it also gives us a fighting chance too. I’ve got three auditions this week, and an international mega star is in my corner. I’m going to get one of them. I will sign, and Mr. Atwater can’t do a thing about it until my contract expires!”

My father said, “I suggest that Amélie continue looking through that contract, and don’t sign anything until she gives the OK.”

I replied, “Of course. She’ll be there at my audition. I have to have my parents or legal guardian there.”

My mother smiled at Amélie, and then back to me, “You are lucky you married such a bright girl. I agree that Amélie should keep looking over the contract. I don’t mind at all coming into town and taking care of Chloe!”

She added, “By the way, what do you want for your birthday? With all the craziness in the past few weeks, I forgot to ask you.”

My birthday was next week, and to be honest, I had completely forgotten. I was turning sixteen, although technically, I would be thirty three.

I said, “Well guitar strings are always good. There’s a re-issue of In Utero with 70 new tracks. That would be pretty sweet. I know you guys are really supporting us right now. I’ll understand if you can’t really afford anything. It’s really not a big deal.”

I had never really put much thought into my birthdays. I never had parties, and as I got older and hit the big 30, they started to mean even less. Not only that, but I struggled to think of gifts for myself.

I added with a small smile, “I could always use a new phone.”

My father raised a brow, “We’ll get you something nice.”

***

I cancelled band that week, but with good reason. I needed to preserve my voice for the auditions. I had kept Ethan, Steven, and Andrew in the loop. I let them know that my intention was to sign with a record label and take them along as my band, paying them as full-time members. Steven disliked the idea of signing with a major label, but I explained to him if we went the indie route, I wouldn’t be able to pay Amélie as my lawyer. He seemed to understand. Overall, they were ecstatic at the opportunity, even if they weren’t directly involved.

Thursday, I had an audition with Capitol records, which was Katy Perry’s label. I had tried to keep it a secret, but Alyssa, who was not the kind of person I usually trusted with secrets, had practically told the entire school. Honestly, I was as excited as she was. It didn’t take a lot for her to pry it out of me. This was literally the chance for my dream to come true, and truth be told, even before I had become Abigail, I was a princess when it came to roughing it. I probably never could have done the whole sleeping on floors getting paid peanuts to play music thing.

My teachers all wished me luck, and I even had an amazing conversation about music with M. Blanchard, who hoped I would sign with Geffen. The Geffen audition was Sunday afternoon, while Sony BMG was Saturday night.

Thursday night, I blew the record executives away with an a cappella rendition of Nirvana’s “Heart-shaped Box”. Even Amélie, who had heard me sing hundreds of times before, stood there staring at me in awe when it was over. While I was practically walking on air, once we got down to discussing business, my eagerness was quickly drained. They were looking for a young artist they could turn into the next Katy Perry. They were willing to let me write half of the songs on the album, but they were going to groom me to become a pop star. They even asked if I could dance, to which I replied, not very well. Still, they were very nice, but I feared that signing with them would lead to fulfilling the Prophecy.

Saturday afternoon, I went with Amélie to meet the Geffen executives at a small local studio. When we arrived, we were greeted by a man and a woman in their mid-thirties. Both were dressed in jeans, and the man wore an Alice in Chains t-shirt. These were not the ‘suits’ I expected. The woman extended her hand and smiled, “Hi, you must be Abigail! I’m Sandra, and this is Greg. I’m guessing this is your sister?”

I nodded, and took her hand, shaking it firmly, which caused the woman to laugh gently. Greg invited Amélie and me to have a seat. We were meeting in the studio’s mixing booth. My eyes lit up as I saw the mixing console and the seemingly endless collection of knobs, buttons and faders.

Amélie said, “Thank you for agreeing to fly into town. Abigail has school work, and a strict curfew.”

I frowned at Amélie, and I was about to snap at her, but Greg beat me to the punch. Both he and Sandra exuded confidence, but also had a very friendly air about them. Greg said, “We are aware that Abigail is only fifteen. That’s why we were happy to fly into town. Far easier for us than for you obviously.”

Sandra smiled, “Now, let’s talk music, Abigail. We already know you can sing, and you have a really mature tone to your voice. We aren’t here to put you through some American Idol golden ticket shit. We just want to know what drives you in music. Tell us about your passion.”

I was pleasantly surprised with the structure of the audition. It seemed to be more about my philosophy regarding a potential music career. I couldn’t tell if they were testing my maturity level, but I appreciated the opportunity to show that I wasn’t a typical teenage girl. I said, “I write music to tell stories, to influence, educate and sometimes shock, but most of all to evoke emotion from a listener.”

Greg nodded, “And what do you like to write about?”

I replied, “Mostly events that bother me. I want people to think when they listen to my music. I don’t want them to turn off their brain. I want to engage them at a deeper level, to have them question the world around them. I want them to find the deeper meaning in lyrics. It’s very important to me that the music I produce be meaningful.”

Sandra and Greg exchanged surprised looks and then Sandra continued with the audition, “You are a precocious young woman, Abigail. I’m very impressed. I have listened to your lyrics, and they definitely reflect a young woman who is aware of the world around her. Honestly, the way you skewer some of your subjects, there are traces of political discourse in your lyrics too. This is refreshing, and we think it makes you original. And I’ll use a dirty word here, marketable.”

Greg added, “There is a business side to this, Abigail. We have to know we will make our money back. Do you know how it works with a record label?”

I nodded, “Bands sign, usually for a certain number of albums. The record company advances the band the money in order to record the album, and they help out with publicity, advertising and stuff like that. It’s one of the reasons why artists only get between 15-20% on all CD sales because they are paying back the record company.”

I added firmly, “I know there’s a business side to it, but I’m not scared to get involved in that. I know it comes with the territory.”

Sandra smiled, “Yes, that’s part of it, but because CDs don’t sell as well anymore, the record company also makes its money back from digital downloads.

I said, “And artists make their money by touring and through merchandise.”

Greg said, “Incredible, yes- you definitely have a firm grasp on all of this. I’m amazed really that someone so young can have their head together like this. I certainly wasn’t like you at fifteen.”

Sandra said, “It’s really very simple, Abigail. Geffen is interested in having you sign a one-album deal. We really think there’s something truly unique about you. I know you may think of us as suits, just in it for the money, or whatever, but we aren’t interested in turning you into something you aren’t. With the way you write your songs, your intelligence, and most of all your talent, you could really be the voice of your generation.”

I was ready to put pen to paper immediately, but Amélie interjected, “Let’s talk terms then.”

Sandra smiled, “We can discuss the terms, and then we’ll have a contract written up.” I nodded.

I said, “Well first thing I want to make sure is that I’m still with my band. I want the guys to record the album with me.”

Greg said, “Of course. We definitely want you to stay in your band. That’s part of the appeal.”

I raised a brow, “You don’t think it’s weird that I’m in a band with two grown men?”

Sandra said, “Well it is a little unusual, but again, that’s how you will stand out. Sonically, we definitely want you guys together, especially that guitar player. He added a lot to your band’s sound when he joined.”

I asked, “And I can keep playing guitar?” I knew that I wasn’t the greatest guitar player in the world. I was willing to work to improve my skills.

