Page 40 of Scaredy Cat
Suddenly, the memories of last night seem further away, like they were just a dream, and they feel too far out of reach to be a helpful distraction today. I don’t want to write my post on Mill House.Not now, when all I can see are insults in the comments of the manor’s post and feel humiliation rising in my chest.
Am I really that boring? A few of their comments said it’s not worth it to subscribe to me, and I can already feel the imposter syndrome sinking into place. All creativity has completely dried up, and in its place I feel self-doubt and dislike for my work.
I know it’s a bad place to be, and I know anyone in the world would tell me to just get over it. That I can’t be in a public job like this if I can’t take a few mean comments.
But today, I’m feeling too fragile to listen to logic. With a quick, firm huff, I get to my feet and push away from my laptop. Even with my hair still dripping, I collapse back into bed. I toss my phone to clatter on the nightstand a moment later, then crawl back under the blankets, deciding that my first mistake was to get up this early. So, I hope everything will be better if I just go back to sleep for a few hours and dream of my stalker who stood up for me in my comments before.
Even though I can’t expect him to do something like that again.
17
“She hates me,”Madison states as Mrs. Elmore gets smaller in the rearview mirror, leaning heavily on her cane.
“She hates you,” I agree, slumping back in the passenger seat. My head aches, and I know there’s a migraine building behind my eyes that started yesterday after my foray into unfriendly territory on social media. “I’ve never seen her hate anyone, but she absolutely hates you.”
Madison makes a face. “I don’t know why she hates me. No one hates me.” The look I give her makes her roll her eyes. “It wasone time.It wasn’t even that big of a deal.”
“You compared her to a petrified tree.”
“Have you seen her?”
My lips twitch with the beginning of a smile, and I sigh while pressing an ice pack over my eyes to try to relieve some of the ache in my head. “Remind me why I’ve left my house and traveled into the vicious sunlight?” I consider telling her, again, that I’d rather be in my bed with my head under my pillow until further notice. “My head hurts.”
“Yeah, well, lying in the dark and curled up like a pretzel isn’t going to help it.” But I can just barely see the sympathetic,worried look she throws at me. “But I’ll bring you home before you turn into a pumpkin.AndI’m buying.”
“You better be taking me to Gordon Ramsey’s restaurant then,” I grumble.
“You don’t even like steak.”
“I make exceptions for expensive steak.”
That gets a snort from her, and I can’t help feeling grateful that she’s dragged me out of my house, even with the headache. Truthfully, all I’ve been doing is feeling sorry for myself. Maybe a change of scenery and a break from lying in bed like a corpse will help me feel better.
Admittedly, I didn’t mean to fall asleep in the reclined passenger seat of Madison’s car. But with the low music and the warmth of the sun soaking into my hoodie, I fall into a blackness that’s a comforting relief.
It doesn’t last long enough, though. Madison gently shakes me awake some time later, and I open my eyes, face numb under the melted ice pack, to see the world through the blue gel that obscures most of my vision, turning everything into wobbly shapes and shadows.
“I’m up,” I sigh, sitting up my seat and letting the ice pack drop. My head pulses with the beat of my heart, reminding me that being awake isnotpreferable to being unconscious for this level of a headache.
“You’re up,” Madison agrees. She takes the ice pack and tosses it into the console, then waits for me to get my bearings before she opens the driver’s side door and gets out.
I take an extra moment, gazing at my surroundings. It occurs to me that I have no idea where we are, and I reach up to press the pads of my fingers into the back of my neck and my shoulders. One of these days, I really am going to go get a massage.
Finally, before I can sink back into the oblivion of another nap, I release my seatbelt and push the door open all in one movement. Doing it quickly helps prevent me from giving up halfway through, though I end up blinking in the sunlight and feeling like I should hiss and claw at the too-bright light before scurrying under the nearest car.
“Where are we?” I ask, shielding my face to look up at the large complex. We’re definitely in Chicago, I figure, but I don’t recognize the sprawling building or sidewalks leading under archways to what looks like an interior courtyard.
“This is that new shopping complex I was telling you about. The one my dad consulted on.” She gestures towards a big, brand new sign readingThe Meadowsin fancy lettering. “It’s basically an upscale outlet mall. Surplus designer stuff and some boutiques of the bigger brands.” To show me what she means, she gestures to the first store we pass, with designer sunglasses gleaming in the window.
Quickly, I realize everything here is way outside my tax bracket—even for outlets. Without Madison, there’s no way I’d be here, and it feels like my grubby little fingers don’t belong on anything here, for fear of contaminating them with my lower-middle class germs.
Madison leads me past the shops, though my steps slow so I can peer in windows curiously every once in a while. She puts up with it, even pointing out some things she’s interested in, before the shops open up into a courtyard covered by a glass and metal roof like someone’s interpretation of a modernized pagoda.
“Oh, wow.” I stop and look around, unsurprised to see that the place is pretty packed with people. “This is really cool. Sort of impractical, though?” I glance at Madison. “The designer knew we’re in Chicago, right? This won’t be usable for like, four months out of the year.”
“There are a few things to offset that. The roof, obviously. Some heaters. But yeah, I’m sure this will get closed once December hits and the temperatures start to plummet. Where do you want to eat?”
“Umm…” I barely recognize any of the places, though I’m not upset to see a lack of fast food options. When I have a headache this bad, greasy, fast food only makes it worse. “Your choice? I’ve only heard of the potato place, and I’ve heard their stuff is pretty spicy.”
