Again

Chapter 16: Cecilia

Chapter 16

So today's the day, Thanksgiving Day, and after cooking side dishes all night with Di, I get to wake up at this ridiculously early hour and find a black turtleneck and a red plaid skirt laid out on the foot of my bed.

I groan and let my face fall and contort into an expression of pain and sorrow as I hear her footsteps approaching.

She wouldn't, she would not fucking do this shit to me on the first major holiday since my release from state custody. It's cruel. It's sadistic.

"Cece," she opens the door and I try to wipe the horrified expression from my face. It threatens to reappear as I see her outfit, exactly the same as the one laying at the foot of my bed, "Good morning! I thought we could wear matching outfits this year, like we used to every year..."

Her voice trails off. Nostalgia is one of Di's things, right up there with tidiness and decorum. I suppress a sigh and instead try to mimic the cheery smile on her face.

"Of course Di."

"And maybe you could let me do something with your hair." She scrunches her nose like she does when she's pretending to be uncomfortable with asking something, as though she's trying to say something without being rude. There's no use arguing, my hair looks a mess; I nod my agreement. "And maybe take out your piercings?"

"Di..." That's asking too much, and I won't stand for it, but then she pouts, and I cave in like a soggy roof. "Whatever you want, Di."

"Great! Get dressed, the turkey's almost done and people will be arriving soon."

She backs out of the room and twenty minutes later I emerge, looking like a high fashion magazine's version of a Scottish soldier. Twenty minutes after that, she has finished pulling my hair up into an intricate bun, complete with fly aways and bobby pins poking me in the scalp. I go to grab my boots from beside the door, but Di clears her throat loudly and comes rushing over with a pair of black ballet flats in one hand and a frilly apron in the other.

"Wear these, not those." She scrunches her nose up at my boots. I'm thoroughly offended; anyone else would be getting cursed out right now. But not my Princess Di. Never Di. "And put this on, and then come help me in the kitchen."

I put on the shoes,  then pull on the apron, which I discover -to my horror - is embroidered with a giant turkey and reads 'Happy Turkey Day'. I immediately snatch it back off. I have my limits; the line has to be drawn.

She doesn't even notice that I'm not wearing the hideous thing as she hands me dishes to set the table, and mercifully as I walk away someone knocks at the door; I'm not at all sorry for being grateful that someone else has arrived for Di to torture with her homemaking antics.

She hurries over and answers it, throwing her arms around David, as I grimace to myself. Of course it isn't Harry, who probably isn't even awake yet, but it could have at least been Kick.

I've decided to believe that David isn't a creep, that I'm just paranoid and weird; but something in me won't let me forget the look I thought I saw him give me that day in his apartment. I can't pretend I didn't see it, even if I can't be exactly sure what I saw, and though this isn't the first time I've seen him since then, it's even more awkward between him and me now than it was before.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Cecilia."

I jump a little, startled at the sound of his voice in such close proximity to me; I didn't hear or see him come into the dining room. He stands awkwardly by the door; I feel that old uneasy feeling, the one where my nerves are on edge, the one that goes away for the most part when I'm with Harry...where the hell is he by the way?