Lucy - A Selection Story

Lucy: The Threes

"Miss Lucy." he nods at me, and his face is solemn, no trace of sarcasm. I settle down next to him, and he smiles. 

"America and I used to play up here. She would make me mud pies, and I would pretend to eat them. She was just happy to play with me." he confessed. 

I looked at him again. There he was. There was no trace of sarcasm, rudeness, or familiarity. Instead, there sat his old self, content, happy, light. 

But I blinked, and that new era of light suddenly vanished. 

"My Lady, she seems to have been fond of you," I say quietly. 

His eyes light up with amusement and laughter. The first time he even looked remotely handsome. My breath hitched, remembering that expression on someone else. 

He picked himself up and started to climb out. 

"Wait." I held him by his shoulder, "I need to tell you something." 

He smiled. "Maybe next time, Lucy." 

He nods his head at me, nothing but pure respect in his eyes, and sashays back into the house.

I close my eyes. 

The world is chaotic. Everyone scrambles for their belongings as the fire slowly eats up everything in it's path. The door is on the other side. 

"Lucy!" my mother screams, and scrambles for the door. I am too scared to even move. My father stands behind me, pushing and pulling through the crowds. 

"Lucy!" my mother screeches again, and her voice seems faint in the crackling of the fire. Coughing follows that sound. 

I come to my senses, and run for the door, my father following close behind. The building is starting to fall apart. My mother still stands behind the door. 

I rush towards her. I hold out my open arms, soot covering everything. She embraces me, and I swing with her, happy to be alive. My father has yet to come. 

"Jess!" he screams. His foot is stuck in a crevice. I groan internally. My mother rushes to save him, and the smoke  envelopes them both. I know I shouldn't go in there. And I don't. It's more than a few minutes, and my father emerges, limping. My mother follows closely behind, panting and coughing. Firefighter burst through the doors. For some reason, I am angry at them. Could they not have come earlier, so my parents didn't have to endure that suffering? 

I clench my teeth. 

My mother holds my hand, but breaks down in a coughing fit. The sirens on the firetrucks are blinding, and I shrink away from the sound. 

The attacks on the Sixes and Sevens are immense. So far, all of the buildings that we have lived have been burned to the ground. Everyone is shocked, and several people didn't make it out alive. My family is one of the lucky few. 

My mother breaths through some clean, fresh air. Only to  collapse. My father runs toward her, every tiny bit of concern focused only on her. I kneel beside her, and she says, 

"Just smoke." 

Hours later, an ambulance comes and takes her away. We have no money, and they can pull the lifeline. We trudge the streets, and I am so scared of being an Eight. We are only two steps from the bottom, and I for one, am grateful. 

We pass a family of Threes, and the father seems sympathetic. The mother seems disgusted, and the son, well, I couldn't tell. We meet eyes for a second. His face is in awe. Our eye contact holds for more than a few minutes, until he comes back. 

"Are you Sixes?" he asks, grinning. I am appalled. 

"Yes." I say timidly, stopping my father in his tracks. 

"We need some help around the  house, and some Sixes would be great!" 

The mother shrugs again, and looks at her husband, who nods eagerly. I could tell he wasn't a big fan of working. 

The son, who's name is Chance, brings us to their elegant home. 

It has two elegant staircases that both lead up to the same floor, and the kitchen is immense. The rails are dusty, and the shelves need a good polish. 

"You may live here, but, there are certain rules.  You may not speak unless spoken to, and you have to curtsy when you meet one of us in the hallway." the mother commands, and my father nods, excited for pay. 

Chance continues, "And you have to-" 

I am jarred out of my sleep, and May stands there, knocking on the entrance of the treehouse. 

"May!" 

"Time for dinner," she says sheepishly. 

"Well, I'll be down in a minute." 

I take one last look at the treehouse, and climb down.