"The more the merrier," he said. "Maybe you could bring the whole town along. Dad would love it."
They both laughed uneasily. They chatted then for the next three hours about mundane topics such as the weather and Joseph's classes at school. Despite the weariness in her body, Samantha didn't want to hang up the phone. She was afraid if she did, she might never talk to Joseph again. He finally ended the conversation by saying, "I've got to get up early tomorrow for school. I'll let Dad know you guys might be coming back. I'm sure he'll be thrilled. Talk to you later."
"Talk to you later," she said. The connection ended, but Samantha sat there for a minute with the phone stuck to her ear. Two months. Two months until she saw Joseph again. She didn't know if she could make it that long without him. As she finally turned off the phone, she wished she had told him that. Tomorrow she would tell him how much he meant to her. She collapsed onto Becky's bed, exhausted but unable to sleep. Never would two months seem so long.
***
Veronica waited until Molly had fallen asleep and Samantha stopped yakking on the telephone before she crawled out of bed. She padded towards the front door, careful not to make a sound that could wake anyone up. Moonlight reflected off a knife on the kitchen table. She had only to pick up the knife, waddle into the bedroom, and complete her life's work. Now where's the fun in that? she thought.
Nine years of rotting in jail had finally been rewarded. Suffering the indignity of becoming a fat little kid was no small price, but one she would gladly pay to finish the job. How long had it been? Thirty-two years since the night of the betrayal. She had come close to rectifying the situation once before only to be denied.
Now here she was on this godforsaken island only to chance upon her adversary. Amazing. Even more amazing that the girl didn't seem to remember anything at all. Veronica had hoped for some sign of recognition before she slit her throat. The backstabbing wench. Veronica picked the knife off the table, the blade seeming impossibly bulky and heavy in her tiny hands.
She caught her reflection in the blade. Those darling apple cheeks. That elfin nose. The sweet little mouth. The adorable pigtails. She wanted to run the knife through her chest. Bad enough to be little, but to be little and cute was enough to make her sick.
She put the knife down and tiptoed to the door. She eased the door open, expecting to get caught at any moment, and then ventured out into the night. She ran along as fast as her stubby hooves could carry her, forcing down the childish terror of the dark in her overstuffed gut. She had slept in garbage-strewn alleys with rats and in unfinished graves with the worms; this couldn't be any scarier.