Friending Jane Austin Chapters 1-3 By Tara Nicole Miller Copyright © 2024 Tara Nicole Miller All Rights Reserved. Word Count 5,000

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Image Credit: From Adobe Stock Photos - Three women in vintage attire with braided hair, posing for a selfie. By Irina Kozel
 

I was ready to pull my hair out, which would have been a shame, because I had been growing it out for a couple years and it was halfway down my back and finally looking very pretty. I haven’t ever had a real friend for my entire fourteen years. I was sort of forced to play with the boys within two blocks along our street, never straying beyond. I didn’t even know what the street behind ours looked like. God, I hated playing with boys and I was yearning for female friendship.

I started telling my parents that I was a girl when I was around two or three years old. They never took me seriously. They were so adamant that I was a boy. Ugh! So I stopped bugging them about it around five, hiding that part of me away from the world and bringing her out only on those rare occasions when I was alone. Except for one last time when I was ten. I don’t remember how it came about, but my sister dolled me up to my great delight, from the top of my head to the pretty pink polish on my toes. I remember being in heaven.

We came down the stairs to the living room like we were making a grand entrance to a gala ball. Heaven turned to hell in about two seconds flat as my parents blew their stacks and their gaskets and all those other things parents have a habit of blowing when they are properly ticked off. I ran away crying and from then on I made sure they only saw the sad, pathetic, fake little ‘boy’ they apparently preferred.

So, I have been so sad and alone, even more bereft and pathetic for the past four years, and as I said, I couldn’t take it anymore. Oh, no, I certainly wasn’t going to insist to my parents that I was a girl anymore (I think they’ve forgotten by now, or repressed the horror, or whatnot), nor tell my ‘friends’, or anyone else I knew, for that matter. So I devised what I thought was a clever plan. Either it would turn out and I would be seen as adorable and quirky and worth getting to know, or the entire world would come to know me as an utter lunatic within approximately 45 minutes to an hour, shunned for eternity, shamed into even further obscurity. But, it was worth a try to get out of my semi-living, lonely hell.

I felt kind of silly hauling a wagon three streets away, to a place that seemed like the other side of the moon. I had it loaded down with the accoutrements of my plan. I had brushed and fluffed my long blonde hair and put on my nicest androgynous clothing (“nice” being kind - they were awful, just not as awful as the rest of my boys’ junky clothes). I had accidentally on purpose washed some of my whites with a new red shirt that ran perfectly and turned everything into a lovely baby pink, even my Converse All Stars. Mom thought she would teach me a lesson by “forcing” me to wear the pink clothes - I only put up a token fuss while smiling inside.

Now, I had noticed, and based on my own experience, that girls spend way less time playing out of doors than boys do. Most of their pursuits seemed to be more sedate and indoorsy as mine are. So, I knew I would be camped out for a while. God, this sounds so creepy now, but it’s the only way I could catch a girl or two while they were on the run between houses. Wow, that sounds even creepier. Ugh. Anyway…

I set up all my gear. A folding chair; a little folding table that I covered with a lace doily; a pretty teapot filled with tea and covered with an English tea cozy; two bone china mugs with a floral chintz pattern - two, in case I had someone join me - perhaps I was delusional. I pulled out my iPhone for music, but I couldn’t be in my own world with earbuds on, so I just played it softly in the background - not really what teen girls listen to, John Barry instrumentals, but I can’t really read to Miley Cyrus and Meghan Trainor. Ooh! And Jax, I looove Jax!

And that’s what I intended to do - read, on the sidewalk, sipping tea, to pretty music, wearing pink with tight jeans, flowing blonde locks, and just a touch of mascara and lip gloss that my parents never seem to notice. I would stay there all day if I had to. My desperation wasn’t an attractive quality, but, what’s a girl to do?

Turns out I didn’t have to wait all that long, as a few minutes after I saw the curtains twitch in the house to the immediate left of me, along with some muffled giggling, the front door opened and two girls about my age tumbled out, whispering in each other’s ears and giggling. The brunette made a beeline to me with her eyes wide and a little sneer on her lips. “What the actual fuck?” She asked me eloquently as her auburn-haired friend giggled at her directness. “What the hell is all this?” She spread her arms wide and dramatically.

I looked up slowly and softly replied “good morning!” With a wide smile.

