Should I be afraid? Did I mention I already finished this story when I started posting? Oh, dear! I hope you don't turn away just because of that! Please, read and review. I don't want to beg...actually, I do kinda wanna beg. Um, any and everything in italics happened in the past, and since Pearlie is what Dawn's parents called her before Bill died, the flashback happened before 9/11.
Chapter I: Shattered
Catarina Logan-Reid had been matchstick-thin since Dawn could remember. Even though she had lost her almost-wavy black hair and the formerly careworn features were now neuroanesthetic, the nose was as straight as ever.
"Mommy?" Dawn cautiously volunteered. She tried out the word a few more times to get that rusty, unused feeling like she didn't know what was going on. After all, she hadn't used it in 6 years. But if she expected vehement denial, it didn't happen. Instead, Catarina smiled widely.
"Cailean told me you'd be here," Catarina seemed to cheer.
Cailean! Ever since Callie's rape, Catarina had gotten more and more visits from the demon. Cailean was almost godlike in the fact that he could never be eradicated from Catarina's life, despite numerous attempts. Dawn had never loved nor hated the name, but she knew in that instant that her life was completely wrong. 'I'm dreaming,' she thought. 'I must be.' Then she looked at her very much alive—although the quality said life could be debated—and she smiled. 'I like this dream.' Thus she responded to her fears (and hopes) by swallowing the former and giving a tempered smile filled with the latter with a, "How are you doing, Mommy?"
Suddenly, the almost lethargic Catarina switched gears into a furious, vengeful goddess. "No! No! Cailean! No!" she picked up a skillet and began to whack Dawn's torso with it.
"Stop, Mother!" another voice cried. For the second time that day, Dawn froze and stared at another supposed ghost. That pixie-like face, the light brown hair, and those hazel eyes would have been recognized anywhere, instantly.
"Calanthe," Catarina calmed.
Thinner, much thinner, Callie nevertheless stood like an imposing force on her smaller mother.
"I'll make tea," Dawn said duly, not knowing what else to do.
"I hate tea," Catarina said.
"Me too, actually," Dawn was glad she didn't have to drink that disgusting mixture Samantha loved. "It was the gesture. You guys want to tell me who you really are or prove you're really Callie and Mommy?"
"We used to ply a game where you'd guess which hand held the small object," Callie piped up immediately. She looked at Catarina. "Mother isn't really in a place to declare herself," Callie said without flinching at Catarina's condition. She had never flinched at anything as far as Dawn remembered.
"Too true," Dawn felt pressure behind her eyeballs but she refused to tear up. She looked at Callie and attempted a joke. "You either really Callie or you deserve an Oscar. I couldn't ever imitate you to my standards."
Callie, rather than running and gathering her sister in her arms, ran and gathered the ingredients to put on coffee.
Stung, Dawn responded with, "Why don't you get some tea?"
Callie returned with her own dry quip. "Tea is soothing. I wish to be tense."
Dawn watched Callie drink for a few more minutes before asking, "So, is Daddy gonna walk through those doors or are you two the only ghosts?" She walked toward three chairs, putting two so that they faced her, resting her hand on the third.
"First, we did not walk through the door, we walked past it. Second, it's just us."
Dawn took her hand off the third chair. "Then you may want to get Mommy on a couch, since she only listens to you now. When you're done with that, you better sit down right here and tell me the whole story."
"Remember how people said I was raped and got pregnant by Casimir Wilson?" Callie began.
"'Course," Dawn didn't disclose that she had been a bitch Hanna, Casimir's younger sister, about the violation until she realized that Hanna's mother, Persephone, had been sexually abusing her children for years. It made sense that, since Casimir was taught that women were only sexual animals, that he would impregnate Callie by force. But only Callie and Hanna had suffered. Hanna especially, so much slander as a slut after popular Dawn and her friends. But admitting to much would be admitting to flaws. And nobody's too good at that, especially if they were the American Dream personified—rich, pretty, and famous. So Dawn stayed silent.
"Well, that's not really what happened," Callie winced at her own words. They sounded like some stupid line in a corny book or movie. She glanced at Dawn, as if considering her, to hide the fact that she felt stupid. "What would you say if I told you that Cailean's real and that he's the guy who raped me?"
"I would say that my head is spinning from too much information and that this is a horrible story," even as Dawn spoke, her brain started putting pieces of information together. Only after Callie's rape was Catarina seeing Cailean. Perhaps Cailean left such an impression on her family…ugh! Seven-year old memories were so fuzzy by the time you were 15! "Actually, I would say that it makes sense."
Callie seemed to take succor from Dawn's acceptance, judging from the slight shoulder drooping and back straightening. "And what if I told you that Cailean was magick?"
"I would tell you that I don't believe in magick," Dawn's response was deliberately derisive. "I only believe in things with solid proof, like geometry. Actually, that's no very solid. You have to imagine shapes in your head. Um…I'll get back to you on that. Continue with what you just said."
"Call Varda; she's my proof," Callie said smugly.
