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Back at Fragrant Meadows, Amelia was setting the table when Elizabeth came down the stairs and walked straight past her into the living room to turn on the old fashioned TV. Maybe she got lucky and one of the five channels available would give her more than neighborhood news. She had offered many times to have a satellite dish installed but her father had been strictly against it.

"You know mom, you really should have satellite TV, then maybe you wouldn't feel so lonely. I mean there are dozens of channels just devoted to cooking. I'm sure you'd like it."

"Don't be silly. You know how your father felt about watching TV."

"Yeah, but he's not here anymore to tell you what or what not to do!" Torn between horror, satisfaction and horror about feeling satisfaction, Elizabeth was entirely unprepared for Amelia's retort.

"At least I don't have to live knowing he left me for another woman. So don't think you can fool me with your big important business and all. In truth you're just running from your bitterness. Now go and wash up, we're eating."

With the complete regression into her teenage self, Elizabeth no longer even briefly debated swallowing yet another answer.

"I think I lost my appetite, thank you very much. I really don't know what I expected, you always hated me, and now with Dad gone I should have known better than asking you for help. I know Julia can be a handful but even at her adolescent worst she deserves better than spending a whole year in your company. Who knows, Japan or boarding school may just be it to help her get over the thing with her dad and grandpa."

"And you don't find it strange that you are incapable of calling the thing with her dad by its name? Or the thing with her grandpa? Is your denial so massive that you can't even use words like loss or abandonment or death?"

Interestingly, all Amelia could feel this instant was great compassion for her daughter's suffering, and she had half a mind to apologize for contributing, when Julia entered the dining room through the terrace door.

Neither Elizabeth nor Amelia seemed to realize that Julia's smile, as if in keeping with the Japan-theme, much resembled the painted-on expression of a kabuki actor.

Later they would state that Julia perhaps had been a little pale, her face slightly devoid of expression, but for the moment Elizabeth's attention turned to the news anchor and Amelia's to scolding her for it, using normalcy as cloaking device, as on-the-spot-cover-up, spinning their emotional upset into the more socially acceptable condition of disagreeing over trivia.

"Now if it isn't my little angel and right on time for dinner too," sweet Grandma Livingston reappeared, finally addressing Julia. "Go wash your hands and come. I made macaroni and cheese, your favorite. Elizabeth, please turn off the TV."

And because normalcy smothers our varied passions more effectively than tranquilizers, everybody performed their respective parts on cue. All three of them were so involved in keeping up the pretense that there was no room for any kind of meaningful conversation. The obligatory: tastes well - yes I had a good time - no thank you, I'll go to bed early - was all Mirra's book, if asked, would have displayed.

In the relative protection of her room, Julia dropped onto the bed. Despite having feigned the state of shocked bewilderment whenever she wanted to dodge responsibility, she didn't recognize the real thing, now that she was experiencing it. She felt like moving under water ever since leaving this room a few hours ago and under water nothing much makes sense - unless you are a deep-sea creature, that is.

If only Kellie was here to help her manage this creepy accumulation of insanity her magical life had mutated into. She was even willing to admit to ESP as soon as Kellie said it'll help. She dug her cell out of her back-pack and stared at the signal strength bar on the display or rather at the bar that was missing. No service. No surprise. No Kellie. No comfort.

Of course she could always go downstairs and use the hard-line in the kitchen, but the idea of disclosing her psychosis in earshot of her grassy grandmother or worse, her conceited mother was an instant downer. Hot tears of despair filled her eyes. There must be someone, anyone, she could talk to, to get help from. Wanting to wail like the guitar of a frustrated metalhead, the memory of Kellie issuing her warning about ugly red puffy eyes and crow's-feet like Ms Vabersky's instantly walled the surge of self-pity. But as it must, one thought leads to another and the thought of Ms Vabersky brought the memory of Doctor Kline and his advice to write it out, not act it out and with some relief of the inner pressure Julia searched her bag for her journal.

On the inside cover she had posted a sticky note with the three key questions Doctor Kline wanted her to use whenever she got overwhelmed by emotions and needed some structure to get a clearer picture of the situation. Doctor Kline encouraged her to treat the journal as if it was her most trusted friend and engage in a dialogue, using different colored pens. He was strict about writing down every thought that entered her mind while doing this process. So far Julia had never done this exercise. Then again, so far she had never seen a ghost either. Prior-to-ghost-Grandpa used to say that 'extraordinary situations required extraordinary responses,' and this mess she found herself in positively met her conditions of extraordinary. With nothing left to lose, Julia picked up her favorite dancing-fairies-pen and started to write.