She continued, “Seriously, what…?” Her friend nudged her in mid-sentence and pointed down the street. There was a gaggle of teen boys throwing a football around about a half block away. Yes, I had noticed them.

Auburn girl says “she’s obviously crushing on one of those boys! But, this set-up; like, what Verity said, what the actual fucking fuck?” She giggled and blushed, obviously not as accustomed to swearing as…Verity?

I nonchalantly replied, looking up at brunette, “your name is Verity? Seriously? Did your parents hate you or what?”

“Oh, shut the hell up! What’s your oh-so-special name then? And seriously, what’s up with all this crap?” She waved her arm again.

Auburn jumped in. “Chill, Ver, it’s cute. Look at the pretty doily and those precious teacups.”

“Look at the pretty doily.” Verity mocked. “What’s your name, weirdo?”

“Kayla.” I stated, giving her the girl name I had to choose myself when my mom refused to change it when I was three.

“Oh, Kayla,” she sneered again. Then she stood up straight-faced, the mocking and sneering suddenly tucked away somewhere, perhaps under her sharp tongue. “Umm, that’s actually a pretty name. I’ve always loved it. You’re so lucky - God I hate my name!” Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt and have to wear the damned thing every day, I thought to myself. She continued, “So, seriously, what’s with the set-up? You do realize it’s pretty weird, right?”

I giggled. “Is it? I suppose, but your friend’s right, not crushing, per sé, but I like to watch. A couple of those boys are pretty cute.” That part was true enough, but I was making things up on the fly now; and they think I’m a girl? I wasn’t really expecting that, but I was melting inside. I’d have to build my plane in mid-flight.

“Per sé? Who talks like that?” Verity chided without the mocking and sneering. She seemed to be engaging in some friendly banter now.

“A girl who reads Jane Austen talks like that.” Auburn pointed out. “That’s Emma; she’s reading Emma! Oh my god, I love Emma! My name is Candace, by the way, not that Verity thought to mention it.”

Verity rolled her eyes. “Sor-ry!” She then continued. “So, you’re one of those artsy tomboy types.” She stated as if it were public record. “You’re not a lez or anything are you?

“Verity!” Candace gasped.

“Or anything?” I teased. “No, sorry - not gay.” I smiled, waving my hand toward the boys.

“Okay. So you’re just weird, but so is Candace.” Verity glanced at her friend with a smile.

“And you’re not.” I stated flatly, also as a matter of public record.

“Oh my god, she totally is!” Candace blurted. “Did you know she’s obsessed with Harry Styles?”

I rolled my eyes. “Harry Styles? Seriously?” Verity huffed and pouted while Candace giggled.

“Yes, Harry Styles. Shut up! Can we move on?” Verity actually, nay, verily, plopped onto the grass next to me. I giggled to myself.

In a relative non-sequitur, Candace broached, “so, like how many Austen’s have you read then?”

“All of them.” I smiled. “Emma’s my favorite. I’ve read it, like, three times and watched every version of the movie. I can’t decide between Gwynneth Paltrow and Kate Beckinsale.”

“Oh my god, right?” Candace enthused. “Hey,” She turned to Verity, “why don’t we all go to my house and watch, what? Something Jane Austen; doesn’t hafta be Emma. Whaddya think?”

“Seriously?” Verity rolled her eyes. Seriously? I echoed in my mind - that would be sooo amazing! I glanced at Verity, my big, hopeful, mascara tinged, beseeching eyes on full display. “Ugh. Fine! But I getta pick the snack, deal?” She looked between us.

“Deal.” Candace and I responded in stereo, with stereo smiles.

“Here, let’s help Kayla pack up her stuff.” Candace looked over to Verity, who, perhaps under patent, rolled her eyes again.

Wow, this was going way better and way quicker than I expected; well, not expected, really; more like a cherished, distant hope. This was already the best day of my life. “So, wow, your house is really nice,” I gushed as we walked through the front door of Candace’s house. It was only a few blocks away from mine, but it was in a totally different league. I walked over to the grand piano in the living room and caressed it lovingly. “So beautiful. Do you play?”

“A little. I’m not very good, though.” She deprecated.

“May I?” I asked hopefully; drooling over the gorgeous Steinway.

