Paper Crowns [On Hold]

[4] Fancy

I remember it clearly. So clearly I worry that the memory is only a few days old. But it's not. How could it be? I was six at the time.

One terrible day I arrived in class and realized something was different. I was getting this horrible, suffocating feeling every time I looked at a particular girl in my class. That girl was Samantha Jones, prettiest toddler anyone had ever seen- the second coming of Cinderella. I didn't understand why looking at her made me feel like I was drowning. So, I did what anyone at the tender age of six would do. I did nothing.

The next day she did not come to class. The adults were somber and whispered amongst one another. Any plans for the day were canceled and a school-wide assembly was held. A child therapist came and talked to us about loss and grief.

When I asked my teacher about Samantha, she looked as if I had punched her in the gut. I didn't ask again. It was Grams who eventually told me what had happened. Samantha Jones had been kidnapped on her way home from school the day before.

She told me they could not locate her. I told her there was no need, she was already dead. I don't know why I said something so morbid, and I don't know why Grams didn't question it.

In the end, I was right. Samantha Jones had died mere hours after her capture.

And now, looking at Liz, I'm getting the same feeling. She's in danger- or she's going to be soon.

"Are you going somewhere later?" I ask, joining her on her bed. She's sprawled across it lazily, going through her phone without a care in the world. She looks up, smiling. 

"How'd you know? I'll be leaving in an hour."

I feel all the air in me escape.

I have to stop her. If I don't, and something happens, I won't be able to forgive myself. It's selfish, but I have to stop her. Am I superstitious? Samantha Jones could have been a coincidence. But I would rather be careful than regretful.

"Please don't go. Wherever you were planning to, don't go," I beg her, pursing my lips. I hate begging, but I hate letting people get hurt more.

Her eyes cloud over and she looks both confused and concerned. Slowly, she sits up and moves beside me.

"Tori, you're being a little weird."

I continue looking at her, hoping she'll listen. After the Jones incident, that feeling occasionally returned. And every time it did, disaster followed in its wake. I may not know everything there is to know about Liz, but I know that if I've been right many times before, I'll be right this time too. So, I have to stop her.

She groans loudly and says, "why? This thing I have to go to- it's sort of a continuous thing. Um, like a club I guess. But not a club. Sort of. It's complicated."

"Then it's okay if you don't go, right?" 

She frowns, unconvinced. "You've got to give me reason at least," she explains, scrunching her arched eyebrows.

"I'm... I don't know. Consider this a favor? I'll owe you one, promise," I plead, almost frantically. 

She must have noticed the desperation on my face because she sighs, tackling me on the bed. "Then you have to keep me entertained!" she exclaims, laughing as she tries to tickle me in the stomach.

My lungs start filling up with air again. Relief washes over me and I'm stunned by how badly I wanted to keep her safe.

"Yeah, that's right Tori m'lady, be happy and bask at my benevolence. Anyways, I have to call and let the... the club coordinator know I won't be able to come." With that she saunters away, her hips swaying to their own rhythm.