Wrinkling my nose, I grab a pear and sink into the nearest chair. The fruit is tasteless so I give up on it after a few bites and sit, staring at a smattering of crumbs on the table, wondering where I’ll go when autumn comes. During the night I researched student exchange programs. One in Milan sounds promising. It’s for English speakers, so I don’t even need to speak Italian. I’ve already done the online application but need to fake some actual paper forms. I’ll use the same credit card I’d applied for in Zander’s name, like I did to pay for this program in Nice. But won’t that make it too easy to trace me? I don’t know. My head hurts. Maybe I’ll go back to bed. Say I’m sick. Rubbing my eyes, I head back to what used to be my bedroom.
My things are piled outside the door. Clothes are in one pile; shoes are lined up along the baseboards. Two of my stupid “happy tree” paintings lean against the wall. I stop, gasp, and feel like my world is about to implode.
Not yet. I don’t have anywhere else to go!
“Oh, Rosie, here you are,” émile says, emerging from Ansel’s room. “I was cleaning out Ansel’s closet, trying to find his old books. I’d wondered where your suitcase was. What did you do with it?”
Blinking in shock, I try to answer. “I, um, well—” Too late, I finally remember I’d left it down in the shop after returning from the Wizard’s Church.
émile regards me for a moment with a thoughtful expression, looking a little sad. Finally, he shrugs.
“No matter, you can help me put your things back. Then we must prepare for our dinner tonight.”
Several times I find myself simply staring at the object I’m trying to put away. My mind won’t focus on anything. We finally finish and head to the kitchen.
“Who is coming for dinner?” I manage to ask. It’s silly, almost. I know who’s coming, but I want to hear it again.
“Our friends, Phil and Valerie, and their son. I’m sure you’ll enjoy seeing them again,” émile says with a slight grin. I grimace in return. At least Gavin won’t try to kiss me in front of the group. I hope.
“Also,” émile adds, looking up from the roast chicken he was basting, “Ansel will be here. This dinner is in his honor. To celebrate his homecoming.”
“Oh,” I say, trying but failing to smile. Instead I turn away and finger the petals of a pale pink rose. “That’s nice.”
“That’s why we’ll eat in the shop tonight. Sylvie is they’re making everything ready for us. You can help me bring down some chairs.” émile turns back to his chicken.
So we’re having a party. I shred petals and drop them onto the counter. A party with everyone I don’t want to see.
It’s time to say goodbye. I tried, but my plan didn’t work.
It kind of feels like my heart melted and is sloshing around in my shoes. I follow émile and help him carry down metal folding chairs to Sylvie’s little shop. We move shelves, clear space in the middle of the floor, set up a long folding table. Sylvie is busy in the back rooms, and doesn’t emerge. I don’t mind. I don’t speak, except to ask when the guests will arrive. I’m told I have about an hour.
Once chairs and table are in place, I say I need to shower to get ready for the party. I grab my suitcase from where I’d stashed it, behind the rack of bright skirts, and let it bump against each step as I return to the upper floor.
Ansel’s bedroom feels different. It even looks different somehow. It’s cold and sterile. The colors are no longer bright. It’s the room of a stranger, a place where I don’t belong. I pack quickly and quietly. I don’t yet have a new family, but at least I have a temporary sanctuary until I can find one. I pat the key to the Wizards’ church in my pocket to be sure it’s there. And then I turn to say goodbye to the room I love.
Fat Cat grunts at my feet, wanting me to let him out. I gather the purring feline in my arms and bury my face in his soft fur.
“I’ll miss you, cat.”
I ease the door closed behind me and pull the suitcase down the hall. I’ll have to borrow Sylvie’s phone again until I can get my own. I’ll send it back to her as soon as I can. The kitchen is empty, so I grab the phone, shove it into my pocket and stuff the charger into my suitcase. I look around the kitchen once more, wanting to remember, but it hurts too much. Blinking, I whirl around and rush to the front room, wanting to escape quickly before anyone comes back upstairs.
I’m too late.
Gavin and his parents are here in the front room, sitting on the little couch. I yelp when I see them. Valerie wears a sweet grin, Phil fake-smiles in my direction, and Gavin just stares at me with his weird eyes. My face bursts into flames. Then, someone clears her throat, and I turn toward Mrs. Thackeray. She’s actually holding Marguerite’s portrait, the ancient witch! Why did she bring it with her? To gloat? The old lady nods a greeting at me with a smug smirk on her face. I have the sudden urge to grab Marguerite from her and run.
émile rushes in and places a tray of drinks onto the coffee table. “Rosie, can you help?” he asks. “Our guests are a bit early. Sylvie has already left to pick up Ansel.” And with that, he hurries again into the kitchen, not noticing my suitcase. The doorbell rings. “Please get that,” émile calls from the kitchen.
Everyone turns their eyes to me. Gavin stares at my suitcase. Phil looks perplexed as usual, Valerie’s smile starts to slip a bit, and Mrs. Thackeray pins me in her gaze like a cobra. Forget this. Forget them. I’m still leaving. Grabbing the handle of my suitcase, I go to answer the door.