Verity rolled her eyes yet again. “My god, you’re so damned polite and cute and sweet, and you play the piano too? I bet you ride ponies and paint and write stories for the New Yorker, too…”

I laughed and got a little shiver; she said I’m cute! “Nope. Just piano. No, I lie, I actually love needlepoint; my Grams taught me.” I also didn’t mention that, indeed, I did have a couple poems published in the New Yorker! Verity held back, perhaps her eyes needed a rest from all that rolling. She just shook her head with a grin.

Candace chimed in. “Well, go on then; play something, huh?”

“Thanks. I always wanted to play on a grand. This is sooo cool.” I gushed some more as I sat on the bench and flexed my fingers with the sparkly pink nail polish. So pretty! “What would you like to hear?”

“You do requests, too? You know, you’re really making me look bad, girl.” Verity teased with a smile, glancing at Candace please don’t call me Candy or I’ll have to kill you Stanhope.

Candace just smiled. “Like, what do you play?”

“Anything.” I replied matter-of-factly. “Well, no, not rap, obvs!”

They laughed and then conferred, obviously conspiring to stump me. Verity smiled slyly, “we’d like to hear ‘Fuck You,’ by Lily Allen.”

I giggled then played an intro with a flourish. I love this song. I sang it sweetly with a British accent. They were shocked, but quickly joined in when I got to the chorus: “Fuck you! Fuck you very very mu-u-u-uch!” We all laughed and Verity slapped and nudged me on the shoulder. God, this was so much fun! We continued on: “Cuz we hate what you do, and we hate your whole crew, so please don’t stay in tou-uh-uch!” Verity was now literally rolling on the floor.

We finished up and Candace said, “Wow, that was totally amazing! I like how you did that little Taylor Swift thing on those runs. How are you so good?”

“Carnegie Hall.” I replied with a straight face.

“What?/Huh?” The girls asked over each other, giving each other a confused glance.

I began to explain. “You know, the old joke? ‘How do you get to Carnegie Hall?”

“Practice, practice, practice!” We finished together, giggling. I thought how I had had nothing better to do for the past ten years or so. I cook a meal a couple times a week, I clean the house (no one asks me to, I just like how it looks and smells after; weird, huh?), I do the needlepoint, I read a book a day, and what’s left? Piano. School doesn’t count.

“Cool,” Candace said, “Should we go to the theater now?”

Verity’s eye roll was back. “She means the basement. It’s all kitted out for a home theater. It really is way awesome.”

I enthused, “Okay, let’s!” But first, I quickly ran off the first verse of ‘A Fifth of Beethoven’ by Walter Murphy. I pounded the last chord and jumped up. We all laughed on our way to the basement, erm, home theater. When we got to the bottom of the stairs, the girls stopped me and my heart went into my throat. I knew this was going too well. To my surprise and relief, they both hugged me. Candace looked so earnest when she told me, “you are so, so cool. Where the heck did you come from?”

Chapter Two - Matinee

Fortunately, that last bit was apparently rhetorical, at least for now, as she just spun around and headed toward the large fridge in the corner. “Soda?”

“Diet Pepsi?” I asked hopefully.

“Oh my god, she’s a Pepsi girl, too!” Verity practically jumped in the air and clapped her hands, just once. She was too cool for any more than that.

Candace pulled out three Diet Pepsi’s and deftly slid one down the bar to me. I promptly knocked it over as I reached for it. I looked up sheepishly. She smiled. “I’ve always wanted to do that!” She giggled. “You need some practice, though.” She then reached under the bar. “Okay, we have healthy snacks, veggies and stuff, ORRR…we have total crap!” She giggled as she pulled out a giant variety pack of single serve snacks. My gosh, they know how to entertain, I thought.

I grabbed a Munchies mix and waited for the girls to make their choices - Doritos and Crunchy Cheetos. Then we began to make our way to the eighty inch television. Eighty inches! I kid you not! I turned to Candace. “You guys must be, like, really rich. What’re you doing in this neighborhood?”

“Hey!” Verity blurted in mock outrage. I giggled.

Candace explained. “Yeah, my parents have a lot of money. They’re like the top partners in their own law firm downtown. I don’t see much of it, though. They don’t want me to become some spoiled rich bitch I guess, so I have to earn my own money with, like, babysitting and stuff.” She finally took a breath.

I prodded further. “Okay, but, why here? Surely you could get one of those amazing mansions near downtown? Glad you’re here, but, you know?”

