Gravity - By Abigail Boyd Page 0,39

"Oh, and ask him for my necklace, too, the one that goes with these earrings."

I trudged upstairs to my parents' room. Hugh was trying to fix his lopsided tie, standing by the antique mirror next to their armoire.

"Claire wants her necklace," I said from the doorway. I leaned against the frame, feeling the latch bite into my lower back. "The one you bought her last year for Christmas."

He rummaged around in her jewelry box for the glittery item and handed it to me.

"What's the big deal?" I asked. "Why do you guys look like you're going ballroom dancing?"

It must have been really important; Hugh hated wearing ties. The dog collar of The Man, in his opinion.

"You know how I've been trying to wrangle Deborah Strait for months?" he asked.

"Vaguely," I answered, sitting on the edge of the flowered bedspread. "She's a pretty big name artist, right?"

"Right," he said. "Well, she's finally agreed to have a few of her paintings shown at Erasmus. And that means press and attention, not to mention a little more money coming our way." He had finally fixed his tie, although it still hung a touch unevenly. "We're going out to celebrate. Which means you have twenty minutes to get ready."

I took the necklace back down to Claire, who was busy carefully applying red colorstay lipstick in the bad light of the downstairs bathroom. I couldn't remember the last time we had gone out as a family. It had to have been over a year.

I took the world's quickest shower, and ran down two flights to my room to get dressed. Blowing my hair as dry as I could, and finally settled on throwing it up in an old butterfly clip. A few whisps fell out, frizzing around my face. I shrugged, not thinking them too important.

When I was finished and went up to the kitchen, Claire studied me.

"Why don't you put on Grandma's necklace? You haven't worn it yet, once." She seemed a little upset about it.

She was the one who adored jewelry, not me, but I didn't want to hurt her feelings. I did like the necklace; I just didn't wear jewelry often because I had a habit of taking it off without realizing it. Many a pair of plastic earrings had been lost that way at movie theaters and restaurants.

I retrieved the green stone from my jewelry box and put it on. It was heavier than it looked, even with the delicate silver chain. The oblong pendant fell in a flattering way just above the cleavage I hoped to have someday.

Claire was sitting on the arm of the couch in the living room, watching TV when I came up the basement stairs. An enlarged, pixelated photo of a little girl was on the screen.

"Alyssa Chapman was last seen in a blue raincoat and galoshes outside of Three Fire Middle School on Monday," the reporter said.

Claire paid full attention to every word. "That's your old middle school," she murmured.

"I haven't forgotten, you know," I said.

"It's just so sad," she said. "Her mother must be so frightened."

Hugh picked up the remote and flicked off the TV.

"Dinner," he said pointedly. "I'm starving."

We drove to my father's favorite restaurant in town, The Blind Devil. It was always packed on the weekends, but it was Thursday, so it wasn't too full.

"Since I only have this one dress," I said to Claire as Hugh pulled our car into a parking space, "can we finally go shopping?" I didn't bring up my need for fashionable gym attire.

Claire seemed to be miles away, absentmindedly tugging on one of her earrings. "Of course." It was the usual "someday" way she always put it.

"I'm just saying. I can't make new clothes out of notebook paper and tape."

"Speaking of which, how is art class going?" Hugh asked me, locking eyes with me in the rearview mirror.

"Just fine."

"Don't get too excited, Ariel," he muttered.

I smirked and looked down at my ruffled black skirt. I wondered if Theo had any cast-offs in her closet she would be willing to let me have, even though she was smaller than me. I probably wouldn't have the confidence to wear them, though.

The Blind Devil took being in Hell as seriously as the next business owner. A full-sized red imp in a waiter's costume was positioned in the front window, holding up a tray. Red chili-pepper shaped lights were strung around the window frame, offering a warning that most of the dishes were spicy. All the waitresses wore little shiny