These are the excerpts.
This page, along with the subsequent pages- which can be found by hovering your cursor over {The Excerpts: Chapter 1-6}- will be dedicated to excerpts from each chapter of "Fledgling". I think it is important to include this element in my site because it gives my potential audience a glimpse not only into the story, but into my writing style as well. It will give the reader a chance to decide if they would like to read the rest, the nit and grit of my first novel. Some excepts will be longer or shorter than others, depending on how much I want to give away. Hopefully you all will enjoy it!
*Chapter 1- Sonja
Sonja slumped further in her seat and stuck her pen forcefully back in her mouth to continue her oral fixation. She lost focus from Emma's thick London accent and gazed out the large classroom window. She watched a magpie flit about from branch to branch, when it stopped suddenly, as if he caught her watching him. He hopped down a branch, then another, scuttling his way awkwardly like birds do to the end of that branch, and cocked his head at Sonja. She sat up a bit and knitted her brows together, blinking once, and looking again. The bird was still sitting there, still looking at her. Its a magpie, he must see something shiny in here, she thought logically. She continued looking and so did the magpie. He cocked his head the other way, winked at her, and flew away. Her pen fell to the table with a metallic thunk, shocking Sonja out of her confused state. Her classmates heard the pang of the silver pen with her father's name emblazoned on it and all turned to stare.
“Is everathing a'right then, love?”
“Y-yeah, I'm good, cheers, thanks, okay...” She rubbed her hand over her face in embarrassment, hearing several giggles across the room.
Gerald Blackburn was Sonja's no nonsense English tutor. He could tell she was different, and he liked that, but he at the moment had a class to manage. He raised his brows at her and turned back to the class. She looked down at her notebook with a wide eyed, embarrassed expression. She gave a sidelong glance to the window, just to be sure; the magpie was gone but she knew what she had seen.
“Okay then, for next Friday have a read of Pope. As for the now, I'll see ye next week.”
Blackburn got up, shrugged his over-sized peacoat across his broad shoulders, shot a wide smile at Sonja, and left with his tattered briefcase. A sizable man, Blackburn encompassed the stereotypical, Hollywood Scottish look with the scruffy facial hair, thick accent, and husky but sexy build. He noticed her, in a way he probably shouldn't, but who didn't notice her? She was simply stunning, and had to be at least, what, nineteen? Blackburn turned his thoughts to academic matters to close off his mind from the potentially disastrous situation he was so tempted to get himself into.
She was glad to be at University of Stirling as a whole and hoped it was her last stop on this seemingly endless journey between moves. Her parents appeared to be content enough with the city, but then again they were content in Phoenix, then six months later in North Conway where Sonja was born, then two years later in Boston. Before moving to Stirling, Sonja had lived in six different places. They stayed the longest in Boston, and it would always hold a special place in Sonja's heart. The Paisleys lived there until Sonja was thirteen; they did plenty of things together while there to get a real feel for the city. They went to the New England Aquarium to make faces at the fish and learn to waddle like a penguin; they went to the Museum of Science to see the indoor lightning show and find out how gravity works. They went to the Half Shell on the Fourth of July to see the Boston Pops and the famous fireworks, but none of that was enough to keep them there, however; they had to keep moving. Sonja was never quite sure why they moved so much, and never really thought to ask. She knew her hippy mother and ever-learning father couldn't stay in one place too long, so she accepted it and went with the flow. At nineteen years old, though, she just about had enough moving. She didn't lack for anything; she'd seen places and done things that most people her age could only dream of. She had never had a boyfriend, though, never been to a real party, and never stayed out late. She couldn't complain, but a big part of her ached to finally have some semblance of normalcy. Besides Boston, Stirling had been the only place she truly loved and felt like she belonged.
“Is everathing a'right then, love?”
“Y-yeah, I'm good, cheers, thanks, okay...” She rubbed her hand over her face in embarrassment, hearing several giggles across the room.
Gerald Blackburn was Sonja's no nonsense English tutor. He could tell she was different, and he liked that, but he at the moment had a class to manage. He raised his brows at her and turned back to the class. She looked down at her notebook with a wide eyed, embarrassed expression. She gave a sidelong glance to the window, just to be sure; the magpie was gone but she knew what she had seen.
“Okay then, for next Friday have a read of Pope. As for the now, I'll see ye next week.”
Blackburn got up, shrugged his over-sized peacoat across his broad shoulders, shot a wide smile at Sonja, and left with his tattered briefcase. A sizable man, Blackburn encompassed the stereotypical, Hollywood Scottish look with the scruffy facial hair, thick accent, and husky but sexy build. He noticed her, in a way he probably shouldn't, but who didn't notice her? She was simply stunning, and had to be at least, what, nineteen? Blackburn turned his thoughts to academic matters to close off his mind from the potentially disastrous situation he was so tempted to get himself into.