"Dear most trusted friend," she wrote.

That's idiotic, her inner critic said, making her pause. Putting down the pen she reached for her phone. Clipping on her earpiece she tapped the screen and, choosing her number-one-upper from her life-saver-playlist she closed her eyes, waiting for the song to take her away. But it didn't happen. All she heard was her mother's voice rapping "... a whole year in your company. Who knows, Japan or boarding school. A whole year in your company. Who knows, Japan or boarding school ..." The rap was accompanied by alternating images of John leaving and grandpa's ghost.

Her whole body was so tight with horror that it took greater effort than she thought she could muster to reach to her ear and switch the headset off. With the strength of utter despair she hurled her favorite toy into her backpack. Almost choking on the foul taste of betrayal and abandonment, her attention returned to the open journal. In a daze she applied herself to Doctor Kline's questions.

"What has mom done for me recently?"

The answer was there before she even asked the question.

"Ruining my life by dumping me in no-signal-land for an entire year, abducting me to Japan or imprisoning me in boarding school," the pen spit on a random blank page of journal without Julia realizing that she was not doing the exercise at all by writing about what she thought her mom had done to her rather than for her, as Doctor Kline had intended. With a shudder Julia approached the next question.

"What have I done for mom recently?"

"Coming here so she wouldn't need to spend time alone with grandma. Seeing a therapist so she wouldn't need to deal with my 'difficulty adjusting' after dad left. Not killing her for making dad leave in the first place!" Tiny fairy figurines dancing up and down inside the pen.

Dad.

Dad.

Dad.

Dad.

The word started to sound like a mantra, drowning out all other thoughts and feelings.

With dream-like ease Julia sat up on the bed and gathered her journal. She picked up her dancing-fairies-pen and tossed it into her make-up bag, then threw the whole thing into her backpack. The fact that she had brought nothing but prime pieces of her wardrobe eliminated the need for extra consideration of what to take. She blindly grabbed a few t-shirts from her suitcase and stuffed them next to the make-up bag. This was so easy! She checked for toothbrush and magic pimple-destroying-facial-cleanser, found it, then slipped on her number one hoodie. The one with the tigers printed on it. Whenever she wore it walking the mall she felt like wearing a magic self-confidence-cloak. And that was exactly what she needed now.

Still distant from her feelings, she opened the door and listened intently for any sign of her mother or grandmother. The house was dark and silent. Whoa! She must have spent quite a while in the abyss of her emotional hell if they were in bed already. In a flash she remembered her mother mentioning over dinner that she planned to "retire" early. Excellent. Julia took it as an omen that she was doing the right thing. Gosh. If Kellie could see her now! Taking refuge in superstition! Tiptoeing down the stairs her heart almost stopped when she hit the squeaky one.

Please please don't let them wake up please, she silently begged no one in particular.

Moving as quickly as her plateau sole shoes permitted, she entered the kitchen, remembered to take a flashlight from the hold-all drawer, carefully opened the backdoor, stepped through and almost smashed into one of her grandmother's potted plants. Staying in the shadows of an overhang she took a deep breath.

Now where to? A new wave of panic was approaching quickly. If she wanted to avoid detection by a snooping trooper, she had to hit the road outside of town, far enough away from Fragrant Meadows to steer clear of any suspicion that she might belong there. Luckily everyone told her that she had grown a lot in the past year, looking even taller in her fancy shoes. She was confident that, should someone see her out of context, they would not associate her with Amelia Livingston's cute little granddaughter, the one with the frilly little dresses and the bouncy little pony tail. She didn't actually welcome the idea of cutting through the forest with nothing more than grandpa's old-fashioned flashlight to guide her, but the alternative of giving up and consequently being shipped to Japan, abandoned at boarding school or trapped in Cedarwood Ridge was even more frightening. Another breath found her moving away from the house into the vast darkness of the night. There was no visible moon and the atmosphere was not soiled by the reddish hue of city lights, yet infinite amounts of twinkling stars were not enough to penetrate Julia's fear and so their natural brilliance became quite ineffective in illuminating her path.

