Monique

Bus Stop

Stella doesn't give up without a fight. She cries, she moans, she complains, gives Monique a dirty stare and then, the much loved silent treatment.

Monique doesn't care. Maybe tonight will end up going to plan. She quickly glances at her watch. It's 11:59 pm.

Maybe tomorrow will go to plan.

Evelyn doesn't care. She was just glad she could do something daring other than steal the biscuits from the cupboard and then blame it on Stella.

"You promised to help me study," Stella screeches again as Monique finishes packing her bag.

Monique turns around and retorts, "No. I said I might help you with your study. I didn't promise anything."

"You bitch!" Stella marches up to Monique, her blue eyes radiating anger inside her chest. She stops in front of Monique, their faces almost touching. "Leave and I'll tell your parents about your nice little trip to Fantasy Street."

Monique glares at Stella. For the first time, she feels weak and unnerved by the blue haired girl, and it agitates her. She doesn't have time for Stella's crap. Evelyn is a smarty-pants anyway. She can help Stella. "What did you say?" Monique asks through gritted teeth. If words could kill, Stella would be on the floor convulsing. Her eyes would turn white and her face pale, as her life would ever so slowly drain out of her system.

"I said "I'll tell your parents about your lovely trip to Fantasy Street.""

Monique sneers. "And I'll tell your parents about your whoring around in the bathroom toilets after school."

Stella pales. "How did you know about that?"

"I didn't. You just confirmed it." With that, Monique grabs her bag and leaves the house. Evelyn asks if she wants a lift home. Monique shakes her head. She has other ways of getting home.

She sits by the bus stop waiting. The nightly bus comes around every forty-five minutes. Monique has thirty-five minutes to wait now, thanks to her little altercation with Stella.

Monique sits still, looking at the crescent moon as she hears a mournful voice singing in the distance: "I've got my red dress on tonight, dancing in the dark in the pale moonlight."

Monique turns her head and snorts. It's probably a drunk woman. The day has only just begun and bad, bad things happen in the dark.

"I got that summertime summertime sadness..." Monique's eyes widen like saucers when she sees the silhouette of the woman, dancing in the middle of the street. Her heels tap on the floor and her hair twirls around as she spins. In her hand is a bottle.

"Carmen," Monique mutters.

She's about grabbing her bag and walking to another bus stop when Carmen's crazed laugh stops her. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Where do you think I'm going?" Monique snaps.

Carmen laughs again. In a flash, she's sitting next to Monique on the bench. Her breath stinks of alcohol and her dress is ripped. The makeup on her face is all jacked and she has blood –Rosalie's blood smeared on the side of her face. It reminds Monique of the blood on her hands.

Just like Lady Macbeth.

"What happened to you?" Monique asks with disgust. This isn't the Lucy Lu Goof told her about. This isn't the Lucy Lu that warmed up his heart like hot chocolate.

Lucy Lu is gone. Lost in the wind, and no one can bring her back.

Carmen smiles before taking another swing of the bottle and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, "Nothing. What are you doing here?"

"None of your business."

Carmen shrugs. "Yeah. That's true."

"Who took you away from Goof?" Monique whispers as Carmen takes another long, drawn out gulp of her poison.

She looks at Monique critically, through her black eyes. "They did."

"They?"

"Those bastards with college degrees that call themselves psychiatrists."

"Oh." A long silence follows before Monique asks, "Why did you kill Rosalie?"

Carmen doesn't answer for a while. It's as if she's weighing up her options whether to tell Monique the truth or not. "Caroline Doll."

"What?"

Carmen's eyes turn white as the bus rolls down the street and towards them. "Caroline Doll."

And she vanishes into the pale moonlight with her bottle of alcohol.