"I'm leaving for the Golden State tomorrow, so this better be quick," Dawn looked at Callie suspiciously. On her way to the phone, it occurred to her that she had only known Varda after Callie had supposedly died. Still, Dawn took her pale pink Blackberry Pearl and dialed Varda Swan.
"So, who are your parents now?" Callie asked to fill in the awkward silence as the phone rang. "Are they any good?"
"Oh, Samantha Silver and Michael Goren are really good if I make them happy," Dawn said mildly as she knew how.
"What if you don't make them happy? What happens then?"
"The usual: shrieking, swearing, ground—Varda? Yes, it's Dawn. Calanthe wants you to prove that there's magick in the world before I have her locked up in the same room as Mommy," Dawn said in a bored voice, which promptly vanished as Varda suddenly appeared in the living room without the pop or the smoky puff that the movies always depict teleportation.
Varda Swan was a 14-year old girl hardly more developed than a girl of 10 with a 197-point IQ, which worked in her favor. She entered college at age 9, graduating a year later with a Ph. D and went on to become Dawn's own therapist, mostly because she looked like she knew what to do in any situation. She was short, pretty, and skinny with long straight black hair, big dark brown eyes, and a gigantic smile that always gave off the impression that she was delighted. Nothing about her revealed that she was helping feed Dawn's addiction to Ritalin. Varda, as Dawn's therapist, and Jaunie's mother Miyoko, as Dawn's doctor, were able to prescribe her the pills.
For a moment, there was a tense silence as both brunettes watched the strawberry blonde. Then questions streamed out of Dawn's mouth, interrupted only by sudden cursing.
"Varda, how do you do that?" and "Oh my gosh, Callie, you were right!" were the only things that were understood.
"Whoa, Dawn. Maybe decaf?" Callie looked bemused.
"Oh, I don't drink coffee," Dawn said.
"Okay, to answer your first question, I need to have Callie explain a bit of background information," Varda let Callie solidify herself in her sister's life once more, backing down with a bow that, I'm sure, was meant to be graceful.
Watch out for stairs.
"Cailean kidnapped me and tried to make it look like I died. He took used 9/11 to his advantage to get Mrs. Reid because he thought he could get to his twin daughters' mother through her," Callie said after checking to make sure Varda wasn't smeared across the polished maple wood flooring.
At the last comment, Dawn stopped worrying over Varda's fall started putting the information together again. Callie kept talking, but Dawn made a zipping motion with her right thumb, right index finger, and lips before going back to staring.
"I have a twin?" was she could, rather dumbly, say.
"Hell no!" Callie yelled. "Cailean had twins. Safara is a bit slow, but Jezebel is nothing but her father's minion."
Dawn left her sister there so Varda could deal with her. She didn't know what to do, so she simply reapplied makeup.
Dawn's strawberry blonde hair cascaded in elegant curls against her shoulder, soft skin like flower petals, a pink heart-shaped mouth, crystal blue-green eyes, and a heart-shaped face that would have been lovely if it wasn't so melancholy. She never really needed makeup, but she needed something to occupy her hands and there was no paper and pencil handy. She figured it would be important to have an aesthetic eye some day when she needed to look good for a job interview or something.
As she got ready to go back to Callie, the door opened burst open. Half-expecting to see her father, Dawn was disappointed when it wasn't, but she squashed the feeling quickly.
Brenda McDowell, a self-proclaimed Scot with dark brown hair and dark brown eyes, had a face that suggested its owner was quick. But the owner was frightened and hysterical.
"Ken's gone!" she yelled.
The whole house froze. Callie got up and left, not caring that Brenda had already seen her. That wasn't the reason she left. Callie left because she was thisclose to staring at the expression on Dawn's face. Well, with every eye on Brenda (except Brenda's own), nobody would have noticed that Dawn's face was completely devastated.
Callie couldn't shake off the feeling that Dawn was too young to be dating. Yes, Dawn was merely seven when they had been separated, but still! And who was this Ken anyway? Callie was in true older sister form, and Dawn, in her subconscious somewhere, noticed.
"You like, Ken, Dawn. How did you two meet?" Callie said aloud.
Dawn blushed. "I found Mr. Tully abusing him, and there was a stupid rescue thing. We dated through seventh grade."
"And then?" Callie prodded.
Varda nearly died laughing. "Calix Bell happened, that's what!"
"He is?" it was now Callie's turn to have her head spinning from too much information all at once.
"Calix is the trombone player who sits right behind Dawn in band. Their first conversation began when he got overenthusiastic with his slide," Varda lied. She had been the French horn player right next to Calix when Dawn had fainted in during class and Calix had ended up suspended. Dawn had felt so awful.
"He's just a stupid boy," Mara had said. "He hurt you."
"I like him. He's familiar. In a good way."
Callie sat up, as if suddenly electrified. "Oh, dear," she murmured. "Has it started already, then?"
I warned everyone it was going to follow the basic plotline. Anyway, the slide is the part of the trombone that slides when the player pushes it. Please, please, please review! I can still change things about the story, if it would please you for me to do so!