She was glad to be at University of Stirling as a whole and hoped it was her last stop on this seemingly endless journey between moves. Her parents appeared to be content enough with the city, but then again they were content in Phoenix, then six months later in North Conway where Sonja was born, then two years later in Boston. Before moving to Stirling, Sonja had lived in six different places. They stayed the longest in Boston, and it would always hold a special place in Sonja's heart. The Paisleys lived there until Sonja was thirteen; they did plenty of things together while there to get a real feel for the city. They went to the New England Aquarium to make faces at the fish and learn to waddle like a penguin; they went to the Museum of Science to see the indoor lightning show and find out how gravity works. They went to the Half Shell on the Fourth of July to see the Boston Pops and the famous fireworks, but none of that was enough to keep them there, however; they had to keep moving. Sonja was never quite sure why they moved so much, and never really thought to ask. She knew her hippy mother and ever-learning father couldn't stay in one place too long, so she accepted it and went with the flow. At nineteen years old, though, she just about had enough moving. She didn't lack for anything; she'd seen places and done things that most people her age could only dream of. She had never had a boyfriend, though, never been to a real party, and never stayed out late. She couldn't complain, but a big part of her ached to finally have some semblance of normalcy. Besides Boston, Stirling had been the only place she truly loved and felt like she belonged.
*Chapter 2- A secret is revealed
There
was a commotion at the head of the table. Gunnar poked his head out
from behind his wings to look up. He had been sitting on the bone
chilling stone floor for almost two hours. His lips were beginning to
turn blue and the tips of his fingers and toes began tingling. He
slowly rubbed his hands together, periodically sticking them in
between the downy feathers of the underside of his wings. Once as
warm as they possibly could be in such a situation, he wrapped his
hands around his toes, trying to massage the feeling back into them,
expecting to be asked to stand in the imminent future. His suspicions
were correct as a thick French accent interrupted gentle caressing he
had been employing on his frozen appendages. “All rise for the arrival of the North American representative,” despite his Parisian habitation, Guiscard Proulx pronounced every word with care and a slowness that made the hairs on the back of everyone's neck stand on end; even the laconic executioner standing sentinel at the door shivered slightly.
The other representatives of their respective sects and the attendants of the trial, including Ahava, stood.
“I apologize for my lateness, had a bit of a hold up over the Atlantic.”
Gunnar slowly tilted his head in the direction of the voice above him, and locked eyes with Robert Paisley.
The other representatives of their respective sects and the attendants of the trial, including Ahava, stood.
“I apologize for my lateness, had a bit of a hold up over the Atlantic.”
Gunnar slowly tilted his head in the direction of the voice above him, and locked eyes with Robert Paisley.
*Chapter 3- Sonja's struggle with her emotions, and another main character is revealed, Rosalind Glencross.
After dinner and a cup of Earl Grey tea, Sonja and Rosalind settled into the living room with their tea cups for their usual post-dinner chat. Matt had left to go to the gym with a group of boys from university, leaving the two women to themselves for a few hours at least. Matt's obsession with the gym was what kept him from becoming obese with the amount of food he consumed.
This time Rosalind started the conversation.
“So, what's on yer mind?”
“Why is everyone asking me that today? Emma asked me almost the same question.”
“Och, come on now lass, I ken ye better than to not know when you're thinkin' of something. So, what is it?”
Sonja hesitated, hoping this conversation wouldn't have to come up, or that she could continue avoiding it. In all actuality there was only so long she could keep putting it off. She took a long sip of her tea, and decided to bite the bullet.
“I think I have feelings for Matt,” she said it all in such a rush that it sounded more like, “IthinkIhavefeelingsforMatt.” Rosalind laughed at her fast speech and the various shades of pink and red Sonja's face was quickly turning.
“I could ha' told ye that, wee one.”
“Really? Is it that obvious?”
“No, you are quite good at hiding your emotions, but ye need to remember I've been around a lot longer than the two of you and seen plenty of romances bloom.”
Sonja put her cup on the small side table next to the love seat she occupied, noticing for the first time the wooden inlay on the top of it. It depicted a tree of some kind with beautifully interlacing branches and a thick, knotted trunk. What spiked her interest, though, was the birds. Before she could ask any questions about it, Rosalind spoke again.
“So, what are ye goin' to do now then?”
Sonja stood and began pacing anxiously back and forth across the hearth rug. The building in which they lived was incredibly archaic and still included most of its original components, like the wood work and fireplaces, but with modern touches like electrical sockets and indoor plumbing. She picked up the fire poker and wielded it like a sword in front of her. She replaced it to its holder, searching for something else to distract her from her inevitable answer. Seeing that there was nothing else to placate her, she sat heavily back down, looking into Rosalind's patiently waiting face. She sighed and leaned back, clasping her hands over her head.
“I suppose I should talk to him about it.”
“Aye, I agree. But, make sure this is what you truly want before you bring it up. I'm sure we both know how he feels about ye and I would be devastated to see either of you get hurt. As much as I adore ye, lass, Matt's still my only child and I couldn't stand to see him in pain.”
“Oh trust me, Ros, I know. Lately I've just been getting these feelings about him, like this attraction that isn't going to go away any time soon. To be honest, it scares me a bit.”
Rosalind studied the beautiful young woman in front of her. She and Matt were great friends, but even Rosalind knew that wouldn't be the case for much longer, especially since the feelings were requited.
“Look, I know you've never been in a relationship before, but you're going to get into one eventually. Why not let it be Matt? You two know each other incredibly well already, you know he'll treat you well- or else he'll get a battering from me,” she paused to see Sonja crack a smile before continuing, “but seriously, if ye feel this way, then go for it. I know I'm his mum and all, and mums are supposed to say nice things about their kids, but he is a very nice boy. I raised him well, and he knows how to treat a woman. You're safe in his hands, if ye want him.”
