Also, the eighth installment in the Twelve Days of Stella, in which Stella eats some Skittles. If you missed the previous installments, here are the links:
- The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 1)
- The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 2)
- The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 3)
- The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 4)
- The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 5)
- The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 6)
- The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 7)
“Troy!” Phoebe squealed as he and Stella walked through the front door. Then she noticed Stella behind him and frowned.
If Troy noticed her questioning look, Stella noted, he ignored it and flopped onto the sofa next to her. “Hey Phoebes.”
“Omigods,” Phoebe said, apparently forgetting her confusion. “You will never believe what I accidentally did today.”
As she explained the incident to Troy, Stella glanced around the room, confirming that there had been no Skittles recurrence in her absence. The thought reminded Stella of the jar on her desk, and she held back a smile.
“I’ll be in my room,” she announced, although she was quite certain neither of them would take notice if she autoported herself to New Guinea. Stella hated feeling like an outsider. She suddenly wished Adara had not gone home for the winter holiday.
She would just have to console herself with Skittles.
Pulling the door shut behind her, Stella kicked off her ballet slippers, grabbed the jar of candy, and sank into her crisp white armchair. As she sat there, popping Skittle after Skittle (wondering whether a single candy would be called a Skittle or a Skittles) and gazing at the quartet of portraits on her bed, a flash of light drew her attention to the door.
When she went to inspect, she found a folded sheet of notebook paper on the floor. Scowling, she snatched it up and read the messily scribbled note inside.
You’ll find it, you know. Your passion.
You just have to keep an open mind.
Stella blinked rapidly at the note until the words started to blur. It took a moment to realize there were tears in her eyes. Why was she being so emotional today? It wasn’t just Troy’s sweet note—Phoebe did have good taste in friends—because she’d felt this way all day. Crying over the thought of leaving for college, over her mother’s paintings—
Her gaze fell on the paintings and she instantly knew.
How could she have forgotten? She was a truly horrible daughter. Today was the anniversary of her mother’s death. And she hadn’t remembered.
Before she could blink Stella was standing in the little cemetery on the east edge of the island, in front of her mother’s grave. She was only more surprised to find her father already standing there.
Tune in tomorrow for the next installment. [Part 9]