Marsha > Recent Status Updates

"But, Mr. Joplin," I cried, "it's a death sentence to look in the mirror! It doesn't show you marvels. If you'd read Mary Dulac's Confessions, you'd understand exactly what I'm talking about. The guy Wilberforce dropped dead as soon as--"
"Oh, you've read them too? For a moment his blank look vanished, and he looked keenly interested. "You did find another copy? Well done! You must tell me how."

Before the hour was out, Inspector Barnes arrived; soon the place was crawling with DEPRAC forensic scientists, with Kipps and his associates hovering on the sidelines. Kipps, inevitably, reacted to our find with agitation and, being desperate not to miss any clues we might have found, kept getting in the way of the forensic team until Barnes bluntly told him to get lost.

"Did it talk about the afterlife?" George said eagerly. His eyes shone bright behind his spectacles. "That's the big one. That's what everyone wants. Old Joplin told me he goes to scholars' conventions about it. What happens after death. Immortality... The fate of the human soul..."
"It said you were fat."
"What?"
"It talked about us, basically. It watches us and knows our names. It said--"
"It said I was fat?"

"I have no idea," he said, "how long I was that man's servant. His slave. I don't know what he made me do. I might have done terrible things. Perhaps I killed for him. I might have killed my own king." There was a tight edge in his voice. "But even worse would be if I did it all gladly. If he robbed me of my will, and turned me against myself. Given a choice, I'd sooner extinguish myself in the ocean."

Was every day spent questioning her own sanity? The reality of living in her own skin? How much longer can I keep up this ruse? Alana was a product of her environment, as I am--but where she was a sweet and passive creature, I am a lonely animal who cannot be caged.
"Do you think she'll be made at me?" I hedge.
"Nah. You know Brook. She'd rather forget about a problem than deal with it." Casey sighs.

After sharing my disappointment with one of my elders, Ms. Pat, she suggested I go visit the local rape crisis center. I hadn't even known Selma had a rape crisis center. I looked it up and it turns out they handled sexual and domestic violence. I found the address and drove over. I pulled into the parking lot of what looked more like a modest house than a center.

Henry and I were so much alike--we both wanted very much to please our fathers, to find common ground. Up to that point I had been drawn to Henry for a great number of reasons--his eyes, his smile, his quiet manner. But there was so much more to him than those outward things. I wanted to know everything there was to know about him, including his delicate, complicated feelings toward his father.

"Daisy's mother warned me about them." The irony of it, how Daisy's mother had been so diligent in cautioning her children and nieces and nephews. Escucha, beware something bright like that, just out of nowhere. Daisy, her own daughter, had bleached herself so pale that all that was left of her was a green glow.
"From far away, it looks like something you want," I said. "But if you get too close, it's poison."

There are two other convicts with me. One has a cross tattooed on his shaved skull. The other kid looks completely normal. His clothes are a little freaky maybe, but that's a misdemeanor here, not a felony. When Mr. Neck gets up to greet a late arrival, the normal-looking kid tells me he likes to start fires.

Our last companion is Andy Evans. My breakfast turns to hydrochloric acid.

Oliver recounted the story of the weekend's adventure, from running into Bingley and Darcy, to spending the morning exploring the fair together, to the Temple of Muses and finally the invitation to Watier's.
When he was finished, Lu's eyes were wide as shillings. "Why didn't you mention it when you returned to change back into your dress?"
"I needed time to process before I spoke to anyone about it," Oliver said.

At the rate she was growing...sometime in the next couple of years, she'd be able to fly. What would it be like then, to not have to worry about trains or ferries or even canoes, to be able to fly from one place to another without a care for roads or forests or bodies of water or impassible rocks? I knew from reading and from overhearing conversation that most any dragon could make New Linvik in a couple of hours.

"Emily," he said. "I am asking you to come with us."
"That is kind of you," Emily said. "But I do not think I can remain your governess, after all of this. It would be rather uncomfortable for everybody involved."
"Not as a governess," Captain Edward said slowly. "As my wife."
Apparently they were not far enough away from Oliver to make this conversation truly private, because he let out a choked-off sound.

She had actually gone in search of her mislaid pupil, and eventually determined that she was hiding in a locked storage room that usually house linens.
Aster had pretended not to be there, which was ridiculous considering the fact that Emily could hear her breathing, but Emily had not recently come into possession of a battering ram, so she had admitted defeat for one more day.

The Count's parents had given the world a second issue from their union. She, or they, were even more remarkable than the Count himself.
the first head was been christened "Vittoria," while the second head was named "Clemenza." As a united woman, the twins, or the girl, was known as "Ida." One could not very well say, "Vittoria, come here," when Clemenza was bound to come along anyway.

She is lovely in the moonlight. Standing tall, breath clouding. Frost and snow clings to her clothes. And she's looking at me like I'm something at all worth looking at.
Maybe I'll get used that [sic] one day. But now now.
"I tied my horse by the gate," she says. "She can't handle all three of us. Do you think we could walk to the nearest village?"
"I'd have to keep an eye on you for frostbite," I say.

