Chapter 7

The song rose and fell, awaiting its inevitable crescendo. Lucy’s lips never missed a beat. One would’ve sworn that Grace was singing through Lucy’s mouth—one being me, that is. And then the climax, the chanteuse wailing the title, over and over again. Gave me goosebumps. As for Lucy, it gave her a load of wampum. Cash came raining down. Pouring, in fact. FEMA would have to be called in soon, I reckoned.

“Bitch,” grumbled Luna by my side.

“Cheap trick,” said Pearl.

“Takes one to know one,” said Auntie Bellum, who had disappeared after her act and had now reappeared.

I turned to them. “I thought you were all friends, sisters.” Or at least that’s how I always heard it told.

“Please, Mary,” said Luna. Given that my name was indeed Mary, that phrase took on a whole new meaning. “Step-sisters, at best.”

“Evilstep-sisters,” cackled Auntie.

They all then pointed at the stage. “And that one,” said Pearl, “is the evilest of them all. That one has her own orchard of poisoned apples.”