Free Tonya Hurley_Ghostgirl_02 by Homecoming

hip.
    “Reaction shot.” She brought one had to her cheek, rounded her lips and busted a surprised “who me?” expression.
    She even practiced being humble and tearing up for what was sure to be her inevitable coronation as Homecoming Queen. After all the humiliation she’d had to suffer at Fall Ball last year, this crowning, in front of the whole school, would be sweet revenge. A return to form. Proof that all was well with the world. The Fall Ball was a big deal, sure, but this was Homecoming! That little “psychotic break” she’d had would be long forgotten once the tiara was placed upon her golden tresses, which was where it belonged, as far as she was concerned.
    “What doesn’t kill you,” she philosophized, stomping her foot for emphasis, “makes you … Owwww!”
    The pain shot up her leg before she could finish the motivational maxim. It dragged Petula from her imaginary photo session and coronation back to the decidedly less glam environment surrounding her. It was getting noticeably colder now too, and she began to fidget impatiently.
    Just then, the front door of the office cracked open slowly.
    “It’s about friggin’ time,” Petula bellowed, more relieved for company than she’d ever been before.
    The door to the office opened completely, but Petula still couldn’t see who was walking in. Whoever it was, she thought, must be vertically impaired or something, because she couldn’t see a head through the clear glass window in the upper door.
    “Just my luck,” Petula moaned, “getting out of here is gonna take forever.”
    She saw a leg step in, tentatively. It definitely belonged to a little person. But it was a young girl. She poked her head through cautiously, looking at one side and then the other before entering, just as she must have been taught to cross a busy street.
    “Where am I?” the girl asked, stepping all the way through the entrance and allowing the door to slowly shut behind her.
    That was a very big question, Petula thought, from such a little person, and one she had not the slightest clue how to answer right at the moment.
    “And you are?” Petula asked warily of the confused little girl.
    “My name is Virginia Johnson,” the girl answered, just as skittishly. “What’s yours?”
    Petula was dumbfounded for a second. It had been a long time since she had needed to introduce herself to anyone, but this was as good a time as any to make an exception.
    “I am Petula Kensington,” she affirmed haughtily, in a tone that might have warranted a curtsy a century or two ago. “Pleased to meet me.”
    This was Petula’s standard M.O. when she was nervous. Act in a superior and confident way, and the more weak-minded, the more insecure, will buckle. The fact that she would use this tactic on a child was simply an indication of how increasingly anxious she was feeling about everything.
    “Let me guess,” Virginia said, looking Petula over, “you’re a cheerleader.”
    “How could you tell?” Petula asked with pride.
    “Big head to match …” Virginia cracked, cocking her neck just slightly to get a better side view of Petula’s open-back gown “… a big butt.”
    Petula was not expecting this from such an innocent-looking kid. Her first reaction was to be offended and fire back, but she checked herself instead, sort of charmed by Virginia’s spunk. The young girl’s fresh mouth also reminded Petula of Scarlet, and all those long car rides they had shared together on summer vacations, before the divorce.
    She hadn’t thought about those days in a very long time. They’d spent most of the time fighting, sure, but not all the time. They had fun too. Singing out loud until they were hoarse, playing “I Spy” until they were cross-eyed — each seeing things that the other would never notice — and swatting mosquitoes off each other as an excuse to smack one another without getting punished, a game that generally ended in a heated round of “Sudden