She smiled. “Yeah. My parents moved out of a ritzy condo when I was born. They found out that this area has great schools and a lotta kids and…well, it’s middle class and all.”

“That’s us!” I smiled at Verity and she nodded.

Candace gave us a hug, her eyes becoming moist. “Yep. Best people in the world. Sooo…Movie time!” Candace segued rather abruptly. “Wait!” She put her arms out to stop us in our tracks. “I just had a thought.” Verity groaned and rolled her eyes. Candace continued, “I’ve actually got period costumes from a party we held last year. What do you girls think?”

Omigosh, I absolutely melted when she called us ‘girls.’ I could totally get used to that. And, not surprisingly, I thought the idea was brilliant and Verity groaned again. I was the first to burble with excitement and began bouncing on the balls of my feet. “Oh my god, that would be so much fun. Please Verity?” This was all such a dream come true, I seemed to be flying on autopilot, more outgoing than I ever have been as a fake pathetic boy. I forgot we would have to change clothes and put myself in a somewhat precarious position. I was so excited, though, I was totally willing to figure it all out as we went along.

“Fine!” Rolling eyes go without saying, of course.

“Onward and upward!” Candace announced melodramatically and led us up to her room on the second floor.

OMG! This day just keeps getting better. Her room was my dream bedroom! I sighed and gushed and even got a little teary. A four-poster bed, of course, with some sort of gauzy material draped around the top. All the furniture was an antique white. And matched! Of all the crazy, wonderful things. Dresser with mirror, chest of drawers, vanity, a tufted bench, and even a tilty floor mirror thingy which was just so ornate and gorgeous, I’d never seen or dreamt of anything like it.

All the decor was in different shades of pink - variations on a theme. A gorgeous, totally feminine theme. I was in heaven and wistful all at the same time. God, I hoped these two would somehow become my girlies, and one of them, probably Candace I sensed, my bestie, my BFF. Please? Pretty please? God has never turned me into a girl overnight, but maybe She could handle this one? Maybe?

Candace trekked to the back of her massive walk-in closet. It looked like something from the Kardashian’s, I swear. My jealousy was rearing its ugly head as my eyes roamed all over the amazing racks and shelves filled with gorgeous clothes and shoes and accessories. Well, they were gorgeous to me; I suppose they were really typical teen outfits, but they had me mesmerized. “This closet is to die for,” I said, almost in an awed whisper.

Candace just smiled and said, “yeah. I know I’m lucky, and I love it. I feel like Kim Kardashian, or something.” Speak of the devil.

“I think her dad was a lawyer, too,” I chipped in. She just smiled and nodded and grabbed an arm-load of old-timey dresses that certainly didn’t look like they came from the corner costume shop. My god, they were absolutely gorgeous. I could totally see Emma Woodhouse or Elizabeth Bennett wearing these dresses. Even I could get my own Mr. Darcy in one of those, I’m sure of it. He wouldn’t care what was in my pants. Well, maybe he would, now that I think about it. I frowned to myself. But then I smiled broadly as Candace handed me the most amazing lavender outfit with corset and all.

“You’ll have to be Emma, I think.” She looked at me earnestly with a little smile and a wink.

“Thank you,” I whispered in rapt fascination, holding the dress as if it were the crown jewels.

“And I will be Elizabeth Bennett; and you, my dear Veritable one, will be Maryanne Dashwood.” Candace grinned while handing Verity her dress.

“Whatever.” Verity responded tersely, but gave a little smile, immediately beginning to tear off her shorts and camisole. I turned my head and blushed.

Candace, seeing my apparent discomfort, offered, “the bathroom is right there, if you’d prefer some privacy Kayla. Verity isn’t as modest as some of us.”

Verity just blushed and smiled. I smiled gratefully at Candace and just nodded, slinking off to the bathroom. Bathroom? Oh my god, it was like a Roman bathhouse or something, fit for Cleopatra on her state visits to Caesar, or maybe a tryst with Antony. I sat on a bench before the long mirror and began undressing. I shaved my legs this morning, even though I only have the merest of peach fuzz. They are so smooth and silky, with a bit of shine from the rose hip oil I use all over my body.

I paused and peeked out the door. “Not to be finicky or anything, but shouldn’t we have hose or stockings with these outfits?”

“Omigosh! I totally didn’t even think of that! Yes! Let’s do the whole thing up, yeah? Stockings, heels, makeup, fancy hair? Whaddya say?” Candace was practically bursting.