Sonja nodded in acknowledgement of what the older woman had said. Rosalind didn't expect a response to this and let Sonja consider her words. The cogs in Sonja's brain were working to full power and it was beginning to give her a head ache. She had never had to deal with these emotions before and this new sense of stress was both welcomed and hated. She massaged her knitted brows back to their normal position above her eyes and sighed in exasperation.
* * * *
The rest of the week went by in a blur. She sat classes because she had to, not truly paying attention to anything. She ignored the continual annoyance of the pestering magpie that followed her. He waited faithfully outside the window of each of her classes, watching her intently in between cleaning his jet colored wings and pecking around the grass for insects. If it wasn't so strange, Sonja would have much liked to have the bird following her about. She had always loved nature and living creatures, a trait she got from her hippy mother. Birds had always been of particular interest to her; she loved their ability of freedom and always dreamed of having wings so she could fly away from all the troubles of life. She was sitting in her Friday seminar of Texts and Contexts, the same place and time she had her first encounter with the bird. She gave a sidelong glance out the window to her right and little to her surprise, he was sitting there, watching her. He caught her gaze and winked again like he had before, flitting up to a higher branch. He made himself comfortable and tucked his head under his wing for a quick nap. Weird, so weird. Just ignore it and it will stop. Hopefully.
This time Rosalind started the conversation.
“So, what's on yer mind?”
“Why is everyone asking me that today? Emma asked me almost the same question.”
“Och, come on now lass, I ken ye better than to not know when you're thinkin' of something. So, what is it?”
Sonja hesitated, hoping this conversation wouldn't have to come up, or that she could continue avoiding it. In all actuality there was only so long she could keep putting it off. She took a long sip of her tea, and decided to bite the bullet.
“I think I have feelings for Matt,” she said it all in such a rush that it sounded more like, “IthinkIhavefeelingsforMatt.” Rosalind laughed at her fast speech and the various shades of pink and red Sonja's face was quickly turning.
“I could ha' told ye that, wee one.”
“Really? Is it that obvious?”
“No, you are quite good at hiding your emotions, but ye need to remember I've been around a lot longer than the two of you and seen plenty of romances bloom.”
Sonja put her cup on the small side table next to the love seat she occupied, noticing for the first time the wooden inlay on the top of it. It depicted a tree of some kind with beautifully interlacing branches and a thick, knotted trunk. What spiked her interest, though, was the birds. Before she could ask any questions about it, Rosalind spoke again.
“So, what are ye goin' to do now then?”
Sonja stood and began pacing anxiously back and forth across the hearth rug. The building in which they lived was incredibly archaic and still included most of its original components, like the wood work and fireplaces, but with modern touches like electrical sockets and indoor plumbing. She picked up the fire poker and wielded it like a sword in front of her. She replaced it to its holder, searching for something else to distract her from her inevitable answer. Seeing that there was nothing else to placate her, she sat heavily back down, looking into Rosalind's patiently waiting face. She sighed and leaned back, clasping her hands over her head.
“I suppose I should talk to him about it.”
“Aye, I agree. But, make sure this is what you truly want before you bring it up. I'm sure we both know how he feels about ye and I would be devastated to see either of you get hurt. As much as I adore ye, lass, Matt's still my only child and I couldn't stand to see him in pain.”
“Oh trust me, Ros, I know. Lately I've just been getting these feelings about him, like this attraction that isn't going to go away any time soon. To be honest, it scares me a bit.”
Rosalind studied the beautiful young woman in front of her. She and Matt were great friends, but even Rosalind knew that wouldn't be the case for much longer, especially since the feelings were requited.
“Look, I know you've never been in a relationship before, but you're going to get into one eventually. Why not let it be Matt? You two know each other incredibly well already, you know he'll treat you well- or else he'll get a battering from me,” she paused to see Sonja crack a smile before continuing, “but seriously, if ye feel this way, then go for it. I know I'm his mum and all, and mums are supposed to say nice things about their kids, but he is a very nice boy. I raised him well, and he knows how to treat a woman. You're safe in his hands, if ye want him.”
Sonja nodded in acknowledgement of what the older woman had said. Rosalind didn't expect a response to this and let Sonja consider her words. The cogs in Sonja's brain were working to full power and it was beginning to give her a head ache. She had never had to deal with these emotions before and this new sense of stress was both welcomed and hated. She massaged her knitted brows back to their normal position above her eyes and sighed in exasperation.
* * * *
The rest of the week went by in a blur. She sat classes because she had to, not truly paying attention to anything. She ignored the continual annoyance of the pestering magpie that followed her. He waited faithfully outside the window of each of her classes, watching her intently in between cleaning his jet colored wings and pecking around the grass for insects. If it wasn't so strange, Sonja would have much liked to have the bird following her about. She had always loved nature and living creatures, a trait she got from her hippy mother. Birds had always been of particular interest to her; she loved their ability of freedom and always dreamed of having wings so she could fly away from all the troubles of life. She was sitting in her Friday seminar of Texts and Contexts, the same place and time she had her first encounter with the bird. She gave a sidelong glance out the window to her right and little to her surprise, he was sitting there, watching her. He caught her gaze and winked again like he had before, flitting up to a higher branch. He made himself comfortable and tucked his head under his wing for a quick nap. Weird, so weird. Just ignore it and it will stop. Hopefully.
