Wonder Never (The Fairytale Diaries #2) (4 page)

Part II

The Golden Ball

Chapter 6

April

C
lementine Giroux yawned. After a long, mouth gaping and uncovered breath, her jaw came slowly closed and her teeth snapped her gum.

Ms. Talbot eyed Clementine with carefully but not so effectively disguised disdain. Clementine did not notice her supervisor's shade from where she rested against the filing cabinet checking her Likebook from her phone.

Ms. Talbot cleared her throat. Clementine still did not budge. "Um, Clementine, have you finished the filing?"

Clementine sighed and snapped her gum again as she pocketed her phone and hauled herself off the filing cabinet to address the stack of clearly visible files on the floor. Though she was only sixteen, she moved like a one hundred year old woman. Not because there was something wrong with her, more because it pained her mentally to be there.

The old Methodist Church office was stifling and it had a vaguely unpleasant smell like old book binding glue and perfume that had long since expired. There was one of those portraits of a dewy eyed Jesus that could likely be found in every Methodist church in America. It made Clementine giggle every time she saw it which always earned her "that look" from the old beady eyed bird, Talbot.

Anyhow, it's not like you pay me for this bo-ring job
, Clementine thought. Even the tone in her mind was snide. She gave Ms. Talbot a condescending smile, but the old woman was one of the few people Clementine didn't have the nerve to actually smart off to. With another exaggerated sigh, she returned to finding spots in the cabinets for all the dusty folders.

Why does a church have so many files anyhow
, Clementine wondered. Filing sins? Categorizing commandments?
Hey that'd be a cool band name
, she thought, chuckling out loud. Lost in her own thoughts, she did sloppy work with the simple task she'd been assigned.

Clementine's father, Gautier Giroux was one of Enchantica's wealthiest and most prominent business men. Clementine enjoyed benefiting from her father's status while doing absolutely nothing to earn or deserve it. She often got away with shenanigans at school and within the community because folks didn’t want to offend Gautier by correcting her. As a single father with only the one daughter, she was the apple of his eye.

Judging by Clementine's perfectly coiffed brown locks, expertly applied heavy makeup, and excessively expensive and expansive wardrobe, one would assume Gautier must be a shabby parent to allow her to become so spoiled. Truthfully, he was a kind and generous man; he'd simply noticed the problem a hair too late.

But he was working to remedy the situation a bit at a time. Two months prior, he told Clementine she had to earn her phone and pay the balance payments on her credit card. She could do it by getting a paying job working for someone other than him. Or, he would continue to pay the bills if she took a volunteer position for a minimum of fifteen hours a week.

Clementine had pitched an all-out tantrum. In the past, she could work her father over with just a single tear slipping from her big shining blues. But on this matter, Gautier would not budge. In the end, she'd resigned herself and accepted the least strenuous and least offensive volunteer opportunity she could find.

And that was a volunteer secretary at the church. A real snooze job. Not to mention she had to remember not to use naughty language and could barely resist the urge to flip the old bat the bird, on a regular basis. Her time there was excruciatingly boring. Plus, she couldn't even recall the last time she attended church and she had no desire to be in one of them, for any reason.

After all, Clementine enjoyed every moment of her heathen ways without the slightest intention of reforming. The idea of getting worse seemed just fine to her.

So, when a text chimed on her jewel encrusted iPhone, from a friend asking her to hang out, she did not think twice about blowing off her post. She slipped her phone back into her pocket and fixed a pitiful look on her face. Then she slowly turned to face Ms. Talbot.

"I'm not feeling so well," Clementine whined, clutching her belly.

Ms. Talbot pursed her lips and arched one eyebrow. "Oh?" she skeptically inquired.

Clementine stuck her lip out and nodded sadly, all the while resisting the bubble of laughter building inside her. "Yep," she said not at all convincingly. "I don't think I can stay the rest of my shift. I need to go home."

"You were just fine a second ago, Clementine," Ms. Talbot said sternly.

"Thanks for understanding!" Clementine answered in a sugary sweet voice as she rushed toward the door. She burst out laughing before she was even out of the office. She ran through the corridor beneath the massive stained glass windows ignoring Ms. Talbot calling at her back.

Soon she was free and running down the street where her friend waited in a car to pick her up. She spent the evening engaging in delinquent activity and snuck in after curfew.

***

Not only did Clementine blow off her shift that day, she didn't return the next day either. Or the next. Ms. Talbot didn't contact her and her dad didn't say anything so she knew he didn't know. She got to spend every afternoon after school with her friends doing whatever she wanted. She knew she had to return to her volunteer post soon, but at that point she didn't know when she would.

