NINE TIME MACHINES: Do you want to undo your entire life on planet earth?

CHAPTER 39

This level of frustration calls for a rooftop dialogue between myself and the person in the mirror who sometimes puts thoughts in my head. But the door is shut tight this time. So I retire to my room and listen to the radio on my phone for the first time since my mother died. Dammit! Somebody definitely has it out for me. One of her hit songs smacks me right in the face as soon as I plug the earphones in. This day just can't get any worse. Or can it?

I usually train myself not to ask these silly questions. It's me, Mary Pethiel, daughter of the famed daughter that was robbed of all her royalties. Of course, the day can always get worse. I strip down to nothing and curl up in my customary ball of pity. The tears flow freely, not caring a bit whether that bitch Tessa is listening. Let her hear my pain and laugh if she wants. Tonight I will haunt the corridors and scare her to death; maybe even wear a white sheet. Okay, a dingy sheet that is more like cream. All right, a yellowish cream; and that's all I'll confess to. Who cares anyway? I might not even live to see tomorrow.

Ebony Pethiel had spent all her money on pleasures and pipe dreams. That was the official story the record company had released and everyone ate it up. But I know my mother – er, knew her – and she saved almost every penny her hands brushed against. So how is it that I'm on the verge of spending the rest of my days drifting on street corners, begging for food to stay alive? And why is it that Hazel's angels never visit me? All questions I hope will get answered before my time is up. A notification yanks me back to the real world. Another friend request. I accept like a robot and take the opportunity to check up on Pete. But for some reason I can't connect to his page. Then it hits me like the Cave Beach bus that never shows up when you need it. I know why I can't find it. Inhale. Exhale. Pete blocked me just when I needed him the most.