*Chapter 4- Why Gunnar meets Robert in Chapter 2
“She's a fighter, this one, I like it.”
“So help me god, if you hurt her...”
“Oh yes, my little pigeon, what is it that you're gonna do, hm?”
Gunnar's face drained of all color as the realization dawned on him that there truly was nothing he could do. Colmán would have his way with her, and that was that. Gunnar stood by, watching as he slowly unbuttoned the front of her blouse, painstakingly unhitching her belt buckle, reveling in the fact that the other Ceannard could do nothing but watch helplessly. Colmán squeezed one of Ahava's breasts so tightly she screamed in pain, tears making their way down her face to the dry dirt below her head. Gunnar leapt forward, driving his head into the ribs of the other man. There was an audible crack, which Ahava couldn't decipher as Gunnar's neck or Colmán's ribs. When Gunnar stood, she realized it was the dark man's ribs, and he was writhing on the ground at Gunnar's feet.
“You want to be such a big man then, stand up.”
Gunnar pulled Colmán to his feet by his thick, dark hair. He stood him up, made sure he was sturdy, and swung blindly at any place on the other man's body that he could. After a few minutes of this, Colmán fell once again to the earth in a heap of feathers and blood. His pure white feathers had turned a dusty brown from being in the dirt, and a puddle of blood was forming under his gashed head. Ahava stood, back against a tree, in horror at what she had seen and experienced. Gunnar turned to look at her, blood smattered in his hair and on his shirt. The sight of him like that made her weak and before she could hit the ground, she was in his arms. He cradled her to his chest and whispered sweet, low words of reassurance. He rocked her back and forth for a few short moments before Colmán's reinforcements showed up. They stepped out from behind the trees which they were hiding in wait. There were at least ten of them, all Saighdear, all friends, and acquaintances. He lifted Ahava lightly from where she lay in his lap, placing her gently in the bed of leaves and soft dirt at the base of the tree, and turning to put up whatever fight he had against ten men equal in size and ability.
They came at him from every side. He got through a few of the newer Saighdear but the older few were the ones who finally cut him down. They beat him, kicked him, punched him. It took three men to restrain him, two holding his wings, one holding his arms, while another knocked him with disturbing force square in the face. He hung limp in the arms of the other men and was carried away. The man who had delivered the final blow looked back at Ahava, disgusted, and spit in the dirt. He and one of his companions carried Colmán out of the clearing, leaving Ahava to her thoughts and tears, alone.
She she was in utter disbelief of what she had just witnessed. Her lover, her friend, had just be brutally beaten at the hands of the men he commanded. He had been carried away, she had no idea how badly injured he was, or whether he was going to wake up. She hadn't felt this sense of loss and being lost in a long time. She didn't know what else to do, so she made her way blunderingly back to their cabin, back to where they had made love, back to where all their memories were. She fell heavily on the sofa and noticed something she had never seen before. In faded and cracked, script letters above the front door was written Fàilte Dachaidh. Welcome Home.
“So help me god, if you hurt her...”
“Oh yes, my little pigeon, what is it that you're gonna do, hm?”
Gunnar's face drained of all color as the realization dawned on him that there truly was nothing he could do. Colmán would have his way with her, and that was that. Gunnar stood by, watching as he slowly unbuttoned the front of her blouse, painstakingly unhitching her belt buckle, reveling in the fact that the other Ceannard could do nothing but watch helplessly. Colmán squeezed one of Ahava's breasts so tightly she screamed in pain, tears making their way down her face to the dry dirt below her head. Gunnar leapt forward, driving his head into the ribs of the other man. There was an audible crack, which Ahava couldn't decipher as Gunnar's neck or Colmán's ribs. When Gunnar stood, she realized it was the dark man's ribs, and he was writhing on the ground at Gunnar's feet.
“You want to be such a big man then, stand up.”
Gunnar pulled Colmán to his feet by his thick, dark hair. He stood him up, made sure he was sturdy, and swung blindly at any place on the other man's body that he could. After a few minutes of this, Colmán fell once again to the earth in a heap of feathers and blood. His pure white feathers had turned a dusty brown from being in the dirt, and a puddle of blood was forming under his gashed head. Ahava stood, back against a tree, in horror at what she had seen and experienced. Gunnar turned to look at her, blood smattered in his hair and on his shirt. The sight of him like that made her weak and before she could hit the ground, she was in his arms. He cradled her to his chest and whispered sweet, low words of reassurance. He rocked her back and forth for a few short moments before Colmán's reinforcements showed up. They stepped out from behind the trees which they were hiding in wait. There were at least ten of them, all Saighdear, all friends, and acquaintances. He lifted Ahava lightly from where she lay in his lap, placing her gently in the bed of leaves and soft dirt at the base of the tree, and turning to put up whatever fight he had against ten men equal in size and ability.
They came at him from every side. He got through a few of the newer Saighdear but the older few were the ones who finally cut him down. They beat him, kicked him, punched him. It took three men to restrain him, two holding his wings, one holding his arms, while another knocked him with disturbing force square in the face. He hung limp in the arms of the other men and was carried away. The man who had delivered the final blow looked back at Ahava, disgusted, and spit in the dirt. He and one of his companions carried Colmán out of the clearing, leaving Ahava to her thoughts and tears, alone.
