Chapter 132: Left Out
I pulled on my new blue sweater and jeans and tried to admire my reflection. Alison was right. The color was perfect. I just wished my mood was better so I could appreciate it more.
I sulked in my room the rest of the afternoon, ignoring my parents and even Sassy who tried once to get in. I held the door against him and he finally gave up.
At five to six, I landed in the kitchen and stood at the door to wait for Alison. She couldn't come soon enough as far as I was concerned. The rumble of an engine spurred me out into the driveway, but it was the wrong kind.
Quaid was climbing off his bike, helmet in hand, when I emerged from the house. He looked so surprised to see me I stopped in my tracks.
"Nice to see you too," I said.
"Syd." He came toward me, helmet between us almost like a shield. What was up with him? Then again, it wouldn't do to have Alison with her fresh crush on him see us hugging and kissing, I guess, so I was okay with the distance.
"News?" That had to be it. Why else would he be here? My heart picked up its pace a little.
But he shook his head. "Not yet."
"Oh." I stuck my hands in my pockets while he looked away. "So, then... what's up?"
His dark eyes met mine. "I'm not here for you."
That hurt like a slap to the face. "What?"
It looked like it hurt him, too. "Your Mom," he said.
Why would he be there for Mom? Then it hit me. Like an ACME anvil in a cartoon it took me right in the chest, so hard I couldn't breathe for a moment.
"A coven meeting." How could something so simple make me feel so alone and betrayed? Of course. That's why Mom and Dad wanted me out of the house.
They were having a coven meeting and I wasn't invited.
Tears welled in my eyes. Quaid reached for me, but I was saved by the crunch of tires on pavement as Alison pulled up. I ran to her car and jumped in, slamming the door, struggling with my emotions.
"Syd?" Alison spotted Quaid, looked at me. "What's going on?"
"Nothing," I said, trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice. "Oh, and just so you know? Quaid's a total jerk. If you want him, you can have him."
She was silent as she backed out and pulled away, at a much more sedate pace than was usual for her.
"I'm sorry," I said after a full minute staring out my window and trying not to sob all over her. "Just family stuff."
She smiled at me and didn't ask questions, bless her. "I know all about that," she said. "You do realize you're now headed to the Morgan Zone? The realm of insanity and the absurd?"
"Frying pan to fire," I said and found myself smiling too. "Gotcha." I squeezed her hand. "Anyway, I am sorry. I seem to be fighting with everyone lately."
"My parents too," Alison said. "Must be the bad weather."
That definitely had something to do with it. She just had no idea what.
I looked around as we drove. This was the wealthy side of town, where Suzanne held her ill-fated Halloween party. I still remembered that night, when she'd stripped Alison of her cheer uniform while it was still on her body. It was also the night Alison and I became real friends.
And the night my demon gave everyone at the party food poisoning in punishment.
Good times.
She pulled off onto a secluded driveway, paved and lined with thick trees. I'd never really noticed it before and was shocked by the sight at the top. A huge stone wall surrounded a big white house. Alison pressed a button on the console of her car and the giant iron gate swung open.
"Welcome to hell," she said.
Didn't look like hell. In fact, it was amazing. I thought Suzanne's house was huge. This place had mansion written all over it, with giant pillars out front and more floor space than a football field. At least, it looked like it.
Now don't get me wrong. Money really had little meaning for me. The Hayle family had a ton of cash, a massive fortune backing us from generations of witches. We could have lived in a house this big if Mom was that kind of coven leader. Why she preferred doing her own dishes-or having her daughters do them-not to mention cleaning her own house-same caveat-I had no idea. So it wasn't the house itself that made me stop and stare.
It was the fact I had no idea Alison's parents lived like this.
"Ostentatious, right?" She wrinkled her nose at the sight. "My dad is the nouveau riche. Commodities trader, hit it big about twenty years ago." She made a face. "Tell me it didn't go right to Mom's head? Real classy. Come on, you might as well see the rest of it."