The hoot of an owl forced her to employ almost supernatural discipline as she gasped for air rather than letting out a scream of terror, but when some unseen monster tripped her and she landed flat on her belly no amount of self-control could keep her from starting to cry. Unable to decide her worst-case scenario - her mother dragging her back into the house or the monster dragging her into its hiding place, Julia just lay there waiting for destiny to make the next move. When nothing happened either way she dared to get up and turn on the flashlight. She suppressed a crazy giggle when she realized the monster was nothing more than a molehill. However, her moment of relief only lasted until she recognized the site as the same spot where grandpa had appeared out of thin air just a few hours earlier.

No, no, no! Julia ordered herself, silently calling for her father to come and rescue her. I refuse to think about this now. No, no, no! Turning off the lamp she started to run towards the forest.

The even stride of her long legs in combination with the need to control her breathing calmed her down. How glad she was for her athletic body and all the hours of training she put in to make it to All-Star level! She never imagined using her skill to run from monsters, but it came handy nevertheless. And while her brain approached its anaerobic high, Julia experienced herself once again as if running in a dream. But no good thing lasts forever and the dream quickly turned nightmare when she was forced to stop and catch her breath. Looking around she noticed with alarm that she must have entered the forest quite a while ago, now finding herself surrounded by complete darkness. The staccato of her forced exhalations resounded like thunder in her ears, sweat dropping into her eyes. She raised her arm to wipe it off and brushed against something soft. A tiny voice told her that the silky needles on a low hanging branch of a young cedar tickled her flesh, yet only the fact that she had entirely run out of air kept her from screaming anyway. Her terror was beyond imagination. Her knees buckled and she slowly sank to the forest floor. Her senses were so heightened that she could distinguish the smell of cedar cones, the droppings of countless forest creatures, the moldy scent of decaying trees. Just when she thought she could not bear it one moment longer without fainting, she saw a light appearing straight ahead.

The road! The surge of elation washing through her system was almost too much. As soon as she got up, her knees gave way again. More slipping than running she conquered a few yards. As the light dimmed away she sat down on the ground.

"Don't worry," she comforted herself, "if there is one car, there will be another."

She'd come so far. No need to blow her escape plans by wobbling out of the forest and alerting drivers to the truth that something was wrong with this scenario. Fumbling with the zipper on her pack, she dug out the make-up bag with her little mirror inside. The memory of her and Kellie at the mall on the catastrophic day that set this whole series of events in motion, forced itself to the forefront of her mind. They were scavenging their favorite store, The Dusty Nick-Nacks Collector #27, when they saw this cute mirror, framed with tiny lights to mimic the mirror in the dressing room of a star. Giggling, Kellie transformed into the psychic again, pushing her to buy it.

"I can see how you will be needing this awesome little symbol of third millennium vanitology in the darkness of a romantic night - "

"- and how exactly is darkness romantic, Miss Psychitard? Candlelight is romantic, darkness is scary," Julia spoiled her friend's play, having had quite enough of otherworldly nonsense for a day. The star on the lid was enough to identify the mirror to be a perfect extra to her stuff, and she added it to the shopping basket without another thought.

Oh Kellie! If I could only tell you how right you were! I need the mirror lights here in the scary darkness on Planet Fragrant Meadows and I'm getting close to kill for a signal. A wave of nausea made her gag. What if she had an emergency? What if she had broken an ankle or worse? Without signal she couldn't even dial 911...

"Stop it, Julia," she commanded. "You didn't break an ankle and you don't need to dial 911 because the road is just a few hundred yards away. And this road will take you back to the ghost-no/signal-yes part of the world."

What she saw in the mirror did not look familiar. Eyes wide as if in shock, smudges of mascara dividing her face unevenly into tears and no-tears territories, strands of sweaty hair plastered to her forehead, Julia felt she resembled the character of any victim in any scary movie.

"No, no, no! I'm not some extra put here to up the body count! I'm the star, the star, the star! And the star always survives being better for it in the end. So pull it together, wussy. If you're the star you have to look it. Otherwise you spook your hero savior, he'll dump you at the next highway patrol, end of story, no sequels," Julia sadly convinced to be out of earshot from any human being and therefore no longer caring if talking loudly to herself. Without further delay she began restoring her looks before her newly found courage collided with another wave of panic. One tissue dried her damp face another removed traces of mascara. Some powder to even out the contrast between red blotches of exertion and pallor of a skin blood drained by recent horrors. A dab of lip gloss and a few deep breaths later, the mirror confirmed she looked normal enough to a stranger. With a sigh she got up and headed for the road.

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