The Tough Girls Club

Chapter 18: Meetings and Mourning

It was a long night. Longer than I had ever experienced before. Nothing could make me happy, nothing. I was a ghost. I saw everything with gloomy eyes. Even when I finally fell asleep (at six a.m.) I was restless, waking up and falling back asleep again every hour or so. Now, when I awoke for the last time, I felt as if my entire being was a vat of warm honey.

        I finally got up at around ten o' clock. I sleepily rubbed my eyes, bringing the room around me into focus.  Then I remembered what had happened, and suddenly I was a mess all over again. I groped my night stand for a box of tissues and made a failed attempt to wipe up my tears. I grabbed yet another tissue and stepped out of bed. My pillow was covered in black streaks of mascara and eyeliner.  I  realized that I had worn it the day before and had forgotten to take it off. It didn't seem to matter anymore. Nothing really mattered anymore.

        I could hear the sizzle of bacon and the smell of garlic from downstairs. I put two and two together and realized my mom was making a big breakfast to make me feel better. It was a nice gesture and all, but I knew it wasn't going to help. At least, not permanently.

        My mom didn't say anything to me when I got downstairs, but instead she handed me a plate full of pancakes with a sympathetic smile.

        I had been given too many sympathetic smiles in my lifetime, and I was sick of them. I wished they would disappear.

        She didn't say anything to me during breakfast. Truthfully, there was nothing to say.

        I wasn't sure if we were doing anything today, but I figured most of the girls would be late anyway so I could take my time getting ready.

        I ran a bath. But the water was too hot, and I was too miserable. I drained the bath.

         I cried. I brushed my teeth. I read. I cried some more. Finally, at twelve o'clock, I decided it was time to get my butt over to the meeting. Maybe it would make me just a bit happier. Probably not. 

        Have you ever had an experience, where after it everything was different? That's what happened to me after Miss Rose died. The things that usually bothered me didn't even come to mind. The things that usually made me happy made me sadder. I couldn't even explain exactly why.

        The girls were there, thank god. They all had red faces, wet sleeves, and tangled hair. Their expressions were comparable to a china teacup broken beyond repair. Like something once useable, but now sharp and pathetic.

        They had arranged themselves in a pile so that everyone was leaning on someone else. Everyone was sobbing.

      Emily lifted her head out of her hands to look at me.

        "Come join our pity party," she said. Her voice was dead serious, and it gave me a sharp pang of sadness for all my friends. I walked over beside her and collapsed on the ground by her feet. She stroked my hair while I sobbed. Someone else started humming the tune of Somewhere Over The Rainbow once again. In a way, we were no longer three separate people. We were all one broken, crying unit. If only it could be that way forever.

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        The building smelled like a church despite the fact that it was anything but. It was stuffy, as if it was designed to make you feel uncomfortable. The only real decorations were the American flag in the corner and the state of California logo printed above the judge's chair. That is, if those could be called decorations.

        No, I wasn't on trial. Neither was Alana, or any of the Tough Girls. The reason that we were crammed into this court room was sitting on the podium in front. We were there for Miss Rose's will reading.

        The old lady in the front had a pinched face as if she'd just eaten a lemon. Her foot tapped continuously against the stand of the podium and she kept glancing at the clock. Apparently she waasn't the only one who didn't want to be there.

        "Ahem," the woman with the pinched face said, "Let us begin. We are here today to read the will of deceased Julia Jennifer Wilkens. She died last night, July 12, at four twenty-one a.m. in valley hospital. Her death shocked many people including her sister, Ranelle Wilkens, and a group of teenage girls she befriended. She was seventy-four years old. Julia left behind a medium sized house and fortune. Her life was spent exploring and reading, and continued to do those  things till the day she died. Now, let's get on to the will," the lady held up a white printout and un-crumpled it, causing a crinkling sound to spread throughout the room. "Her money goes to her sister, for kick-starting her bakery. Her books go to the Sunshine Orphanage. Her adventuring tools and souvenirs go to her nieces and grandnieces. And her house," she paused, almost as if she was shocked, "goes to the ladies of the tough girls club? I don't believe I'm familiar with these ladies. Are they present?"

        We each raised our hands slowly. All the heads in the room looked around and landed on us. I'm sure some people would love being the center of attention, but not me. It was uncomfortable and extremely awkward having all those eyes on me. It was one of those times where I wished I could have dug myself a nice big hole and stayed there for the duration of the day.

        "Well," the lady continued,"those who have been mentioned please go to the room down the hall and to the left. Those who were not mentioned, feel free to exit through the doors on the right. Have a nice day everyone."

        The room filled with chatter the minute she finished her speech. People continuously shot us dirty looks, as if we were the reason they didn't get anything.

        We shuffled down the hallway and took a seat outside the office the old lady had directed us to.

        Ranelle came and joined us on the chairs outside the office. Another woman came out, this one skinny with a wild mop of bright red hair. She beckoned us inside the office with a welcoming smile.

        "Hello everyone," she said, taking a seat in a spinning chair and crossing one leg over another, "It is my job to give you what is rightfully yours. I recognize this might not be the most comfortable situation but I will try my best to make you as comfortable as possible. If you need to take a break or you need anything at all, really, please let me know."

        The first part of the meeting was spent going over legal things. Dates, numbers, etc. After about a half an hour or so the redhead asked for one representative of our group. We chose Alana, obviously, and the rest of us were sent outside to wait.

        I spent the time we were waiting moping. It seemed that all my time would be spent that way for the rest of my life. Oddly enough, I was almost okay with it being that way.

        Finally, after what seemed like hours, Alana came out of the room.

        "Well," she said, "I guess we have a new meeting place, girls.

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Blog post:

I hate this. All of this.

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        So sorry this is so late! The thing is, I'm going through a lot of personal things right now, so updates might be less often. If you want the full story, you can PM me, and I would love someone to talk to.

        Song of the day is Mourning Doves by Mikky Ekko from his amazing new album, Time. Plus it actually somewhat relates to the story!

        Picture to the side is Abigail Breslin, who plays Emily.

        Make sure to vote, comment, and follow!

        Love you all!