Chapter 1
"Dad. Vivianne. You're home." I wanted to rush over and hug my dad, but my stepmother's scowl held me in place.
"Hi Snow-Angel," dad said slowly, clearing his throat. He looked good, more in shape, though he still dressed like an undercover TV cop-Hawaiian shirt, cargo shorts, and socks with sandals. He was tan with natural blond streaks in his otherwise dark hair. His face crinkled near his eyes from smiling. He and my stepmothersat across the dining table from each other. Dozens of bags piled between them.
Gatsby darted from under the table and wound around my legs, yowling for his dinner.
"Don't you feed him? He's too skinny," Vivianne said. She wore a pair of white shorts and a light blue tank. One tanned leg was crossed over the other, and her wedge-sandaled foot bounced rhythmically. She seemed a lot younger than my dad, closer to my age than his. Not a single wrinkle marred her perfect complexion. Each dark brown hair on her head rested in place.
"Of course I do. Twice a day. Every day." I grabbed Gatsby's kibble from under the sink and poured some into his bowl, then filled his water. Finished, I went over to my dad, who shuffled his feet awkwardly near the counter, and hugged him. "How was your trip?" I asked, stepping back.
Vivianne came over and placed a hand on my shoulder. "Good. We're only here a short time. Then it's back to work." She hooked a finger in my shirt. "Why do you insist on wearing boy clothes?" She'd said boy as though it tasted like acid on her tongue.
I pulled away. "They're comfortable."
She balked, walking over to the table. As she dug through the bags, I eyed my dad. "You have to leave again so soon?"
"Not for a few weeks. By the time we go, you'll be sick of us." He hugged me again, and I inhaled his sandalwood aftershave, the fragrance filling me with comfort.
Dad was sort of a mogul, I guess. Cindy said our family had more money than God. I'd done an Internet search on my dad once, and discovered he owned a private jet, kept a building in Boston, and owned several vacation resorts all over the world. But I'd never seen his offices, been to one of his resorts, flown on one of his planes, or, well... felt rich. Dad didn't act like a wealthy man. Didn't dress like one either.
Our house, hidden by trees, resided in a pretentious neighborhood. Built in the early 1800's, it was one of the smallest on the block. Mansions, like Professor Pops' house, were built up around our little cottage. And then there was my stepmother's strange love of all things Disney. The inside could be mistaken for a gift shop rather than a multimillionaire's residence.
Dad had been around more before my mom died. Now, he rarely stayed home longer than a few weeks at a time.
"I could never get sick of you. I miss you when you're gone," I whispered. No doubt I'd be sick of Vivianne, but certainly not my dad. I loved him. When he was around I felt content and happy. Hugging him tighter, I swallowed a sigh.
Vivianne cleared her throat. "How's track going? Won any races yet?" Her expression was one of amusement, and I bit back a retort.
"Not yet, maybe soon." I shrugged. My dad and stepmother weren't around enough to know whether I'd grown less klutzy or not.
"Really? You've figured out how to put one foot in front of the other without tripping?"
"I-" I didn't know how to respond. It wasn't like I could spill about becoming a revenant. Viv, especially, would freak, and talk my dad into sending me to an asylum. Don't get me wrong. Dad had a backbone. For some reason though, he always bent to her will.
"That's enough," my dad growled, his eyes flashing with anger. I would've cheered, except he immediately turned contrite. "I'm sure Snow is doing a fine job in track. Aren't you Snow-Angel?"
I brushed my bangs out of my eyes. "Doing great," I replied with a nod.
Viv held in her hands a formal, lavender dress. I had no idea what the materials were called, but the spaghetti strapped bodice was shiny, and the bottom half reminded me of a fluffy, lavender cloud. The dress sparkled, as though diamonds frolicked within the layers. A large grin spread over Viv's face. "Happy birthday, Snow."
Tentative, I stepped forward, touching the little lavender rose belt cinched around the waist. "It's beautiful." I didn't want to overly encourage Viv. "Where am I going to wear this?"
She huffed, exasperated. "Mr. Henry told us about the birthday party he's planned for you." She turned and walked back to the table. From a bag she pulled out something wrapped in tissue paper. "Hold this," she said, handing my dad the dress. After he took it, Viv carefully removed the white paper, producing a stunning mask. Decorated in glittering beading, their colors lilac, teal, and fuchsia, as were several soft-looking feathers that protruded from one side. The beading around the eyes was black. "Mr. Henry said the party theme was a masked ball." She touched a delicate feather. "This mask is from Milan, and cost more than most people make in a year."
My dad shuffled his feet, uncomfortable.
Viv added, "You'll look lovely. The black beading will bring out your stunning blue eyes."
I reached out, drawn to the colorful beading. Viv slapped my hand away. "Wash your hands first." She took the dress from my dad. "I hope this fits you. It's hard to tell under all those baggy clothes."
As I dried my hands on a towel, I asked, "What size is it?"
"Tut. Tut. Go try it on." I took the dress and went upstairs. There wasn't a tag in the dress, or a size. Viv probably didn't know.
When I entered my room, I casually peeked around. Closing the door, I whispered, "Christopher. Charming. Are you here?" I checked my bathroom, the shower, my closet, even under my bed. He wasn't there. My stomach sank. I figured he'd left when my dad and stepmother showed up. I hoped he'd come back later-after they went to bed.
"Snow! Hurry up," Viv shouted.
"Okay." I threw off my clothes, and cautiously stepped into the dress, zipping up the side.
I went over to the full-length mirror, and twirled side to side, watching the dress glimmer. It fit perfectly.
"Snow," Viv hollered again.
"Keep your hair on," I muttered, opening the door. At the top of the stairs I paused. Viv clutched her throat, and she gasped. That made me smile. A part of me wondered if Viv had hoped the dress wouldn't fit. But she said, "Snow, you look amazing."