Page 41 of Sad Girl Hours
“Thank you,” I say but I obviously don’t say it earnestly enough.
“You DO,” Nell says, her eyes still blazing into mine. “You’re so kind and smart and beautiful and creative and talented and like a billion other positive adjectives – I could keep going. Don’t test me. I know a lot of words.”
“I know you do.” I laugh, eyes still bleary.
Nell’s gaze slides from my eyes to the card that’s still in my hand. “I can’t get over that card.” Something wicked flashes in her expression. “Ooh. I have an idea for whatyoucould do to help you get over it, though. Or, at least, just express your rage.”
“I’m not full ofrage,” I protest (I generally don’t have the energy for rage), but Nell’s already dipping back inside the house.
“Ta-da!” she says, coming back out with a lit candelabra.
“Are we … summoning a demon?”
“Not unless you want to. I was thinking we could just set fire to it.”
“That feels … drastic.”
“Oh,” Nell says. “Does it?”
She looks genuinely confused and it makes me think. She’s the only person I’veevertold about my parents. And if this was her first instinct, to set it all aflame…
I look down at the card and its absence of love, and you know what? Fire doesn’t feel as drastic any more. In fact, it feels entirely appropriate.
“Screw it,” I say, gingerly taking the candelabra off Nell and lifting the card to the centre flame.
We stare at the flames licking down the card, dark ash spreading at the edges, for a good few seconds, both grinning, before I realise something.
“Um,” I say, the fire inching closer to my fingers. “What now?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t think this far ahead,” Nell says with a lilt of panic. “Here.” She grabs it off me and holds it up high. “Oh, God. Again, didn’t think this through.” She drops it to the ground and looks as if she’s going to stamp on it, but I thrust her away – her dress looks very flammable.
“Step back!” I yelp, stamping on it until it’s no longer aflame, and is instead a single corner of white card and some soggy black stuff on the pavement.
We stare down at it together.
“Well,” I say. “That’s that.”
“That is indeed th—”
“There you both are!” A voice causes us both to jolt upright and spin round. Vivvie stands there, wrapped around the front door. “What on earth have you been up to?”
“Nothing,” I say guiltily, noticing Nell shift to cover the card remnants on the ground with her dress.
Vivvie looks suspicious but carries on regardless. “Well, listen: while an excellent time is being had by all inside, we are kind of missing the stars of the show. Without the birthday girls, it kind of ceases to be a birthday party and is instead just an excuse for our friends to get drunk and eat cake. I’ve been looking for you both – I had cake-cutting down on my schedule for half ten when everyone’s just drunk enough to be snacky, but not so drunk that there’ll be icing-coloured vom on my stairs.”
“You’d make an excellent wedding planner,” Nell says.
“You really would,” I concur.
“Well, you can call on me when the need arises – but I doubt you’ll be able to afford my rates,” Vivvie says. “Now, chop-chop, so we can chop-chop this cake.” She waves her arms like she’s trying to direct a plane indoors.
We move past her to enter the house obediently.
“Now I just need to track down Jenna and Casper and we’re good to go.”
“They disappeared too?”
“About ten minutes before you guys did,” Vivvie says. “Honestly, I don’t know what I’m going to do with you all.”
