The rest of summer crawled by, hot and sticky, without much to keep her occupied besides Susan’s weak endeavors to socialize her. Now it was the final week before school started and a party was the last desperate attempt. It was a grand going away celebration in her honor.

              For someone who had only one friend—whom she was never allowed to see again—the house and grounds were packed.

              “Don’t forget to thank you aunts and their families for coming.” Susan wheeled her daughter around the assembly. “I have good news; this will be your cousin Elaine’s first year as well.”

              Susan smiled at everyone they passed while Aiva had trouble simply remembering all her cousins’ names. Once every few minutes, her mother would roll her into the middle of a group and steer the conversations toward her daughter in a vain attempt.

              And at first Aiva did try. However people only had two responses for her: the most common was to ignore her and continue on as if she hadn’t spoken, or they would reply in a baby voice, their answers patronizing and loud.

              As her mother laughed and chatted with relations Aiva had to beat down a feeling she’d grown used too; that she did not quite belong. That people treated her as a chore. She wished her mother would give up already—because she had.

              Aiva opted instead to contemplate the strange dreams. They hadn’t visited her since that first night without Miss Juliet. In fact she’d gone back to not dreaming at all. She’d taken to the final assignment that Miss Juliet had given her, finding the tablet used for her homeschooling and opening up a blank document. She’d journaled about the two separate dreams, but her words hadn’t captured them well. The style in which she wrote was straight forward, though neither of them had been. Still the process of typing them up had calmed her some, given her an anchor to hold onto. She’d taken to setting aside a small amount of time every morning when she first woke up to re-write them out, in new documents each time, and each time they’d changed. Morphing into something a little bit closer to what experiencing them had been like.

              The Richards and a few other curios house employees had wondered why there was not a bed in her room. Aiva was worried about getting in trouble due to its absence at first. She’d explained that she didn’t know where it had gone, but they looked at her with confusion in their eyes. No one questioned it though. One did not question a Corelyn if one wanted to stay employed, Aiva had overheard more than once from older staff to newer. The Richard’s questioned nothing. So her bed was replaced and no one ever spoke of it again. Aiva wasn’t even sure if her parents had been aware of it’s disappearance.

              Things continued to be misplaced around her since Miss Juliet’s departure. Not anything as big as the bed, but a woven bracelet Mabry had given her, some diamond earrings from her parents, a book or three. She seemed to be the only one who noticed.

              Once in a while Aiva would check back into her current reality, though much of the same was happening each time. Her mother grasped the handles of her wheelchair so tight that her knuckles had grown white; a small scar on the top of her hand near her wrist was completely drained of color. In contrast, she spoke and mingled wit the crowds so effortlessly that Aiva could not help but wish she was like her mother in at least this aspect.

              “What exactly do you think you are doing?” It was the sudden harshness in Susan’s voice that broke through the fog of Aiva’s muddled thoughts.

              Aiva turned her head and spotted three waiters who had been speaking amongst themselves in low tones.

              “We are not paying you to chit chat. Get back to work.”

              The girl was surprised to see that her mother’s Smile was still perfectly in place. Aiva watched the workers scatter, flashing their teeth and offering guests drinks as if there had never been an indiscretion.

              Aunt Carol, who was identical to her mother save for her dyed honey blonde hair, sauntered over. The tight dress made a whispering sound against her legs as she moved.

              “Hmph. Seems like the service you hired is somewhat lacking Suzi. Why is your husband not out here watching her?” She nodded in Aiva’s direction as if the girl was a piece of furniture and clicked her tongue, moving on before Susan could form an answer.

              Aiva glanced up at her mother, concern drawing her thick brows together—whose gaze had landed not on the receding figure of her aunt as Aiva thought it would, but on Timothy who had opened his study door. Men in business suits walked out, some of whom she recognized as her uncles. More filed back in.

