Light as a Feather, Cold as Marble

Chapter 12

Our drive south toward Chicago took us back in the direction of Weeping Willow, directly down the stretch of rural highway that passed the private drive leading to the Simmons' mansion. I remembered the day in early fall when I'd visited the house with Violet for the first time, taking the school bus all the way out to the edge of town. I recalled how dappled sunlight had spilled through the dry leaves of the trees lining the long, cobble-stone private drive which led to the residence. The weather had still been warm then, and the grand fountain at the center of the gravel driveway in front of the house had gurgled with sparkling water. Even the memory of being on the grounds of that estate made me shudder. The entire time I had been at the Simmons' house, I felt as if I was in another enchanted world.

"Blech. Driving past that house makes me feel sick," Mischa muttered from the front seat of the Mercedes.

"That's where that girl lives?" Henry asks incredulously. "I always wondered about that house. When I was a freshman, a bunch of seniors got drunk and crept onto the property on Halloween. The old lady who lived there had a whole army of security people run them off with dogs."

"Dogs! That's pretty scary," Mischa said.

"Yeah. Well, everyone who participated got caught. She must have had security cameras covering every square inch of the property, because everybody got hauled into court. Tim Arkadian had to do community service cleaning up Tallmadge Park all summer because he'd taken a leak on the old lady's lawn."

As we drove further south, the temperature continued to drop. We stopped at a McDonald's outside Sheboygan to use the restrooms and grab a quick breakfast to go.

"This place looks like a McDonald's outpost in Siberia," Henry joked as we hurried across the cold parking lot on our way in. He was right. Snow plows had cleared the drive-thru and the parking lot, but had piled snow high around the edges of the lot, forming tall white walls. The snow wall around the lot made McDonald's seem like a winter fortress. An orderly, jagged row of enormous icicles lined the edge of shiny, red, sloped roof of the restaurant, giving the building an appearance that was a little reminiscent of the inside of a piranha's mouth. A layer of snow covered the yellow arches that spanned the building's depth over the roof, kind of like whipped cream frosting topping a cake.

I made a point of paying for Mischa's breakfast burrito with the crisp $20 bill I'd received from Mom for Christmas to repay her for the pie she'd bought for us on Christmas Eve.

"God, McKenna, it's so not a big deal," Mischa said as I handed the girl behind the counter my money.

"If it's not a big deal, then let me pay. It's not like there's anything I can spend it on at Dearborn," I said, thinking grimly of the dusty boxes of toothpaste in the commissary at my school.

Trey and I lingered near the door carrying the greasy white paper bags as Henry and Mischa visited the bathrooms. Trey had been acting kind of distant all morning, which I attributed to Henry's presence. "What's wrong?" I asked him quietly, bothered by how his behavior always changed when other people were around. It made me feel special, of course, that I alone got to see the true Trey, but it put me on edge when he lashed out at other people. He'd been relatively docile and quiet all morning, but I could see that there was something brewing behind his blue eyes.

"Nothing," he shrugged.

I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Really," he insisted. "This just feels wrong. It feels weird. I don't feel good about going to this nursing home."

I bit my lip and stole a glance down the hall toward the bathrooms. "Why? Did you dream about this?"

Trey shook his head. "No. I would have told you if I did. But I don't think they'd like the idea of us visiting Violet's other grandmother and pretending to be her."