Greg replied, “Yes, we definitely want you to stick with it. There are so many female musicians who just stand there with a microphone, or they dance. Again, we want you to do what is comfortable for you, but we think this will really add to the appeal of your band.”

I used to think that girl guitar players were hot, girls playing any instrument actually, with the possible exception of the French horn or tuba. Now, it was far easier to picture a shirtless Ethan blazing through a solo, a cocky grin plastered on his face. Mmm hmm.

Sandra said, “Did you hear what I said, Abigail?”

I blinked, realizing that my fantasy had me somewhere else entirely. I shook my head and a little grin appeared on my face. I lowered my head, trying to hide the redness I could feel in my cheeks. Sandra smiled, “I asked you where you got your guitar.”

I replied quickly, “A man named John, he’s a local guitar maker. It’s the best sounding guitar I’ve ever played. Could I have him as my guitar tech?”

Sandra said, “For an artist as young as yourself we would usually provide that, but if you have your own crew that’s fine. If you want to have him in the studio with you, we can do that. And then when you go on the road, you could hire him permanently.”

Greg nodded, “It’s a sweet guitar. We definitely want you to play that in the video.”

Amélie said, “You are already thinking about a video for Abigail? She hasn’t even recorded her album yet.”

Greg replied, “Yes, like I said, we expect her to be a massive success. We’ve certainly got a plan for her.”

I frowned gently, “What kind of plan? You don’t want me to wear weird outfits? And what about creative control? I don’t really want people messing with my songs.”

Sandra put her hand on my leg and said softly, “That’s not our aim at all, but we do want you to be open to at least some changes. We are going to have you work with Sam Jacobs-”

I blurted out, my eyes widening and my heart racing, “A-Are you kidding me? He’s the one who produced all of Alice in Chains’ albums. Soundgarden, Pearl Jam. He single-handedly resurrected the rock genre from hair metal stagnation. I would love to work with him!”

Amélie leaned in and whispered, “Hey, try not to act too excited. They’ll think you will take any amount of money. We don’t want to necessarily bargain hard, but we want to bargain. I know this sounds really good right now, but let’s read the contract first, OK?” I nodded.

I nodded. Greg and Sandra exchanged amused grins, and Sandra continued, “We’ll have you work with Sam. Now he’s the kind of producer who will want a band to really sound like they want. He’s not going to have a lot to say about your style or anything, but he’s going to offer suggestions to improve things.”

I raised my hands and said, “I would be a world-class Diva if I didn’t at least listen to his suggestions. I mean come on, he’s produced some of the greatest albums of all time!”

I asked, “What about creative control though? Are you guys happy with the songs we’ve written? Do you want us to write more?”

Greg answered, “Ideally, we’d get you guys into a rehearsal place for a few weeks before going into the recording studio. That would give you a chance to try out newer material and hopefully come up with some new stuff. You should have between 20-25 songs before you go into the studio. We are happy with what you have, but this is an opportunity to improve and perhaps add to them.”

I looked at Greg and Sandra, and I blurted out excitedly, “Oh my god that sounds incredible! I would love to do that. I’ve always wanted to just be able to play music, see how far it takes me. It would be amazing to really work and craft the songs. Just me and the guys in a room jamming and basically writing the album!”

Apparently, my excitement was infectious because Greg and Sandra smiled wide, almost in unison. I looked over at Amélie and even she was smiling.

Sandra said, “From your reaction, this only cements our faith in you, Abigail. To have someone at your age so driven and focused, it’s rare. And that’s why you could be very successful in this business.”

Greg said, “So we were thinking of a $250,000 advance for the album to cover recording costs, studio time and producer and $250,000 for expenses, and paying your band members and guitar tech for their time.” Amélie got out her phone. I looked over, and she was using the calculator.

My eyes widened, “That’s probably more than we’d need. What if we don’t use it all?”

Greg smiled, “We’d just transfer it into promotion and you won’t owe us. The advance is only for the recording of the album. The way it works is this. Until we’ve recouped the money paid for your advance, we take all the money you make from the album. I’m sorry but that’s the way it goes. We are putting you in the best position to record the album, hence the advance. Geffen will also want 50% royalties from the album, after you’ve paid us back, digital and physical copies.”

Greg continued speaking, saying something about recoupable expenses, but I had tuned him out. I was picturing my band writing our album, getting to meet Sam Jacobs, the absolute master of the rock album.

Sandra said, “I can tell you are excited, Abigail, but we want to be fair here. Have your sister look over the contract we’ll send you, and then say in a week’s time, you give us an answer?”

I nodded eagerly. Sandra and Greg both shook my hand, and a minute later I was in the car with Amélie.

Amélie said, “From the entertainment law I’ve been studying, 50% royalties on an album is almost unheard of. You’d be lucky to get 10% as a newly-signed band. It’s like they think there’s going to be a bidding war for you or something. And the fact that they aren’t charging us recoupable expenses on promotion or the video. That’s rare too.”

I said, “It sounds like an amazing deal. Sandra and Greg were nothing like I expected. Even if that’s just the advance, it means that I can pay Andrew and Steven for their time. I can pay you too. Once we start touring, they can quit their jobs. This is everything I’ve ever wanted, Amélie. It’s incredible to think that-“

Amélie interrupted, “That you had to be Abigail for all of it to happen.”

I sighed softly, “Yeah. I guess I never thought I’d get to this point. We were a talented band before, but my voice, it’s just unbelievable now. I remember when I first sang, it was the only thing keeping me sane throughout those first few months. That inside me I had such power.”

Amélie asked, “If you could be Darren again, would you? Be back to being underemployed, and in a band that was spinning its wheels? Like none of this ever happened.”

I nodded, “Of course. I loved being your husband, and I enjoyed the life we built together.”

Amélie cleared her throat, “And what about Ethan? Would you be able to leave him, if you had the choice?”

I said, “Why are you asking me this, Amélie?”

Amélie said with a measure of difficulty, “I’m just curious. You don’t have to answer if you don’t feel comfortable.”

Amélie asked, “I’ve been avoiding this for a while, but would you be OK, you know if Martin came to the house? I’d like to try and get some normalcy in my life again. I don’t like lying to him, making up excuses for why he can’t come over.”

I asked with a slight frown, “Do I have to be there?”

Amélie shook her head, “Not necessarily. You can if you want though. He’s been asking about you.”

I said, “Then I don’t care.”
***

The Sony BMG audition on Sunday went fine, but I already had my heart set on signing with Geffen, so while my performance wasn’t mediocre, it wasn’t mind-blowing either. My head was clearly elsewhere. Sony BMG had their sights set on making me the next Avril Lavigne, a former pop punk princess (before she completely sold out and married Chad Kroeger of Nickleback infamy) but to do that, I would have to give up my band. Not entirely, but only Ethan would be able to stay. They wanted to surround me with me with kids my age. I didn’t say no, but I wasn’t enthused at the prospect of becoming an Avril clone. She was rebellious, but it was meaningless rebellion, like showing her ass at the video awards or giving the finger to some of her fans.

