The Way I See It

Chapter 1 (dedicated to Z)

  I sprinted to the nearest telephone box, yanked the phone off its holder, shut the door, punched in Kit's number, and burst into tears. Beatrice had died and there was nothing I or anyone else could do about it.

"Hello? Lita?" Kit's voice came through the telephone. "Kit," I announced, trying to be strong — Bea was her best friend after all — "something's wrong. Something's really wrong and there's nothing VFD can do about it anymore." I heard shuffling on her side of the phone, then she replied, "What's happened?"

I didn't want to tell her, but I knew I had to. "Kit," I said quietly, "Beatrice was in a fire." Kit gasped, then swallowed. I could tell she was trying to be tough, trying not to cry, like I was. "No," she whispered. I wiped away my tears and nodded, even though she couldn't see me do it.

"Could you put Olivia on for me?" I asked. Kit sniffed and muttered, "She's at that school, remember? The one that Ishmael used to run, before the schism? She went to teach." I was once again hit by the realisation that my favourite sister had left home. Well, Kit's home. Our home was long gone. At least Via was happy; teaching had been her dream, ever since finding out she couldn't have children of her own. "There's always adoption," the doctors had told her. At the time, she'd nodded. "It's not the same," she'd admitted to me later. "Teaching is the next best thing.

Kit sighed, and then began speaking sternly. It was not to its full affect, as I could tell she was trying not to cry. "Lita," she amended, and then I didn't know what she was saying because I was trying to block out all the thoughts that were swirling in a never-ending spiral, drilling into my head.

"You're not my mother!" I yelled all of a sudden, surprising myself as well as my cousin. Kit almost gasped, but was silent. After a long pause, she whispered, "I know. But I'm trying to be like her. God, do I miss Aunt Francesca." Then she started to cry. I knew she'd had a special bond with my mother. I shouldn't have provoked her, but that seemed to be one of my talents. Provoking people.

We cried together for a long time, even after the phone had been hung up and we were apart once again.

I walked back to the beach and sat down, wiping my eyes and picking up Anna Karenina. It was better to immerse myself in someone else's sad story and completely ignore my own. As my father's favourite philosopher said, "Life is thickly sown with thorns, and I know no other remedy than to pass quickly through them. For the longer we dwell on our misfortunes, the greater it is in their power to harm us."

Voltaire said that. My father loved his quotes, and he used to tell me many before he died. I named my camera (but specially adapted to what I called a 'robot' — I'm a technologist) after the old philosopher, in honour of my father — who gave him to me on my second birthday.

Yes, I gave my robot pronouns.

I've always had a thing for technology. I guess it was passed down from my father, who was a professor at a school in Japan. He's half-Japanese, so I suppose I'm a quarter, but neither Olivia nor I show it very much. Nadia does a little more, but my oldest sister Miranda is the most Japanese looking. Anyway. Technology. It's one of the things I actually have a proper talent for. I create new technology, my latest is a screen that I call a monitor. It's essentially a massive version of the television, that useless tiny box. If I didn't work for VFD, I'd sell my monitors and the other technology I've invented, but I don't want our enemies getting ahead of us technologically. So, all my ideas are created for VFD only.

I was just wiping my eyes when I felt a tiny tap on my shoulder. I looked up, startled, and saw a girl of around my age standing awkwardly at my side. It took me more than a moment to realise that she was Violet Baudelaire.