What would you trade your soul for?
The answer is simple for Jessa: nothing. Life isn't perfect, but it's pretty good with her best friend Taylor at her side.
But everything changes when the Devil--disguised as an attractive high school girl--comes...
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My mom picked me up after lunch in what my family lovingly refers to as her "Mom-obile." It's a hulking red van that she's driven ever since Mallory was born 14 years ago. The paint is chipped, the doors are permanently set to child lock, and no matter how thoroughly we clean the interior, you will always find pretzel salt in the back seats. And yet I couldn't imagine my mom ever trading in that thing for something better. I knew she could afford something nicer—most of the partners in her law firm drove sleek black Audis—but something about this car was just so wonderfully her.
I tossed my backpack in the back and climbed into the passenger seat. "Thanks for picking me up, Mom."
The car grinded forward as soon as I shut the car door. "Oh, it's not a problem," she said. "How's your headache?"
I hadn't wanted to scare my mom too much about my memory loss, so I had lied and told her I had a headache. I was really hoping Taylor was right and I would just sleep it all off.
"It's pretty bad," I lied. "But hopefully it'll get better with a nap."
"Do you think it's a migraine?"
I was about to answer when I finally got a glimpse of what my mother was wearing. She had on a mint green sweatshirt and an old pair of jeans speckled with flour. When I had left for school this morning, she had been dressed in her normal work attire: a black pinstripe suit and two-inch black heels.
"Did you skip work today?" I asked, incredulous. She had mentioned she was baking cookies, but I hadn't made the connection that she might have been home all day until now.
She nodded. "I decided I didn't feel like going in today. As soon as you and Mallory got on the bus, I got into the strangest baking mood. So I called in sick."
"But you never call in sick. You're a lawyer."
"Exactly!" she said as we waited at a stoplight. "Which is why I figured I could finally use one of my sick days. The rest of the team can handle the work for today. And I'll bring them some holiday cookies tomorrow as a thank-you."
"Holiday cookies? Like Halloween cookies?"
"No, Christmas cookies."
I stared at my mother, wondering if she was about to start rapping in Japanese. "But it's October."
My mom opened her mouth to respond, but then paused before a single syllable could escape her lips. "Huh," she said after a moment. "You're right. Not quite sure why I went that route. It just seemed... right at the time."
"I don't understand," I mumbled, but it was too quiet for her to hear. My mom had skipped work to bake Christmas cookies in October. It was all too absurd.
When we finally pulled into the driveway, I had to stop myself from running into the house, into a realm of normalcy in the midst of the strangest day of my life. I inhaled deeply once I crossed the threshold. Yes, the air smelled of sugar and butter, and there was a tray of Christmas tree cookies on the kitchen island, but it was still the home I loved: familiar and normal.