Sunday evening, the band arrived at my place to discuss our future together. Both Andrew and Steven had texted me before my auditions, saying they would understand if I had to leave the band to pursue my dream, but I made it clear that they were in my grand plan. Ethan had arrived early, likely for an impromptu make out session.

Ethan said excitedly, but with a hint of irritation, “So what happened, how come you didn’t text me about the auditions? Did you tell Alyssa?”

I shook my head, “No, because if I’d told her, you’d know already. The reason I haven’t told you guys yet is because I want to do this as a band. We need to start thinking that way. We make decisions as a band. OK?”

Ethan sighed gently, “Yeah I guess, but I’m your boyfriend. Shouldn’t I know before anyone? I tell you everything.”

I raised a brow, “You still haven’t told me what happened with you and Alexandre.”

Ethan shrugged, “OK, almost everything. Can’t you just tell me how the Geffen one went? Please?”

He moved beside me and nuzzled his face against my cheek, then he started kissing my neck hard. His action took me completely by surprise, and I leaned against the wall for support. He slipped his arm around my waist, but it soon found its way to my ass. By the time he took his face away from my neck, my cheeks and chest were flushed. I pulled him closer, running my nails along his arm, and our lips soon met. I lost track of what we were talking about, and apparently, so had Ethan.

“Ahem.” It was Andrew.

Steven said, “Sorry to interrupt, but I guess you have some news for us, Abby?” He was thoroughly sarcastic in his tone.

I adjusted my t-shirt, which Ethan had started to pull up to gain access to my bra. I was shocked how easily we had fallen back into our adolescent fervour. If we’d been in the same position on my bed…I was starting to think that maybe going on the pill would be a good idea. When I was with Ethan and we were intimate, it was like I had worse than tunnel vision. It was like I was blind and deaf to everything else, especially reasoned thought. Plus, a teenage pregnancy could really slow down my blossoming music career, or in the case of some young musicians like Michelle Branch, completely derail it.

I looked in the mirror and carefully fixed my hair. I stared at myself momentarily, realizing what I was doing, but I didn’t stop either. I felt mostly comfortable being a girl in front of Ethan, but much less so in front of Steven and Andrew. Oddly, they didn’t look at me strangely.

Once we were over the initial awkwardness, I could see that Steven and Andrew were as excited as Ethan, maybe more so. They had been chasing this dream longer than him. Their eyes were bright with hope. There was an electricity in the air too, an anticipation similar to moments before puck drop at game 7 of the Stanley Cup finals. I wore a big smile on my face, and I waited a few seconds, and then a few seconds more.

Andrew, the one who usually showed the most patience, blurted out, “Tell us, Abby!!”

I grinned, “Geffen wants to sign us to a one-album deal. They want to give us an advance of $500,000 to record the album. I don’t think we’ll need that much, but I don’t know how expensive Sam Jacobs is per hour.”

I looked at Steven and Andrew who peered at me in stunned silence. Steven eventually exclaimed, “Are you shitting me? Sam Jacobs?! He wants to work with us? You aren’t joking about this, are you, Abby?”

I shook my head repeatedly, “No way would I joke about something like this. Geffen wants us all. Sony BMG wanted only me and Ethan, and Capitol wanted only me. You can guess who I want to sign with.”

Ethan said, “This is so sick, Abby! Who’s Sam Jacobs?”

Andrew said, “He’s the god of rock albums. He hasn’t produced a single bad one in thirty years. If he wants to work with us, he must think we are good enough for him. Oh man, I don’t know if I can do it. I only learned bass to play in this band. Last time I played was high school. I’m worried I’m going to be really nervous playing in front of him.”

I put my hand on Andrew’s shoulder, “You are an amazing bass player. The rhythms you come up with really carry the songs. Your lines are super catchy. You’ll do fine. They want to put us in a rehearsal hall for the first few weeks, so we can really get ready to record. They want us to have 20-25 songs ready to go.”

Ethan said, “Yeah man, you are great. When I joined, I had no idea you’d only been playing like a year or whatever. Remember? I said your beats were sick.” Despite our encouragement, I could still see fear in Andrew’s eyes.

I said, “Look guys, go home, talk it over with your wives. But this is it, we’ve got our chance here. Geffen is willing to give us 50% royalties too. Don’t worry about work either, with the advance I’ll pay you for your time. Hopefully, you’ve got some vacation days saved!”

Steven said, “Yeah, I’ve got some time. And, I think our wives will understand. I’ve been chasing this for a long time. I can’t believe it’s finally happening. It’s just unbelievable. Last week- we were playing a fucking high school show!”

Andrew said, “What about Ethan’s parents, and Amélie? Is she going to let you go, Abby?”

I said, “Given the circumstances, definitely. She trusts you guys completely.”

Steven frowned, “What about your curfew though? Do you really think that dick judge is going to let you fly to another city and be away from Amélie for weeks?”

I said, “Well we can try. I’m going no matter what. I don’t give a fuck what he says.”

Ethan grinned, “Yeah, Abby! Fuck him. Even if he says no, just go. This is our chance. Screw that asshole!”

I nodded eagerly, “Yeah exactly. Hey, what would you guys think about recording in Seattle?”

Andrew said, “Hold on here. Maybe it would be a better idea to rehearse and record closer to home. That way we could go home and be with our families at the end of the day. Not only that but it’d be cheaper. The less money we use from the advance, the less we have to pay back. Am I right?”

I said, “No way, come on guys. That’s boring! Let’s do it the fun way. We should be away from home, so we can really focus on getting the songs done. Besides, it’s my signature on the contract. It’s my choice, right?”

Steven said, “Despite Abby acting like a level-four diva, I agree. If we are close to home, we can get interrupted. Andrew, you could get called into work if they know you are in town. I think we should go where Sam Jacobs wants to record. He is like a freaking producing savant.”

Ethan nodded, “Yeah, we should definitely do the recording away from here. Like maybe LA or something! When do they want us to start?”

I said, “After Christmas I think.”

Ethan grinned, “Sick! We are going to miss our stupid exams.”

Andrew said, “Hey guys, let’s calm down here. Look at things logically. Don’t you guys have to be in school, by law? I know you tried to emancipate yourself, Abby, but the advance from the label probably won’t be enough. And you shouldn’t miss your exams.”

Ethan shook his head, “Stop being such a pussy, Andrew! We can do whatever the fuck we want, we are going to be fucking rock stars!”

I nodded, “Yeah come on, man. Lighten up. This is our dream. It’s time to just say screw it and take a fucking chance. The label is ready to take a chance with us, but I’m worried you aren’t. We need to be on the same page here. Are you with us?”

I said, “Picture it. We’ll be playing music all the time. Hanging out and writing our album, and then we’ll get to work with Sam Jacobs! Get excited for this man, stop thinking about how you are going to explain it to your boss or to Laura. Just let it go. The only responsibility you are going to have is to write wicked bass lines. We need you.”

Gradually, a little smile appeared on Andrew’s face. The expression brought a boyish look to the man’s lightly bearded face. The smile grew and the brightness returned to his eyes, “Alright, I’m in.”

