Queen of the Dead

Chapter 1 - Ten Years Later

Bridget rolled over with a groan as her alarm clock's buzzer rang out. She gave the off button a good smack, then threw the covers back.

"Another day," she sighed as she stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom down the hall. As the water from the shower flowed over her, she reflected, as she often did, on the current state of her life.

Bridget was sixteen years old now. Her long brown hair and dark brown eyes certainly weren't attracting the attention of any would-be boyfriends. Her lack of money, popularity, and heaven only knew what else kept possible friends at bay, and even her own family seemed to think she was a waste of space.

She was certainly nothing like her beautiful, fifteen-year-old sister. Karen was the epitome of the blonde-haired, blue-eyed bombshell - with a slew of friends and beaus to prove it. Bridget did have one advantage, though. Her grades were much better than Karen's. In fact, she excelled in school, but that, of course, only drew the ire of the other students and made her social situation even worse.

Turning her thoughts back to the present, she ceased showering and dried off. Wrapping herself in one towel and her hair in another, she headed back to her room. She chose a short-sleeved, white blouse and a knee-length, plaid skirt with a matching vest for her outfit. Returning to the bathroom, she blow-dried her hair and proceeded to craft one of her many hairstyles. Today's coiffure was an updo. She twisted her hair starting behind her left ear, continued around her head, and finished with a low bun in the back.

Karen immerged from her bedroom as Bridget walked down the hall to the stairs. Bridget rolled her eyes and descended the stairs without speaking to her sister. Karen always got up late and then complained that she didn't have enough time to get ready. Mom always took up the slack and helped her get to school on time. Not that she would have done the same for Bridget.

"Morning, Mom," Bridget said as she entered the kitchen.

"Good morning, Bridget," her mother chirped, setting a plate of hot eggs, bacon, and toast before her. Glenda Robertson may have been guilty of favoritism between her daughters, but she was no evil witch from a storybook.

As Bridget calmly ate her breakfast, Karen frantically ran around the house, attempting to get ready for school. She couldn't find her backpack (which was by the front door where she left it the day before), she couldn't find her homework (which should have been on her desk), and, last but not least, she couldn't find her left shoe. Eventually, Karen found the missing items, chugged her juice (Karen did not believe in hearty breakfasts), and the two teens biked to school.

Later that day, as Bridget got into her locker to change her books, her only friend Steven came up behind her.

"Hey, Bridget!" he said, startling her. "Sorry I scared you. Ready for the last class of the week?"

"Always," Bridget grinned. "Fridays are my favorite day of the week. They sing to me of Saturdays!"

"Hey, you want to get some ice cream after school? I hear that the new ice cream parlor down the street is to die for."

"Oh, I wish I could, Steven. I have to work."

"On a Friday?" he asked. Bridget only worked Monday through Thursday at the local fabric shop.

"Yeah, my boss called last night. Jenny's sick, so I have to fill in for her today."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't worry," Bridget said cheerfully. "I enjoy it. I'm saving up to buy more fabric."

"Oh? What clothing design do you have in mind this time?" Steven asked.

Steven was the only guy Bridget knew who was actually interested in her seamstressing adventures. Of course, he was the only guy she really talked to anyway, so the comparison was a bit moot.

Bridget could not answer the question as the warning bell for their last class rang out. The two ran as fast as they could, barely making it to their Physics class. When it was over, Bridget had to run out the door.

"I'll call you later," Steven called out as she headed down the front steps of the school. Bridget waved as she unlocked her bike and trekked to the fabric store.

The chaos began the moment Bridget entered Nana's Fabrics and More.

"Oh, Bridget," Mrs. Livingston called out. Mrs. Livingston was the store's owner and was known far and wide as "Nana". She was currently carrying a stack of fabric bolts that was much too tall and heavy for her to handle.

"I've got it, Nana," Bridget said as she took the top half of the stack from her employer and took it over to the counter.

"Ah, thank you so much, dear," Nana said. "Whew, I guess I grabbed too big a stack. Again."

"No problem, Nana. I'm glad I walked in when I did."

"So am I," Nana laughed. "Oh, by the way, Mrs. Paxton was here earlier. She wants you to make dresses for Sadie and Carol for the upcoming dance."

Bridget groaned inside. The Paxtons were the wealthiest family for miles, and they made sure everyone knew it. They didn't mind having Bridget make clothes for their girls simply because the spoiled brats just happened to like Bridget's creations. But the stress of creating and recreating garments was almost not worth the generous monetary reward. Granted, the Paxtons paid for all of the wasted fabric, but dealing with the stuck-up attitudes of Sadie and Carol was almost unbearable. At least Bridget was free to take the excess material from the discarded designs and use it for her own purposes.

"Do they have any idea what type of design they want?" Bridget asked.

"Mrs. Paxton just said that the girls would call you," Nana replied.

Bridget had to admit she was grateful for the income. She saved most of her earnings, so she had little pocket money for frivolous wants. On top of that, she could only work three hours a day during the school year.

The remainder of the afternoon flew by, and Bridget soon found herself heading home on her bike. She looked forward to dinner, bed, and the weekend ahead.