It was Friday night when she discovered her credit card was maxed out. She'd attempted to purchase booze for her friends, boyfriend, and herself. She'd managed to pick a remote convenience market that wasn't diligent about asking for I.D. But when she swiped her card for the forty dollar purchase, it was declined.

Clementine's face reddened in fury. She scathed the cashier with rude comments. Her friends ushered her outside so they wouldn't lose their shot at scoring underage booze, and somebody else paid.

Because of her anger and embarrassment, Clementine spent the evening getting extra hammered on someone else's dime.
Lord knows they've all drank on me enough times,
she thought bitterly. If she were honest with herself, she'd realize the only reason anybody tolerated her was her willingness to throw money around.

Because she was extra drunk, she was extra loud, extra obnoxious, and extra risky. Around midnight, Clementine's big mouth was exactly the thing that drew the police to their party locale which was the Enchantica Elementary playground.

As soon as the flashlight flipped on, Clementine's friends scattered while she remained lying upside down on a slide. She heard their whispered explicates and cries of alarm as they fled the silhouette that approached with angrily stomping feet. But Clementine laughed as she often did; right in the face of authority.

When he came up alongside the slide, placing himself almost eye level with her, she saw it was Police Chief Truman Darling. His angry face fell slightly into a disappointed frown.

"Clementine, what are you doing here?" he demanded.

"Just hanging!" she confessed cheerily.

"Young lady, do you have any idea how much trouble you could be in right now?"

Clementine giggled. "You're not going to arrest me!"

Chief Darling groaned. "Get down from there. I'm taking you home," he snarled.

Clementine slid herself upside down the slide. At the bottom she executed an awkward somersault which left her sprawled in the mulch laughing and dizzy.

"NOW CLEMENTINE!" Chief Darling yelled.

Clementine scrambled clumsily to her feet and the chief had to reach out to steady her. He took her by the elbow to steer her through the playground to his cruiser and into the back seat.

He didn't say a word on the ten minute ride to her home. Chief swung the car into the Giroux's long circular driveway, then idled under the large valet awning that extended from the front door. He hopped out to open her door for her.

Her mood had sobered significantly on the ride home as the motion of the car began to make her ill. She didn't have any laughter the next time when he addressed her.

"Clementine," Chief Darling said in a warning tone. "I catch you out again and it'll be jail where I take you, not your nice comfy bed."

She narrowed her eyes and sneered at him. Then, parting with an eye roll, she let herself quietly into the house.

Chapter 7

C
lementine slept until one in the afternoon Saturday where she rested buried in a sloppy mountain of silk blankets and seven hundred thread count sheets. When she finally dragged her dry, blood shot eyes open, the light stabbed her just as physically as a knife in her brain would have. She moaned and massaged her temples. She smacked her lips feeling almost desperate for something to quench the thick cotton dry mouth brought on by thirst.

She rolled to the right and felt around on the end table for her phone. When she raised it in front of her, she promptly dropped it on her face then yelled a salty explicative. Plucking the phone up again she angrily stabbed her home screen then tapped the Likebook icon. Despite sleeping for most of the day, having engaged in illegal activities and being let off the hook, and feeling sick as a dog, she could still think of nothing more important than scrolling through her newsfeed.

The fact that Likebook wouldn't load only darkened her crummy mood.

She closed and opened the app several times. Then she tapped open her Internet browser only to find a "no Internet connection" message.

A cold sweat beaded across Clementine's forehead. Her heart fluttered at an alarming rate. This had never happened before with the one exception of accidentally passing through an area on a road trip without 4G Wi-Fi. It had been the most traumatic fifteen minutes of her life.

When she fired off a text, followed by an immediate "schloop" sound and a "message not delivered" response, the hot tears began to flow.

Then she clicked the first contact in the address book and hit dial.

"Your service has been temporarily disconnected, please contact the billing department."

The phone slipped from her hand and her mouth dropped open.

"DAAAAAAADDDDDY!"

***

Clementine's face rested against her arms on the dining room table. She wailed pitifully. Her father's penny loafers clicked on the parquet floors as he paced angrily. She'd ignored his repeated requests to sit up and settle down.

"CLEMENTINE OPAL GIROUX! SIT UP RIGHT NOW!"

Clementine's head shot up. Her face went ghostly pale. She began cycling through memories in her mind trying to recall a single incident of him yelling at her.

"That's enough," he said ominously once he finally had her attention.

"Daddy, I need my phone," Clementine tearfully pled.