She she was in utter disbelief of what she had just witnessed. Her lover, her friend, had just be brutally beaten at the hands of the men he commanded. He had been carried away, she had no idea how badly injured he was, or whether he was going to wake up. She hadn't felt this sense of loss and being lost in a long time. She didn't know what else to do, so she made her way blunderingly back to their cabin, back to where they had made love, back to where all their memories were. She fell heavily on the sofa and noticed something she had never seen before. In faded and cracked, script letters above the front door was written Fàilte Dachaidh. Welcome Home.
*Chapter 5- Sonja and Jennifer
She opened the door and flopped onto her bed, silently cursing her heavily sleeping mother, who seemingly went into a coma as soon as her head hits the pillow. She sat up on her elbows and looked around her room, which was still in the state she and Emma had left it the night before.
Sonja and Emma had stayed around the Glencross residence until they heard the heavy, wooden main door open and slam shut, resonantly announcing Matt's arrival home. The two girls gathered up Sonja's clothes and scuttled across the hall, giggling madly upon their arrival to safety. They could almost hear Matt's confusion as to what had just taken place, but they both knew he would shrug and shuffle his way into the kitchen in his never ending quest for food. They had placed the outfit Sonja was to wear the next night on her computer desk and tossed the rest to the floor to join the other various mounds of cloth.
Sonja made her way around the room, separating the jeans from the sweaters, the t-shirts from the tank tops. When she finished separating everything into piles, she started with jeans and organized those in order from darkest to lightest. She then moved onto the shirts, color coding those, as she did with the rest of her clothes. After another eternity, her closet was back in better order than before, with everything on shelves, color coded, hung or folded nicely. She looked hopefully at the digital clock on her computer and was happy to see that it was now noon. Seeing as reorganizing her closet took up so much time, she decided to reorganize her entire room, starting with making her bed, and finishing with her computer desk. Her books were all now alphabetized by author, she created a special shelf just for knick knacks, and even hung up the calender her father had bought her with insistence that she use it. Pleased with her work ethic, she decided to reward herself with a bowl of Wheetos and a movie. She decided on The Boondock Saints; it reminded her of home so she watched it every so often. She promised herself that she wouldn't look at the time until the end, and as soon as the movie ended, her eyes jumped to the clock on the television cable box. Almost four, only four more hours to kill. She brought her bowl to the kitchen, laboriously scrubbing at milky residue, she realized she hadn't seen her mother yet today and it was almost three in the afternoon. She finished with her bowl, dried it and placed it back in the same spot in the cabinet from which she got it, and plodded heavily up the stairs to her parents' bedroom. She knocked on the door and heard a mumble from within that sounded like “come in,” so she slowly opened the door to find her mother still in bed with the duvet up around her chin and a book in hand.
“Good morning, you lazy bum,” Sonja said, diving onto her father's side of the bed and burying her face in his pillow. Although he'd been gone for ages, the fabric still held a hint of the musky smell she always associated with her father. “When is Dad coming back?”
“Well, he was supposed to be back this weekend, but something big came up and he has to stay and extra week or so to sort it all,” Jennifer sighed with a hint of disappointment in her voice. She didn't want to upset Sonja so she quickly change the subject. “What's up with you? Anything interesting going on tonight? Must be something seeing as you've been running amuck all morning.”
“Sorry if I woke you, I just couldn't sleep,” Sonja looked sheepishly down at the pillow, picking one of her long dark hairs off of the white cloth.
Jennifer gave her a look that said “I know what you're up to,” but asked instead of assuming. “So, what's really going on then? The only time you can't sleep is when you're nervous or anxious about something.”
“Oh, its nothing really, don't worry about it, I'm just going to go-”
“Rosalind told me,” Jennifer interrupted Sonja with a smirk before she could weasel her way out of the conversation.
“Dammit, Rosie. I knew she'd spill it one way or the other. What'd you bribe her with this time?”
“I don't know what you mean,” it was Jennifer's turn to be sheepish and she hid her face behind her book.
“I should have known something fishy was going on when I saw that jeweled elephant that's sitting on her mantle; it looks an awful lot like the one in your china cabinet from your's and dad's India trip a couple years ago. I don't think that's a coincidence, and I know Rosalind hasn't been to India.”
Jennifer sighed in exasperation.
“You are going to make a fantastic mother some day; you do the whole guilt trip thing very well! Fine, you're right. But hey, at least she's getting something out of the deal right?”
Sonja rolled her eyes at her mother, and turned over onto her back, staring at the various cracks and pieces of plaster missing from the ceiling. When they first moved in, Sonja would go upstairs and lay in between her parents like she did when she was young, and look at the ceiling, deciding that the crack in the middle looked a lot like a fish. Her father was around every day for the first month they moved to Scotland but as soon as work, what ever that consisted of, picked up, he was scarcely seen.
"So, tell me about him.”
“Who?” Sonja said, playing dumb.
“You know who, this mystery man of yours.”
“Well, where to begin,” she sighed sarcastically and looked at Jennifer. “He's perfect, Scottish, he's my English tutor-”
“Your what?”
“My English tutor?”
“Is that...legal?” Jennifer rolled onto her side, finger in between the pages of the book she'd been reading.