“Are we ever gonna get to the damn movie? You girly girls are gonna give me a sweet-tooth ache. I may just have to kill myself.” Verity fell back onto the bed.

Candace giggled. “You know you love it as much as we do. Stop pretending to be a hard-ass dyke or something. You’re as girly as we are, you brat!” Candace just looked over to me, still peeking through the door, and shrugged. “She thinks it’s her social duty to complain about everything. Here, let me get the garter belts and stockings. Then we’ll do makeup and shoes. Oh, and hair!”

Verity mocked like she was choking on a chicken bone or something. She glanced at me, then fell back again. “I’m not a dyke, I’m just lazy. And easily annoyed.” She lifted on her elbows and glared at Candace.

“Just pipe down and put these on.” Candace insisted as she tossed a garter belt and stockings at Verity. She held them by her fingertips and grimaced as if they were the freshly shed skin of a boa constrictor.

This was the first time I had worn a dress and makeup in public since that ill-fated day four years ago, and it was glorious. Candace had given me a bra and inserts to give me a bust, giving it little to no thought as we were all still rather flat. Verity seemed to have a bit more than Candace and me and she was rather proud of the fact.

My feet were slightly smaller than Candace’s, but the shoes stayed on my feet okay and the three-inch heels made me look, well, really pretty. We did each other’s makeup, just for fun, and I was actually adjudged the group expert. Go figure. So, we fawned over each other’s outfits and how pretty we all were and before you know it we were racing down the stairs in our heels, giggling all the way - well, Verity shrieked as she almost twisted an ankle, but she caught the railing and our joy remained intact.

I made the bottom first, and stood in the living room like a statue, wide-eyed, as a gorgeous thirty-something woman in a pencil-skirted business suit held her hands up, “whoa, whoa, whoa, where’s the fire, girls? Or, wow, should I say ‘what’s the occasion? Look at you! And who’s this gorgeous little thing? I don’t know you do I?”

I glanced at Candace with a little trepidation coloring my beautifully made-up eyes. She introduced me, “Mom, Mommy, this is Kayla, we just met her today, isn’t she pretty? She’s really nice and really fun, too.” Candace glanced at me with a wide smile and I gave her the best smile I could in return, given that I was about to start bawling at her wonderful words.

Verity joined in. “Hi Mrs. Stanhope! We’re dressed for a Jane Austen day; Kayla is Emma, Candace is Elizabeth Bennett, and who am I again?’

“Maryanne Dashwood!” Candace smacked Verity on the shoulder. “God, you don’t even know you’re own name!”

We all giggled, including Mrs. Stanhope, whose pleasure was evident. “Well, you three look superb, and it’s very nice to meet you Kayla.”

“You too, Mrs. Stanhope. Your daughter is amazing! I feel like we’ve been friends forever, but it’s only been, like, a few hours. And your house, oh my god! And…Sorry.” I stopped rattling and blushed.

“It’s okay dear. So, what’s next on your agenda, Candace? Your father and I are going to go out to dinner since we finished up that awful meeting early. Sonoita is off for the weekend, so, you’re on you’re own.” Mrs. S. clarified.

‘Okay, cool! Can we get takeout for three? What, Chinese? Or Pizza?” Candace glanced at me and Verity.

I waited for Verity to answer first. She just said “umm,” and looked to me. “I adore Chinese,” I offered. What about you, Vee?”

So, we all agreed on Chinese and I was so excited as we went down to the giant TV and pulled up the internet to check out the menu for China Dragon. Oh my god, they are sooo good. Their Hot and Sour soup, oh, and the pork lo mein! Oh, and the Mu Shu Pork, and…I was doing it again. It’s like I’ve gone all manic, I’ve never been so happy!

Oops! “Um, guys? I need to call my mom, to see if I can even stay. I didn’t think.” My smile was gone. Until Candace tossed me her phone and it hit me in the boob. I couldn’t help but giggle.

