Chapter Two

It wasn't as if she couldn't keep me if it happened. But we both knew she wouldn't and neither would Dad. Because they can't risk having a dangerous child around François. A danger. Me. Would I even stay if I knew they weren't already going to force me out? Does it even matter? The only place I would have to go to was the only place I never wanted to go to. The Institute. Either that or live like those homeless children, where even scraps of bread were tossed with caution because what if they were one of them.

The cobblestones bothered me even more than usual, pressing angrily against the soles of my feet. There were even more people out than usual and as I passed them I was on the receiving end of many looks. Looks of condemnation, annoyance, or sometimes just plain curiosity. Who was this girl running through the streets in her ragtag dress and wild red hair? It was as if I was already being treated like one of them. What did it even matter if I got The Powers? At least then I would have something. Stop It!!

I yelled at myself in my head angrily muttering under my breath. Stop acting as if you don't have anything to lose. I turned a corner and another sharp left right ducking into a low hole leading into an abandoned building. It was an easily overlooked entrance. It was dark and cool inside. The nice thing about here was that it was always too dark to see anything around me. I could just be still and think. No Francois. No Mom. No Dad. No Ms. Bisset. Just me and my thoughts.

Why was I thinking this way? I keep acting as if power and wealth was the only thing that mattered. But these Powers, they weren't equivalent to power. Rather a life of shunning and poverty or service to The Institute. Why wasn't Mom, Dad, and Francois enough? Am I happy? What is my Dream?

My thoughts swirled around in my head. Useless and listless. They didn't have answers. Only doubt. Doubt of what was to come and whether I could accept either future. I clasped my hands around my knees and hunched over. Curling in on myself I drowned in my own doubt but worse my own fear.

When I got back my mom was already halfway through clearing out the trash from in front of the store. Her figure was hunched over as she collected the scattered garbage in her arms and deposited it into the outside bin. I joined her before she could turn around to greet me. Picking up my own disgusting trash. One of which was a handkerchief covered in crusted vomit. I wrinkled my nose and went on. Mom looked up and stared at me for a few seconds then went back to her work.

"Sorry." She said. She wasn't looking at me.

"It's fine." I replied. "Sorry for running off." I wasn't that sorry. But I know I should be.

"It's just -" Mom started but I cut her off with a sharp

"I don't want to talk about it."

Mom feel silent then dumped the rest of the trash in the bin and went inside. I knew I upset her. But it was my life. It was either going to happen tomorrow or it wasn't; and I didn't see the point of talking about it. I threw in the rest of the trash, lugged the bin behind the store so people didn't get the same idea they got last night again, then followed Mom inside. Turning behind me I flipped the sign to open. I was running late in chores. Hopefully no one came in while I was doing them, but if they did I would just go hang out with Francois and let Mom and Dad do their thing.

I heard the tea kettle whistling shrilly in the back and knew dad was making some tea to calm himself down. I thought about joining him for a cup but then decided against it. It would be better to throw myself into work. Listlessness didn't solve anything. Productiveness however... I took a step back and assessed the small store front area. The area was mostly lumber as when mom and dad built the place they saved the ugly materials for the parts only we would see. The timber was a light tan color and was worn smooth. I surveyed it and saw tiny specks of dust and the floor already had dirt tracked in. My fault most likely. Mom always tried to be meticulous about keeping my efforts to a minimum. There was a small table with two chairs on the sided closest to the back and another two on the front side. I knew that the two back chairs were the wobbly or creaky ones. On the table was a few sheets of blank paper and a sharp pencil. I had sharpened it the night before with the knife taking pride in the point narrowing into a small sharp tip. And that was it. The front of the shop was for consultations. All the fabrics and materials were stored in the back. They were in order but to a customer the fabrics were just added clutter. If they wanted to see them Mom or Dad would bring some out to them. I went to the back and grabbed the bucket, already filled with water and a washcloth to start my chores. At least no more talking.

By the time dinner rolled around I had scrubbed my way through every single chore. Bathed and fed Francois, played with him, kept him quiet when customers came in, and went shopping for dinner. Ms. Bisset had already retired for the day so I came home with a little less than I was hoping for, but enough to settle everyone's stomachs for bed. One of the vendors was selling premade beef stew. I particularly didn't want to know what type of beef it was but I tasted a sample and it was edible with a couple vegetables in there. So I ran home and came back with our family pot and haggled with her a little. Then I bought a peach off of another with the two coppers I had left. That ridiculous woman with her ridiculous dress better be worth it.

Dad was smiling as he took a bite of stew. I don't think it was the taste he was smiling at but rather the warmth and the thought of everyone going to bed full. Francois was of course being difficult with his food, but mostly because he was tired. He wore himself out early on in the day with all of his fussing and now every time his eyes drooped I had to wake him up and shove a small bite of mashed banana in his mouth of which half would dribble out and down his chin. It was a tedious process so I was relieved when mom come behind me and took the small spoon out of my hand to take over.

I sat next to dad and started eating my stew. The spoon scraped against the wooden bowl and I noisily slurped with abandon. Dad smiled but not full out. I paused

"Hey dad, did that one lady come for the design?" He looked at me his hazel eyes already showing a hint of annoyance with that design.

"Soraya . Yes. She approved after adding a few more intricacies." He cringed as the last few words. I guessed that when he said that he was understating matters. Such as few and intricacies.

"Fuuuuuuuuuun" I said drawing the word out ridiculously long. Dad smiled again.

"I am going to need your help with this project if you don't mind. You're the best haggler we have" Mom smiled at this as well. Then paused and looked away. Part of me wanted to scowl but instead I nodded while taking another bite of warm stew.

"Of course."

Mom looked like she was going to say something then stopped. Part of me once again wanted to snap at her, but I decided to finish my stew. Dad saw us tensing up and quietly whispered "Not tonight. Please."

This seemed to be the push mom needed. "If not tonight, when? We can't keep putting this conversation off." She turned to me, dropping Francois' spoon on the floor, which clattered and echoed around the room.

"I need to tell you now." I got up. No, I wasn't ready to deal with this.

"Stop. Please."

Dad had his head bowed and was pretending this wasn't happening. He was like a turtle. Drawing back into his shell whenever things got out of hand. He started it though. He pushed mom into this. I know he didn't mean to. I wasn't mad at him necessarily for that, but rather for only being a part of this family when it was convenient for him. I glared at him and he pretended not to feel my stare burning through his fossilized shell.

"What if I wake up in the morning and you are this out of control mess? We don't even know what powers you could wake up with. We sleep in a small attic with a baby. What about Francois?" Mom's voice was getting shrillier and shrillier. I saw her real dream now. She wanted this loving happy family, but if that meant she had to turn on one to protect the rest of them she would cut them out. She would cut me out.

"You know what, Fine." I got up my chair tipping over on the floor behind me. Francois was crying again, upset by the tone of everyone's voices and the loud sounds.

"If I am too dangerous to be near Francois then I will just leave!" I climbed up the ladder and started grabbing my raggedy clothes and a few coins I had managed to save over the years. Then pausing, I saw that stupid little miniature purple giraffe Francois plays with and stuffed it in my pocket. I climbed down the ladder balancing the basket of clothes. I could hear mom and dad angrily talking downstairs.

"What are you doing? She is our daughter!" Dad's voice trembled.

"And he is our son. She can come back tomorrow if it doesn't happen." Mom for a second sounded regretful. But when she saw me she turned away. I think that hurt the most. Struck by rejection I ran through the front of the store and out the door into the night.

Author's Note

First draft. I am trying to ignore my revision urges and editing urges so that I can just get the first draft out. Revision will be added later.