Maddie laughs. “That’s not quite how it works, hon.” She picks up Crew’s hand now that he’s content and starts walking again. “But I approve, and I’ll support you. Where do you want to start?”
I eye the shops around me. I have no idea where to start. I already got a new bra. That feels significant. What’s next? A haircut, maybe. Exercise? I almost laugh. Just because I want to be my own queen doesn’t mean I have to torture myself.
I want a new job, one I’m passionate about. And if I’m being honest with myself, someday far, far down the road, I’d like a romance. The kind of love story you tell children to help them fall asleep at night. No. I want one that will keep everyone up, right until the end when Cinderella slips into a magical ball gown and is reunited with the man of her dreams.
“I don’t know where I’ll start yet,” I say honestly.
I look straight ahead to the shop I’ve seen so many times but have never had the courage to enter. Just beyond the entrance, beneath the wordLisa’s, is a light blue gown draped over a mannequin, the sequins dazzling in the bright lights. One of my only solid memories with my dad is in a store like that. I don’t remember why he took me there, but I remember running through all the shimmering dresses like it was my own heaven. He had always called me his princess. That was the last time I’d ever felt like one.
“But I know where I’ll end,” I say. “I’m going to wear a gown like that.”
“Dream big, girl.” She squeezes my side and I grin.
She’s right. Why not dream big? What could go wrong?
Four
Ward
Mybootsfeellikethey are made of concrete as I trudge into the tiny station bunk room.
I’m so tired I could sleep for the rest of the week.
I duck my head and fold my oversized body into the bottom bunk, kicking my boots off the end of the bed.
My head hits the pillow and my eyes drift close. It’s been a long shift already, and there are still six hours to go. I shouldn’t have agreed to take Fitch’s on-call day after struggling to sleep the night before. But I couldn’t say no. Fitch is a good guy. He reminds me of Bobby.
I’d do anything for Bobby.
Dang it, Bobby. Why?
I shift in the bed, hiding my face from the small square of light filtering into the room and work on the breathing exercises my old therapist taught me.
In. Out. In. Out.
Blackness.
Heat hits my face, scorching every inch of exposed skin. I try to open my mouth, but my tongue feels like sandpaper. I need water. I blink against the flaming sun. Where am I? Nothing but barren desert and misery stretches out around me.
This is it. This is where I die.
“Help!”
My blood turns to ice despite the blazing heat.
“Bobby?” I shed the weight of my pack. I need to get to Bobby. I can save him this time.
“Help,” he cries again, weaker now.
“I’m coming!” I yell back, my voice hoarse and hopeless. I run, but my body doesn’t go anywhere. My legs are moving in slow motion, but the rest of me isn’t. How do I get to him?
“Help.” It’s barely a whisper.
“Dang it, Bobby, don’t leave me this time, man. Don’t leave m—”
RIIIIINNNNNNGGG
My body reacts, my head ramming into the rails of the bunk above me. I stagger to a standing position, blink a few times, and attempt to right myself as the alarm continues to blare. But the ground still wavers like I’m stranded on a boat in the middle of the ocean.
