7

Stacy slept in that morning. The first thing she saw was the bouquet of daisies arranged around the unfurled flower wand in a blue vase on the dresser.

After breakfast she drew a bath with scented salts, settled into the water and soaked until the water cooled. She combed out her hair, took her time with her skin care routine before applying her best makeup. She put on her trusty black jeans and lime tank top, though she left the denim jacket on the hook as she eyed the blue shoes parked on the rainbow rug under the full-length mirror. She slipped them on and buckled the straps. They were very loud shoes indeed but she could make them work. Even now they went with her favorite outfit. Suddenly she remembered Charles' unreturned scarlet shirt still hanging on the bedpost. When she slipped it on she discovered the rich red went surprisingly well with the green and black and blue. Not a color combination she'd ever considered before. She turned on the radio and flopped back onto the bed, raised her feet overhead and smiled up at the glittering heels.

The Fashion Club Saturday meeting was due to start in half an hour at the mall. Stacy didn't flinch when she noticed the time. She was too busy to deal with their antics last night and she hadn't returned Quinn's call. Today she simply didn't care to see them.

With the television on and tuned to MTV for background noise, she slid down to the floor and took out her picture box. Atop the stack were numerous photographs of the Fashion Club striking poses in their best clothes. Those shots were taken mostly by the boys who hung around, often Joey, Jeffy or Jamie. The one taking the picture was usually no photographer at all, thus the prints were typically blurred or off-center. Stacy unfolded this morning's community section of the newspaper that rested on her desk, took scissors from the drawer, and carefully clipped out an article about the magic show complete with a professional candid photo. She set them before her and studied them for quite some time with a faint smile. Finally she returned the pictures to their rightful place in the box under the bed, then turned and dug through the closet. There in the back was a mesh sports bag containing a pair of blue leather skates. She turned them over and removed the blade guards. The metal could use a bit of sharpening but the skates were nearly as pristine as the day they were new.

She heard her mother downstairs as Mrs. Rowe picked her car keys up off the table.

"Mom, wait!" Stacy slung the skates over her shoulders and raced out to the car. "Can you drop me off at the skating rink?"

Charles was awake late into the night, falling asleep as he clung to the feeling of rapture, and awake early in the morning when he lay in bed, reliving last night's events over and over.

He leisurely went through his grooming routine. Freshly showered, scented with cologne, and his hair tamed with pomade, he went to the kitchen to cook a full breakfast for himself and his mother.

Then he removed the trunk full of props from out of his car and stashed it away under a table in the garage. Ruttheimer the Prestidigitator was taking a break. A few items were left out, such as the pack of cards, for those were to be practiced every day in order to maintain skill. Charles did so, a satisfied smile touching his lips as he raised the queen of diamonds. He tucked the cards into his breast pocket, went to the closet and took his mandolin out of its case, plucked a few strings and tuned them up. Finally, he strummed out the first notes of a new song that was forming in his head.

++End++