Jane Doe

1 | Paige

I wake up to Mom stroking my hair lovingly. "Hi sweetie," she cooes and I wish I could curl up under my warm coverlet and lie in bed, feeling this loved all day. But before long, she mentions the inevitable. "Have you heard from your sister?"

Clenching my jaw, I mumble the required, "Nope, she's still not home?" and Mom sighs. "No. Gosh, I wish she'd call when she's going to be out for so long." I nod complacently and soon enough, she's headed out the door, forgetting to tell me what's for breakfast. As soon as I hear her feet on the stairs, I swing out of bed and call out, "All clear." Sandra Bordeaux, otherwise known as my big sister, pops up from behind my bed, grinning from ear to ear.

"Thanks, kid," she says, flopping down on my bed lazily. I'm trying not to fume as I glare at her in my vanity mirror. It's pointless telling her not to call me that. "I owe you one, I guess," she continues, stretching her arms into the air. I snort and reply, "You owe me, like, twenty, Sandy." She bristles and barks, "It's Sandra," but I don't care. I'll stop calling her Sandy when she stops calling me kid. I predict airborne pigs for that day's weather forecast.

I stare at myself in the mirror. Not too short, not too tall. Long red hair that I should really get a move on curling. Dark blue eyes with red-gold lashes. That's as far as I get before Sandy calls out, "You going to school or what?" I turn on my heel to face her and raise an eyebrow. "That depends. Are you?"

"Nope."

I smile sweetly and point at my door. "Then get out. I need to get dressed."

Sandra stands up, her hands raised in defense, and leaves. I breathe a small sigh of relief. It's always a weight off my shoulders when she's gone. With no further distractions, I grab a tweed gray Theory miniskirt, a citrus-colored tank and a fitted white blazer. I slide into black gladiators and take a hot curling iron to my hair. Finally, 10 minutes later, I head downstairs.

"Hey sweetie," my dad smiles as he sees me. I grin back and kiss his cheek. "Hi Daddy, what's for breakfast?" My stomach is growling and the air around the griddle smells incredible. My dad's the owner of Helen's, a cute little cafe-turned-million-dollar dining enterprise that's been in our little town of Cape Gillis, Florida, since before Sandy was born. Under his supervision, it's become hugely popular nowadays.

Daddy tugs on one of my curls and says, "Buttermilk pancakes, your favorite!" Oh, brother. I grimace as he grabs a spatula and expertly flips two pancakes onto a plate. It's almost the summer holidays and I need to keep my bikini body intact. "Low-fat, right?" I say cautiously. "And you used margarine and skim milk?" Daddy rolls his eyes and pinches one of my cheeks. "Yes, honey, I made sure that they're healthy and completely unappetizing," he groans. "You made me ruin a family recipe." Satisfied, I clap my hands and grab some whipped cream.

A little indulgence is okay sometimes, you know.

Sandra materializes next to me, whoops and picks up the chocolate syrup. "Pancake time!" she cheers.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Smiling, my mom rushes into the kitchen, her dark blue Burberry dress neatly pressed. "You two will sit down and eat like proper ladies," she insists, pulling out two chairs from the bar. Reluctantly, Sandy and I sit down and dig in.

"Hey Mom?" I ask, briefly looking up at her. "Can you drop me off at school early today? I have a project to work on." Not true. But she doesn't need to know that. Sure enough, she nods with a "Sure, just make sure you're ready." Glowing with victory, I dump my plate in sink and skip back upstairs to grab my purse. I swipe on some peachy lip gloss before going back down. "Okay, Mom, I'm-" I stop in the middle of my sentence.

Dad is standing there in his jeans and flour-decorated t-shirt, looking absolutely floored. Mom glowers at Sandy, whose gray thermal sleeve is rolled up, exposing a tattoo. An actual mark, a skull of all things, sitting proudly on her shoulder. It's a little gruesome, actually; there are green wormy things crawling out of the skull's eye sockets and mouth.