A Graveyard of Stars

Chapter Eleven

The dress attached to this chapter is the one I image Dani wearing to the banquet.

-G

--

Went to the store. Need a couple more things for the banquet. Won't be long.
-Mom

I read Mom's note again as I highlight over the letters with black ink pen. There is no love you, no be careful alone. Not even a simply xoxo.

As I continue to doodle, the dried paint caked on the edges of my finger nails catches my attention. I think of the night before. I don't know where it came from but when I got home I glued my ass in front of my art supplies and painted like never before. My imagination was unreal. I kept getting new visions of things to paint, finally crashing at two in the morning.

Anyway, the banquet.

My Mom has decided to host it after successfully selling a house that has been on the market for like, ten years. She will invite her co-workers, her bosses and her employees. She'll serve chicken salad and sandwiches. She'll mingle and converse in this house with people she pretends to like. She'll pretend everything is right in the world, and I'll be forced to watch.

Last time she had a banquet like this was when I was in junior high. She let me invite one friend. I invited Connor, and we wreaked havoc.

Connor's not here anymore, I remind myself. I'm on my own this time.

My Mom stumbles through the doorway as soon as I start to doodle Snoopy at the bottom of her note. Her arms full of bagged groceries.

"A couple more things my ass," I mutter, walking over to remove a few from her load.

"Watch your language," she orders and dumps the bags on the table. I set mine beside hers. She lets out a deep breath before turning to me. "What are you going to wear tonight?"

"I was just gonna wear this," I answer. Her eyes skim my outfit briefly before letting out a light chuckle of disapproval.

"You are not wearing that," she tells me sharply. I glance down at myself wearing a Pink Floyd t-shirt and a pair of black ripped skinny jeans. It's obvious why this outfit isn't suitable for a banquet.

"What's wrong with my current attire?" I ask her, placing my hands on my hips and pretending to be offended.

"I didn't buy those pants like that, Danielle," she resorts, pointing at the rips in my jeans.

"I bought em'," I tell her smugly.

Her face morphs into a puzzled expression. "Where'd you get the money?"

"Oh, did I forget go tell you? My bad. I got a job," I explain nonchalantly while proceeding to unpack the groceries.

"Danielle, that's great! Where? That place I told you about? I knew even you could get that job," she says, looking more proud of herself than me.

"Cup O' Joe," I say simply, already wanting to give up the choice of topic. I start toward the fridge but she stops me.

"Don't worry about that right now. Come upstairs." She turns to leave the kitchen.

"Why?"

"We're going to find you something suitable to wear for tonight," she says over her shoulder.

As I begin to stomp up the stairs, my Mom makes it to the top and turns left toward my room. This isn't going end well. When I get to my room, my Mom is rummaging through my closet like it's her own. I take a seat on the edge of my bed.