***

The school week was a blur again. Between the imminent contract signing Saturday and my sixteenth birthday on Thursday, there was little room for any thought of school work. Despite the ‘stale’ nature of my YouTube video, it continued to gain hits, and the calls kept coming. Amélie handled them, acting as both my legal representation and quasi manager. I was convinced that I would sign with Geffen, and while Amélie tried to convince me to at least consider other options, my mind was made up. I wanted to be on the same label that signed my favourite band in the world.

Turning sixteen was momentous. It meant I was closer to adulthood, but most importantly, it meant I could legally drive a car again. I missed the freedom of being able to sit behind the wheel and just take off. Not that I ever went on any wild road trips, but I wanted the option at least, and now I would have it.

Thursday when I arrived at school, I was surprised to see that my locker was decorated. I recalled the practice from my first trip through high school. I thought the custom had gone out of fashion, but Alyssa, my cemented BFF, had seemingly brought it back. Pink balloons were taped to the sides of the locker with thin pink streamers covering the surface. A glitter-laden sign which read: “Happy SWEET SIXTEEN ABBY!!!” was prominently featured in the centre of the locker, completely blocking access to my lock, but it wasn’t like I brought books to class these days anyway. Despite the sea of pink that met my eyes, a little smile appeared on my face. Taped underneath the sign was a birthday card made from construction paper. It was signed by the entire tenth grade class, even Véronique, who wrote: “Good luck, Abby! I have to admit, you are a pretty amazing singer. Sorry for being so mean to you this year.” This brought an even bigger smile to my face. It was obvious that Véronique was jealous of the attention I was getting, and she was trying to suck up because I was so popular.

While I was thoroughly engrossed in reading the card, someone came up behind me and put their hands over my eyes, or at least they tried. Before they could, I spazzed and flew toward them, slamming into their chest and knocking them down. The motion threw me off balance, and I fell on top of my would-be ‘assailant’. I was completely incapable of controlling my limbs when I was surprised, and I was thankful that Véronique wasn’t here to see it because it was a true Abifail. I knew it couldn’t be Ethan because he had received an inadvertent elbow when he frightened me after a particularly terrifying episode of the Walking Dead.

I heard a feminine groan, then desperate breathing, and as I turned around, I saw Alyssa who was looking at me with such mirth that I barely noticed the dark circles underneath her eyes. Seconds later she burst out into an uncontrollable high-pitched giggle, and I joined her a second later. Eventually, my face turned red, and we both struggled to breathe as a group of senior girls walked past us muttering “kids”.

I said, “You do remember me warning you about that, right?”

Alyssa nodded with a massive grin on her face, “Yeah. People like don’t really do 'Guess who?' on you then?”

I smirked, “Never. I almost broke Ethan’s nose when he scared me coming out of the bathroom last time I was at his place!”

Alyssa nodded, “Yeah, he told me about that. I wanted to see if it was really that bad. Um, yeah it was. You totally freaked out! Anyway, happy sweet sixteen, Abby! You finally joined the club! It’s crazy to think that like you are the youngest one out of all of us. I mean you are usually the most mature. Well maybe not lately.”

She grinned. It was true, Ethan had turned sixteen in July, and Alyssa, who acted at times like she was back in sixth grade, was actually the oldest. She celebrated her sweet sixteen in February. Considering what happened on Halloween night, there was also some truth to her latter statement.

Alyssa asked excitedly, while still wearing a wide grin, “So when’s your party? I bet all the kids in our grade will want to be there. Véronique was even nice to me yesterday when I asked her to sign the card. Can you believe that?”

I nodded, “Yeah, I can. Mercedes invited me to eat in the Pit yesterday. As for the party, it’s just going to be family. My parents, Amélie. That’s it.”

Alyssa yawned and slowly slid down a locker adjacent to mine as if struck by narcolepsy. She quickly rose again, practically bouncing to her feet, “Come on, Abby! You only turn sixteen once. It’s supposed to be the best day of your life! You should have a big party!”

I shook my head, “I’ve never made a big deal about my birthday. I didn’t even have any parties when I was a kid.”

Alyssa’s face grew sad, but I could tell she was still pretending. I knew the look of amusement in her eyes, “That’s the saddest story I ever heard. You never got to wear cute party dresses and have your friends over to eat cake and stuff? I still remember my sixth birthday! It was the best. We got to have princess makeovers.”

I smirked, “I can say that I never did any of that stuff. I did eat cake with my family.”

Alyssa imitated an announcer, “It is my new job in life to make sure you have the best sweet sixteen ever. EVA!”

I regarded Alyssa with growing dread, but at the same time, she did seem genuinely happy. Perhaps I could indulge her? I sighed, “What are you going to do?”

Alyssa grinned maniacally and said, “Oh, you’ll see.”

***

Ethan walked me home that night. My mother didn’t need to pick me up any longer because I was trusted not to go to Ethan’s, but I was still expected home to help take care of Chloe while my mother and Amélie prepared supper.

We held hands as we walked, both of us clad in leather jackets, and me with my skirt and long socks. Ethan said, “How come you wear that ugly toque?” I was the only one wearing a toque (or beanie), despite the frigid temperatures.

I shot back with slight amusement in my eyes, “Because it’s cold?”

Ethan said, “Yeah, but I mostly meant cause it’s a Habs toque. I’m surprised you still wear one, you know cause the Bruins destroyed them last game. What was the score?”

I mumbled unintelligibly and shook my head. Ethan said with an obnoxious smirk plastered on his face, “Can’t hear you.”

I sighed, “It was 6-1.”

Ethan said, “You should just start cheering for the Bruins. It’ll be easier during the playoffs.”

I said, “Hey, be nice to me. It’s my birthday.”

Ethan nodded, “Sure, but your team still sucks.”

I turned away from him, “You are such an ass.”

Ethan grinned sheepishly, “OK, OK, I get the message. Um, so listen, I got you something. You know- uh, for your birthday.”

He stopped walking and let go of my hand. He knelt on the sidewalk and started rummaging through his backpack. He pulled out a small present. It looked hastily wrapped, or at least poorly wrapped. The corners stuck out on one side, and there was an abundance of tape. In fact, tape covered almost the entire surface of the present. He handed it to me, and I smiled nervously. What if it was the most hideous gift in the world? I wouldn’t be able to hide my distaste for the object. From the size of it, it was likely jewellery.

I struggled to unwrap the present, and Ethan rocked on his feet nervously. He snatched it back from me and started to pull the tape away with gusto, “Uh- oh, um sorry about that.” Well at least it was clear his mother hadn’t wrapped it for him. He handed it back to me after he had pulled half the tape off, leaving an open corner for me to tear. He wore the same sheepish, yet nervous grin on his face. I took a moment to look at him, finding his concern over my potential reaction humorous but also endearing.

I managed to remove the last bit of wrapping, revealing a small jewellery box. I unhinged the small latch and pulled open the box. The second I opened it, Ethan started babbling, “Uh, I know you don’t wear much jewellery or anything. But I saw this and I was like, Abby will like this I think.”

He looked at me expectantly, as I peered down at a small necklace. It had a thin silver chain, but instead of a stereotypical heart pendant, there were two crossed guitars. One was a fender and the other a Gibson model.

