The Fortune Seller by Rachel Kapelke-Dale

Author:Rachel Kapelke-Dale
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group

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I DON’T KNOW WHAT I expected to happen after Cress kicked us out of her car. But I had the impression that it would cost me money: that I’d wake up one day and Annelise would be gone, and I’d be on the hook for $600 a month instead of $300. Or that Cress would find a totally separate house that she’d insist we all move into, leaving Annelise alone, leaving each of us to pay two rents.

But instead, everyone just stopped talking to Annelise.

I say just, but it was enough. It was more than enough.

Annelise, Lila, and me in the kitchen. Annelise: “Could you hand me the honey?” And Lila squeezing it into her tea then walking out, honey bear in one hand and mug in the other.

Cressida, grabbing her half chaps from the foyer, calling out to me in the den. “I’m off to lessons. Back in a bit.” Annelise, scrambling down the stairs with her duffle bag, to find the front door closing in her face.

Andra, knocking on our door. “Rosie, dinner tonight at Olea?” Annelise, studiously staring at the cards in front of her. “They only had a table for four.”

It was juvenile. It was ridiculous. But it worked. Something went out of Annelise; some confidence, some bravado. The set of her shoulders, always so square, became rounded. Her eyes, always so seeing, so perceptive, seemed to have clouded. She had fallen back into herself, and it was a lonely place.

I did the best I could: I took her out for coffees, for lunches. Went for walks with her, dragged her to the British art museum. But she was gone so frequently, still, in New York doing whatever it was she did; and I had midterms to worry about, then the buildup to finals. I still had practice myself, and so did she, taxiing out to the barn alone because Cress would no longer drive her. Fifty bucks a day.

Her clothes turned somber, grays and blacks. Jeans and turtlenecks. Ordinary. The dancing had stopped; there wasn’t even music in our room now.

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. One morning before the advanced lesson, as Annelise pulled on her leggings and sports bra, I slithered down the stairs to talk to Cress.

“This is ridiculous,” I said. Cress was standing in front of the kettle, waiting for it to boil for her coffee, and turned halfway toward me with an arched brow raised high. “You can’t keep freezing her out like this. There’s all of second semester left, and Cress, I swear to fuck, she didn’t do it.”

Cress turned back to the stove, blond hair swishing.

“Then who did?” she said.

I went up next to her. I was scared, but I did. The heat from the kettle rose up, blotching my face hot. “It was Lila,” I said softly. “It really was.”

Cress snorted. “Because you saw her coming out of my room?”

“Because I saw her with a check made out to cash, with your name on it. I didn’t want to say in the car, but it was a check, Cress, it was.

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