"You are the worst boy, Theodore Laurence."
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For centuries, humankind has used the stars. Whether it be for navigating across unfamiliar oceans, for preserving myths and legends of great heroes who were bestowed a spot in the heavens by the gods...
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IT WASN'T UNTIL the evening storm clouds rolled in and thunder rumbled overhead, that Charlotte picked herself up out of the mud. Fat raindrops fell from the dark sky and splattered across Charlotte's face, mixing with her salty tears and sending shivers down her spine as the cold of the rain made its way into her bones. The telescope tube became slippery in her hands and her fingers slipped over the broken glass, opening more cuts across her palms as she tried to keep hold of the warped metal. She fumbled as she unlocked the case and placed her telescope back inside. The case was flooded with rain and her maps had become a mess of runny ink, but Charlotte thought nothing of it as she locked the clasps and trudged back to Aunt March's house.
Aunt March had nearly collapsed in horror as Charlotte pushed through the front door and let her telescope case drop from her hands noisily. "Dear me, child! Didn't your mother ever teach you manners?" Aunt March shuddered like a bird who had its feathers ruffled.
"Sorry, ma'am." Charlotte mumbled a weak apology as she kicked off her muddy shoes and collected them before they could stain Aunt March's fine rugs. She would never hear the end of it if such a ghastly thing were to happen.
"You should be grateful, child." Aunt March sniffed as she settled down in her chair. "Maybe while you're here you can learn how to be a refined young lady. It's quite obvious your parents didn't care much about your upbringing, but you'll find that's common with such men like your father."
"'Men like my father?'" Charlotte asked, biting the inside of her cheeks to keep from asking precisely what the spiteful old woman meant. At the mention of her father, an odd flame of anger had bloomed in her chest and she had to bite back the words trying to escape her mouth. Her hands clenched into tight fists, reopening the oozing cuts on her palms. Charlotte's head was still reeling with the devastating loss of her last connection to her father, and the old woman's words had ignited something within her.
Aunt March waved her wrinkly hand with a dismissive air. "Oh, you know, European." She brought her attention back towards her lazy dog who was sitting in her lap, and stroked its fur absentmindedly as Charlotte's face turned sour behind her.
Charlotte collected her telescope case and muddy shoes from the floor and quickly dashed up the stairs, eager to get away from the old woman's grating voice and sharp tongue.
"Charlie? What's wrong?" Amy asked as Charlotte shut the door to their shared bedroom with a sniffle. There were plenty of bedrooms in the grand house, but they had decided to stick together, bunking in the same little bedroom like they did at the Marches. Charlotte pressed her sleeve to her mouth to stifle her building sobs, but when she caught sight of Amy's wide eyes and caring smile, she collapsed under the weight she had been carrying on her shoulders. Amy hugged her close and removed the telescope case from her trembling fingers, gasping as the clasps came undone and the broken tube and shattered glass clattered to the ground.