Ethan continued babbling, “If you don’t like it, I can take it back or whatever. I mean you used to wear that ring, and you, um, don’t anymore. I know you said that-“

I interrupted him, “I love it. Um- thank you.”

I saw the boy beam, and he reached out for my hands. He asked eagerly, “So you’ll wear it?”

I nodded firmly, “Of course. It’s definitely me.”

And it was. It struck the balance between my two selves. It wasn’t insanely girly, with unicorns frolicking with faeries in pink rose gardens or anything like that, but it was a piece of feminine jewellery. I never would have worn something like that as a man. I leaned in to kiss Ethan, and he met me halfway. He wrapped his arms around me, and I savoured the instant warmth it brought. We stayed like that for a few minutes, but soon broke the embrace, continuing on toward my place. Instead of holding hands, Ethan wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. It was awkward walking in that manner, but I was glad for the warmth. I realized that I had fallen into a common adolescent trap of dressing for looks rather than warmth.

I remember driving by the same bus stop every day. Amélie and I used to point out how the teens there were dressed inappropriately for the weather conditions, and while I was wearing a toque, I really should have been wearing my winter coat. The first snows had already fallen just before my birthday, and it looked like it was here to stay with the temperatures below freezing. Why hadn’t I started wearing my winter clothing? Because I liked the look of the leather jacket, even though I stood at the bus stop shivering. At least I wore a toque.

Ethan said, “So my parents want to meet Steven and Andrew. They are willing to let me go and record, but it has to be after exams. Either that or we write them before. Like right after New Year's.”

Ethan added, “They actually want to discuss it with everybody. So Amélie too. I said that you’d said we’d get a tutor or something too. For school.”

I smiled, “Oh, and what did they say?”

Ethan grinned, “They said I was going out with a really smart girl. They really like you. I don’t know if it’s her missing my sister but my mom is always talking about you. My dad wants to watch the next Habs-Bruins game with you too.”

Ethan added, “It just sucks because I think your sister hates me. What if she doesn’t let you go record because I’m going to be there? It’s like she doesn’t trust me or something.”

I replied firmly, “Doesn’t matter. If she causes problems, I’ll just ignore her. She knows how long I’ve waited for this, how hard we’ve worked. She keeps me out, she blows it for all of you. She won’t do it.”

Ethan nodded, “I hope you’re right. Anyway, uh, the guys are coming to my place tomorrow night. Can you and Amélie come?”

I nodded, “Yeah definitely. And don’t worry about it. By Saturday afternoon, we’ll officially be rock stars!” Ethan grinned and nodded excitedly. I couldn’t wait for Saturday.

***

As I walked in the door, I half expected to be assaulted by a chorus of “Surprise!” from my entire class, but it never happened. Alyssa had been quiet about the party for the rest of the school day, so I figured she had lost interest in it. She hadn’t mentioned it even once, which was uncharacteristic of her, especially considering the zeal she had shown in the morning. Before our sleepover, it was all she could talk about, what we would do, what we would eat, and especially what we would talk about. Now, it was like she had taken a vow of silence

Maybe Alyssa could have planned something quickly with Amélie, but as the night wore on, and I opened my gifts and ate cake, it seemed less and less likely that I was going to get the party that Alyssa had ‘threatened’. I was both pleased and disappointed. To be honest, I didn’t want that level of attention at a birthday party. It would have been wholly embarrassing to have a girly sweet sixteen party in front of my wife and parents too. It was bad enough that my own mother bought me new bras! A part of me did want a fraction of the attention, even if it was just a surprise party with Ethan, Alyssa, the band and my family.

I didn’t get the phone I wanted, but I did get some new band shirts that actually fit my body. I turned my mind to Saturday afternoon and the inevitable signing. I didn’t foresee any issues with the conversation on Friday night. Plus, Amélie had also gone over the contract that Geffen sent over. Even though she wasn’t an entertainment lawyer, she felt confident that we were getting the best deal possible, especially considering the 50% royalty allotment for the band on digital and physical copies of the CD.

I looked at myself in the mirror on Friday morning as I got ready for school, and I smiled. I gently brushed back my hair and carefully closed the tiny clasps together on the necklace Ethan gave me for my birthday. We were supposed to keep our blouses completely buttoned, but in order to show off the necklace, I was going to have to show a little cleavage. A lot of the girls did it, and it was rarely enforced, but I had chosen not to because I was grossed out by the stares I received even with the blouse fully buttoned! Dr. Alberts was 100% correct about teenage boys. They are horn dogs. It didn’t help that I was far more developed than most of the girls in my class.

As for Dr. Alberts, after browsing the sites she suggested, and even talking it over with Alyssa, I decided I would go on the pill. I hadn’t told Amélie yet, since I was still sort of mad at her for how she was treating Ethan, though I didn’t really have any proof of her misdeeds toward him.

In any case, I figured that birth control was the best option mostly because of my career, but also because I was terrified at the thought of this alien being growing inside of me. I knew that I would have great difficulty aborting a baby. After Chloe was born, I realized that she was a wonderful gift. I was pro-choice still, but for me, it was a harder decision because I knew there were so many who would never experience the wonderful gift and challenge of children. I prided myself on what I felt was a very adult decision.

I waited for the bus, still wearing my leather jacket, and this morning, I even left it unzipped at the top, allowing anyone who gazed at my cleavage to also see the crossed-guitar necklace. The girls in class noticed the necklace, while the boys, well it was obvious what they noticed. My teachers didn’t say a thing to me either. Ethan was overjoyed that I had chosen to wear his gift.

Friday night, Amélie and I drove over to Ethan’s place. Throughout the trip, Amélie kept peering over at me. I had chosen to wear one of my new band shirts. The shirt, cut in a feminine style, had a plunging neckline that revealed significant cleavage, something my parents probably didn’t realize when they ordered it. A few months ago, I probably would have worn something underneath, but now I wanted to show off the necklace. Not only that, but I knew Ethan would love it.

At a red light, Amélie asked, “Did Ethan get you that necklace for your birthday?”

I nodded, “Yeah, do you like it?”

Amélie smiled gently, “Yes. It suits you.”

I said, “You don’t think it’s too feminine?”

Amélie shook her head. I quickly asked, “How come you don’t like Ethan?”

Amélie pulled away from the light, keeping her eyes on the road as she responded. She said, “Do you want the honest answer? I expect it’s the same reason you hate Martin. Every time I bring him up, you make a face. This isn’t going to be easy for either of us, but we’ve gotta suck it up.”

She added, “I’ll admit that I get annoyed with Ethan sometimes. I think he might push you to do things you aren’t ready for, but he’s generally a good kid. He’s just a teenage boy, and that’s mostly what worries me.”

I said, “I can handle him. I’m making mature decisions, Amélie. I’ve decided to go on the pill. And I don’t like Martin because I feel like you are going to try and replace me with him. That he’ll become Chloe’s father. I don’t want that.”

Amélie sighed gently, “You know that Chloe will always love you in some capacity if not as her father then in some other way, just like I do. I can’t imagine how hard it is for you, but I have a right to be happy too.”

I shook my head, “Last Sunday, I snuck out to watch you guys at the park. It sure seems like he’s trying to take over as Chloe’s father. How am I supposed to react to that? You three looked like the perfect little family. You going to tie the knot soon?” I put emphasis on the final words of my statement, so it was clear to Amélie how hurt I was by her actions.

