All The Nice & Lovely Things

1 - Monsters

She changed into what would pass as a really hot Oxfam penny box, and fired a cotton scarf around herself, stuffing feet into socks and sneakers as she breezed to the bed-side radiator and turned it up, full pelt.  She warmed her hands, and sneezed again, watching her breath rise to the ceiling in a puff.  Her palms turned red as the water bubbled.  She circled, flipping the ventilation off with shaking fingers, and moved to the middle of the room, where she stood in reverence to a Mediterranean current.

She wanted to sleep so badly it hurt.  Already, she was no longer weary, and she shook her fists at the sun.

Kere Reventon went to her own bathroom, the porcelain cubby, in the quite corner, personal ensuite; the thrill of never locking the door; she did whatever with it open.  White wicker shelves held up by bronze tack, empty, and everything she’d ever need for the day was all stacked by the sink, giving the faux marble of the taps a moist shadow.  She arranged them in messy piles.  He wouldn’t mind; the uncle wouldn’t enter the bedroom.  With a damp cloth, she wiped her face, staring at the plughole as she scrubbed.  She kept the water running, dipped her finger into the little tornado before she shut the water off.  Only then, did she put the heating off; end to background noise.  Taking the cowbell from the bedroom door, she undid the lock.

On the staircase, she met the sun, hid from it underneath her hand.  It took a few minutes for her to heat downstairs, running screaming from lava room to lava room.  The kitchen was the only place Beck allowed a mess to grow, so she revelled in it.  They – he – they entertained often; she could make a fort from the china.  There were more scissor-squared recipes in the house than inches of carpet, and the room always was sweet and warm, the smell you’d associate with a garden, not an ebony, postmodern splash by the backdoor.  She made a meal of some peanuts.  She followed her routine, looking for fun.  She wasn’t expected at school, and her name was only called if the teacher managed to see her sneak in; an embarrassment on her part.  She was a ninja.  She’d done it all before anyway, and was just repeating her final year due to a lapse in her attendance before she’d moved to Beck, when she’d had to deal with the nasty mess of her old house being broken into.  Alone.

Following the directions on the corner of the box, she made herself a pale cappuccino.  Tasted like shit, but did the job; by the time she saw the bottom of the cup, she was awake and balmy.

Beck had left no note, as he always did when he left for wherever, but had placed a small fortune by the fridge, four dark fifties rolled like a decorate ham, with a few twenties for interruption.  She twirled the costly bundle onto one finger, then hid it under a “World’s Greatest Dad” mug on the counter, where she would forget about it and fend for herself with her own great fortune. 

Leaning against the sink, she gave in to the realization that someone was watching her from the kitchen window.

She dried the cup with her sleeve.

She didn’t stand still, even though she told herself to.  Normal dumbasses would have.  She was a special dumbass.  Fear causes hardness.  Not in this house.  Someone was outside.  Her back was to the window.  She bobbed on the spot, adamant to appear unaware.  Her breath caught and became hard, but she leaned forward and latched a finger around a corner of rough dishcloth.  It was coarse and rugged with potato skin, rimmed with green.  Kere fluffed and folded it neatly, sweat on her back.  A rustle; weight shifting from one of her feet. 

Something burned deep into the back of her neck, something that wasn’t sunlight.  She wasn’t expecting company, but God knows they had visitors when no one thought they were home, to pick their garbage or the locks of their cars.  No one would know that Beck was gone, but everyone knew that Kere wouldn’t leave.  Two steps to the left, two steps to the right, or, a simple jump around, and she’d see.  The unmistakable crunch of clothing.  She folded the cloth again, then took two steps to the front.