for the little lady’s .22-caliber she keeps there. The surgeon covers the distance to her bed in three quick strides, and his muddy hand clamps down on her wrist. He pulls her out of bed and she falls to the floor and she…
Wakes up.
The first thing Constance does is take her gun and limp from room to room, turning on every light in the house, checking inside every closet and under every bed. When she’s sure that she’s really alone, she makes a cup of instant coffee and pulls out an old, tattered copy of Aunt Sally’s Policy Player’s Dream Book. The policy is an old lottery guide that was popular in the black community. Players would use Aunt Sally’s to turn the imagery from their dreams into lucky numbers. When she and Louisa were in high school, they’d always use it to interpret their dreams. Although the topics were different then—boys, grades… boys.
Constance flips the pages, running her finger down the columns:
Surgeon (bad fortune coming, the arrival of an enemy) 4, 17, 28
Cat (a disease or malignancy, worse if the cat is dead) 7, 1, 2
She remembers the wet nastiness of the dead cat, and she looks up filth.
Filth, anything dirty (jinxing, crossing an enemy) 11, 8, 69
“Well, it certainly doesn’t sound good,” she says to herself, and she sits back and sips her coffee, desperately trying to remember the dream she was having before the surgeon’s visit. It’s all a vague rush of dim images, things she can barely remember; the harder she thinks about them, the faster they slip away. But then one image floats to the top of her mind, clear and sharp, causing her heart to crawl into her throat.
She was sitting on a grassy bank beside a highway. Down the road, a wrecked car was burning. Someone was sitting next to her, but she couldn’t turn her head to see the person. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see legs and one arm, but that was all. And so she strained and she struggled, and she used every ounce of willpower she had, and finally she got a good look. It was Louisa, with blood streaming from her hair.
“You’ve got to help Alex,” Louisa said. “They’re coming for her.”
And then Constance’s old friend was surrounded by a flock of buzzards that hopped forward and pulled her apart.
28
Two weeks before Christmas, my grandmother summons me to her room.
“Alex, it’s time to get serious about the ball,” she says. “Madison and Hayes have done an excellent job with your appearance. Even I am impressed with how ladylike you look as of late. But your manners. They’re atrocious! Every time I see you eat a meal, your elbows are on the table, and Mary Oglethorpe even said she heard you belch in public.”
“Gas is natural, Miss Lee. You should just be glad I’ve started shaving my armpits.”
My grandmother glowers at me. “Alex, Magnolias represent something in this town. Grace. Power. We strive to be examples of what a lady should be. These traditions are important. You go around acting like a barnyard animal and you’re going to drag the whole League down.”
“Okay, okay.”
“Work on it, please. Study Emily Post. As for your dress—well, obviously, that’s very important.”
“Obviously.”
“I’ve set up an appointment for you, Madison, and Hayes this afternoon at Damien’s showroom. He should be able to take care of things. I assume Thaddeus will be your escort to the ball?”
“I guess.” Because he’s so weird about the Magnolias, I haven’t officially asked him yet.
“That’s an excellent choice,” Miss Lee says. “Of course, you’ll have attendants as well. I’d set that in stone soon, if you can.”
“Sure,” I say.
Satisfied, she waves me away, and I go back to my room to get ready to go shopping. Pausing in front of the mirror, I note that my skin has completely cleared up, morphing into the same alabaster glow that Madison and Hayes have. My hair is shiny and long. Even the color of my eyes looks somehow deeper. I open a dresser drawer and take out a photo of my mom and me that was taken two years ago. The girl in the picture looks like a different person—plump and ruddy but happy. Would my mother even recognize me now? I stare in the mirror, looking for any sign of her I can find. Nothing. Disappointed, I grab my bag and head out to my car.
I know. I know. But after getting bicycle grease on my