Amélie said, “You don’t think I hate seeing you and Ethan together? I do, but I can hold it in. Sure, I’m a bit passive aggressive with him, but you are downright hostile to Martin. He asked you if you wanted to come with us to the park, and you practically bit his head off.”

Amélie took a calming breath. We had arrived in front of Ethan’s house. She said, “We need to move on from this. It’s not healthy. Martin’s an important part of my life, just like Ethan is an essential part of yours. We need to stop being jealous and realize that these people make us happy, and that’s really what matters. We have to respect that.”

I nodded, “You’re right. I can see he makes you happy.” Amélie stared at me wide-eyed, in clear shock. I rolled my eyes. “What?”

Amélie said gently, “I-I guess I was expecting more of a fight. Sorry, sometimes I forget it’s you and I think I’m talking to a kid, especially the way you answer me sometimes.”

I said sardonically, “Well I’m sixteen now. I’m all grown up.”

Amélie smirked, “Now I know who I am talking to.”

***

I pushed the doorbell, hearing the familiar chime of Ethan’s bell. Ethan opened the door uncharacteristically fast. He grinned as he saw me, giving me the up-and-down, but lingering on my new and improved boobs, now with visible cleavage. However, as soon as he saw Amélie, he quickly brought his eyes back to my own. He said, “Uh, hi- um. Andrew and Steven are in the living room.” Amélie looked at Ethan with a disapproving glare, but as our eyes met, her face softened.

I removed my shoes, and Amélie did the same. I said, “Has Valerie finished her exams already? I saw a car in the drive-”

“SURPRISE!!!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY ABBY!” Almost every girl from my class jumped out from behind the couches in the living room, and at the head, peeking out from behind the massive ficus plant was Alyssa, the clear mastermind of this plot. I knew this from the almost maniacal grin on her face. They all had something in common too. They were dressed like princesses. Most girls would have covered their mouth with their hands, perhaps overcome with the emotion, the pure happiness of a surprise sweet sixteen princess party. I, however, reacted in shock at being surprised, flying backward, but at the same time twisting my body like a circus performer and nearly knocking Amélie over in the process.

The chant of happy birthday soon turned to chorus of laughter. With Samantha, the so-called pudgy bottomed blonde (according to Alyssa) that made up Véronique’s crew, saying, “Abifail!” Instead of getting angry, I brushed it off, righted myself and strode confidently into the room. They were laughing with me, right? One of the girls said, “Too bad we didn’t record it.” Another girl said, “I did!” I sighed. Still, I was mature enough to let it pass. Tomorrow, I was signing up to be a rock star. Nothing could faze me.

That was until I saw Ethan’s mother, and what was in her hands- a pink ball gown, a pair of slippers, and white satin gloves. Alyssa exclaimed, “Time for Princess Abigail to get dressed!”

Alyssa ushered me into the downstairs bathroom, still wearing an unbreakable grin. Ethan’s mother had handed her my party outfit. I stared at her like she was a complicated near unsolvable math problem. The grin never left her face. I said, “How’d you put all of this together so quickly?”

Alyssa said, “Well I told Ethan about how you never had any parties as a kid. And he told his mom, who was like, 'OK let’s throw her a real sweet sixteen party!' So I came over last night, and we planned the whole thing! I guess cause of Amélie’s job and whatever, you guys couldn’t have a big party. That’s what Mrs. Rayner thought anyway.”

I blinked, “But, why- why would you go to all this trouble? And I do mean trouble.” I motioned to what was supposed to be my party ensemble.

Alyssa smirked, “You are going to be around guys all the time when you start recording and touring! Time for a little girls only fun. Now let’s get you dressed! We have to crown Princess Abigail, now don’t we?” She added, “Oh and don’t think you can get away with not taking me along. I’m coming, right? I’m kinda surprised that you didn’t tell me you were gonna go with Geffen.”

I looked at Alyssa, and once again, I could see the supreme joy in her eyes. Her posture, no longer stooped and her head high. “Alright, but if anyone laughs at me. I’m changing back. This is going to ruin my rock cred.”

Alyssa beamed and started helping me into the dress. It had massively poufy pink sleeves with a white sash that tied into a little bow at the back. The dress flowed outward from my waist in all directions. I thought it made my hips look huge, but the other girls were wearing similar gowns, so I wouldn’t stand out.

I said, “My promise. Yeah, I remember. I said I was going to bring you along as my stylist if I made it big. I’ll keep that promise, but do you think your mom will let you go? We are talking about getting a tutor. I mean we were supposed to, before you dropped this on me.”

Alyssa grinned, “I think you’ll like it, Abby. You can go out there and just be six again. No one’s gonna say anything because we are all gonna do it. You never got a chance to do it, and now you will! And I don’t know if my mom will let me. I didn’t talk to her about it yet, but I really wanna go. I’ll miss you so much.”

I said, “Even if you can’t go, I still want to help you. I want to pay for that sleep therapist to help you with your nightmares. And I won’t take no for an answer. That’s the deal. I let you dress me like this, and you accept my help.”

Alyssa cinched the corset and tied the bow at the back of the dress, she then handed me the white gloves. The girl bowed and said, “Yes, Milady, of course Milady.”

She giggled, and I joined her effortlessly. I even put my hand over my mouth, the archetypal girlish pose. I peered at myself in the mirror, but I didn’t see shock in my eyes, only a measure of amusement. Maybe I could play princess for a few hours. Plus, it seemed to make Alyssa so happy. Her laughter and manner, as always, was infectious. I slipped the white satin gloves on, pulling them up my arms, while Alyssa placed the slippers on my feet.

I said, “You aren’t mad at me for wanting to sign with Geffen over Katy’s label?”

Alyssa shook her head, “No way. It was always going to be your choice, Abby. Would that have been the most amazing, super awesomest thing ever? Yes, yes it would, but it wasn’t what you’d want.” I nodded, and Alyssa steered me toward the door, giving me a gentle push out.

The dress was, unsurprisingly, too long. I hiked up the dress from the front, gripping it firmly and then made my way back to the living room. I caught a glimpse Ethan out of the corner of my eye. He was red-faced, and it looked like he was having trouble breathing. I hurried over to him, only to hear the boy burst out laughing. Alyssa stomped over to him. She put her hands on her hips, “No boys allowed!” I felt instantly self-conscious. I peered back at the doorway to the bathroom and potential escape.

Mrs. Rayner arrived and said, “Ethan, go down with your friends and play your video games.” She pointed to the basement door, “No boys allowed!”

She and Alyssa shared amused grins. Ethan opened the door, and I could hear the sound of a bone-jarring hit. I knew exactly what they were playing. I looked out at the living room, to the sea of pink decorations, and to the princesses beckoning me for my coronation.

Alyssa reached out and took my hand gently, guiding me toward the waiting group of adolescent girls. She said softly, “It’s OK, Abby. No one’s gonna laugh at you.”

