Darla grinned as Eddie double-timed his work. She turned in one swift, calculated motion and walked away.
Abby looked up to Eddie, but had to follow Darla. “Darla, wait.”
Darla stopped. She did not turn.
Abby watched the woman’s shoulders move up and down. She made a noise. Some kind of sigh, or snort. Her head moved first, then her body followed as she faced Abby.
Abby finally stood opposite her friend. “I— I mean—what—who?”
“I haven't got all day. Someone’s got to sail this ship, otherwise it would be adrift in a sea of frightening possibilities. You’ve got ten seconds.”
Abby didn’t know what to think.
Darla chimed back in. “And you look terrible.”
Abby felt confused and hurt and in a small way betrayed. This was Darla. An incredibly strange version, the Bizarro version, but her.
“Listen, tell me the truth,” Abby said. The words and voice came out in a way she hoped didn’t sound like she was trying to convince herself as much as getting Darla to agree. To come clean. To be, well, Darla. Any second Abby’s friend would rip off the costume and laugh. Friends and families would come out from wherever they were and let her know they’d conjured up this prank because they were upset. “This is a joke, right? One of Cam’s elaborate plots?”
She waited for an answer.
Darla sized her up, stem to stern. A smile grew on her face, but not one Abby had ever seen. In fact, Abby would stop short of calling it a smile. It lacked warmth. In fact, it chilled the already icy air.
“This much I know,” Darla said. She stepped forward. Abby stepped back. “Your bizarre, incoherent rambling is the biggest joke and waste of my time today. And your schoolgirl crush on Cameron stopped being interesting back when you were a schoolgirl.”
The expression that moved across Darla’s face, the look Abby could only call a grin because she had no idea what else to call it, faded. So did any hope that Darla, the real version, hid under the severe makeup and dark outfit.
Darla stormed off like the Wicked Witch of Winter Glen. She passed by a group of kids who stopped building their snowman, stopped laughing, talking, or having anything that could be considered fun. Their heads dropped.
Abby flinched, crushed, when Darla took her riding crop and decapitated the snowman.
The children, as resilient as they could be, regrouped. Abby couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she could glean the sentiment. They didn’t like Darla any more than she liked, well, anything, it seemed.
Abby grabbed her phone. All of what she saw and heard was getting ridiculous. She typed as quickly as she could, a search for Christmas in Winter Glen. She waited for the pictures and articles she had seen before. A beautiful, small town holiday. A festive—
The results were gone. There were only articles about Winter Glen. It couldn’t be right. She typed again. This time, simply, Christmas.
What appeared floored her.
In fact, what didn’t appear devastated her.
No results found for Christmas
Thanks for being on the tour!
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