              Aiva wondered what was so important for them all to be talking about right now. She knew that most of her family worked for her great-grandfather Joshua. He was the CEO of some large company Aiva paid little mind too. She sighed as her mother turned them towards a tight circle of girls.

              They looked remarkably alike, ranging only in height. As they approached the group opened to reveal three of her older cousins; Debra, Christina, and Nichole if she remembered correctly. Which she probably hadn’t.

              There were too many pretty older cousins to keep track of. In her mind Aiva began to simply refer to them as ‘the divas.’ She had noticed that everyone gravitated towards them and could see why.

              The three of them shared the same hair color, as if sunshine had been woven into their locks, that varied only in length and style; one short and bobbed, a perfect frame for a perfect face. Another had soft curls tumbling down her back. The last was braided intricately. Blue eyes were the dominant gene on each side of her family. Somehow a unique shade was housed within each of them, which made their gazes intense behind long lashes. They wore similar tight dresses that sparkled. On each of their left wrists beautiful bangles hung, colored to match the rest of their attire.

              “Oh Aiva! Congratulations! Aunt Susan, it was so nice of you to throw this party!” One of them said, Aiva had long given up trying to keep names in order.

              “Yes thank you so much for inviting us!”

              “Thank you all for attending.” Aiva noticed how her other’s voice changed depending on who she spoke too. “Darling you remember you cousins, don’t you? Why don’t you visit with them?”

              “Mom,” Aiva whispered. She did not want to be left alone.

              Susan leaned down. “There’s only a couple years difference between you all. No need to be shy. They also go to the same school as you will be. Wont it be nice to start out with friends?”

              Aiva didn’t believe they would ever look at her as a friend, but it wouldn’t matter if she had said so as her mother’s attention was already drawn away. “Mommy’ll be over here if you need anything darling.” She said vaguely in h er daughter’s direction.

              It irritated Aiva when her mother spoke in third person, but her annoyance washed away as she turned her gaze back to the three gorgeous teens and the people that surrounded them. More family members she assumed. They didn’t look pleased to be saddled with babysitting duty, if their haughty expressions were anything to judge.

              Aiva reached beneath the blanket that covered her legs where she had hidden her inhaler and one thin mythology volume, and pulled the former out, taking a huff of it when a diva turned to her. The group fluctuated and dwindled. Nichole wandered off with more teenage relatives. She gave Aiva a contemptuous downward glare before departing.

              Aiva understood. It must be awkward around her. Those who stayed attempted to continue their previous conversation in a halting, uncomfortable manner. They kept looking towards her as they spoke as if wondering when she was going to contribute a thought. Or even a syllable. Each time she reached for her inhaler, though she rarely actually needed it. She was tempted to pull out her book, to revisit the character of Vasilisa, or flip forward to the story of the matryoshka doll. She wondered how the beautiful girls in these stories would behave at a party like this. What would they say? Aiva let the sounds flow around her. She knew if she did begin to read though her mother would notice instantly and pull her into a quiet out of the way corner to chastise.

              Eventually someone suggested they go dance, an idea which everyone eagerly agreed too. Debra looked past her nose as if remembering that Aiva was there.  “Oh no! But someone will have to stay here to keep poor Aiva company.” She turned to the youngest girl amongst them, Meaghan., she thought, whose pretty little face fell.

              “She’s fine, aren’t you Aiva?” The girl asked her tone pleading. She gave Aiva no time to answer. “I mean yeah, obviously she can’t dance, but it’s not like she’s a child!” She then flashed a mouthful of pearly whites. “You don’t mind right?” Her voice had taken on the hint of a whine.

              The others’ eyes were heavy on her and Aiva knew what the answer had to be. A headache began to form at her temples as she shrugged.

              “You’re the best party girl!” She gave Aiva an awkward hug that was not returned and bounced after the others. None of them looked back. She watched the dance floor for a moment, thinking she should look at this as a learning experience. Ready to blame her water glazed eyes on the lights which strobed brightly. If she were one of the brave girls in her books she’d show them how she could dance despite her limitations, as they perceived them. She would draw the gaze of everyone in the room, at the entire party!