Chapter Three - Making the Call

“Um, hi mom,” I began a bit nervously. Hi sweetie, where’ve you been? “I made two new friends today, can you believe it?” You? Friends? Really? “Not funny mom. Listen, I can’t talk cuz they’re waiting on me. Can I stay here for dinner? We’re only, like, three blocks away.” Then Candace whispered about staying overnight. “And maybe stay overnight?” I put on my best begging voice. Well, wow, I’m not really used to this sort of thing. I’ve never had to worry about what you were up to. Are you sure it’s okay? “Mom, they’re great! Amazing! And we’re having such a good time. We’re gonna watch a movie and have Chinese; that is, if it’s okay? Um, if I stay? Please? Mom?” There was silence for a good ten seconds and I was getting very nervous.

She finally resumed. “I should probably meet your friends and their parents. I suppose I could come over there…? Three blocks, you said?”

Omigosh, now what do I do? This is not good. “Oh, Mr. and Mrs. Stanhope have already gone out to dinner.” I shrugged sheepishly at Candace and gave her an awkward smile. She shrugged back. “Mom, I’ve met them and they’re lawyers, really rich, you should see this place…I think I’m safe.” We were all giggling and Candace and Verity were rolling on the couch with their hands over their mouths.

“She’s safe! I promise!” Candace yelled. Was that a girl? Are you with a girl? Thank god mom didn’t catch the ‘she’ Candace blurted. “Mom, you know you can’t tell at this age.” Yeah, okay, I suppose you’re right. You still sound like a girl, too. Sorry, sweetie. “It’s okay mom, I don’t mind, really. So, can I stay?” Okay, but I’m going to save this number into my contacts and I’ll call at ten to make sure everything’s okay. Alright? “That’s cool, mom, thanks! Talk to you later, and don’t worry!” Bye sweetie. Have fun!

Omigod, that was a tapdancing nightmare! Ooh. Tapdancing! But I get to stay! Whoo hoo! We all three hugged and called in our order. Time to get down to business!

We sat eating our amazing, delicious Chinese food in our period costumes, trying not to mess up our lipstick with lo mein noodles hanging out of our mouths. Then Verity pipes up again. “Oh my god, she can even use chopsticks!” I grinned and shrugged sheepishly. “Okay, seriously, I think you need to leave, Miss Perfect,” she said with a serious look on her face and my heart sunk and my throat began to close as tears began to well up. Horror struck her face and she reached for my hand. “Oh no, babe, I was just teasing you! You know me. God, please don’t cry, I’m sorry.” She glanced at Candace, beseeching her assistance.

“Kayla, girl, you’ll quickly learn that Verity is just a big tease. She doesn’t mean anything. Usually.” She grinned and looked at Verity.

“Yeah, I really can’t help it. It’s like a genetic quirk or something. And when somebody seems so perfect, like you, my epigenetic sarcasm DNA molecules go into overdrive.” She gave a wan, sheepish smile.

“Perfect? You think I’m perfect?” I asked tearfully, almost in a whisper.

“Please!” She blurted. “You play the piano like that, that piano guy, Mozart, you’re gorgeous, you read books for god’s sake! Needlepoint, tea and doilies. Need I go on?” We all giggled, I with a tearful hiccup.

“You think I’m gorgeous?” I whispered.

“Stop fishing for compliments, princess. Oops, see? I did it again. It’s genetic, I swear.” She raised her hand as if under oath.

“Um,” I began tentatively, sure I was about to ruin the best day of my life. “I…I’m not perfect, you guys. I know you were kidding, but, really, there’s something I have to tell you and you’re probably going to hate me. And I really like you guys. I’ve never had friends like you, and…” I started to cry.

They both leaned over and began hugging me and cooing, with Verity being uncommonly gentle, “oh, sweetie, what’s wrong? How can you have done anything so bad to make us not want you as a friend? We feel lucky to have stumbled on you and your surreal tea party wagon. By the way, where’s the Mad Hatter?” We all laughed. I hiccuped again, which brought more giggles.

I took a deep breath. “It’s not something I did, it’s who- no. What, I am. How I was born.” They both sat rapt with attention, compassion and confusion oozing from their eyes. “I figured if we’re gonna have a sleepover I should say. I, I guess I coulda just lied and gone home, I guess, but I’m having so much fun, best day ever, and I’ve never been to a sleepover…”

“What?” They chimed, simultaneously, shock and horror on their prettily made-up faces. “How is that possible?” Verity spluttered. “Well, fuck! We’re gonna take care of that right now, aren’t we?” She looked at Candace.

“Wait!” I cried. “Let me get this out, then you can decide.” They turned back toward me with concern on their faces.

To Be Continued…