Zodiac

TWO

In all the years Willow lived there, the village of Woodland, West of Eden, hadn't changed. The population was still around five hundred, three of whom were Zodiacs. No one ever moved away or did anything remotely spontaneous. Buildings had stood in their places since before she was born; the only difference was some fresh paint. Even the families, generation after generation, had the same jobs. Unless a person was discovered to be a Zodiac the only thing to look forward to was making a living the same way their parents had. But life in Woodland didn't feel the same to Willow in the three years after Initiation. What once was boring but safe soon drove her wild. No, Woodland hadn't changed, Willow had. Unfortunately, she couldn't do anything about that. It was the harsh truth that she learned after the three-hour trip home from Zodiac Academy. Willow remembered going back to a house full of pity. She had locked herself in her room and cried for a full week. In that time, the bitterness grew. She could have stayed there forever, but her mother had other plans. The time for self-loathing was over. After Sunday had come and gone her mother gave up soothing her ego and took a harsher approach.

    "Enough Willow, I've had it with your crying. So you're not a Zodiac. I'm not, your father isn't. Does that make us matter any less?" she asked in the living room after finally dragging Willow out from under her blanket.

    "Actually Mother that is exactly what it means. Being a Zodiac meant that I could do something with my life. Now I'm stuck working in the family florists," Willow said, sulking. It felt good to finally stand up to her mother, and she didn't blush and regret it afterward.

    "Don't speak to me like that. Where is your manner's girl? I have never heard you speak like this before. Thank goodness they turned you away. Just a few hours with them and you are already acting wicked. What's wrong with being normal?"

    "I'll never get to be great at anything. All the best jobs are given to the Zodiacs. The rest of us settle for scraps. And you can't even be angry about it because the Zodiacs were literally born to rule every bloody profession and more." A scowl settled on Willows face, it felt right on her.

      "Do not swear in my house, little madam. That's just the way it is," her mother said. "Life isn't always roses and daisies." Willow had looked towards her father and saw the distaste in his expression. He folded his newspaper and leaned over in his chair.

    "Juniper leave the poor girl alone. She's not going and there's nothing anyone can do about that. I don't want to hear any more nonsense," he said. He looked at Willow. "And that goes for you too young lady. No more moping. And treat your mother with some respect."

    That was final. In the years after that day, there was no more talk of Willow and her dead dream of becoming a Zodiac. Whenever she saw one, she would tense up. She grew a mild tolerance of the 'others,' often keeping her distance from them or joining in the snide comments that were whispered as they passed by. She changed after that day. No more was the shy, happy girl that everyone ignored; the girl who listened to her mother and did everything to try and please her. Instead, there was left an angsty, confident teenager who wouldn't be pushed around and didn't listen to anyone.

    Mornings for Willow were the worst. That's why she never bothered getting up. She would hide under her covers until the sunlight reached passed her alarm clock and lit up the framed picture of her and Mud. She hated that picture. It was taken when she was a mini Juniper. After three years she had managed to lengthen her round bob into something shoulder length and wild looking, it matched her perfectly; everyone always said there was something unearthly about her eyes. She rose out of bed, not bothering to make it because she knew Juniper would be angry. She shuffled around picking up whatever neatly ordered clothes she could find in her wardrobe. It didn't matter; they were all greys and blacks. By the time she reached the kitchen downstairs it was a quarter past twelve. She dressed in ripped jeans, a faded grey top, leather jacket and well-worn boots. Her mother stood at the stove with her back to Willow.