The Peculiarity of Amelia Duovet [INDEFINITE HOLD]

Amelia, Age Ten

*unedited*

“Books are the quietest and most constant of friends; they are the most accessible and wisest of counselors, and the most patient of teachers.” – Charles William Eliot

Amelia Douvet. Age Ten.

Amelia counted her toes. Ten. There were ten toes, one for each day she had lived. She had thought the day when she had the same amount of toes as years of her life would never come. Momma had told her that she was going to turn ten today, but she hadn’t really believed her. Amelia had been nine for so long; she could hardly fathom the idea of being ten. Ten years old, my my.

Amelia looked at her clock: 5:00 AM, it read. She smiled to herself, knowing that she had a couple of hours until her parents woke up. It was finally time for her to begin the event that she had been waiting the entire night for, the time she could finally read.

She slid her legs across her sheets, placing them softly on the floor. She padded across her room, feeling the soft carpet on her feet as she tried her hardest to make sure the floorboards didn’t squeak. She stood on her tiptoes, reaching the top shelf of her closet, trying to pull her favorite book into her hands. She reached it finally, bringing it safely into her arms.

Amelia sat back on her bed and pulled the flashlight out from underneath her pillow. She flicked the switch on, watching as the small light illuminated the dark room. Turning the beam onto the book pages, she began reading A Study in Scarlet by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

“In the year 1878 I took my degree of Doctor of Medicine of the University of London, and proceeded to Netley to…” it wasn’t long before Amelia had lost herself in the legends of Sherlock Holmes, her eyes scanning greedily over each word. If someone saw her they’d think she was a living sponge, soaking up each word of each page until she had memorized the story by heart.

Her mother thought it tremendously strange that Amelia spent so much time reading. It wasn’t normal for a nine—now ten—year old girl to read such an extreme amount as Amelia did. Most girls her age would rather spend their time playing Barbie or watching The Power Puff Girls than reading Shakespeare or Jules Vern, which was exactly what Amelia liked to read. Her mother was worried that Amelia wasn’t getting enough of a social life—that Amelia would grow up to be a gauche child.

Amelia wasn’t worried, however. In fact, it was quite the contrary. Amelia would far rather be with her books than she would be with another kid her age. Her mother wondered why that was, but Amelia’s answer was simple. Books were her friends. She didn’t need a girl or boy her own age, Amelia simply needed her books.

 In truth, they were the most extraordinary friends that Amelia could possibly have asked for. They brought her to amazing places, introduced her to phenomenal events, and educated her in things she hadn’t known before. Amelia’s mother was mistaken if she thought that Amelia needed friends. Why would Amelia need friends if she had her books?

Amelia’s father was worried as well, because not only were books Amelia’s friends, they were also her accomplices. They were who Amelia blamed when she got in trouble. If Amelia did something wrong, it was always because “Odysseus did it” or “it worked for Peeta”, she never blamed herself. Her father didn’t know if it was because she was a child who didn’t want to admit her wrongdoings, or if it was because she genuinely believed that the characters in her storybooks were making her do things. Either way, he didn’t like it.

It soon became 8:00 and across the house Amelia’s mother woke up. She sat up on her elbows, peering at her sweetly sleeping husband. He looked so very peaceful that Amelia’s mother didn’t want to wake him, but today was Amelia’s special day and her mother and her father needed to make sure it was extraordinary. She reached over and wiggled her husband’s arm, causing him to roll over and shove his head farther into the pillow. Amelia’s mother smirked and jiggled him harder.