Before Alison could reach for the front door handle, it swung wide. A small woman in a maid's uniform stood behind it.
"Welcome home, Miss Alison," she said in slightly accented English. Spanish background, from the lovely caramel of her face and dark eyes.
"Hi, Rosetta." She walked past the woman without another word so I just smiled at her and kept going.
The little maid didn't smile back.
Friendly.
I forgot all about it soon enough. I was too busy looking around. Alison led me through a huge foyer with a giant double staircase and a massive chandelier glittering as it caught the light, over polished marble floors I was sure I'd kill myself on if I had to live there, through massive rooms with vaulted ceilings and finally into a gorgeous sun room overlooking the valley where the main part of Wilding Springs sat.
There was so much glass it was like being inside a bubble. That made me think of my demon and jerked me out of sightseeing mode.
Just in time. Alison came to a halt next to a low table and recliner where a stunning blonde absently filed her nails.
"Mom," Alison said. "Syd's here."
Her mother looked up. Same blue eyes, contacts I assumed, since Alison's were. Same facial structure. But there was a hardness to her mom Alison was missing, a hint of something reminding me of the cheer girls who bullied at school.
Which made sense. Where did I think Alison came by it?
"Hello, dear," she said. "Angela Morgan. You may call me Mrs. Morgan."
I was about to say hello back when she looked up at Alison. "Darling," she snapped, "you've been out without sunscreen again, I can see it in your cheeks." She was on her feet, Alison's chin in her hand as she moved her daughter's face back and forth with critical examination. "How many times have I told you, the sun is your enemy?"
Alison jerked herself free. "It's not sun," she grated through clenched teeth. "I'm blushing. From embarrassment."
Mrs. Morgan rolled her eyes, setting her nail file down on the table with a snap.
"Really," she said, her gaze returning to me. Her lips smiled, but the rest of her face barely moved. "Alison's told me a great deal about you, Sydlynn."
Why did I feel like I was being dissected? Meanwhile, I had another good look myself. Her perfect white teeth were blinding and the smell of heavy and probably expensive perfume hovered around her. Her manicured claws clicked as she brought her hands together.
Everything about Alison's mom was over the top, from her bleach blonde hair to her perfectly sculptured eyebrows, all the way down to the high heels she wore with her dark skinny jeans. Erica would be jealous.
Not to mention the size of the rock on her ring finger. I could have skated on it.
"It's nice to finally meet you," I said, for lack of something better.
"Lovely, I'm sure," she said. Really? Wow. I was starting to get Alison's issues with her mom and wondered if this was a good idea after all.
Mrs. Morgan swept away from us, her heels clicking on the flawless marble. Alison trailed after her, me in tow, one hand holding mine very tightly.
"Where's Dad?" Alison's question didn't even turn her mother around.
"Roger is stuck in New York, I'm afraid," Mrs. Morgan said as the little maid scurried out of nowhere to swing open a grand set of double doors for her. Alison's Mom didn't slow down, as if she hadn't even considered she might have to open them herself.
Rosetta glared at me as I passed by her and I almost turned to ask what her problem was when Alison jerked me close.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered in my ear. "Mom's in haughty bitch mode tonight."
Really? I hadn't noticed.
The room we entered was some kind of study or library though I doubted much Alison's mom was a big reader.
Then mentally kicked myself for being so mean.
"You two run along," Mrs. Morgan said, reaching for a crystal-studded cell phone. "Maybe show your little friend your room, dear?"
She had her back to us already. Alison jerked me away and out the door into the hall.
She looked so mad I wanted to hug her. "It's okay," I said.
"No," she snarled, "it isn't. But this is my life."
Okay, now I really wanted to hug her. She finally got her temper under control and offered me a weak smile. "Come on," she said. "Might as well show you my room. There will be a quiz later."
I laughed a little, but was pretty sure she was actually serious.
We headed up the right hand staircase, passing room after massive room before coming almost to the end of the hall.
"You'd think we housed an army here," Alison said. "But nope, just the three of us. And Rosetta."
