''THE FIRST CRACK''
I wrinkle my nose before I even realize why. The smell reaches me first,thick, bitter, and unmistakably burnt. It clings to the air like smoke that refuses to leave.
I've just finished getting dressed in the navy sleeveless mini dress Aunt Serena bought for me. The fitted bodice hugs neatly at my waist before flaring into a pleated skirt that sways when I move. A white bow rests at the high neckline, soft against the dark fabric. It's elegant in a way that feels a little too perfect for me, but I smooth the dress down anyway, studying myself for a moment before leaving the room.
When I step into the living room, the sight almost makes me pause. Decorations stretch across the walls in careful loops, ribbons draped neatly over the frames and corners of furniture. The coffee table is crowded with gifts wrapped in glossy paper and tied with delicate bows. Bouquets of flowers sit among them so beautifully.
Everything looks perfect.
Too perfect.
Except for the smell.
"Ethan?" I call out, my voice drifting toward the kitchen.
The closer I get, the stronger the scent becomes, smoky and unpleasant, curling down the hallway. I step into the kitchen doorway and stop.
Hell nah.
The cake on the counter is burnt beyond recognition. Not the normal kind of burnt where the edges are a little darker than they should be. This thing looks like it survived a house fire. The frosting has melted into strange uneven patches and the top is blackened like charcoal.
"What happened?" I ask slowly.
The "chef" stands beside the counter looking suspiciously defensive already.
I raise an eyebrow. "Chef, what the fuck?"
He lifts both hands immediately as if surrendering. "Uhhh—not my fault. It's that damn oven."
Before I can even argue with him, the sound of a car pulling into the driveway cuts through the kitchen. The engine stops. Ethan and I freeze.
For a moment we just stare at each other.
We're fucked.
Without another word we both hurry toward the front door, arranging ourselves like two people who definitely didn't just destroy a birthday cake. I clasp my hands together and force an innocent smile just as the door opens.
"Happy birthday!" I say, the excitement in my voice almost surprising even me.
Aunt Serena stands in the doorway looking slightly exhausted from the day, her coat still draped over one arm. She raises an eyebrow, clearly confused.
Then realization hits.
"Oh," she laughs softly. "I actually forgot."
She steps inside and hugs me first, pulling me into a warm embrace. Then she hugs Ethan, wrapping her arms around him tightly like she doesn't want to let go.
When she finally steps farther into the house, her eyes land on the living room.
She gasps.
"Oh my God, Ethan. You didn't have to do so much."
"Well," he says casually, glancing toward me, "I had all the help I needed."
I catch his look and grin.
Behind us, Montricia is already sniffing around the kitchen like she knows something is suspicious.
Aunt Serena sits down beside the coffee table and begins opening the gifts. Her excitement grows with each one she unwraps, her voice filling the room.
"Omg, so pretty," she says when she opens the bangles.
She slides them onto her wrists immediately, holding them up so they catch the light.
"I have to wear them right now since my lovely niece got them for me."
I glance at Ethan.
"Told you she'd love them."
He smiles at me before turning back toward Serena.
She opens the rest of the presents with the same excitement, thanking Ethan over and over. At some point she kisses him on the cheek so many times it becomes almost ridiculous.
Later we even took pictures together in the living room, smiling brightly for the camera.
Anyone looking at those photos would think we were the perfect family.
Or maybe not.
After a while I slip away quietly and return upstairs. As I close my bedroom door, I can still faintly hear Aunt Serena downstairs confronting Ethan about the cake disaster.
I lock the door and lean back against it.
Then I take a slow breath.
I need a shower.
My heels come off first, tossed carelessly near the bed. The dress follows, sliding down my body and pooling on the floor in a navy heap. I grab a soft nightgown from the closet and pause in front of the mirror.
For a moment I just stare.
There's meat on my bones now.
Meat. Meat. Meat.
I pinch lightly at my waist and frown.
I'm gaining weight.
Not a good sign.
Turning away from the mirror, I run the water into the clawfoot tub and wait as steam begins to rise. The room slowly fills with warmth while the tub fills.
And then the thought creeps in.
How did Mother feel in the tub when she died?
The idea sends a chill through me despite the heat in the room.
The diary.
I retrieve it from the drawer and sink into the bath, warm water rising around my shoulders as I open the worn pages.
Mary likes Ethan.
I'm sure of it.
When she called me earlier to talk, she was acting strange.
"Don't talk to him," she said.Just like that.No explanation. No reason.
It's been three days since then, and I've started noticing the way she looks at him. The way she tries so hard to catch his attention whenever he's around.
She isn't even paying attention to the work we're supposed to be doing here. The administrator actually called her today to ask if something was wrong.
I felt bad for her.This is the last week of the camp.I'm exhausted today because she got called away again and I had to do her work too.
Anny and Eugene offered to help, but I refused. I don't even know why.Maybe I didn't want anyone else involved.Mary wasn't happy when she came back.She barely spoke to me.
I'm going to sleep now.
Hopefully I'll dream tonight.
I lower the diary slowly, staring at the page.
What was that?
Mother had a crush on Ethan?
That makes absolutely no sense.
My mother hated Ethan. She avoided him whenever she could. She barely even visited Aunt Serena and Uncle Ethan.
But the diary says something completely different.
And there's no one I talk to about it.
Or maybe there is.
I wait until the house grows quiet. Long enough that the lights downstairs have gone out. Long enough that they're probably asleep.
Choosing what to wear takes longer than it should.
At first I consider the black fitted top with the white collar and button detail paired with the soft pink pleated mini skirt.
But when I try it on, something feels wrong.
I've gotten thicker lately.
It doesn't sit the same way it used to.
So I change.
I pull on a cream off-shoulder knit sweater instead and pair it with a black pleated mini skirt. Sheer tights hug my legs and I tug soft leg warmers over my ankles.
Better.
I unlock the front door slowly and step outside.
Cool night air brushes against my skin, carrying the quiet stillness of the neighborhood.
Ormond Home.
I don't even know where the fuck that is.