I peered back toward the retreating Ethan, whose mother quickly closed the basement door behind him. Alyssa was right, once we were on the road, it would be video games, hockey and heavy music. Alyssa brought me to a chair and had me sit down. The chair was covered in pink velvet with a number of white felt stars carefully pinned to the fabric. I recognized the chair as part of the Rayner’s dining room set, but I suppose for tonight, it was my princess throne.

Mrs. Rayner brought out a bejewelled plastic tiara and gently placed it on my head. She smiled at me. “Enjoy yourself tonight, Abby.”

I said, “Thanks for doing all of this. It wasn’t really necessary.”

Mrs. Rayner shook her head, “You are a very special girl, Abby. Ethan is very lucky to have you. I hope you’ll join us on Christmas morning in a few weeks. I know Valerie is looking forward to meeting you.”

I nodded, “I’d like that.” Normally, we would go and see Amélie’s parents at Christmas, but this year was different obviously.

Mrs. Rayner smiled and said, “OK girls, Princess Abigail is crowned! Let’s party!”

I looked around the living room and saw a number of stations. There was a makeup station with an oversized (or what I assumed was an oversized) powder applicator. Three child-sized vanities were set up with a collection of long beaded necklaces and heavy-looking metal bracelets in open jewellery boxes. Next to the jewellery boxes was a small Tupperware container of glitter. The second station featured a plethora of colouring books, all princess themed. The last station was pulled straight from the pages of the Cinderella fairy tale. A glass slipper (which I assumed was plastic) rested on a red velvet pillow.

The assembled girls quickly made their way to the various stations. I saw teenage girls laying on their stomachs with their legs dangling in the air, each with a colouring book and pack of crayons.

Alyssa said, “What are you waiting for Milady?” She giggled. I smiled at her, and joined the girls who were busy colouring, adopting their position on the floor.

During the party, and despite the embarrassment of dressing like a six-year old, I came to a startling realization. I was happy. For the first time, in a very long time, I was actually genuinely happy. As Darren Lawrence, I was in a happy marriage, and I did have a beautiful bright baby girl, but I was still unhappy. I was underemployed, feeling like my skills were going to waste in dead-end jobs. I was also musically stagnant, constantly spinning my wheels in a band that never left the basement. Would it have remained that way? Doubtful. I would have moved on to another band, one that wanted to be more serious, ones that wouldn’t let family or work infringe on practice or recording time.

What happened to me was not a gift, nor was it serendipity that I had been thrust into this body, despite my burgeoning musical success. I could not ignore, however, my uplifted spirit, the smiles on my face, and the sheer excitement I had to see my dream come true. Thanks to Ethan, I had also become comfortable as Abigail, living within her skin, I felt like it was now my flesh. While I was still not enamoured with my body, which teenage girl felt absolutely at ease in her body? During our make-out sessions, Ethan had even started to touch me in the places where I was self-conscious, and he didn’t shy away. He was still completely obsessed with my boobs, but that was a given.

I had come to the conclusion that this was going to be my life from now on, with Ethan and our blossoming relationship, and the pending contract signature, it really wasn’t going to be half bad, even with Martin St-Valentin usurping my position in the family. Amélie was right, we did need to move on. Being happy also meant leaving the cocoon that I had built as Darren Lawrence. Darren had a great deal of hate in his heart, anger with the dissatisfaction in his life, the feeling that he had chosen wrong regarding his education, and building walls a hundred feet high keeping anyone out without his absolute trust, even his own wife at times. It was like I was viewing the world with new optimistic eyes. I was opening up to the world, and the world was taking notice.

I moved from station to station, ending at the Cinderella display. The girls all gathered around me. I noticed that Mrs. Rayner was gone, but Alyssa took her place, holding the glass slipper below my foot. She slipped it on, and it fit perfectly. I put the other one on, and proceeded to take mincing steps around the room. I was amazed at how much fun I was having, not only that, but I was the centre of attention the entire time. The girls asked me about the contract I was going to sign, they told me how talented and beautiful I was, and how they hoped I would get tickets for them to my first concert in my hometown. I revelled in the attention, like some media-obsessed starlet. The party carried on for hours, and it was only when it was time to leave that I realized I hadn’t been part of the band conversation.

***

Me: did u get 2 talk 2 ur parents about band yesterday
Ethan: n
Ethan: Andrew steven played video games w me while then left w my parents and amelie dont know where they went
Me: i cant believe they didnt talk 2 us we r going 2 be there 2 we have a say
Ethan: so now i donna if they let me go
Me: u r coming either way we need u
Ethan: thks abby
Ethan: srry 4 laughing @ u
Ethan: i actually thought u lookd hot like that
Me: yeah?
Ethan: definitely just first time it was funny cuz you arent like that
Ethan: when r u signing contract
Me: meeting Geffen ppl @ 230
Ethan: gonna be rock stars!!!!!!!!!!!
Me: :)
***

“What? What do you mean you’re going to be late? We are supposed to meet Sandra and Greg in like less than an hour!”

Amélie’s answered, “They’ll wait for us, Abigail. They will understand.”

I heard an angry male voice, “Hey, fuck you lady! It was my turn.”

Amélie shouted back, “It’s not a 4-way stop anymore asshole. Just back up!” I could hear Chloe crying in the background.

Amélie said, “Look, Chloe and me are OK, just take a taxi there. We’ll be there as soon as we can.” We were meeting at the same studio to sign the deal.

I sighed, “Fine. I just don’t want to be late. What if they leave?”

Amélie replied, “They are signing you to a half a million dollar contract, they aren’t going to care if I am a little late. Don’t sign anything until I get there.”

I said, “Fine. Just hurry please.” I thought about asking one of Ethan’s parents for a ride, but I knew they were out of town. They had gone to see Valerie for the weekend in Montreal. I opted for the taxi, and soon enough I was out front of the studio with a few minutes to spare. I would stall until Amélie arrived. I was both excited and frightened out of my mind, as if the very prospect of Amélie being late could ruin the deal. I knew I had to be patient- Amélie wanted to read the contract over again before I signed. The taxi driver waited outside while I went to find Greg, who promptly paid the driver.

“Where’s Sandra? I thought you were both coming down.”

Greg shook his head, “She’ll meet us later.”

I said, “Sorry about the taxi, but I don’t have any money. My sister got into a car accident, but she’s going to be here as soon as she can.”

Greg said, “It’s OK, why not look over the contract while we wait?”

I raised a brow, “Really? You think I’ll understand it?”

He smiled and nodded, “Sure, you worked in a law office, didn’t you? Your sister mentioned it when we spoke on the phone last week.”

I nodded my head eagerly, and then sat down to read through the agreement. From first glance, it looked like the same contract they had e-mailed to us last week. As I was reading, I lost concentration multiple times, my mind turning to how Amélie had neglected to include me in the discussion concerning my own band. I skimmed a page, and then realizing that I had, I quickly returned to it. Again, nothing was out of the ordinary.

Halfway through, I started thinking about Ethan, and us kissing, and then hardcore making out. I pictured us on a tour bus together, sleeping in the same bed. My thoughts screamed back toward Amélie again. There was no way she would let us do that. She didn’t trust us. Worse still, she thought I was a stupid kid that couldn’t make her own decisions. Rage boiled within me, and as a result, I wasn’t reading the contract as thoroughly. I looked down at my phone, noticing that Amélie had texted me, she said she would be another twenty-five minutes. Impatience started tugging at my mind, loosening my resolve, and making me think that the blank signature lines on half of the pages needed to be urgently filled.