"Sit down," Collins said, and Nicholas sat. He wasn't sure if the waves of vertigo were from Collin's words or from an underproduction of red blood cells, but either way, he was feeling distinctly unwell. He snapped his fingers for Sir Kiwi, who trotted over, black eyes bright, having a grand old time. She sat obligingly on his foot.
Esther had settled back in her chair, but she kept changing position, restless.

Only ten minutes ago, my biggest worry was blending in, and now? All I want is to know whether Benjamin Brandt believes in true love. And that half-baked answer got me nowhere closer to the truth.
"For the record," he offers, "you look really...beautiful tonight."
I feel a hot vibration under my skin. "Thank you, but are you trying to change the subject?"
"Is it working?"
"No."

Just when I think he's going to argue, Ben tips his head, takes a deep breath. "I knew I was right about you."
There is a heavy pause that drinks in all the oxygen between us. But I won't ask, I won't take the bait.
"You are from here," he finally adds. "And...you're an Estrada."
I nod, wondering how much he knows about my family, about his grandmother's childhood summers spent with my grandmother.

"No doubt about it," Mucius exclaimed. "We must get to Vinicius before he does." And he started running again.

In front of Vinicius' villa Publius was waiting for them.

"You're a regular marathon runner," Mucius said in praise.

"Oh, I practically walked," Publius said, still panting.

"What did Rufus say when you told him his writing tablet had been stolen from school?" Julius asked.

"Nothing," Publius replied.

Much to my continued surprise, Jake Jackson visited the office often, coming and going by way of the back stairs. Day by day he got closer and closer to my desk, until he was sitting on it, one leg crossed over the other. From my spot in the office chair, I was often eye level with his knee, and Little Man was hiding in a lidded trash can, which I'd scrounged from a supply closet and lined with a sheet from home.

I force myself to break loose. "We're coming!" I shout. "Are we ready?" I say to Emmett.
He laughs. "We're good."
"Break a leg."
"You too," he says as I open the bathroom door, trying to brace myself against the nerves sparking off Celeste. I walk with her to gather everyone else from the choir room.
They all follow me to the backstage area. Hushed conversations percolate as the kids take their places in the wings.

In New York, people tend to be respectful of celebrities' space. We get excited about them like at Broadway Baby when Emmett showed up unexpectedly. But there are so many famous people in NYC that the antics of gossip sites angling for a good scoop are pretty well dispersed, so no one gets too hard of a time. It'd be different in the Bay Area. Once word goes out that Emmett was around, he wouldn't be left alone.

In the cab, Mark texts Dinesh while Ujima checks their makeup. I sit between them, right smack-dab in the middle of a tension sandwich, with me as a slab of buffer boloney between two slices of drama.
Mark snaps his leather cell phone wallet case shut. "Dinesh is in. He'll meet us there."
"Where?" I ask.
"Mess Hall. One of my new favorite restaurants. It's kitschy but chic."
Ujima grunts. "Sounds lovely."

Megan bites into her toast. "I can't believe we get to say the butler did it."
Aunt Jade frowns. "Trying to drive a wedge between you and Theo? He should be ashamed."
I crack my soft-boiled eggs into a bowl. "Theo lost his mom, and now he's at war with his dad. He doesn't have many people left who care about him, and I don't want him to lose another. What Bernard did was awful, but I'm willing to let it go."

Two courses, six bottles of wine and a hundred and forty-seven laughs later, Paige officially decides it's time to go karaoking. This event wasn't on the wedding festivities docket, but everyone knows Karaoke with Paige is a blast.
We travel to the ends of the earth to a subterranean dive on the Lower East Side that has the distinct odor of stale beer mixed with millennials desperate for attention.

IN THE SUMMER of 1975, Prefontaine died suddenly, in the mysterious late-night car crash that claimed his life and shook the small town of Eugene and the running world in general. the calls checking on Decker, trying to keep her from training too much from a concerned, older-brother figure, trying to keep her healthy, ended.
The 1976 Olympics in Montreal loomed.

When Leather was seven years old and London was being blitzed by the Germans near daily, Britain, like the US, suddenly saw women as physically capable of much more than just raising children or doing the household chores. In the US, a propaganda campaign built around a burly Rosie the Riveter convinced women all across the country to get their newly discovered muscles into factories to build some airplanes,

Around the world, one in every four pregnancies ends in an abortion--and almost half of those abortions are unsafe. That is 25 million unsafe abortions every year. Instead of being performed by well-trained doctors in clinics or hospitals, they are done by unqualified people in unsterile conditions. All too often they result in injury, infection or death.

Once this bubble of self-deception is burst and the mask that shielded her and others from what she wished to ignore is lifted, it is difficult for the woman to return to her life as it was. It has been said that "the discovery of a deceiving principle, a lying activity within us, can furnish an absolutely new view of all conscious life." This reawakened awareness changes the upscale abused woman's life forever.

"So...who's your Fox?" Flex asked.
Chloe said nothing, but she smiled strangely, and Bryce let out a soft snort. Flex almost recoiled as it hit her.
"Me?"
"Who else?" Chloe cheered.
Flex's body rejected the proposal before her brain could even consider it.
"I'm good," Flex mumbled.
"'You're good,' what's that supposed to mean? 'Yes'?" Brett pushed.
"No," Flex said shortly. "It means 'no.'"