Holly Banks Full of Angst (Village of Primm, #1)(28)

“Good morning,” said the headband woman to Ella. “My, you look pretty today in your blue dress. What’s your name?”

Ella furrowed her brow and growled a deep, throaty growl—like a grizzly bear or someone possessed by the devil. “I. Am. Pinkie Piiiie,” she bellowed.

The headband woman took a step back, surprised to hear a sound like that coming from such a little girl.

“Ella, that’s not nice.” Holly had hoped she’d be able to turn her morning around and everything would sparkle like a Mary Blair illustration in a Little Golden Book. But Ella—Ella was channeling demon-possessed Linda Blair in The Exorcist. “Apologize to the nice lady. Tell the nice woman your name, Ella . . . and use your human voice.”

“Nooooo,” Ella roared, eyes bulging, nostrils flaring, “I’m not going to schooooool! ”

What was happening?

Ella lowered her chin to her chest, then ordered Holly, “Drive awayyyy, Mommyyy!”

“I—I’m so sorry.” The way Ella was acting, Holly half expected her to levitate. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her.”

“Drive. Mommyyyy.”

“She was fine this morning.” Holly felt desperate. “I fixed her a plate of french toast.” Total lie. “Played a little Beethoven”—another lie—“drove her to school . . . not because she missed the bus or anything—because it was a special day.”

“I’m not going to SCHOOOOOOL!”

“Ella, honey. Stop that. Go with this nice woman. She’ll help you inside.”

“NOOOOO.”

Seriously, Ella?

“NOT GOOOOOING.”

The headband woman remained calm and upbeat. “Let’s unsnap your seat belt and grab your backpack. Oh, I see you have a black puppy dog on your backpack. Looks like Terrier.”

Holly’s little Exorcist spawn growled, “Don’t touch the puppyyy,” clearly competing against Linda Blair for Best Actress in one of the highest-grossing films of all time and the first horror film to be nominated for Best Picture—but that wasn’t important right now. What was important was Ella. Who was practically foaming at the mouth. “NOT GOINGGGG.”

“Kindergarten is fun, Ella. I promise.” Holly reached for Ella, trying to squeeze her hand to encourage her to leave the car. Ella acted like she was about to get a katrillion immunizations all at once in her right shoulder with the way she leaned left to avoid the woman. Was this normal? Shouldn’t Ella be a little bit curious about starting school? Was she that unprepared? My gosh. Is this my fault? Holly knew she wasn’t supposed to do this, but bribes usually worked with Ella. “Go to school nicely, and we’ll get some ice cream after school, Ella. I promise.”

“I want another Pinkie Piiiieee.”

“We’ll get another Pinkie Pie, Ella, but you have to go with this nice woman and stop carrying on.”

“You prooomise?”

The headband woman pulled Ella’s puppy dog backpack from the car and hoisted it onto her shoulder. She unbuckled Ella and then pulled Ella delicately, but firmly, from her booster seat and onto the pavement. The woman told Holly, “This behavior is perfectly normal.”

Normal? Holly thought Ella’s head might spin around. Expected she’d have to relive the greatest projectile vomiting scene in film history—pea-green Exorcist vomit—sent from the depths of hell, the kind that turns a person’s eyes evil and rips fire out of their belly. Rrrrroooooaaaaarrrrrr!

Ella stood on the pavement pushing hot air through flared nostrils, grumbling as if something evil seethed inside her.

“Lots of children do this,” the headband woman said.

“Oh, really?” Holly didn’t mean to sound incredulous. “Because I’m wondering if I should start carrying a vial of holy water with me.”

“Excuse me?” Taken aback, the headband lady twitched her head ever so slightly. Either she had no idea what Holly was saying, or she did know and thought Holly was a horrible mother for saying such a thing. What kind of mother made holy water jokes about her own child?

“I’m noooot going inside.”

I mean, come on. Who is this child? Satan’s Mini-Me? This isn’t my child.

“You can’t make me!”

“Ella, honey, stop that.” Holly gave a stern look to Ella. “Be a good girl for Mommy.”

“Nooooo.”

“All of this is really strange because Ella never misbehaves,” Holly told the woman. “She’s an absolute angel at home.”

“I don’t like french tooooooast!”

“She’ll be fine,” the woman said.

“I. Hate. French. Tooooooast.”

“I’ll take her inside, and we’ll find something to do right away.” The headband woman showered Ella with a smile. “Maybe we’ll draw a picture. Do you like crayons?”

“I like PINK ANDDD YELLOWWWW.” And with that, Ella tried to plop down on the curb, but the headband woman was too fast for her and instead scooped Ella into her arms. Well, that unleashed Armageddon. Yelling, screaming, depths of hell, Ella flailed about trying to escape as the poor woman wrestled to keep hold of her. Arms, legs, all of it. Movements so chaotic it looked like Ella was trying to take flight.