Holly Banks Full of Angst (Village of Primm, #1)(23)

Entering with Struggle, Holly slipped inside Ella’s bedroom and thought, There she is, my Ella Cinderella, sleeping with a matted Pinkie Pie pony tucked beneath her arm, baby tooth beneath her pillow. Tonight? I’m a tooth fairy. Tomorrow? I’m a school mom. Packing Ella’s lunch, packing her backpack, walking her to the bus stop, waving goodbye for the first time, watching as she rides away from me. Tomorrow? I’ll spend the majority of my day without her. Tomorrow, and then every day that follows for an entire school year, I’ll have no idea what she’s doing at any given moment, no idea who she’s talking to, no idea how her day is going. For Ella, it was a beginning. But for Holly, it felt like the end. Biggest job she’d ever had, most important thing she’d ever done and would ever do, would fundamentally change—tomorrow. Tomorrow, Ella would leave, and Holly would be home alone, the sights and sounds of My Little Pony falling silent in the house because Ella wasn’t there.

Struggle hopped onto the foot of Ella’s bed, and Holly sat on the edge, watching Ella as she slept. Ella was five years old. Five. She was four last week, three the week before, then two. Last month, she was a baby, and Holly had cradled her in her arms, nursing her to sleep. As far as Holly was concerned, the moment Ella was born, the world grew big. Earth swelled ten times its original size.

“I’m going to miss you, Ella,” Holly whispered, using the tip of her finger to sweep a lock of her hair from her forehead. “And I hope I never embarrass you.” Like my mom did.

Greta, the memory of her lurking at the school gates while Holly was out for recess, seeped its way into Ella’s bedroom, morphing the beautiful glow cast by the nightlight into a harsh mustard light that flickered against the wall. Holly leaned over to push the nightlight farther into the socket as memories of Greta, always drunk back then—a one-woman wrecking ball, both joker and wild card—tainted the moment she was having with Ella, pulling her back. Pulling her back through the portal. Reminding her. Haunting her.

When Holly was in kindergarten, playing at recess, a Hula-Hoop around her waist, Greta had staggered over to the school wearing pajamas and a trench coat: drunk. She began calling Holly’s name: Holly. Ais me; hit’s your mom, Holly. Horrified, Holly walked away from the school gates and toward the building, desperately twitching her hips, focusing on each step as she walked, hoping no one in her class would point, ask who that woman was, and find out she was Holly’s mom, broken and slouched against a chain-link fence, calling her name as if it were a desperate treasure that kept slipping from the edges of her tongue. Holly. Ais me; hit’s your mom, Holly. Comes to me, Holly; comes to Mommy.

Sitting on Ella’s bed, Holly reached out to rest her hand on Struggle’s back, then closed her eyes. Holly felt shame. Still did. Couldn’t seem to shake it.

“I’ll be a good mom for you, Ella,” Holly whispered, combing Ella’s hair from her forehead, watching her breathe as she slept. “I promise—I’ll be prim.” Holly patted Ella’s shoulder lightly, careful not to wake her.

Holly. Ais me; hit’s your mom, Holly . . .

She needed to shake this off. It had been a bad day; that was all. She was tired. Moving was stressful. Change was difficult.

Holly tucked a dollar beneath Ella’s pillow. Slid Ella’s tooth into her pocket.

“I have loved every moment of every day we’ve spent together,” Holly whispered, bending to kiss Ella on the forehead. She kept thinking, I’m happy for you. But I’m going to miss you so, so much. “You’re my whole world, Ella Bella,” Holly said, nose stinging, tears welling up in her eyes. “You’re my Pinkie Pie.”

Struggle understood. Struggle cried too. Whined—whimpered—something. Holly reached over to pet her. Those sad Labrador eyes.

I should go. Get some sleep.

Holly traced the tip of Ella’s nose, remembering how little her Ella once was. For the coming silence, for the coming loneliness, Holly blamed Pinkie Pie, Twilight Sparkle, and all the little ponies in Ponyville. She knew she shouldn’t; it didn’t make sense; but she did. Because Ella loved them. The My Little Pony world created by Hasbro and shown through—what was it Caleb said, a company-owned network?—was part of the world Ella and Holly had created. And now Ella was leaving it. Growing up. Leaving Holly and those stupid ponies behind.

Holly left Struggle at the foot of Ella’s bed, slipped from Ella’s bedroom, and headed downstairs, Ella’s tooth burning a hole in her pocket. What should I do with it? Save it? Put it in my jewelry box? I don’t want Ella to find it, or she’ll know there’s no tooth fairy. But I don’t like holding a piece of Ella that’s not attached to her, and I can’t bear the thought of throwing it away. Instead, Holly placed it with another living thing: Anna Wintour, their family topiary. Anna would keep Ella’s tooth safe.

It felt like a seed in Holly’s hand as she pressed the tiny tooth finger deep into Anna’s soil. With Ella’s tooth beneath the moss, Holly made a wish, for luck, for Ella, for Holly, for Holly’s new life—as the mother of a little girl who lived in Primm. “What kind of a mother are you?” Mary-Margaret had asked. Long live Anna, thought Holly. Long live Plume. And long live motherhood in the Village of Primm. With the planting of Ella’s first tooth as the seed of a promise, Holly vowed she’d do this right. Vowed she’d be a great mom to Ella in this new town, this mom town everyone so affectionately called the Village of Primm.