“Apparently, anyway, he's only a couple years older than me and he seems like a really nice guy. I'm actually pretty excited to be going out with him tonight.”
“What time are you going?”
“Eight.”
“What time will you be home?”
“Don't know,” Sonja answered shortly, annoyed with the questioning.
“Well, you should know. So, what's he like? Does he like you? How well do you know him?”
“Ma, stop, do you want his social security number, too?”
“No, they don't do that here I don't think,” Jennifer said, pleased at her own attempt at a joke.
“Seriously though, please be careful. I know I'm going to sound so mom-like, but just be smart, okay? No matter how nice a guy seems he might actually be a serial killer.”
“Great, Ma, thanks for that. I think if he were a serial killer he might not have a job as a teacher.”
“You don't know that! Maybe he worked the system, or maybe he-”
“For God's sake, Ma! Stop, please. You're going to give me a complex!” They both laughed in their strikingly similar good natured way. They passed the next hour just laying in bed, making small talk, going in and out of deep conversation and laughter like people do.
Sonja and Emma had stayed around the Glencross residence until they heard the heavy, wooden main door open and slam shut, resonantly announcing Matt's arrival home. The two girls gathered up Sonja's clothes and scuttled across the hall, giggling madly upon their arrival to safety. They could almost hear Matt's confusion as to what had just taken place, but they both knew he would shrug and shuffle his way into the kitchen in his never ending quest for food. They had placed the outfit Sonja was to wear the next night on her computer desk and tossed the rest to the floor to join the other various mounds of cloth.
Sonja made her way around the room, separating the jeans from the sweaters, the t-shirts from the tank tops. When she finished separating everything into piles, she started with jeans and organized those in order from darkest to lightest. She then moved onto the shirts, color coding those, as she did with the rest of her clothes. After another eternity, her closet was back in better order than before, with everything on shelves, color coded, hung or folded nicely. She looked hopefully at the digital clock on her computer and was happy to see that it was now noon. Seeing as reorganizing her closet took up so much time, she decided to reorganize her entire room, starting with making her bed, and finishing with her computer desk. Her books were all now alphabetized by author, she created a special shelf just for knick knacks, and even hung up the calender her father had bought her with insistence that she use it. Pleased with her work ethic, she decided to reward herself with a bowl of Wheetos and a movie. She decided on The Boondock Saints; it reminded her of home so she watched it every so often. She promised herself that she wouldn't look at the time until the end, and as soon as the movie ended, her eyes jumped to the clock on the television cable box. Almost four, only four more hours to kill. She brought her bowl to the kitchen, laboriously scrubbing at milky residue, she realized she hadn't seen her mother yet today and it was almost three in the afternoon. She finished with her bowl, dried it and placed it back in the same spot in the cabinet from which she got it, and plodded heavily up the stairs to her parents' bedroom. She knocked on the door and heard a mumble from within that sounded like “come in,” so she slowly opened the door to find her mother still in bed with the duvet up around her chin and a book in hand.
“Good morning, you lazy bum,” Sonja said, diving onto her father's side of the bed and burying her face in his pillow. Although he'd been gone for ages, the fabric still held a hint of the musky smell she always associated with her father. “When is Dad coming back?”
“Well, he was supposed to be back this weekend, but something big came up and he has to stay and extra week or so to sort it all,” Jennifer sighed with a hint of disappointment in her voice. She didn't want to upset Sonja so she quickly change the subject. “What's up with you? Anything interesting going on tonight? Must be something seeing as you've been running amuck all morning.”
“Sorry if I woke you, I just couldn't sleep,” Sonja looked sheepishly down at the pillow, picking one of her long dark hairs off of the white cloth.
Jennifer gave her a look that said “I know what you're up to,” but asked instead of assuming. “So, what's really going on then? The only time you can't sleep is when you're nervous or anxious about something.”
“Oh, its nothing really, don't worry about it, I'm just going to go-”
“Rosalind told me,” Jennifer interrupted Sonja with a smirk before she could weasel her way out of the conversation.
“Dammit, Rosie. I knew she'd spill it one way or the other. What'd you bribe her with this time?”
“I don't know what you mean,” it was Jennifer's turn to be sheepish and she hid her face behind her book.
“I should have known something fishy was going on when I saw that jeweled elephant that's sitting on her mantle; it looks an awful lot like the one in your china cabinet from your's and dad's India trip a couple years ago. I don't think that's a coincidence, and I know Rosalind hasn't been to India.”
Jennifer sighed in exasperation.
“You are going to make a fantastic mother some day; you do the whole guilt trip thing very well! Fine, you're right. But hey, at least she's getting something out of the deal right?”
Sonja rolled her eyes at her mother, and turned over onto her back, staring at the various cracks and pieces of plaster missing from the ceiling. When they first moved in, Sonja would go upstairs and lay in between her parents like she did when she was young, and look at the ceiling, deciding that the crack in the middle looked a lot like a fish. Her father was around every day for the first month they moved to Scotland but as soon as work, what ever that consisted of, picked up, he was scarcely seen.
"So, tell me about him.”
“Who?” Sonja said, playing dumb.
“You know who, this mystery man of yours.”
“Well, where to begin,” she sighed sarcastically and looked at Jennifer. “He's perfect, Scottish, he's my English tutor-”
“Your what?”
“My English tutor?”
