The Smell of Dead Roses

Gerri Leen lives in Northern Virginia; she originally hails from Seattle, and spends far too much mental time in the worlds of Star Trek. This story is for absent friends and family—some long gone, some lost just recently. Leen humbly thanks: friends Kath, Lisa, and Paula for useful crit and encouragement beyond the call of duty; the Paneranormal Society writers for reviews and kicking ideas around; and editors Dean, Margaret, and Paula for making this all happen. She wishes Dean all the best as he rides off into the non–Strange New Worlds sunset and thanks him for the wisdom he's shared with new and not-so-new writers over the years. Her story "Obligations Discharged" was in Strange New Worlds VII and "Living on the Edge of Existence" appeared in Strange New Worlds 9.

Perrin huddled on the balcony, trying to will herself into invisibility as the fight between her parents raged on. She stared out at the other building, hating that the people across from her might be staring back, might be feeling pity.

"Perrin?" Her sister snuck out through the open door and crawled into her lap.

"It'll be all right."

Nanda was too little to understand what had happened. She'd been bouncing around Perrin all day. Excited to eat Perrin's birthday cake—cake that was now all over the floor.

It had made a strange sound as it hit, knocked off the table by her father. Not a crash—it was too soft for that. But not a gentle sound, either. There had been a sucking noise, as frosting met wood, as cake smashed down, causing the frosting to spread out even more. Nine candles had hit first. Nine candles that were broken now and would never be lit.

"Why do they yell at each other?" Nanda asked, scrunching her eyes closed as if that could make the voices stop.

"Because they can."

"But it's your birthday."

Perrin looked back at what had been her pretty cake. It had come out of the replicator already decorated with roses in pink and yellow, just the way she'd wanted it. There'd been little forget-me-nots in light blue, and a long, trailing vine of dark green ivy rambling over the whole cake.

It had been the most beautiful cake Perrin had ever seen. She'd just known it would taste better than any of her other birthday cakes.

"Is it because I cheated?" Nanda whispered.

"What?"

"When you weren't looking, I took some frosting. From the back, where you wouldn't see. Is that why they're mad?"

Perrin hugged her close. "No, that's not why."

But Nanda was sniffling in the way that meant she might break into tears at any minute.

"What color was the frosting you tasted?"

"Yellow."

The border had been yellow, all scrolled and thick. "Was it good?"

Nanda nodded. She seemed to relax, crying jag averted.

"I thought it would be." Perrin sighed, and went back to studying the other apartments as the yelling inside her family's went on.

The park smelled like summer, even though it was barely spring. London had warmed early, but the bright sun did nothing to warm Perrin as she walked slowly with her mother. She willed her fourteen-year-old heart to slow down—or just to stop.

How could anything hurt this bad?

Copyright © 2007 by CBS Studios Inc.