Little Treasures 7 & 8 Part I

 7. The Elephant In The Room

What the elephant was doing at the bottom of a box and not holding court on the fireplace mantle in the parlor was a question for whoever had dumped him there. Then again, he had been in plain sight the whole time, and Chloe only noticed him when the sun glinted on one of his delicate, rose-tipped ears. Maybe he was just one of those creatures who was destined to go unnoticed. Maybe the thumbnail-sized crack in his leg had something to do with it. Chloe didn't have that problem anymore; the jade her family left behind virtually guaranteed she'd get attention. 

8. The Dodo

'Why are you going over there if you hate her so much?'

'Who says I hate her?'

'You do, all the time.'

Shirley had to admit it was true. On her list of most detested things on Earth, her best friend Liza McDonald ranked second only to cockroaches, and the only things separating them from one another were the extra legs. Liza loudly insisted upon having first turn when they played games, flashed her horrible dog teeth whenever she laughed heartily at her own jokes ( which was often), and she was constantly adding to the collection of ridiculous carved animal figurines that she actually gave names to. She was everything Shirley loathed wrapped up in one squat, whiy package, but there was one thing had in her favor: her seventeen-year-old brother David. David was popular with everyone; teachers heralded him, guys followed him, mothers raved over his manners, and daughters just raved. For the opportunity to see David, whether it was for forty seconds or a whole afternoon. Shirley was willing to endure just about anything, even a birthday party better suited to a six-year-old than a teenage girl.

'Do you think she'll bring out Pin the Tail on the Donkey this time?' Stella chuckled.

'With any luck, shell BE the donkey.'

'Poor girl,' said Mrs. Mertz, who had been standing on the stairs and was privy to the entire mean-spirited conversation. 'She just needs a kind word or two. I should think you'd have kindness to spare.'

Shirley finished primping in the mirror. 

'You'd think so.'

Mrs. Mertz walked up behind her and looked in at her reflection.

'Are you wearing eye shadow?'

'You got me.'

'Go upstairs this minute and wash it off.'

Shirley reached into the white shoulder purse she got for her birthday, a week before June went missing, pulled out a tube of lipstick and meticulously applied it. It was a shade called Baby Doll Pink. It may as well have been called Street Walker Crimson as far as Mrs. Mertz was concerned. 

'Shirley, I asked you to wash it off.'

Shirley put the lipstick back and took out a tissue, which she folded in half and rested between her lips, blotting the colour in.

'Shirley, I won't ask again.'

'So don't.'

Mrs. Mertz went to the front door and blocked it.

'You are not going anywhere until you wash your face.'

Shirley balled up the tissue and threw it into the study.

'Fetch.'

Mrs. Mertz's hand flew on its own, striking Shirley directly on the cheekbone and temporarily stunning all three of them into silence. Then Shirley saw that Mrs. Mertz's hand was trembling and a slow, deliberate smile pulled up the corners of her mouth.

'Thanks for the blush.'

Shirley turned on her heel and walked past the staircase toward the kitchen. There were six external doors on the ground floor alone, but Mrs. Mertz couldn't have stopped Shirley from going to the party if there was only one, and she knew it. Stella could read it on her pale, stonkered face.

'Are you alright, Mrs. Mertz?'

Mrs. Mertz snapped her mouth shut, straightened her collar and tried to reassume well-earned confident air. 

'Fine. Don't you have homework?'

'It's Saturday.'

Mrs. Mertz pulled her shaking hand behind her back. 

'Well, God gave us sunshine for a reason. Why don't you go outside and play for a while?'

Stella nodded, but didn't head straight for the kitchen, or for the patio doors that ran off the parlor. She went into the study, picked up the tissue ball, and stowed it in the waste basket, then took her leave. She offered the nanny a consolatory smile as she passed.

'Stella,' Mrs. Mertz called.

'Yes?'

'You're a lovely girl.'

Stella once overheard a teacher refer to her and her siblings as 'Untouchable,' and if she'd understood what it meant at the time, she would've concurred: short of murder, there wasn't much they could get up to without their mother making it go away, at least until recently. The Thomas enjoyed a childhood virtually free on consequence, and they carried themselves accordingly, but the truth was that Stella's heart hadn't been in it since Stanley died. With each subsequent incident, she'd been growing less and less inclined to hide it.