“Is that...legal?” Jennifer rolled onto her side, finger in between the pages of the book she'd been reading.
“Apparently, anyway, he's only a couple years older than me and he seems like a really nice guy. I'm actually pretty excited to be going out with him tonight.”
“What time are you going?”
“Eight.”
“What time will you be home?”
“Don't know,” Sonja answered shortly, annoyed with the questioning.
“Well, you should know. So, what's he like? Does he like you? How well do you know him?”
“Ma, stop, do you want his social security number, too?”
“No, they don't do that here I don't think,” Jennifer said, pleased at her own attempt at a joke.
“Seriously though, please be careful. I know I'm going to sound so mom-like, but just be smart, okay? No matter how nice a guy seems he might actually be a serial killer.”
“Great, Ma, thanks for that. I think if he were a serial killer he might not have a job as a teacher.”
“You don't know that! Maybe he worked the system, or maybe he-”
“For God's sake, Ma! Stop, please. You're going to give me a complex!” They both laughed in their strikingly similar good natured way. They passed the next hour just laying in bed, making small talk, going in and out of deep conversation and laughter like people do.
*Chapter 6- Sonja has a date
Sonja gave him a playful look of indignation and turned towards the buffet. She made her way around the center unit, spooning a healthy portion of General Gau's chicken onto her plate, smiling as Gerry did the same. She chose several other things in small portions, before turning towards the unit lining the window. She was helping herself to her favorite dish, pork lo mein, as she happened to look up and out the window. She was surprised to see who was standing there with an utterly deflated look he had on his face. She nearly dropped her plate, luckily there was a metal rail around the buffet to catch it.
* * *
Who the hell is that and what the hell is she doing with him? Hello, its obvious she's on a date, Matt dejectedly thought to himself. He gave her a look that only she would understand and once more shoved his hands in his pockets, crestfallen. Deep down he knew she felt the same as he did, but it had never been discussed, and he knew he couldn't assume, especially now after what he had just seen. The walk home felt, if possible, longer than the walk into town. It was only a half hour later, but the sky looked darker, the air felt colder, and the chill that set in felt as if it would take years to become warm again. He stood at the bridge, leaning over the side watching a train pull into the station, absentmindedly wondering if it was coming from Glasgow or Perth. He stood for so long, just staring, that he didn't notice his mobile incessantly vibrating against his cold-numbed thigh.
“Four missed calls from home, bloody hell,” he said out-loud as he rolled his eyes and redialed his home number, the number that had been the same since he was in primary school, the one he had to memorize so he could tell the teachers just in case they needed to contact his parents. My mum, just my mum, he had corrected his teacher proudly, who was slightly taken aback, but smiled at his pride.
“What, Mum?”
“Is that any way to answer the phone to yer mother, ye wee scoundrel?”
“Not in the mood, Mum. What?”
“Aye, apparently not. I was just wondering when you planned on being home, seeing as you've been gone not far off an hour to do something that shouldn't have taken half that time.”
The worried edge to her voice softened him a bit.
“Sorry, I'm walking home now, see you in a bit.”
He ended the call with a swift thumb to the red button. He sighed, replacing the phone back into his pocket, heading for home. He was surprised when he arrived at the red front door to the building that he'd lived in his entire life, his feet seemingly having a mind of their own. He pushed heavily on the old door, listening to the creak that no one could be bothered to fix, and taking comfort in knowing he had a warm bed and a loving mother a few steps away. His feet carried him up the stairs and into the flat, where is mother sat in her favorite chair reading her favorite novel. She took off her reading glasses and smiled at him as he walked in. He all but collapsed on the floor in front of where she sat and rested his heavy head in her lap, fighting back tears. She absentmindedly stroked his thick hair, wondering what could possibly be wrong with the boy who slammed the door in jest before he left. She wracked her brain for possibilities, and coming up empty, she asked. She usually didn't probe, boys at his age liked to keep things to themselves, but when he came in and slumped to the floor its quite apparent he wanted help, or at least comfort. She heard him mumble something into the quilt that was wrapped around her legs.
“Can't hear you, boy. What's wrong wi' ye?”
He sat up, his eyes glistening, his brow furrowed trying to fight back the tears threatening to fight their way out of their ducts.
“Sonja.”
He buried his face back in his mother's lap with a heaving sob. Rosalind's heart broke for her son, and guilt welled up inside her. She remembered what today was, and what Sonja had requested her help with.
“Oh, no, sweetheart. I'm so sorry.” She continued to stroke his head, watching as his silent tears stained the multicolored quilt, creating a pattern of heartbreak.
Matt wasn't one to cry. He didn't cry at his grandfather's funeral, he didn't cry when he was told he had to have yet another shoulder surgery; no, he was tough as nails, or so he thought. He had seen her with other guys plenty of times, but he wasn't sure why this time had hit him quite so hard. She had a certain, innocently pleasant way with guys, and people in general. Her personality commanded such attention and she didn't even try. Some girls tried so hard, with their make up and their hair, their fake smiles and haughty attitudes. Sonja wasn't like that; she was such a genuine and honest person, she didn't have to work like those girls did. And that was why Matt was so in love with her. He hated seeing her with whoever that was. He hated how she smiled at that mystery man, how he looked at her. It wasn't the same way Matt looked at her, with all the adoration he could possibly muster. No, this guy looked at her like she was a trophy.
