Scarlet dropped her head to the side, wishing she didn’t care about Tristan and his brokenness.
She pulled up to Heather’s house and parked. The Baxter family lived just a few streets down from Scarlet on Cherry Drive. Heather’s house was two stories, like Scarlet’s, but much smaller. The front yard was meager, but well cared for, with a slim flowerbed beside the front door and a mostly-green square of grass by the driveway.
Scarlet got out of her car and walked to the red front door. She raised her hand to knock, but the door swung open before her fist hit the red wood.
“Scarlet!” Heather’s little sister Emily squealed, pulling Scarlet inside. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve been trying to draw a castle all day, but my drawings keep looking like birthday cakes. Since you know how to draw, will you help me? Please, please?”
A happy eight-year-old, Emily had long, curly blonde hair. Lighter than Heather’s, it tangled around her face and glowed like a halo, fitting Emily’s sweet and innocent disposition perfectly.
Scarlet smiled. “Sure. Lead the way.” She followed Emily into the Baxter’s small kitchen. The room was decorated bright yellow and red, with roosters.
Lots and lots of roosters.
Rooster magnets, rooster salt and pepper shakers, rooster cookie jars….
Scarlet couldn’t help but think cock-a-doodle-doo every time she entered the room.
Heather’s two brothers, Jason and Wade, were standing beside an open refrigerator. Jason was pouring chocolate syrup into his mouth, and Wade was drinking milk out of the carton.
Ick.
At seventeen, Heather was the oldest of the Baxter children. Then came Wade, followed by Jason, and Emily was the baby.
Emily held up a piece of paper with a lopsided castle on it. “See?” She pouted her lips. “I’m no good at drawing castles.”
“Sure you are.” Scarlet took the paper and sat down at the round kitchen table in the center of the room. Crayons, markers and crumpled drawings of castles littered the rooster tablecloth. Finding a clean piece of paper, Scarlet picked up a pink crayon.
“The trick to drawing a good castle,” she began, “is starting with the main tower.” Scarlet sketched a tall tower, surrounded by two smaller towers and a castle wall.
It was weird to think that she had, at one time, lived when castles and drawbridges and knights in shining armor were a common thing.
Scarlet watched Emily try to mimic Scarlet’s castle. “There you go.” Scarlet looked at the little girl affectionately. “Your castle looks great.”
Emily finished the sketch and stared at her drawing with a proud smile. “Wow. It doesn’t look like a cake.”
“Ew, get out of the fridge.” Heather entered the kitchen and stared at Wade, who was now drinking orange juice from the carton. “You’re such a pig. You’re like a little Neanderthal, with oversized feet and a germ-ridden piggy mouth.”
“Oink, oink,” he retorted, making a point to put his lips fully around the juice carton’s spout.
Nasty.
Heather made a disgusted face at Wade before looking at Scarlet. “You wanna come upstairs?”
Scarlet looked at Emily, who was happily drawing a butterfly and a bee around her castle.
Scarlet touched Emily’s shoulder as she got up from the table. “Thanks for letting me draw with you.”
Emily smiled at her.
Scarlet followed Heather upstairs.
The Baxter house had three bedrooms, so Emily and Heather shared a room that was divided in half.
Literally.
A long piece of painter’s tape stretched from the bottom center of the back wall, up to the ceiling, across the middle of the ceiling, and back down across the wall by the door.
On one side of the tape, Heather’s side, the walls were light green with a large window that overlooked their small backyard. Beneath the window, was a twin bed covered in green and white blankets that, when made, probably looked quite fashionable.
But Scarlet had never seen Heather’s bed made up. Because Heather was messy.
Shoes, books, bras and magazines were scattered at the foot of Heather’s bed and leaked out of her closet—which was also split down the middle with tape.
On the other side of the room, Emily’s side, the walls were bright pink with fluffy, white clouds painted on them. Emily’s twin bed was wrapped in pink and purple sheets and a plethora of stuffed animals adorned her pillow.
Her dolls and toys were well-organized beside her bed and dozens of drawings were taped to her side of the wall. Drawings of teddy bears, penguins, rainbows and her family members hung above her bed like little pieces of Emily’s heart on display.
Scarlet loved the Baxter girls’ room.
“So, how was your trip to see Nate?” Heather asked, sliding open her closet door. A mess of clothes, bags and belts sprung free from the doors as Heather immersed herself in the madness.
Scarlet sighed and answered indirectly. “Fine. Tristan and I shot arrows.”
Heather pulled her head out of the closet and stared at Scarlet. “Like, Robin Hood style?”
Scarlet nodded. “Apparently, I know how to use a bow.”
And I’m good at it.
Scarlet hadn’t missed a single shot.
“Well that’s...neat,” Heather said. “Medieval archery skills are sure to come in handy the next time we need to hunt for elk or storm a castle or something.”
Scarlet smiled. “Yep.”
Heather started riffling through her clothes, yanking out dress after dress and throwing them to the floor.
“Well, it’s official,” Heather looked at the mess of discarded dresses on her bedroom floor. “I need a new dress to match my new pink shoes for the town fair next month. Want to go shopping with me tomorrow?”
“Not even a little.”
Scarlet strode over to Heather’s bed and sat down in the tangle of green blankets. The brooch in her pocket poked into her hip through her tight jeans and Scarlet leaned back to pull it out.
“Oh, come on,” Heather pleaded. “We could get you a cute little dress, too.”
Scarlet made a face. “Who wears a dress to a carnival?” She rubbed her fingers across the smooth ring.
“Oh good!” Heather eyed the ring in Scarlet’s hand with a broad smile. “I’m so happy you didn’t lose that pretty ring thingy when you had your little mini-death. Now you can wear it in your hair for the fair.”
Scarlet frowned. “It’s not a hair clip, Heather. It’s a brooch that used to belong to my mother and I’d rather not douse it with hair spray and bobby pin it to my head.”
Heather’s eyes brightened as she turned away from her closet and came over to sit on the bed next to Scarlet. Grabbing the ring from Scarlet’s hands, she eyed it appreciatively. “This was your mother’s? It’s beautiful.”
Scarlet took the ring back, looking at the stitched design on the side. It was quite beautiful and looked handcrafted. She ran her finger over the engraved markings…and the markings moved.
Acting like a tiny latch, the cluster of markings slid over and out, revealing an opening to the inside of the ring. Cylindrical in shape, the ring was hollowed out and the design had acted as a fastener to keep it closed.
Scarlet’s heart began to pound. A secret compartment?
As she looked inside the ring, she saw something rolled up within the silver shell.