Glory Alley and the Star Riders (The Glory Alley Series) (97 page)

“
Clash
.”

“What about h
im
?” asked Danny.

“Isn’t he my best friend?”

Danny snorted with laughter. “
That b
ucktooth
ed
nerd
with the glasses
who looks like he stuck his finger in a light socket?
H
e’s not your friend
.
Why just last week,
you
and your
little gang got in trouble for throwing h
is
books
out
of
the bus window.”

“Liars!”
Glory
accused, spit flying out of h
er
mouth
.
“I can’t stand
Olivia
—she’s a stuck-up snob
.
And I’d never treat
Clash
like that, so you better shut-up or I’ll knock your stinkin’ heads off!”

The twins held up their palms and backed off
.
Patrice
ran out the room and returned with a nurse, who ordered everybody to leave.

Over the next day
,
the more
Glory
heard about the life
s
he didn’t remember, and the more
s
he was questioned about it, the more withdrawn
s
he became. If only
s
he could get at that section of memory closed off to h
er
, then
s
he’d know for certain if the world had gone mad
, or
if it was just h
er
.

The doctors speculated
sh
e was suffering from selective amnesia, resulting from
a memory too terrible to
deal with all at once
.
They warned
the rest of the
Alley
s
not
to try to
pry it out of her.
Everyone needed to wait
until
s
he was ready to talk about it. The
amnesia was
expected to be temporary and
the sooner she got
back
into a
regular routine
, the sooner she’d remember
.

Home seemed familiar
—
but not
.
The house
,
over a hundred years old,
looked
inviting
ly
new
,
with fresh
siding and bright yellow paint
.
A
sturdy
white
swing
sprinkled with virgin snow hung under the porch and
swayed in the winter breeze
.
Inside, through the front door,
w
arm w
ood
en
floors gleamed with polish
.
Neutral
paint
covered the
spotless
walls
.
The staircase
banister
looked beautiful
adorned
with greenery and
white
lights
.
A
fat
pine tree glittered at the corner of the living room in anticipation of Father’s Winter Day
.
The smell of pinesap filled her nose.

“The house is gorgeous, Mom,” she commented. “But it’
s not supposed to be like this…”

As
she climbed the stairs
,
Dad
hovered behind
her, just in case she lost her balance
.
When h
er
limbs
started
to tremble and
her
legs gave way
, he
was there to
scoop her up
. She felt foolish when Dad
carried
her
rest of the way to her room
.

Mom followed
behind, fussing like a mother hen,
and tu
cked
Glory snugly
into bed
.
The
crisp
sheets felt cool next to her skin. The
smell of baking bread
drifted through the house
.

One bedroom wall was covered with
purple paisley
wallpaper
, coordinating with the purple accents throughout the room. Patrice and Glory’s beds
were made of
scrolling white metal
—
so pretty and girly. Their airbrushed names hung over the
headboards.
Nice.

A purple pin
board
covered with black polka dot fabric hung on the
wall
beside her bed. P
hoto
graph
s
of a slender girl with short brown hair
filled the board. In many of the photos she was dressed
in a Sling Team uniform
, but Glory couldn’t remember her for anything.
Olivia Wingfield showed up in at least half of photos, posing and acting goofy with th
at
girl from the Sling Team. In one
picture
,
they had painted their faces in school colors
. They
were standing back to back, making the peace sign, acting
as if
they were on top of the world.

“Wh
o the he
ck
is
she?
”
Glory said
, pointing to the strange girl.

Mom and Dad
exchanged worried glances
.

“It’s you, Glory
,
” Dad said.

Glory gave an incredulous laugh, not believing him for a second. T
he
re was an older photo of Olivia and the slender girl
arm-and-arm
. They looked to be ten-years-old or so. Glory recognized the background as Mrs. Gentry’s 6
^th
grade history class. They were
making
silly
faces
,
apparently
enjoying each other’s company
very much
.
In many of the photos
,
they
were surrounded by
the snotty girls from school
—l
ooking at them, so smug and f
ull of themselves, made her angry.

“
Pl
ease
,” she asked her father. “Take
it
down.”

He
promptly lifted
the poster board
off the wall and slid it into the closet.

“
Is that
better
?
”

She nodded.

The room looked wonderful again, exactly
as
she’d want it if they had the money
.
The nicest touch was a small fake tree on h
er
dresser, decorated with
twinkly
pink lights, ceramic shoes, snowmen and winter fairies
.
Dad asked if she needed anything before he left.

“I’m good,” she said, leaning back on the pillow, eyes roaming about the room
.
Everything looked perfect, but felt wrong.
The pampering, however, was just right
.
She
was not used to having
M
om
's undivided attention
, but there she was with
a
tray of food
in hand
.
She
sat
down
on the edge
o
f the bed
. Her thick
dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail
. Her
flushed cheeks gave way to a lovey-dovey smile.
Mom’s
soft brown eyes,
Glory
was sure, were the prettiest things this side of heaven
.
S
he pulled Glory close, stroking the back of her head, running fingers through her hair.

“Last week your hair was short, but now it
’
s past your shoulder blades, Glory
.
And your weight…
” Mom took in a sharp breath. “Uh,
never
mind about that
, I’m just glad you’re back home
.
”
Mom squeezed her tighter, rocking Glory as if
s
he was still a little tot.
“
Oh, sweet
b
aby girl, w
hat on
Tullah
happened to you
?”