Songbird

"Smile, sweetie." Papa's fingers are rough as he adjusts my head to tilt just so. "For the camera, remember?" He points into the bright light coming from atop the tripod. It's hot in here, especially under the lights in this big poofy dress. I don't want to smile, I want to go back to the manor. It's nice and cool in my room.

"Weiss, darling, please? We can go home as soon as this last round of pictures is done." I know that, but I really don't feel like smiling. I'm not stupid, though, so I know this is the only way I'm getting out of this. I suck in a deep breath and paint the smile I've been practicing across my face while Papa tilts my head once more, adjusts a stray strand of hair, shifts a piece of the set...

"What do you mean you're pulling me out of school? I can't just skip high school, Papa." Not to mention that it's my only contact with normal people my age, however much they may treat me like some kind of carnival attraction. I can't even imagine what it's like, not having your whole life planned out for you. At least hearing them talk to each other gives me some sense of what my life could have been, and I've even started to make a friend in the month I've attended so far. My first friend, outside of Winter.

"You won't be skipping high school, I'm just going to hire an instructor and have you homeschooled." He waves a hand dismissively and stands, conversation apparently done on his end. It isn't until he's almost out of the door that he stops and looks back at me, sighing heavily. "Weiss, it's interfering with your schedule too much. You'll either miss so much of the year that they will hold you back a year, or you'll lose out on opportunities to further your career." He walks back over and places a clammy hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry that you are taking this so hard, Weiss, but the paperwork is already done. You'll be beginning with your instructor on Monday."

That kicks me back into gear. "On Mon- but it's Friday afternoon! I still have books in my locker, and- and I think I accidentally left..." My mouth keeps speaking, but they're all excuses. I only have one priority, but I know it won't be enough for him.

I need to say goodbye to my friend. One more day, I just need him to agree to one more day. I don't have Blake's phone number. I won't be able to say goodbye if I don't get one more day. "Enough, Weiss. Your career is too important to waste your time on something like this." I can't really tell if I stopped talking or not. Everything gets drowned out by a wave of apathetic numbness. Acceptance. This is how it's always been, after all. Papa's path, at expense of all else.

He walks away from me again, leaving me alone to try and patch up the cracks at the edges of my soul.

"Papa," I say softly from the entrance of his office, "may I come in?" It's late, and the room is dim with just his desk lamp to light it. He's been locked away in here for most of the afternoon, making and receiving phone call after phone call. My stomach twists itself into knots with worry - this conversation could turn into a full-blown fight if it gets out of hand.

Father looks up from his desk and waves me over, the lamplight gleaming in the lenses of his glasses as he looks back down. The pen in his hand moves quickly, with practiced precision. I can hear it scribbling away as I approach; the sound sets my teeth on edge.

"What is it, Weiss? I'm almost done here." He pauses for barely a breath, "Is your mother alright?" Despite his general aloofness, I like to imagine I can hear an undercurrent of warmth when he asks after Mother... I know that's just wishful thinking, though, so I put the thought to the back of my mind. I learned a long time ago that there's no way I can save this crumbling family.

I nod, "Yes, she's doing just fine." I'm pretty sure I kept the bitter tone out of my voice, since he doesn't comment on it, and so I continue. "Actually, I came to talk to you about an issue my fencing coach brought up last time I attended."