“Yes!” I said excitedly. I’d been desperate to wear that dress. I put my hand on her arm. “But now that I’m ten, am I allowed to wear the other socks?” I held my breath, crossing the fingers on my other hand, bouncing from foot to foot, praying she said yes.
Mrs. Jenkins leaned down and kissed my head. “Of course, young lady. You’re a big girl now.”
I shrieked and ran to my closet. I grabbed the black-and-white striped knee-high socks my papa had bought for me last year. They still smelled brand new. When he’d seen them after they arrived in the mail, he told me they were too old for me. But he said I could wear them on my birthday. When I turned ten. Because it would be a special day for me.
I’d be a big girl.
“Where are we going again?” I asked Mrs. Jenkins as I started getting ready in my dress and new socks. When I was dressed, I looked down at my new blue dress. It was tighter than my others had been. Shorter too, and the skirt puffed out off my thighs. There was even a black belt that went around my waist. I fastened it and looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes widened. I looked so grown up!
“It’s a surprise.” Mrs. Jenkins brought me a cup of tea. “Here, drink this.” I took the steaming hot tea from her hand and sat down at my vanity. I brought the cup to my nose. I closed my eyes as I smelled the familiar scent of Earl Grey—my absolute favorite. I wouldn’t drink anything else.
I took a sip, then another, and placed it down on the table. Mrs. Jenkins walked out of the door. When she came back, she was holding a box. “Keep drinking that tea, Ellis,” she prompted and stopped before me.
I drank some more of the tea. “What’s in the box?”
Mrs. Jenkins set it down on my lap. There was a blue ribbon tied around the lid. “It’s from your papa.”
Too excited to hold back, I opened the box and pushed back the blue tissue paper to reveal a black leather shoe. No, not a shoe, but a high ankle boot. I picked it up. It had four gold buckles up the side. But the best part was the small heel. Papa never ever let me wear heels; he said they were not for little girls.
But these had heels . . . because he had told me that at ten years old I was no longer little.
“They’re beautiful,” I whispered as I took out the second boot and stared at them together. A pair.
Mrs. Jenkins took the boots from my hand and kneeled down. “Let’s get them on your feet.” I lifted my foot. Mrs. Jenkins paused, the boot at my toe. “Tea,” she said. “I want to see that cup empty before we go downstairs.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I drank the rest in one gulp.
Mrs. Jenkins smiled at me when I showed her the cup was empty. “Good girl,” she crooned and carried on sliding my boots onto my feet.
When she was done, she stood and offered me her hand. “Come now, missy, let’s see if you can stand in them.” I played with my mummy’s old high heels, so I knew that I could. But when I stood from the chair, I wobbled. I clutched onto Mrs. Jenkins. The room tilted a little to the right. I put my hand on my head. “Mrs. . . . Mrs. Jenkins . . . I don’t . . . I don’t feel so good.” I rubbed my eyes. They’d gone blurry.
“You’re fine, Ellis,” she said and clutched at my hand. She looked at the clock on my wall. “It’s midnight, Miss Earnshaw. You’re officially ten years old.” She smiled, but it looked lopsided to my eyes. “Happy birthday!”
“Mrs. . . .” I tried to say again, but she pulled me forward by the hand, toward the door. I held on to her as tightly as I could. My breathing sounded funny in my ears. Like it was whooshing too fast, then too slow, and there was a ringing in the background.
Mrs. Jenkins led me to the elevator and pressed the button. She smiled at me again. I wanted to tell her I still didn’t feel good, but my throat went all funny—it was too tight. I grabbed at my throat, and I felt tears building in my eyes. I closed my eyelids.
I wanted Rabbit.
He always made me feel better. But he kept getting taken from me. I never saw him much anymore. Only when he sneaked into my room at night, without anyone knowing. But when he came, he always acted strange. He always huddled against the wall, rocking back and forth, looking at his watch. Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock . . .