I shall have peace, as leafy trees are peaceful
When rain bends down the bough;
And I shall be more silent and cold-hearted
Than you are now.
-Sara Teasdale
"Can I have a word with you?" Mrs. Simmons asked the next day, as usual. They waited for everyone to leave and Mrs. Simmons asked her how everything was, as usual. Alessandra told her everything was fine, as she always did and Mrs. Simmons took of her glasses, told her if she needed anything, stopped mid-sentence, gave her the look, and gave Alessandra her typical arm squeeze, but this time, it hurt. Alessandra gave a surprised gasp. Until that moment, she hadn't even remembered her fall, but now she did. And although the squeeze hadn't been right on top of the worst part, it was still a bruised section and it hurt.
Mrs. Simmons immediately took her arm. Alessandra tried to take it back, but her teacher's grip tightened. She put her glasses down on her desk, and pulled up Alessandra's sleeve. There was a black bruise on her forearm and fainter, smaller ones around her elbow.
"Oh my goodness".
"I fell on the stairs", Alessandra explained. She didn't need a concerned teacher asking questions.
"I'm sure you did. Oh, honey, that old bastard". Mrs. Simmons eyes changed, as if she had suddenly understood the whole situation.
"I did! I ran up the stairs. It was a stupid thing to do, I know, but-".
But there was no way to convince Mrs. Simmons.
She was listening to music while she wrote on her blue notebook that evening. She was so focused, that she didn't notice Sophie climbing up to her window.
"Is that a writing journal?" She suddenly heard right next to her. Alessandra gave a little shriek.
"Oh my God!"
"Sorry", Sophie said, but looked at the blue notebook, trying to read what was on it.
"No I was just... I..." She tried to make something up. Anything. If Atticus found out, he wouldn't wait for an explanation before burning it and yelling at her. "You're not going to be a goddamn writer. I will not have you on this house longer than I have to only so you can write. No good payment comes from writing, you know that", he would say.
"I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to, Ale, but please don't lie to me".
Alessandra sighted.
"It is. But don't tell Atticus".
"He doesn't encourage it, I gather?" She asked as she made her way into the room. When they were younger they would always show up at each other's windows.
Alessandra had thought that was over, and was a little glad it wasn't.
"That's an understatement".
"Don't worry".
There was an awkward pause.
"Can I read it?" Sophie asked shyly. "I wont tell, I swear".
Alessandra sighed.
"Here". She handed Sophie her secret notebook.
"This is amazing. And I'm not just saying it because I'm your friend. It's truly amazing. You should finish it, someday. And maybe read it in public", Sophie said at lunch when she finished reading it, a few days later.
"I'm not really that fond of the 抖阴社区r's Plaza", Alessandra answered, placing her blue notebook inside her bag.
The 抖阴社区r's Plaza was a small place they had been told about in school where writers, or people who would like to be writers, would go and read things they wrote aloud. And if they were lucky, and good, someone important would listen and they would be made public. That didn't happen often, though, so the name was actually sarcastic. Alessandra and Sophie had been very disappointed when they had finally visited.
"Why not? The crappy writers, the smell, or the drunks?"
Alessandra laughed. It wasn't the most pleasant place, but that wasn't the true reason she avoided the plaza. She wanted to go, but a small voice never failed to remind her of what would happen if she failed, if it wasn't a good story. And even if it was, Atticus would hear about it, and that was enough to demotivate her.
"But for real, I think you could publish it. You always have the almighty internet".
"I don't know. It feels like it's missing something".
"How about names?" Sophie offered. They laughed. Alessandra hadn't written any names yet; she just made a different color line for each character. She wanted them to be perfect, to fit with their personalities. She wanted them to have meaning.
"How about you name one of them Sophie?" She asked, teasing.
"Maybe I should. Then people would ask you if you inspired that character. I'm sure you'd love that, wouldn't you?"
Sophie playfully pushed Alessandra's shoulder. She hated getting attention, Alessandra knew. Sophie happened to be the first on their generation whose parents had gotten a divorce. Many followed after but for some time, she would get a lot of questions about it. That didn't bother her so much, but then Brent Foss started telling her things like that they had probably just gotten married because her mother was pregnant, that they probably didn't even want to have a child in the first place and that basically it was all Sophie's fault. After that third time, he ended up with a broken nose and a missing tooth. Apparently, Sophie's dad had taught her how to fight for self-defense when she was younger. No one ever asked her anything about it afterwards, but she still got weird looks and was asked for advice once in a while.
"Don't you dare", Sophie said. They laughed again.
"But honestly, maybe you could help me", Alessandra offered. Sophie smiled the biggest smile Alessandra had seen for a long time.
"I would love to".
"Karre! Sophie! Are you girls enjoying your lunch?" Henson asked, sitting next to Sophie. Brent sat across from him, next to Alessandra.
"We were until you showed up". Alessandra muttered.
Alessandra had no idea what Atticus had done to Henson's dad, but whatever it was, it made the boy hate her. And Brent, being Henson's best friend and Sophie's sworn enemy, sided with him.
"Did you want something?" Sophie asked impatiently.
"Chips!" Brent exclaimed, reaching towards her dish.
"Don't make me break your nose again, Foss", Sophie warned and slapped his hand away.
Brent instinctively touched his crooked nose.
"Karre, I think your rudeness is getting to Sophie here. Do you think it's contagious?" Henson asked Foss in mock fear.
Alessandra glared at the boy. She didn't like to be called by Atticus's name. She didn't like that she had to take his name when she moved in, in the first place.
"Do I need to break your nose too?" Sophie asked.
"No, I would feel bad messing their faces up. They're ugly enough already", Alessandra told Sophie.
Alessandra felt like smiling broadly when none of the boys came up with any comebacks, but she didn't. They stood up to go somewhere else but Brent took hold of Alessandra's arm. The bruise on her forearm was healing, but it still hurt. She tried not to flinch, but Brent's grip was too tight.
"Where are you going? You shouldn't leave the table until everyone's done eating. Haven't you learned any manners? I know your parents are dead but-".
"Let go".
"Why? This is probably the more human contact you'll ever get from a boy. You should enjoy it", he said squeezing her arm.
Alessandra put her hand on top of Brent's, smiled at him, and dug her nail under his index finger's nail.
He gave an incredibly high-pitched scream as he took his hand back and away.
"Well, I sure enjoyed that", she said as she and Sophie walked away.
They were walking to Atticus's house when Sophie remembered she had left some notes and ideas for names at her own house.
When they got there, Mrs. Atkins greeted them in her own way.
"What's wrong?" She immediately asked.
"Nothing, mom. I just forgot something", Sophie said and hurried up the stairs, leaving Alessandra alone with Mrs. Atkins.
"Ah, all right. It's just since you told me you were going to Alessandra's, and you're here instead..." She trailed off when Sophie disappeared upstairs. "How are you, Alessandra?"
"I'm good, thank you. How are you, Mrs. Atkins?"
"Debby, sweetheart. Debby".
Mrs. Atkins always asked Alessandra to call her by her name, but Alessandra couldn't bring herself to. It just didn't feel right.
"Sorry".
"I'm good, thank you dear".
There was an awkward silence followed by footsteps.
"Done. Bye mom". Sophie said coming down the stairs putting the lose papers in her bag and kissing her mom's cheek. Alessandra watched as if from far away, with a little envy.
The girls got to the house and started going over Sophie's notes but not long after, the door flew open.
Henson and Brent were standing in the doorway, Brent with a proud grin on his face and metal tool on his hand.
"Weren't you taught it's rude to pick someone else's locks?" Alessandra said drily, but she was actually surprised. How had he known how to do that? That meant he could get in her house whenever he wanted.
She would have to get one of those small chains to keep him out.
"What do you want?" Alessandra asked when none of the boys spoke.
"Well, we happened to see your guardian on the street and, what a gentleman, he greeted us. He explained he had some business to take care off and he was going out of town for a few hours. He won't get home until late. We thought we might stop by", Brent said, putting away his tool and exploring the stool near the door with his hand.
"Get out", Alessandra said flatly.
Brent smiled and pushed the stool. It fell sideways to the ground with a loud thump.
"I think not", he said.
"So what is this, a revenge intervention?"
"Something like that", Henson answered, trying to sound mysterious.
But Alessandra could tell right away that was exactly what this was.
She knew these boys could basically destroy the house. Provoking them wasn't a good idea.
But Alessandra couldn't stop herself.
"Oh, I see. Daddy dearest couldn't gather enough courage to step in this house himself so he sent his dumb son and his dumb friend instead. Smart".
Henson threw Atticus' ashtray across the room in frustration. It shattered as it hit the stairs.
"God, Henson", Sophie said disapprovingly, almost a whisper.
"So, what, are you here to trash this house to defend your father's honor? Months after the actual thing?"
Somehow, Alessandra wasn't worried. Atticus always found a reason to blame her and or yell at her, so it didn't really affect her. And she knew she could clean up before he got home and convince him she just did some remodeling. And her notebook was hidden safely in her bag. "No man dares go near a woman's bag", she had once heard Mrs. Atkins say.
She wasn't afraid of anything.
What made her angry was that these two boys would just come here and break things for no real reason.
"Oh, so we can go ahead?"
"As long as you clean up after yourselves, we won't have a problem", she said with a smile, a smile she knew was an exact replica of Atticus' scary, reasonless ones.
Brent looked down at all the loose papers neatly organized in the table, and while looking at Alessandra, he and Henson turned the table over, the notes flying everywhere, scattering across the room.
Foss was making a strange noise. Alessandra noticed his arm was bleeding.
He had positioned himself in a way that the table's corner edge clashed against his arm when he turned it over.
Alessandra had to try hard to keep herself from laughing.
"Are you done?" She asked when she calmed herself down. The house didn't have much decoration they could throw, and the boys were looking around, searching for something.
Just then, she realized Sophie was actually freaked out. She was fidgeting and her eyes were wide open, looking at the boys.
Alessandra took her hand and smiled. She hoped it was reassuring one this time. Hoped Sophie could tell the difference.
"No, we're not done yet, Karre", Brent spat.
"No, you're not".
Everyone froze.
Alessandra could recognize that voice anywhere. Atticus was standing in the doorway's shadow.
She looked at all their notes and ideas to improve her story on the floor, at the stool on the floor, at the broken ashtray on the stairs, at the mess Henson and Brent had left in their wake.
Alessandra looked at the boys, and for the first time, was glad Atticus was home early. The look of pure terror on their faces was one she wouldn't forget soon.
Atticus walked in. He could've come right out of a horror movie. He stepped closer, into the light, so the girls could see his expression as he saw Sophie, then Brent and Henson, then the mess, and his jaw started ticking. He dropped the bag he was carrying and whatever was inside broke. Alessandra suspected he was trying very hard to stay calmed and polite.
Everything was messy, just how Atticus hated it the most.
"Would you mind going back home now?" He said slowly, calmly. Sophie and the two boys started walking towards the door but Atticus placed one hand with long fingers on Henson's shoulder, and the other on Brent's.
"Not you two".
"Right. See you tomorrow, Ale. Goodbye Mr. Karre".
Alessandra gave Sophie her best apologetic smile as she left.
"Lowell, Foss, what are you two doing in my house?"
None of them said a word. Alessandra doubted they were so much as breathing.
"Are you going to answer anytime today?"
Nothing. They were petrified.
Atticus didn't raise his voice once. Alessandra could see how much he struggled, but to Foss and Henson, it would simply look terrifying.
"Is there a man in this Godforsaken town going to ever answer me the first time I ask a question?" He muttered.
Henson seemed to be trying to say something, but he wasn't getting anywhere. Foss seemed close to passing out.
"We... we are Alessandra's friends", Henson managed to get out. "We were... we-"
"Spit it out, boy".
Those words had the opposite effect. Neither of them was able to make a sound after that.
"Get out". Atticus commanded, and the two boys practically ran out.
"Since when do your friends come over without my permission?" Atticus asked her, still not moving from his spot.
"They are not my friends".
"I mean the Atkins girl".
"Just this time".
"Ok, then, mind telling me what this all is?" He gestured to the mess.
"A nice visit from the two boys you almost scared to death".
"What mess did you get yourself into?"
"Me? They were here because you did whatever you did to Mr. Lowell".
"Five months ago?"
Alessandra shrugged.
"How did they manage to turn that table over?"
"They're strong".
"Why was the Foss boy's arm bleeding? Did you do something to him? You know the complaints would fall on me if you did, and then-"
"I didn't touch him. I said they were strong, but they aren't smart. He did that to himself when he-"
"Why did you let them break my things?"
"I didn't let them, I had no choice! You just said if I hurt them you would be the one-"
"What are all those papers?" He interrupted, suddenly stiff.
"Just some science notes".
"Really". He stepped over his bag, grabbed one of the papers and read out loud.
"Mia, Erica, Joana. What has this to do with science, girl?" He grabbed another piece of paper with bright blue letters. Alessandra recognized immediately and tried to get it back, but couldn't.
"Potential names for story: Nov-" He wasn't reading out loud now, but his eyes quickly scanned the paper over and over again. His nostrils were flaring. "Please tell me this is not what it seems", he said quietly.
"This is not what it seems".
"Don't you get insolent with me! Are you writing again? And don't you dare lie to me now".
Alessandra stayed quiet.
There is no point in trying to convince him of anything when he gets like this, she reminded herself.
Just nine months and twenty-six more days.
"Unbelievable!" She just noticed he was crushing another note on his hand.
"What's that?" She asked slowly, gesturing to the note.
"Another proof of your carelessness". He opened it and shoved it on her face. She didn't need to read it to know what it was about. She recognized Mrs. Simmons's handwriting, full of curved, perfect letters. No wonder he had gotten home so early. He had probably had to cancel whatever business he had to take care off once he got the note.
"You bring friends over without my permission. You let those two morons destroy my house. You eat my food, sleep under my roof, use my money for school and you still disobey me like this. And then, I get this letter from your teacher asking about your bruised arm, and reminding me of the laws against child abuse, like I'm responsible for those", he said gesturing at her arm. He was getting angrier and angrier. "Take care of her they said. She just needs to be taken care of. But did they ever tell me I would have to deal with such insolence? They certainly did not! You would be frozen to death on the street long ago if they had, I assure you!"
Atticus's eyes had darkened with anger. He picked up every note, every piece of paper lying on the floor, threw them in the fireplace and lit it up. Alessandra tried to reach for the ones that weren't burning yet, but Atticus shoved his bony index on her face.
"Listen to me very carefully", Atticus said right in her face. His breath stunk of cigarettes. "You will show me some respect. You will fix this mess. You will make sure this is the last time those boys show up in my house. You will apologize for your insolence, or God help me I will make you sorry".
There was a silence that seemed to last a lifetime. Unbelievable. He was acting as if it was her fault Henson and Brent left the mess they did.
"I'm sorry", Alessandra muttered.
"What was that?"
"I'm sorry", she said more clearly.
"For?"
"For not doing anything to destroy your guise and get away from you", she spat.
It was strange. She knew exactly what to say. Maybe that fierceness was coming out, but she knew he had his mind clear somehow; she could see his eyes, the eyes of a man completely in control. She had to choose her words carefully; it wasn't the moment for being fierce.
But she couldn't stand him any longer.
He lifted a hand to slap her. This was it. This was the explosion. Alessandra was actually glad to get it over with. She was ready, waiting. She stepped back.
Except she wasn't ready for the bag that Atticus had dropped down to be on the way.
She lost her balance and stumbled towards the stairs, and she felt every step burying in her back, legs, and ribs. She felt the ceramic of the broken ashtray burying in her hands, small spots of blood staining the stairs. She stood up, slowly. She felt tears coming to her eyes.
Don't cry in front of this man. Don't give him the satisfaction of knowing he can hurt you, a strange, isolated, fierce part inside her told her. She would sometimes imagine how things in her past would've happened if that fierce Alessandra did the talking. She talked funny, too. With an accent Alessandra had never heard.
She walked up to her guardian.
"I feel sorry for you", she slowly told him. She was shocked at how cold, how calmed she sounded. She went upstairs and packed her bag.
Was that regret she saw on his eyes?
"You're not going out in this rain", Atticus said.
Oh, so now he cares about my well-being?
"Nope", Alessandra answered. "In the next one".
She left, Atticus's threat still echoing through her.