Page 67 of Worse Than Wicked
I’d run out of money soon enough. Most of my inheritance was in Dolce Sweets stocks, and I signed all of mine over to Olive. Even if Mr. Delacroix could reverse that, I’d never ask him to. She deserves that money after what I did to her sister, and to her.
I’d blow it all on drugs anyway.
I’m probably just being paranoid. Just because Baron and Mabel don’t need me, that doesn’t mean they don’t want me around. Just because I’m a liability doesn’t mean they’ll get rid of me. I’m not Jane.
Except you were, my demon reminds me.Before he found her, you were the one he experimented on, testing the early versions of Alice, before they took the user to Wonderland.
I push that idea down. Like Baron says, we made Alice together. I was his assistant.
More like his guinea pig.
When he won’t shut up, I leave Crys and the babies and wander downstairs. There must be ten kids in the living room, all sitting around Olive. She’s holding her hair back with one hand, separating it with the other to show the scar that runs along her forehead and back onto her scalp.
“That’s where he cut my head open.”
A few of the other kids make faces and turn away, but most of them lean closer, their eyes wide.
“Whoa,” says a boy who looks about ten, obvious awe in his voice.
“Told you,” Olive says, beaming. “It’s the same guy who took out Preston Darling’s eye. He keeps it in a jar in his lab. One time, he let me hold it.”
“Whoa,” says a whole chorus of voices this time.
“Mad scientists aren’t real,” says a girl, looking skeptical.
“Well, he’s not totally mad,” Olive says. “But he said he wanted to open up my skull and look at my brain because it’s so interesting. So I think that makes him pretty mad.”
“Why is he mad?” asks an Asian boy who looks a few years younger. “Did you do something to him first?”
“Not mad like that,” Olive says, running her finger along the scar. “Mad like, crazy.”
“Like the Mad Hatter inAlice and Wonderland,” says the older boy.
“Exactly,” Olive says, then widens her eyes so you can see the whites all around and whispers,“We’re all mad here.”
“Okay, Olive, stop scaring your guests,” Royal says, stepping into the doorway with Harper, both of them carrying big bowls of popcorn. “Next thing, I’ll be getting calls from angry parents, and I’m not dealing with that shit today.”
A couple girls look shocked and then giggle, like they’ve never heard a swear word before.
“Yeah, let’s keep it light,” Harper agrees. “This is a birthday party, not Halloween. And you want them to come back, don’t you?”
“If any of them don’t want to be my friends, I’ll just have Royal kick their dad’s ass,” Olive says smugly.
“My dad’s in jail, so he can’t get him,” says another girl.
“Then Harper will beat up your mom,” Olive says, like it’s the simplest solution.
“I don’t know,” the girl says, eyeing Harper. “My mom’s a lot bigger.”
“She’s small but mighty,” Royal says, setting down a bowl of caramel popcorn on one end of the coffee table and a bowl of buttered popcorn on the other.
“No one’s beating up anyone,” Harper says, handing out two more bowls to the girls. Then she turns to me. “Are you staying? I think they’re going to watchBack to the Futureafter this. None of them have seen it, and Olive wants to prove to them that there’s a car that goes back in time. I’m not sure if she actually believes it’s a time machine, but telling her it’s not seems like telling a kid there’s no Santa, so we’re tiptoeing around that until we know for sure.”
I look at Olive to see if she wants me to stay, but she’s busy fighting over the caramel popcorn with two other kids. She didn’t even notice I was here. She’s with her friends—the ones her own age. She doesn’t need me.
No one needs me.
“No,” I say. “I’ll go.”