I had worked in a law office, and while I had forgotten some of what I learned, I still felt confident enough to thoroughly absorb the meaning of the contract. I took another ten minutes and took it to Greg, who was listening to music on his phone.

I tapped him on the shoulder, “I’m ready to sign this.”

Greg furrowed a brow, “But what about your sister? She’s your legal guardian. I’ll admit, I haven’t done a lot of these signatures with minors, but that’s what you are, right? You just turned sixteen.”

I said, “I worked in a law office. The assumption is that minors are not competent, that is why they need a parent or guardian to sign for them. They don’t have the mental capacity. I do. I represented myself in a court of law too.”

Greg frowned gently, and then looked at me with new found respect, “I can tell we definitely didn’t make a mistake with you choosing you, Abigail. Alright, I’ll let you sign.” He handed me a pen.

The second I finished signing my name on the final page, I watched in horror-filled fascination as the ink, other than my signatures, disappeared from the page. My jaw dropped as I saw the contract literally rewrite itself in seconds, the ink changing from dark blue to deep red. I looked up at Greg, and he had a familiar grin on his face. It was the Cheshire cat mixed with the Joker. Grey began lining his temples as his jeans quickly darkened and thinned, becoming a well-made pair of cotton dress pants. The zipper on his leather jacket faded away, leaving three distinct buttons, for what was appeared to be a blazer. It was clear that his clothing was morphing into a three-piece suit. Within a few moments, Mr. Atwater was standing before me.

He said, “Congratulations, Abigail. Of course, Abigail isn’t really a very good name for a star, but I’m sure that our creative team can come up with something much better. Something with a lot more POP.”

I stared at him with such hatred, that I barely felt my body lunge toward him, brandishing the pen menacingly. I tried to stab him in the eye, but he caught my hand and easily forced the makeshift weapon from me. He threw me to the floor.

I picked myself up and blinked, “Wait? Are we still in Canada? What’s happening? Did I fall asleep?”

Mr. Atwater shook his head, “Absolutely not. Now that you have signed. The Prophecy gives me the ability to take physical form, so that I can see that it is fulfilled. What better way, than by your side, Abigail? When it’s time, you’ll go with me to Los Angeles to record your album. Then you’ll tour, and you’ll become a sensation, thus fulfilling the Prophecy. And by then, you’ll be begging me to go out on stage each night.”

I shook my head vehemently, “I won’t go with you! And you can’t make me!” Mr. Atwater, still with the triumphant smile, flipped to page 17 of the contract. He read, “Pursuant to subparagraph a) of clause 23.4, this agreement revokes all paternal or guardianship rights on the signee. The signee is the property of the Sidereus Agency. As such the signee becomes the ward of the associate.” Mr. Atwater viewed me with amusement, “Remember, that’s me. I’m your legal guardian now, Abigail.”

The very thought of Mr. Atwater being my legal guardian was enough to turn my stomach. I felt faint momentarily, but the rage soon boiled within me, filling me with energy, “But the contract I signed, it was from Geffen. There was even a clause in the Sidereus Agency contract that said I could sign with another label with no penalty.”

Mr. Atwater said, “Yes, but you failed to read the clause in the Geffen contract that indicates that the Sidereus agreement supersedes the Geffen one, and that upon signing, it immediately invokes the Sidereus agreement.”

I screamed, “That wasn’t in Geffen contract! Not the one that was sent to the house. Amélie would have caught it.”

Mr. Atwater put his finger to his lip, indicating for me to be quiet, “No, but it was in the one you signed. You just missed it. I guess you have a bit of trouble concentrating. Thinking about that boy I bet?”

I asked frantically, “How’d you know that? Are you controlling me?”

Mr. Atwater shook his head and smiled, “You are a sixteen year old girl, and you have a boyfriend. It’s safe to assume you would have at least some difficulty reading a fifty-five page contract written mostly in legalese.”

I raised a finger and narrowed my eyes, “There you said it. I’m sixteen. Your contract is void. Before I signed that, Amélie was my guardian. She needed to be here for me to sign it.”

Mr. Atwater said matter-of-factly, “I’m going to miss your preciousness, Abigail. The Sidereus agreement falls outside regular legal boundaries.”

I pointed my finger at Mr. Atwater again, “Well if that’s the case then I can just breach the terms of the agreement immediately. If it isn’t an ironclad contract, then what’s to stop me from doing that?”

The smile momentarily disappeared from the man’s face. “The magic that binds you to the Prophecy is only expended when you fulfil the Prophecy. You’ve signed, but if you interfere with the fulfilment. Well, that behaviour could make life…unpleasant for your friends and family. Chloe’s illness, Amélie’s career problems. Her little fender bender today. Alyssa’s mental fitness. It can all get much, much worse, Abigail. Alyssa could wake up schizophrenic. Or what if Amélie has another little accident? Maybe she forgot to buckle Chloe in properly.” The smile reappeared.

I grabbed a letter opener and threw myself at the man again. I managed to stab his thigh, before he threw me off like a rag doll. I screamed, “You leave them alone you sadistic prick! I’ll fucking kill you if you touch Chloe again!”

The man stumbled for a moment, and I could see his pants stained with blood. I was insane with rage. This man had taken everything from me, and he intended to hurt my family. Adrenaline poured through me as I looked for my fallen weapon. Could I really kill a man? I could if he was going to hurt Chloe.

Mr. Atwater said through clenched teeth, “You’ll pay for that, Abigail. I won’t accept any insolence from those under my charge.”

I bared my teeth, slowly pulling myself off the floor as I moved to pick up the letter opener, but before I could, Mr. Atwater stepped on my hand, and as I tried to move away, he applied more pressure. The pressure started to hurt, and I cried out, still desperately trying to pull my hand away. I managed to grasp the letter opener with my other hand, and I stabbed the man in the ankle. He let out a cry of pain, but in the process, he stomped down hard. I felt a snap and then sharp, tingling pains all throughout my hand.

Fresh blood darkened the man’s pants where I had stabbed him. He grimaced and pulled the letter opener from his ankle. Once he released my hand, I peered at it, I could see that two of my fingers were crushed, clearly broken.

My left hand throbbed, and the sharp pains returned each time I moved my fingers. I saw him rummaging through the first aid kit. I looked down at my hand again, cradling it, unable to keep the pain tears at bay. Mr. Atwater gripped me by the hair, and pulled my head up so I could see his eyes. I shut my eyes to avoid his gaze.

He said menacingly, but with an air of amusement, “I realize that this cannot be easy for you, but if you behave that way again, you will be made to suffer. As for your current punishment, well I guess you can’t play guitar. So, you’ll just have to dance now. Am I right?”

He let go of my hair, even as the tears were still streaming down my cheeks. He said, “I will come for you soon, Abigail. And when I do, you had best come along without incident. For the sake of your family, and especially the boy.”

Mr. Atwater left me crying on the floor.