burning red

- 2 -

It had become routine for Justine to sneak away from home and venture off into the busy streets of New York. She told her mother that she would be in her room studying, so that she could skip tea time. It was known that she tended to study in advance for her upcoming classes; Justine loved to learn, so she could easily get away with it.

She stood in front of the mirror, twisting her hair in a braid and before she secured it with a hair tie. A white piece of ribbon caught her eye in the middle of her vanity and with an internal groan, she tied it on the end of her braid, over the hair tie.

"hair ribbons give girls a very feminine image and trust me, you need it."

She sighed as she examined herself in the mirror. For as long as she has known, her younger sister Julia was always the 'prettier one.' She had long and straight blonde hair that fell to the middle portion of her back and she got her mother's green eyes. Julia also spoke in a more elegant manner that matched her soft features.

"have you ever considered a new look?" Julia suddenly appeared behind her, startling her. She then started to play around with her hair. "you could have some real potential, you know. Under all this... hostility."

"I'm not hostile." Justine replied, swatting her hands away. "annoyed, sure. Ill humoured, very; but not hostile."

"don't you want a boy to notice you?" Julia asked, keeping her hands on her sister's shoulders as they stared into the mirror.

Justine scoffed. "oh yeah, my mission in life." She replied in a sarcastic tone.

"why can't you be normal?"

"define normal." She retorted right away.

"everything that you aren't!" Julia replied before making her way out of Justine's bedroom.

Justine turned around to face her. "oh, and I assume everything you are is normal?" She questioned, raising her eyebrows.

"more so, yes."

Justine groaned and refaced the mirror, away from her sister. Unlike Julia, Justine had dirty blonde hair with waves that were usually done in tight curls. The two shared most of the same features except their eyes. Justine's had a sort of sharpness to her's but were softened by her father's brown eyes. She sometimes had to stop herself from speaking in an improper way; if any of her parents had seen her speaking the way she did with that newsie a few days prior, she'd be on a boat to Paris in no time.

Perhaps she needed to be more lady-like. But she knew that no matter how much she forced it upon herself, it just wasn't her.

So, she lifted her dress and holding a portion of the bottom end between her teeth, she slid her petticoat off and neatly placed it back in her closet. She did a few twists and turns, admiring how much more lighter her dress was. She wished she was a working girl, like the reporter at the New York Sun who wrote that story about the newsie strike. What kind of freedom did her father give her to do such a thing? She wanted it so desperately.

She then chuckled to herself. "I could get used to this." She muttered to herself before opening the door that lead to her balcony. She had placed a ladder underneath the vines that hung off of their roof and with one foot on the ledge, her other one looked for it. Once she found it, she quietly climbed down and made a beeline for the gate that she easily climbed over.