Right, the nasty little maid with the hate on for me. Whatever.
Alison shoved open her door. "I picked the one the farthest from her," she said, and we both know who she meant. "Welcome to Chez Alison."
"Holy crap," I whispered.
She grinned and shrugged. "I actually kind of like it."
What wasn't to like? Aside from the fact that, like my little sister Meira's very frilly room, most of Alison's décor was based on the color pink, that was where the similarities ended.
The room was easily four times the size of my good-sized refuge. On one side was a massive sleigh bed, easily a king frame, with an embroidered satin comforter that looked so perfect I didn't want to touch it. A matching canopy draped over the whole thing, fixed to the ceiling by a golden cord, tenting over the bed. It looked kind of Asian and very cool.
"Dad brought the fabric back from Hong Kong," Alison smiled as she ran her hands over the quilt. "Then I designed the rest."
She obviously felt differently about her dad than her mom.
"Sorry you don't get to meet him tonight." She sat on a polished wooden chair, a perfect match for her bed and the vanity taking up another whole corner by itself. The cushion was the same fabric as the gorgeous quilt. "That's why I invited you. Because he was supposed to be home."
"He's not here much?" I reached up and fingered the crystals of her familiar chandelier.
Instead of answering, she winked. "Like it? I stole the idea."
It looked just like the one my mom insisted I have for my room. I laughed.
"You could have had mine," I said.
The rest of her digs consisted of a giant walk in closet, a massive bathroom with a soaker tub I could have used for a pool and a shower that made me want to take one just to see what all the jets were for.
The final corner was choc-o-bloc full of trophies. Both of my eyebrows shot up, but Alison just snorted.
"These are just the ones Mom thought weren't good enough for permanent display." She fingered the ribbon on one gold cup.
"You won a lot." I peered at the label. "Miss Golden State?"
Alison snickered. "Right, that one. Embarrassing. The other girls didn't stand a chance."
I did a double take. My Alison was a beauty queen?
She made a face like she knew what I was thinking.
"I don't compete anymore," she said. She slid a binder from the wall and handed it to me. "Not for almost a year now." She winked. "I decided there were more important things in life."
I gaped at the pictures, flipping the album open at the beginning. She wasn't much bigger than a toddler when she started and the last one looked like it could have been yesterday.
That is, if Alison was twenty-five yesterday instead of seventeen.
"Holy crap." I was saying that a lot lately.
She took the book back, leafing through it before putting it back.
"Yup," she said, "you betcha." This time when she laughed, there was no humor in it, just a whole lot of bitterness. She looked more like her mother than ever. "This is my life, and aren't I lucky? Rich parents, fabulous house, great car. But you try growing up alone with an obsessed mother who turned every friend I ever had against me. That's what happens, you know." She spun away, looking around. "When you're in competition. The only people you really get to know are other pageant girls. And they're in it to win as much as you are." She faced me again, tears in her eyes. "Every time you complain about your family, I want to hug you then smack you." She choked on a giggle. "You have no idea how much I would have given to grow up in a family like yours."
As much as she didn't know the whole story about my particular family, I was finally being allowed into the truth of Alison and was humbled by the experience. I looked around me with a new appreciation, not for the things she had, but for the prison her life was. I may have spent my whole life wanting to be free of my own particular jail cell, but I had been free to explore all my options without reprimand.
Alison never had my choices. In fact, from the way her mom treated her, Alison hadn't had a choice since the moment she was born.
"Wow," I said. "She must have been pissed when you changed, huh?"
My friend laughed out loud and dabbed at some tears. This time she was really amused.
"You have no idea," Alison said. And hugged me very hard. "It was the first time I ever stood up to her, Syd. And it was all because of you." She kept smiling. "Man, she was so furious I was sure she'd rupture her facelift."
We giggled together. It was nice to know by hurting Alison the day I challenged her and tumbled her from her head bully position I'd actually done her more good than I expected.
We were still giggling when Rosetta came to fetch us for dinner.
***
