Spirit Week - Short Story Collection

(SWS) i. Rocky Road

This one is dedicated to Meredith. Because yes, I know you sneak onto my computer and read these. And, no, I'm not talking to myself, Mere. These are for posterity. You know, in case we get our own reality TV show. Or if we all die at the hands of some vengeful ghosts and no one ever finds our bodies because we've been spirited away to the Underworld. Whatever, really. Enjoy, you snoop.

The Coolest Necklace Ever and Several Unfortunate Incidents Involving Blue Superman Ice Cream: An Audrey and Meredith Story

It was the coolest necklace I'd ever seen. Man, would I trade my soul to wear that thing around my neck. It was probably priceless; a vintage silver pendant with an old photograph in a detailed cameo frame, and I'd never wanted a piece of jewelry more in my life.

"Audrey, can we go to King's Cones now?" whined Meredith from the doorway. She slouched against the doorframe with her hand on her hip, snapping her pink bubblegum impatiently. She hated the vintage store more than she hated the color orange (some encounters with orangutans at the zoo never go away). I'd only gotten her to come with me by promising a trip to her favorite ice cream place afterwards.

"Just a sec!" I called back. I lifted the pendant from its velvet cushion and carried it over to the counter like someone might carry a blood diamond or prize-winning pumpkin at a county fair. Behind the counter sat Dolores, the owner of Chesterfield Antiques and the battiest old woman I knew, excluding Great Aunt Betsey, of course. By my best estimate Dolores was 107 and still kicking. She peered up at me behind rhinestone-rimmed spectacles.

"How much?" I asked.

Dolores held her wrinkled, ring-encrusted hands out over the counter. I gingerly placed the necklace in her palms.

"It's Edwardian. Late nineteenth century. One forty five," she croaked with a smile. There were smears of pink lipstick on her teeth.

I resisted the urge to gag at the hefty price tag while the vintage-loving portion of my brain reeled in anticipation of possessing such a treasure. There goes all of my babysitting money. "Okay," I sighed. I pulled out my wallet, a childish, cat-shaped coin purse that I'd had since I was eight. Seven crisp twenties and a five later, I was clutching the necklace in its bright blue box. By the time I got to the door of the shop, Meredith looked like she was going to die of boredom.

"What took you so long?" she moaned.

"I bought something."

"You know this is a store for old people, Aud. No once actually buys things." We stepped out of the shop and were met with a hot blast of summer air. "Holy cats!" she exclaimed. "I didn't realize how much it reeked of mothballs and dead people in there."

I punched Meredith lightly on the shoulder. "Do you even know what mothballs smell like?"

"Of course not. I bet the smell's hideous, though."

It was hot outside, that gross kind of hotness that smothers everything that's exposed to the sun for too long. We flip-flopped down the street to King's Cones, Meredith's favorite ice cream place in town.

According to Meredith, there is one thing, and one thing only, that can be ordered at King's Cones. In reality, everything on the menu is delicious and every choice is a good choice but for Meredith, there is one choice, and it is rainbow Superman ice cream with rainbow sprinkles and gummy worms on top. She invented the combination when she was nine years old and calls it the Triple Rainbow.

Meredith walked confidently up to the window to order her multicolored masterpiece while I lagged behind, indecisive as usual as to what I wanted. I read each ice cream option listed in the crown-shaped menu next to the ordering window. Was today a mint chocolate chip day or a raspberry dark chocolate day? Cake or sugar cone? (There were no cups to be found at King's cone-that would be sacrilege). Or maybe rocky road was the way to go.

"You've got to be joking!" cried Meredith from the window. Something about her tone told me this wasn't about ice cream. I turned my gaze from the menu to the window, where a most unwelcome sight met my eyes.

It was Cory Winchester.

Today was definitely going to be a rocky road day.