Saturday, February 15, 2014

Chapter Thirteen: Grace Abbott's Point of View



                I watch Katie’s face fall. 
                “I’m sorry,” I say, standing up.  “I shouldn’t have told you.  I knew it.”  I put my hand over my face.  “I’ll just go.”
                “No.  You can stay,” Katie says, but it’s flat and monotone.
                “I have nowhere to sleep.  All I’m doing is eating your food.  And taking up space.  And making you depressed.  Face it, Katie.  I’m not helping by staying here.  Let me go.”
                “Where will you stay?”
                “I….”
                “Come to think of it, I never saw you around anywhere.  You weren’t at the Ceremony.  You weren’t anywhere.  Where did you come from?”
                “I was…I just….”
                “Just what?  Where. Did. You. Come. From?”
                “The American Society!” I fling my hands into the air.  “You got me!  They flew me here!  They wanted me to investigate!  They’re hearing this right. Now.   Are you happy, Kathryn Ann Wilde?  Because I’m not.”
                I storm out the door.  The cool air whips my face and blows my hair around out of my face as I look up at the starry, clear sky.  “Come and get me!  I’m done here.  I’m freaking done!”
                No one, of course, comes. 
                My vision goes black and my hearing shuts down.  I know what’s about to happen.
                She walks out the door.  She looks at the girl in front of her whose back is turned.  She listens quietly to the girl’s sobs.  She reaches out to touch the girl’s shoulder and the girl whips around.   She stares in shock at the girl.
                My vision comes back.  I feel tears streak down my face and start sobbing.  I don’t bother trying to hold it back.  You can’t change the future.
                The wind blows at my back.  I hear footsteps.  Just as I assume the girl from the vision, Katie, reaches out, I whip around.  She gapes at me.
                “You—your eye—,” she stammers.
                I shrug and press my lips together.  My hands slap against my thighs as they fall. 
                “I heard that all the Seers…but I never thought…”
                “Thought what?  Did you just assume that I was wearing my hair like that as a fashion statement?  Well, you thought wrong.  But what’s the big deal, right?  It’s only the fact that my left iris is STRAIGHT WHITE.  No.  Big.  Deal,” I shout angrily.
                Katie flushes and backs away, her eyes wide.  But when she speaks, her voice is steady.  “I didn’t mean anything by it.  I was just surprised.”
                “Well, Kristen—,” she cuts me off saying that her name is Katie, “you’d better go tell your buddies about poor little Grace with her ugly old eye.  Or does Lilly already know?”
                “It’s Lois.  And no, she doesn’t,” Katie says firmly.
                I get another flash, but this one’s brief.
                “By the way, Melanie’s waking up.”
                “Mallory,” she says.  “It’s Mallory.”
               

Katie ran inside after I told her that.  Mallory had woken up and was a bit disgruntled, but when she remembered what had happened she started crying.
                We sit on the couch, trying to comfort her.  She keeps crying and shaking her head.
                “I just can’t believe he’s gone.  He was always there and now he’s gone.  It doesn’t  make sense.”
                Lois wraps her arm around Mallory and rubs her shoulder.  “I know.  I know.  It’ll be alright.  I promise.  It’s okay.  You’ve got us.”
                Mallory keeps shaking her head. 
                Scarlett runs out of the kitchen with a tray of cupcakes.
                Mallory looks up.  “You don’t have to fatten me up, you know.  I’m okay.”
                “Nonsense,” Scarlett says.  “Cupcakes are good for you.”
                Mallory takes one and her lips curl upward a teeny bit.  “Okay.  Thanks.”
                She’s stopped crying.  An improvement.
                I walk into the bathroom to make sure my hair is hanging properly.  I stare at my reflection.  My eyes are still tinged red from my crying earlier, and my hair is tangled from the wind.  My cheeks are flushed behind the freckles.  I stare at the mirror until my sight goes blurry. 
                I shake my head a bit to break myself from the stare.   Out in the living room,  Mallory is smiling.  The thought that she’s feeling better makes me smile.
                But then, and I don’t know how I didn’t see this coming, the door breaks open.
                A man in all black shoves his way in.  He’s got a captive whose head is covered with a bag.  There’s a gun to the poor person’s head.
                He loads the pistol.  “If you ever want to see her alive again, come with me.”
                He pulls the bag off.
                It’s Luna.

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