The Illusion of Annabella (2 page)

I dream of one day finding what my parents have. If I’m lucky, maybe I’ll end up having it with Ben.

“You about ready to go?” my mom asks me as she scoops up the car keys from the counter.

“Yes siree.” I munch on my toast while my parents exchange a look. “I’m starting to get really curious about where we’re going. And if I had known Dad was in on the secret, I would have wiggled it out of him before you got down here.

“All I’m going to say is that you’re going to love it.” My dad returns to the stove with his back turned to me.

“Are you going to be able to take the day off?” my mom asks my dad as she gets an energy drink from the fridge. “So you can go with us?”

“Yep. I told Maggie she’d have to hold down the fort on her own,” my dad replies as he screws the cap on a gallon of milk. “But I have to run in and help her open up first, so I’ll be about another hour.”

My dad owns a quaint bookstore in one of the quieter areas of the town. During the summers, I spend a lot of time there, helping out and reading the inventory. I love everything about the store, love the smell of new and old books, the atmosphere, and I love spending time with my dad.

“An hour sounds perfect. I have to run a few errands first, anyway, which may or may not have to do with presents and cake.” My mom smiles at me, then gets her purse from table and hugs Nikoli goodbye. “How about I go run my errands then pick you up at the store?” she says to my dad. “That way Anna won’t be late for her party.”

My stomach somersaults at the mention of the party, but my mom leaves me hardly any time to tumble back into stress mode. She waggles her fingers, waving goodbye, then motions for me to follow her.

I start to leave, but my dad snags my elbow and draws me back. “This is for later.” He hands me a rectangular box decorated with pink paper and silver bow.

“Thanks, Dad.” I circle my arms around him. “You’re the best.”

He hugs me back then we say goodbye, and I chase after my mother, the heels of my shoes scuffing against the hardwood floor.

“Why are we going this way?” I ask, because we usually use the back door.

“Because I have something for you that requires us going out the front door.” Right as she says it, I hear giggling from above me.

I tip my chin back and look up at the banister right as a rainstorm of silver and pink glitter showers down on me. A laugh bursts from my lips as I span my arms to the side and spin in a circle.

“It’s a birthday miracle,” Alexis and Zhara singsong from above as they continue throwing handfuls of glitter down on me.

I twirl around until they run out of glitter. Then I give my mom a ginormous hug. “Thank you.”

“You deserve to get what you want on your birthday.” She smiles as she smoothes her hand over my head. “Now, come on. Let’s get this fun-filled day started.

Beaming from ear to ear, I follow her toward the front door. As we’re passing through the foyer, I catch my reflection in the mirror on the wall. My dress, cheeks, and hair are covered with sparkles.

“I look like a unicorn threw up on me,” I remark with my head angled to the side. “But in the best way possible.”

My mom chuckles as she opens the door. “How you make such a gross sentence sound so appealing is beyond me. But then again, you always did have a gift of making sunshine out of rain.”

“You’re really stroking my ego today.”

“Nope, I’m just telling the truth.”

I brush the glitter out of my hair before getting into the car. My mom cranks up her favorite classic rock station, and a little Pearl Jam plays through the speakers.

“What errands are we running?” I ask. “Something fun, I’m hoping.”

“Unfortunately not. As much as I hate to do it, this is an unbirthday related stop,” she admits as she brakes at the stop sign at the end of our street.

“Well, I’ll let it slide just as long as you tell me where you, Dad, and I are going.” When she remains silent, I sulk. “You’re really not going to tell me where we’re going?”

“No way. It’ll take all the fun out of the surprise.”

“Oh, fine,” I huff, pretending to be more irritated than I am.

She drives down Main Street, past all the shops, the second hand store, the bank, and finally stops at the grocery store. “I just have to grab something real quick.” She reaches into her purse and tosses me a bag of M&Ms and a Snickers bar. “Eat up.”

“Thanks.” I dive in, stuffing my face with chocolate while she runs in.

I kick the heels off, prop my bare feet up on the dash, and relax in the seat, cranking up some tunes. I tap my feet and sing along, observing all the people walking in and out of the grocery store. Honeyton has more people around in the summertime than in the wintertime, mainly because it’s a tourist town. Since its June, it makes people watching super fun.

After ten minutes, I grow bored and open the present my dad gave me. I know what it is before even getting it open, considering it’s been a tradition for four years now. Just like I guessed, under the wrapping paper is a small box of sparklers and a lighter.

Glancing around, I take one out of the box, shove open the door, and plant my bare feet on the hot asphalt. Flicking the lighter, I move the flame to the tip of the sparkler, igniting a shower of sparks. Laughing, I jump to my feet and dance around in a circle, giggling even harder when people gawk at me.

After the sparkler dies, I return to my seat in the car and drum my fingers against my thighs to the beat of a Pink Floyd song. By the time my mom walks out of the store, I’m giggling at a mom who’s scolding her teenage son for wearing a hoodie when it’s ninety-five degrees out. He keeps glancing in my direction, as if he’s embarrassed. I don’t know why. His sunglasses hide his face so I can’t tell who he is, but I’m guessing he’s a tourist since I don’t recognize his mom.