Mr. Giroux was a stout, muscular man with a handsome chiseled face and attractively silvering hair. He had kind dark eyes, but those eyes cast a look of disgust on his daughter just then.

"Oh you do, do you?" he asked in a low tone that was in all honesty, frightening. "Let me see here… You go to school… When you feel like it. Hang out with your delinquent friends doing God knows what. The same friends, I might add, who abandoned you when the police showed up!"

Clementine's cheeks blazed. He knew. She couldn't believe he knew.

"That's right, missy, I know," he shouted, seeming to read her mind. What she failed to realize, was that he didn't need to be a mind reader to know what she was thinking. She was simply following in the footsteps of every other spoiled, idiot teenager who'd come before her.

"And, do you know what else I know? I know you've blown off your position at the church."

Under the scrutiny of his angry eyes and furrowed brow, she buckled. Her wailing sobs began anew.
That old hag ratted me out
, Clementine thought bitterly.

Mr. Giroux went right on shouting over her theatrics. "That simple volunteer assignment was all that was expected of you! The one meaningful productive thing you ever did IN YOUR LIFE. And you couldn't even do THAT!"

"Daddy, I was going to go back, I swear!"

Mr. Giroux scoffed. "Don't bother!" he snapped. "You don't deserve the job, or Ms. Talbot's good graces." His eyes narrowed to slits. He looked ready to completely blow his stack. "And the LAST thing you deserve is a damn phone!"

With that, he spun on his heal and stormed out, leaving her crying alone.

***

For the next several days, Clementine went around area businesses looking to apply for jobs. A lot of places weren't hiring, but at the ones that were, she sensed they weren't interested in her. It shocked and sorely disappointed her that she hadn't been hired on the spot.

The fact that other people found her humor asinine, her speech vulgar, her personality sour, and her manners nonexistent, completely escaped her. So instead of correcting herself, she assumed other people were cruel and unfair; victimizing her. Inside one boutique whose owner turned her down, she claimed she needed to use the bathroom. Then she wrote profanity on the wall with a permanent marker. Outside the third fast food establishment that told her no, she kicked out the taillight of a stranger's car.

By the second day of May, Clementine was bitter and angry. She'd considered work a waste of her time even before everyone in Enchantica refused to hire her. And now she knew for certain, job hunting wasn't her thing.

She slammed in the front door of her home after resolving to never work, and she ran upstairs to her room.

***

Clementine's mother died when she was seven. She remembered the woman well as a kind and gentle person and devoted loving mother. She also well recalled the day she was told her mother had joined the angels in heaven.

It wasn't for several years she learned the thing that sent her there was a train plowing into her stalled car on the tracks.

On her sixteenth birthday, Clementine had been given a necklace from her father. He told her a tale of her mother's lineage and how the necklace was a treasured family heirloom. It had a shining golden ball pendant with a row of perfectly pure diamonds around the circumference. The pretty golden ball dangled from a delicate gold chain.

A different girl than Clementine would remember the significance of the charm. Or at least, would cherish the beautiful remnant of her dearly departed mother. OR at VERY very least, would not
pawn
her mother's priceless family heirloom.

But alas, Clementine wasn't a different girl. She was a wretch.

After pulling his eyes away from the small jewelry magnifying glass, the man gave Clementine an inquisitive look. "Are you sure about this?"

Clementine nodded eagerly.

"And this is yours?" he wondered.

Clementine gave him a scathing look. "Of course it's mine. What do I look like?"

The man arched an eyebrow but refrained from making the rude comment that was on the tip of his tongue.

"OK, well, you understand if you don't pay me back in thirty days, the item will go up for sale, and you'll have to pay full price unless someone else gets it first?"

Clementine groaned. "Yeah, yeah, I know how a pawn shop works. How much?"

"I can give you three hundred dollars."

Her jaw dropped and her cheeks blazed scarlet. She could hear all the blood rushing to her head as it whooshed in her ears. "You've got to be kidding, right?" she said, struggling not to scream.

"No ma'am, I'm not," he man said evenly. He laid her necklace on the counter and crossed his arms over his chest.

"That is a five thousand dollar necklace," Clementine seethed. "Are you an idiot? Are you a COMPLETE MORON?"

The man only smiled in the face of her fury, which further enraged her. "Take it or leave it," he insisted.

She stared at the necklace. Three hundred would pay her phone bill for two months. And she felt certain she would sort out her finances long before thirty days. She sighed.

"Fine," she muttered.

He plucked the necklace from the class counter, wrote her up a claim slip, and sent her angrily out the door with three hundred dollars cash in her pocket.