He finally felt the pull of his brain towards sleep, and rustled up the strength to lift his head, followed by his body, and somehow manage to make it to his bed. He kissed his mother's forehead lightly and took the several steps to his bedroom with as much speed as he could and fell, fully clothed, onto his bed. He managed to kick of his shoes and pull his duvet over his head before falling into a fitful sleep. Nightmares were all he could seem to find.
* * *
“So, pretty girl, what's on your mind?”
Sonja felt like she was having an out of body experience. The look on Matt's face had ripped into her in such a way that only he knew how to. She had been distracted and slightly on edge; the rest of dinner had gone by so quickly she was surprised when Gerry got her attention to leave.
“Huh?” she snapped out of her thoughts. “Oh, sorry, I was just thinking about something.”
* * *
Who the hell is that and what the hell is she doing with him? Hello, its obvious she's on a date, Matt dejectedly thought to himself. He gave her a look that only she would understand and once more shoved his hands in his pockets, crestfallen. Deep down he knew she felt the same as he did, but it had never been discussed, and he knew he couldn't assume, especially now after what he had just seen. The walk home felt, if possible, longer than the walk into town. It was only a half hour later, but the sky looked darker, the air felt colder, and the chill that set in felt as if it would take years to become warm again. He stood at the bridge, leaning over the side watching a train pull into the station, absentmindedly wondering if it was coming from Glasgow or Perth. He stood for so long, just staring, that he didn't notice his mobile incessantly vibrating against his cold-numbed thigh.
“Four missed calls from home, bloody hell,” he said out-loud as he rolled his eyes and redialed his home number, the number that had been the same since he was in primary school, the one he had to memorize so he could tell the teachers just in case they needed to contact his parents. My mum, just my mum, he had corrected his teacher proudly, who was slightly taken aback, but smiled at his pride.
“What, Mum?”
“Is that any way to answer the phone to yer mother, ye wee scoundrel?”
“Not in the mood, Mum. What?”
“Aye, apparently not. I was just wondering when you planned on being home, seeing as you've been gone not far off an hour to do something that shouldn't have taken half that time.”
The worried edge to her voice softened him a bit.
“Sorry, I'm walking home now, see you in a bit.”
He ended the call with a swift thumb to the red button. He sighed, replacing the phone back into his pocket, heading for home. He was surprised when he arrived at the red front door to the building that he'd lived in his entire life, his feet seemingly having a mind of their own. He pushed heavily on the old door, listening to the creak that no one could be bothered to fix, and taking comfort in knowing he had a warm bed and a loving mother a few steps away. His feet carried him up the stairs and into the flat, where is mother sat in her favorite chair reading her favorite novel. She took off her reading glasses and smiled at him as he walked in. He all but collapsed on the floor in front of where she sat and rested his heavy head in her lap, fighting back tears. She absentmindedly stroked his thick hair, wondering what could possibly be wrong with the boy who slammed the door in jest before he left. She wracked her brain for possibilities, and coming up empty, she asked. She usually didn't probe, boys at his age liked to keep things to themselves, but when he came in and slumped to the floor its quite apparent he wanted help, or at least comfort. She heard him mumble something into the quilt that was wrapped around her legs.
“Can't hear you, boy. What's wrong wi' ye?”
He sat up, his eyes glistening, his brow furrowed trying to fight back the tears threatening to fight their way out of their ducts.
“Sonja.”
He buried his face back in his mother's lap with a heaving sob. Rosalind's heart broke for her son, and guilt welled up inside her. She remembered what today was, and what Sonja had requested her help with.
“Oh, no, sweetheart. I'm so sorry.” She continued to stroke his head, watching as his silent tears stained the multicolored quilt, creating a pattern of heartbreak.
Matt wasn't one to cry. He didn't cry at his grandfather's funeral, he didn't cry when he was told he had to have yet another shoulder surgery; no, he was tough as nails, or so he thought. He had seen her with other guys plenty of times, but he wasn't sure why this time had hit him quite so hard. She had a certain, innocently pleasant way with guys, and people in general. Her personality commanded such attention and she didn't even try. Some girls tried so hard, with their make up and their hair, their fake smiles and haughty attitudes. Sonja wasn't like that; she was such a genuine and honest person, she didn't have to work like those girls did. And that was why Matt was so in love with her. He hated seeing her with whoever that was. He hated how she smiled at that mystery man, how he looked at her. It wasn't the same way Matt looked at her, with all the adoration he could possibly muster. No, this guy looked at her like she was a trophy.
He finally felt the pull of his brain towards sleep, and rustled up the strength to lift his head, followed by his body, and somehow manage to make it to his bed. He kissed his mother's forehead lightly and took the several steps to his bedroom with as much speed as he could and fell, fully clothed, onto his bed. He managed to kick of his shoes and pull his duvet over his head before falling into a fitful sleep. Nightmares were all he could seem to find.
* * *
“So, pretty girl, what's on your mind?”
Sonja felt like she was having an out of body experience. The look on Matt's face had ripped into her in such a way that only he knew how to. She had been distracted and slightly on edge; the rest of dinner had gone by so quickly she was surprised when Gerry got her attention to leave.
“Huh?” she snapped out of her thoughts. “Oh, sorry, I was just thinking about something.”