Conservatory — 1986
Megan knew people talked about her. Whenever she came into a room, adults stopped talking in their low, earnest voices, and their grim faces would stretch into fake, painted-on smiles meant to make her feel wanted and welcome. She saw through it to the pity underneath. And she hated it.
At school, she heard whispers around her as she walked to class, felt eyes boring into the back of her head. No pity there, at least. Only questions no one dared ask her directly. Poor little orphan girl. Tragic. How did her parents die, again? Curiosity colored by distrust.
But it didn’t keep them from buying what she had to sell.
As if prompted by the thought, a tap on the greenhouse door startled her. A pale face pressed against the glass. Quick breaths clouded the thick pane.
Megan wiped her hands on her jeans and opened the door.
David Spencer fell across the threshold, catching himself before spilling across the floor. “It worked,” he said, trying to catch his breath. “She said yes. But I need more before I pick her up tonight. This can’t go wrong.” (more…)