The Princess and The Jester - A.D. McCammon Page 0,10
you and miss you, but I’m tired. The hotel was packed, and traffic was a nightmare.”
“All right, messaged received.” She lets out a relenting sigh. This isn’t the first time I’ve shut down the topic of Gwen, and it won’t be the last. “Go get some sleep and I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I love you, sweet boy.”
“Love you too.”
The house is eerily quiet as I make my way inside and up the stairs. It’s filled with an emptiness I never felt when we lived here. The vast spaces, with their white walls and high ceilings, are cold and uninviting now. My mother supplied this house with the love it needed to be a home. There’s no warmth left without her.
Nina and Mark Rhodes aren’t bad people, they’re just uniquely wired. Wealthy people tend to prioritize things very differently than the poor. Their daughter was spoiled with material possessions but never had enough of the things she needed and wanted most. Like their love and attention.
I keep my footsteps light, approaching Gwen’s room as quietly as possible. Her door is closed, and there’s no light peeking out underneath it. The knob doesn’t budge, but the audible gasp that comes from the other side is hard to miss.
My knuckles rap on the wood, drumming out a playful beat. “You can’t hide from me anymore,” I taunt, laughing as she quietly curses me. “Sweet dreams, Princess.”
The grin is still on my face as I step into the guest room right down the hall. When I arrived yesterday, Nina and Mark let me choose my room. The one next to Gwen was the most obvious choice.
But it’s strange staying on the second floor in this huge ass room. My mother and I lived in the two-bedroom apartment suite in the lower level at the back of the house. This guest bedroom is nearly as big as the space we shared. It has its own bathroom, a large king-size bed, and a freaking gas fireplace.
As a kid, this place felt magical. I dreamed of having my own someday. But now, it seems ludicrous for anyone to live such a lavish lifestyle. No one needs this much space.
I strip off my work uniform and pull on a pair of sweats before crawling under the crisp white linens on the bed. The entire room is sprinkled with various shades of white and beige, much like the rest of the house. Rich people must have something against color.
Despite the exhaustion from my ten-hour shift, I can’t seem to relax enough to let sleep take hold. My mind won’t stop racing with thoughts of the deceitful beauty down the hall and the hurtful trick she played on me.
Two months ago, I got a DM on Instagram. Nothing crazy, just a simple hello. But the account didn’t have any personal pictures. It was full of aesthetics: the sun setting over the ocean, flowers in a field, dust floating in filtered sunlight. The username and bio are what piqued my interest enough to respond. Her profile had me hooked from the start.
@thephantomgirl
Phantom Girl
Just an invisible girl, finding beauty in the world you take for granted.
We spent weeks exchanging messages, talking about everything and nothing at all. Things seemed to click with us immediately. It was like talking to an old friend instead of a complete stranger. That alone should’ve been a giant red flag. She wouldn’t reveal her real name or anything about herself, refusing to FaceTime or even talk on the phone.
If I’d really wanted to find out who she was, it would’ve been easy to. It doesn’t take much hacker skill to do something as simple as getting a person’s IP address. But I kind of liked not knowing who she was at first. There was no pressure, no expectation.
Arwen and Thatcher both told me I was being an idiot and pleaded with me to find out Phantom Girl’s identity. We’ve made a lot of enemies in this town, so they were worried someone was screwing with me. But I didn’t want to believe that was true. It’d been a while since I felt a connection with someone, and I didn’t want to let it go.
When she finally admitted to living in Westbrook and going to WHS, it was time to stop burying my head in the sand. Tracking her phone was easy. Child’s play. She didn’t even question the link I sent before clicking on it, completely clueless it would lead me right to her.