Is this the final stop? (Toni Shalifoe)

Chapter 37

Disappointed does not explain the feelings both Shelby and Toni have leaving the safe space of the book nook. Of the door with the lock. Of the time with each other. Only to re-enter a world with the need of escaping it.

The car ride on the way home is quiet. The reality is setting in, hanging heavy in the air. They don't hold hands. They aren't sure they'd be able to let go if they started. Both cherishing the memories they just created. Already reliving it in their minds.

Toni's knee bounces, feeling just about as nervous as the first time she came to the Goodkind house. This time is different. Her and Shelby are different now. Like there's a deeper secret to keep.

Toni peers over to Shelby, stealing a glance. She squints at her, starting to see a power she hadn't seen in Shelby before. She's not white-knuckling the steering wheel. Her eyes aren't shifting around, like she's afraid of what she might find.

And the braid down her back looks so good. Toni closes her eyes at the memory of her hands in her hair. The scratches on her scalp.

Mindlessly, Toni puts a hand on Shelby's leg. But pops her eyes open once she makes contact. Shelby doesn't tense, doesn't move it away. Instead, at the stop light, she looks over at Toni, eyes dropping to her lips. And back up with a smile.

Green light go.
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Shelby sits at her vanity and stares at the makeup. Foundation, bronzer, coverup. A variety of eyeshadow palettes, many stacked on each other. Like books. But worse. Because they aren't books. And she's not in the library. Not wrapped up with Toni. The brunette doesn't have her hands in her hair. Doesn't have her arms draped around her. She's stuck with her colors, and her pastels, and her glosses. She runs a hand over them all, they feel foreign to her now.

There's a new strength in Shelby. Shoulders back, chest out. She looks at herself in the mirror. The braid laying across her shoulder. She admires it, twisting slightly so she can get a better look.

"Hey there," Dave pops his head in the door. His eyes widen at the sight of her. One long braid, circles under her eyes, lashes removed. He enters the room and closes the door behind him.

Shelby rests her hands underneath the table in her lap, legs crossed, back in proper position.

Dave cocks his head at Shelby, "You look tired, Shelb."

Shelby's eyes drop, trying to think of an excuse. Because telling him about the graveyard or Becca or seeing Toni with an actual family who cares about her is not an option. She is certainly not going to tell him that she feels more comfortable without the makeup than with it.

Her father sighs at her, annoyed, "Better get your beauty sleep tonight if you want to bring home the hardware."

Shelby just nods.

He doesn't go anywhere. And he doesn't say anything. Shelby starts to flick her eyes away from him, not wanting to keep any kind of conversation going.

He sits on her bed.

That's never a good sign. He's settling in. He crosses a leg, clearly getting comfortable. He taps his thumb on his foot, like he's not sure how to start. Or which version he wants to open with. He's planned this discussion, he's always planned every discussion.

He did not plan for Toni.

Dave begins, "Let's remember, hair up and away means you'll have a good day—"

The saying she's heard since she's known how to spell her own name. She's heard it at the start of her mornings, at the end of her evenings. Always reminding. Always controlling.