              Her arms had started moving before Aiva could process the signal for them to do so. Pushing against the wheels and rolling her into the crush of swaying bodies. There wasn’t any plan to her rash action and she didn’t even know how to dance!

              “Your brother had the right idea skipping out on this lame ass party.” It was Nichole’s voice that broke through the rhythm bumping out through the surround sound speakers. The diva had rejoined the other cousins rather quickly and Aiva halted—trying to suppress the sudden rise of hurt.

              “Ugh Thackeray is such a spoiled shit too. Mom lets him get away with everything! He should be here suffering right along side us if you ask me.”

              Aiva was already backing out of the crowd and began to wheel herself away. Perhaps she could make it to the elevator before her mother spotted her. She didn’t even make it a couple feet before the Smile came bearing down on her.

              “My goodness darling where are you going? Why are you alone? Where have your cousins gone?” These questions were fired rapidly at Aiva in a slurred voice. Susan had an empty wine glass in her hand.

              “They’re dancing.”

              The Smile slipped a little and before she could hitch it back into place, there was a loud crash. Susan’s head snapped in the direction the disturbance came from. Her features had almost returned to the normal expression of forced cheer. The effect was a half snarl intensified by her wide, searching eyes.

              One of the waitresses stumbled into the room followed by two waiters. Aiva could not see them very well from her position but the woman had a short pixie cut. One of the men had broad shoulders and the other was lanky. All of them had red going down their fronts. Wine, she thought.

              While most of those assembled watched the transgression with rapt attention, aiva scanned the room. Many of the other servers were trying t hide smiles with varying degrees of success. A few of them were whispering. If Rebecca knew about any of this Aiva was certain the woman would be livid with her staff.

              Though not as much so as her own family.

              Her eyes went back to where the three of them stood in a sudden void of all others from the assembled, encircled. They were doing their utmost to look apologetic. the area around them cleared of party goers and soft laughter scattered through the room. Great-grandfather Joshua stepped from her dad’s study to stand before the miscreants. There was a palpable rage rolling off of him that well out-weighed the misconduct and Aiva gulped. Silence crashed over the crowd.

              “Get out of this house.” He had not raised his voice as Aiva had expected and was prepared for, yet it projected through the entire room.

              Aiva felt a trickle of fear pass over the back of her tongue and down her throat. No one was partying anymore. The three scampered for the door and people parted before them. Aiva had to look away once again, many of the faces she could see stared at Joshua with surprise in their gazes, it was more jarring that some—like her aunts and uncles—were not shocked at all but rather, wary.

              Timothy appeared behind her great-grandpa, shame faced. Aiva had never seen that expression on her dad’s features, and her mother muttered under her breath, but the Smile was back up as if it had never faltered.

              “Mother I’m feeling a bit sick. May I please be excused to my room?” Aiva asked as Susan’s attention centered on her once again.

              “oh yes, of course dear.” Susan rearranged her own countenance into the look of a concerned parent. She even went so far as to place her hand over the girl’s forehead. She waved a Richard over and he seemed to materialize seamlessly out of the company. “Please escort Aiva to  her room and stay with her.”

              The noises of the party—which had taken a moment to resume—faded once they entered the elevator.

              “I’ll be right down the hall if you need anything miss.” The Richard said as he rolled her up to her bed. The door clicked loudly as it shut.

              Aiva lifted herself from her wheelchair and shuffled to her dresser. Her movements were sluggish as she began to unbutton her blouse. Asking the Richard would have been too awkward and she missed having Miss Juliet there to help her with things such as this. She missed the daily sessions of physical therapy with her, and the stories she used to tell. So much more vivid than any book.

              The doctor who came in each morning was rough with his instructions where Miss Juliet had been so kind and patient. Miss Juliet chatted, but the doctor kept the silence religiously. There was so much more that she missed that she’d never be able to name.