“Whatcha laughing at?” my mom asks, tossing a plastic bag onto the backseat as she climbs in.

I point at the guy. “That . . . I kind of feel sorry for him.”

My mom laughs, shifting into gear. “See how lucky you are to have such awesome parents?”

I wave goodbye to my sunglasses, hoodie wearing friend and shove the rest of the candy into my mouth. “You guys are super awesome, but FYI, I’ve heard Dad yell at Loki like that. Remember when Loki put gauges in his ears?”

“I almost forgot about that phase. Thanks for reminding me.” She’s all sarcasm.

“No problem.” I’m all smartass.

She shakes her head, grinning, and I sit back and enjoy the drive.

We pass by houses and businesses, driving toward the outskirts of town. The sun sporadically reflects through the paper-thin clouds, and my eyelids flutter against the short, fleeting flashes of light every time one of the rays hits my eyes.

“It’s going to rain today,” I comment as thunder rumbles in the distance while the clouds brew up an early summer storm.

“Only in the morning,” she says. “It should be completely rain free by the time your party starts.”

Great, now I feel jittery again, and my excitement over the surprise dwindles.

Noting my frown, she turns down the volume of the radio. “No being sad on your birthday. You have to be happy today. It’s a rule.”

“I’m not frowning because I’m sad. I’m frowning because,” I pick at my fingernails, an anxious habit of mine, “I’m nervous.”

“About?”

“Um, a . . . Never mind. I can’t tell you.”

“Oh, come on, Anna. I’d like to think that I’m a cool enough mom that you feel like you can tell me these things.” Turning the wheel, she makes a sudden right down an unfamiliar dirt road.

“What things?” I sit up straight and peer out the window. “And where are we going?”

At the end of the road, enclosed by a field of dry grass, is a blue and white two-story Victorian home. Beside the house is a faded red barn with a painted sign,
Honeyton Antiques and Things
.

“I wonder what ‘things’ stands for,” I joke.

“Who knows,” she says with a grin, playing along.

“Is this my surprise?” I wonder, getting super excited. “Wait. Are we playing the antique game?”

“Nope, not this time. And stop changing the subject.” She parks in front of the narrow path decorated with roses and leaves the engine idling. “Now, tell me what’s with the frown, Charlie Brown.”

“I don’t want to . . . It’s so stupid . . . you’re going to think I’m stupid.”

“Try me.”

“Fine.” I heave a dramatic sigh. “It’s about a boy.”

She muses. “It always is, isn’t it?”

I lift my shoulders, shrugging. “I don’t know. This is the first time I’ve felt this way about a guy before.”

She gives me a
really?
look, because I’ve probably said the same thing to her at least a dozen times. “I’m guessing the guy is coming to your party tonight?”

“How’d you guess?”

She glances at the dress I’m wearing. “Because of the fashion meltdown you had this morning.”

“Was I that obvious?” I hope Ben doesn’t pick up on my crush on him.

She thrums her fingers against the console. “Give me, like, five minutes to run inside and then you and I are going to have a very long talk.” She reaches for the door handle and opens the door.

I lower my feet from the dash. “About what?”

She swings her feet to the ground. “About the World of Women.”

“It sounds like the title of a book. World of Women, a secret society built on gossip, shopping, and a lust for men.” I pucker my lips and flip my hair off my shoulder.

She points a finger at me as she gets out of the car. “Sounds like someone’s been spending a little too much time in the romance section of your father’s store.”

“He made me stock the shelves, and I can’t help it. I get bored and read the blurbs.”

“Well, I’d rather not hear you say the word lust again.” She starts to close the door, but pauses. “From now on, you’ll call it an adorable little crush, because you’re seventeen-years-old, and you aren’t allowed to be lustful or whatever the books are calling it.”

I laugh at her, and smiling, she bumps the door shut. Instead of heading to the barn, she hikes up the path to the house, but I figure that’s probably part of the store, too.

I flip through the radio stations, and start obsessing over all things Ben.

Settling on the alternative station, I sing along until my phone vibrates. I retrieve it from my pocket and open the message from Cece, my best friend since kindergarten. In some ways we’re similar in the sense that we both love to dance and take a ballet classes together, but she’s not as passionate about it as I am.  She’s also a cheerleader, last year’s homecoming queen, and a self-proclaimed fashionista, all things I’m not nor ever will be.

Cece: Hey, bday girl! How’s it goin’?

Me: Super great. Headed somewhere with my mom right now.

Cece: That’s so cool! I can’t wait for the party tonight. I heard a lot of people r coming.

My nerves skyrocket through the roof. I’m not that popular. Sure, I have a handful of close friends and can float through the social circles, but unlike Cece, there aren’t people lining up to hang out with me. Plus, I devote a lot of my time to dance and most people don’t seem to understand my obsession.

Me: How does everyone know about it???

Cece: I may have told some people.

Me: How many people did u tell?

Cece: I don’t know. I sent out texts to like half our class.

Me: Ok, now I’m really nervous. We’re not even doing anything fun. Just hanging out and watching movies.

Cece: We’ll make it fun :) We always do.

She’s right. I relax a little until another I read her next message.