Little Pretty Things Read Online Free PDF

refused to be thrown away, and once in a while, something small and shiny caught my attention—called out to me, really—until I knew it had to be mine.
    Mine . That wasn’t the right word. I was the one who was owned. I was the one who was captured—by this little girl’s barrette, by this lipstick I couldn’t even wear. And someday I was sure, I would be. I’d be caught.

CHAPTER FOUR
    The alarm had me up again the next morning, too early. Always too early. I dragged myself to the kitchen and forced the first cup of coffee out of the ancient coffeemaker. At my seat at the table, my eyes began to open and focus, until I could finally spot the sugar bowl. Beside it, a nest of old mail gathered. Bills, a couple of them second notices. Fliers, a catalogue, a brochure from a senior-care facility. I picked this up. Had one of the nosy neighbors dropped this by? Not that they ever asked how my mother was, but I could feel their judgments.
    A red envelope had come loose from the pile. Red for alarm, for dread, for Midway High.
    When the envelope first arrived, I’d opened it, noted the expense, and thrown it to the side. But I’d saved it. As much as I didn’t want to go, I’d saved it. The invitation was a nice cream card, the time of the event written out in script as though I’d been invited to tea with the queen.
    I took the card out and looked again. The Luxe. If Shelly had been a vindictive person, I might have suspected aggression. In any case, the event was too expensive. I got up and threw the invitation and the brochure in the trash.
    Maybe I’d have gone, if I’d done something with the last ten years, if I could show up like Maddy, resplendent in her sleek raincoat and diamonds.
    Back at the table, I dropped my head onto my arm, remembering the terrible things I’d said. She’d come all that way, and maybe she hadn’t tracked me to my stupid job only to make me feel terrible. She’d said it could be real, our friendship. That we could try again. I’d turned her away.
    And yet, I wanted . . . something. Not something, but everything. A new job. My own place. My own life. A boyfriend. And more friendships, like the one I’d had in Maddy. I wanted that, even though it had been years since I’d let myself admit it even to myself.
    I wanted more.
    If only Maddy had actually been staying at the Mid-Night, she might still be there, and I could go make things right.
    I could ask Gretchen for a phone number, or maybe that’s where Maddy had stayed after leaving the motel.
    But Maddy had recoiled at her stepmother’s name. “Retching,” she used to call her. She wouldn’t have gone there.
    Then it hit me. The pen. She’d used the pen I’d pocketed to fill out the information card. The info card was standard issue, a formality. It asked for the make, model, and plate number of a guest’s car—in case one guest’s car nicked another’s in the parking lot—as well as a home address and phone number, in case they left anything behind. Anything of value.
    The clock on our oven said six-thirty. I had to work the rooms today, not the desk, but maybe if I picked up Lu on time for a change, she wouldn’t ask me too many questions when she saw me copying something from one of the guest cards.
    I got cleaned up and dressed quickly and, for my mother’s sake, quietly. Thinking about fixing things with Maddy made me feel better than I had in a long time. Expectant. Could it be that easy to perk up my prospects? Tracking down a phone number wasn’t hiking to the top of Everest or anything. But even as I slipped into my ridiculous maid’s uniform, I wondered how much longer I’d have to wear it. As though I’d made some decision about my future.
    In the bathroom mirror, I studied myself. The snug black dress bunched a bit over the few pounds I’d gained since giving up running. The white collar could have been whiter. The black-and-white sneakers I wore with my uniform looked silly, childish, but I