didn’t matter, she thought; she could smell it just the same.
When she was younger, she could remember arguing with her mother about keeping his things. Petula would accuse her mother of hanging on to the past, to bad memories that would only keep her from moving on in her life. To Petula, her father’s leaving was like a death—maybe even worse because it was voluntary. It was something to be gotten over and forgotten. But now, she was overjoyed and comforted that they’d kept everything. And not just kept, but preserved, like some kind of a museum exhibit of their family’s past.
Petula, however, was more into living memorials and decided, with some subconscious prompting from CoCo, that it was time to resurrect them. Enough time had passed that almost everything in the closet was back in style. She gently gathered the old suits from the wooden hangers and carried them to her room.
“I know just the guy for them,” CoCo thought as she watched Petula add the garments to the pile.
The scene was set. Wendy Anderson, Wendy Thomas, and their new best friend, Darcy, were parked and ready to catch the perpetrator. The Wendys brought Darcy along primarily for third-party verification. If any of this ever leaked, no one would believe them without her corroboration. They donned their undercover ‘70s Bond Girl outfits, an inspired choice, and were now waiting for Petula to arrive.
“She’s not the same,” Wendy Anderson said, justifying the snooping.
“I think she’s slowly trying to replace us, phase us out,” Wendy Anderson blurted. “Well, maybe she’ll be the one phased out.”
“You guys are so right,” Darcy spouted. “She’s probably down here auditioning dropouts for a new crew.”
It was something both Wendys had been thinking, but never discussed openly, until now.
“I can’t wait to see who our competition is,” Wendy Anderson said, but it was pretty clear from her expression that she didn’t mean it.
“That’s loser talk,” Darcy chided as the Wendys remained on high alert, much like betrayed lovers waiting to witness the cheating firsthand. “You are The Wendys! You have no competition.”
Both Wendys were so insecure about themselves and their friendship with Petula that they were always in a state of paranoia, and Petula liked it that way. She knew instinctively that both girls were strictly middle management, bereft almost entirely of leadership skills, so it was easy to keep them off-balance and constantly worrying about their place in her orbit. They supplied Petula with adulation and in return were allowed to sail along in her slipstream.
Their roles had become so entrenched, their social status—even their futures—so entangled with hers, they felt they had not just a right, but also an obligation to get to the bottom of Petula’s aberrant behavior. She might be fine turning all do-goody from her coma, but they were the ones who would have to answer for it. And they found themselves unprepared. If somebody had to get knocked off the popularity pedestal, it was not going to be them.
The Wendys were bolstered by Darcy’s pep talk and saw in her the motivational qualities that they were sorely missing. Darcy was ready to reign.
Pam and Prue watched this tentative mating ritual between The Wendys and Darcy with great curiosity. Darcy had a familiar air about her, and not in a good way. Pam and Prue had developed a fondness, if not a respect, for Petula ever since the Virginia situation and didn’t appreciate some new queen wannabe trying to exploit her at a vulnerable time.
“There she is!” Wendy Thomas yelled, as if she’d just discovered a rare, endangered species while on safari.
Living and dead alike watched as Petula made her way down the dark alley and toward a group of homeless kids. This amazed The Wendys, as Petula would never walk toward a group of absolute strangers without some kind of advance fanfare prepared. Pam and Prue, however, could see that she
When she was younger, she could remember arguing with her mother about keeping his things. Petula would accuse her mother of hanging on to the past, to bad memories that would only keep her from moving on in her life. To Petula, her father’s leaving was like a death—maybe even worse because it was voluntary. It was something to be gotten over and forgotten. But now, she was overjoyed and comforted that they’d kept everything. And not just kept, but preserved, like some kind of a museum exhibit of their family’s past.
Petula, however, was more into living memorials and decided, with some subconscious prompting from CoCo, that it was time to resurrect them. Enough time had passed that almost everything in the closet was back in style. She gently gathered the old suits from the wooden hangers and carried them to her room.
“I know just the guy for them,” CoCo thought as she watched Petula add the garments to the pile.
The scene was set. Wendy Anderson, Wendy Thomas, and their new best friend, Darcy, were parked and ready to catch the perpetrator. The Wendys brought Darcy along primarily for third-party verification. If any of this ever leaked, no one would believe them without her corroboration. They donned their undercover ‘70s Bond Girl outfits, an inspired choice, and were now waiting for Petula to arrive.
“She’s not the same,” Wendy Anderson said, justifying the snooping.
“I think she’s slowly trying to replace us, phase us out,” Wendy Anderson blurted. “Well, maybe she’ll be the one phased out.”
“You guys are so right,” Darcy spouted. “She’s probably down here auditioning dropouts for a new crew.”
It was something both Wendys had been thinking, but never discussed openly, until now.
“I can’t wait to see who our competition is,” Wendy Anderson said, but it was pretty clear from her expression that she didn’t mean it.
“That’s loser talk,” Darcy chided as the Wendys remained on high alert, much like betrayed lovers waiting to witness the cheating firsthand. “You are The Wendys! You have no competition.”
Both Wendys were so insecure about themselves and their friendship with Petula that they were always in a state of paranoia, and Petula liked it that way. She knew instinctively that both girls were strictly middle management, bereft almost entirely of leadership skills, so it was easy to keep them off-balance and constantly worrying about their place in her orbit. They supplied Petula with adulation and in return were allowed to sail along in her slipstream.
Their roles had become so entrenched, their social status—even their futures—so entangled with hers, they felt they had not just a right, but also an obligation to get to the bottom of Petula’s aberrant behavior. She might be fine turning all do-goody from her coma, but they were the ones who would have to answer for it. And they found themselves unprepared. If somebody had to get knocked off the popularity pedestal, it was not going to be them.
The Wendys were bolstered by Darcy’s pep talk and saw in her the motivational qualities that they were sorely missing. Darcy was ready to reign.
Pam and Prue watched this tentative mating ritual between The Wendys and Darcy with great curiosity. Darcy had a familiar air about her, and not in a good way. Pam and Prue had developed a fondness, if not a respect, for Petula ever since the Virginia situation and didn’t appreciate some new queen wannabe trying to exploit her at a vulnerable time.
“There she is!” Wendy Thomas yelled, as if she’d just discovered a rare, endangered species while on safari.
Living and dead alike watched as Petula made her way down the dark alley and toward a group of homeless kids. This amazed The Wendys, as Petula would never walk toward a group of absolute strangers without some kind of advance fanfare prepared. Pam and Prue, however, could see that she
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