The Smell of Rebellion

Chapter Seven

"And so the great day arrived," Matilda declared to Mrs. Phelps by the lake. She had gotten out of school, and being with the librarian made her feel happy and almost giddy with excitement. Matilda wanted to cartwheel across the grass and dive into the pond and drink lemonade and– Oh, she wanted to do so many things! Her eyes, however, were fixed on the sky, imagining that there was a colourful plane flying through it and a banner streaking behind it.

"The Burning Woman Hurling Through the Air with Dynamite in Her Hair, over Sharks and Spiky Objects, Caught by the Man Locked in the Cage." Matilda's voice gained some excitement to it as she turned and chattered on excitedly, "It was like the entire world had gathered to see the acrobat and the escapologist's incredible, death-defying feat."

Matilda could imagine the crowds, the circus, the fuss. She could imagine grabbing Mrs. Phelp's arm and taking her into the story with her, a wonderful story. She was so deep in her imagination she could see everyone, she could hear the fuss, she could smell the buttered popcorn, and she could feel the excitement.

Her eyes were bright just thinking about it, and she was smiling as she continued to narrate, "Everything was arranged by..." She paused for suspense, "the acrobat's evil stepsister. A frightening woman who used to be an Olympic class hammer thrower." Matilda found herself describing the Trunchbull, but it wasn't something she had intended. It just... it came to her like that, and she couldn't just change her story now.

"People whispered that in her dark and brooding heart, she resented her stepsister's success and love." She frowned, as if her piercing blue-grey eyes could somehow reach the woman.

"Suddenly," Matilda heard the cymbal clash and the curtain swung open, "out came the escapologist, but there was no sign of the acrobat, and no glimpse at all of the shiny white scarf she always wore."

Matilda quoted him, "'Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, The Burning Woman Hurling Through the Air with Dynamite in Her Hair, Over Sharks and Spiky Objects, Caught by the Man Locked in the Cage has been cancelled!'"
She could hear the groans of a disappointed audience.

"'Cancelled because my wife is... Pregnant!'"

Now she could hear the gasps of fans and Mrs. Phelps grabbed her hand as she said, "Oh, Matilda."

"Absolute. Silence." Matilda described the scene, "You could have heard a fly burp."

Suddenly, her voice grew louder, her eyes brighter as she said, "Suddenly, the audience jumped to its feet and roared in appreciation! The great feat was instantly forgotten! And the applause went on for over an hour!"

"Oh, Matilda," Mrs. Phelps cried, rocking back and forth on her chair with her blue popcorn bowl, "that's wonderful!" She smiled. "I love stories that end happily."

Matilda was snapped out of her story (that felt very much like reality) and looked at Mrs. Phelps, taking time to enjoy the wind, the sun, and the sound of the lake next to her.

She was almost guilty to continue, "Forgotten by everyone except the acrobat's evil stepsister. When all had quietened down she produced a contract!"

"A contract?" Mrs. Phelps asked, confused.

"'A contract you have signed to perform this feat. And perform this feat, you shall!'"

"No!" Mrs. Phelps cried desperately.

"'I've paid for the posters, publicity, the catering, the toilet facilities– If I give the crows their money back, where is my profit? A contract is a contract is a contract! My hands are tied! The Burning Woman Hurling Through the Air with Dynamite in Her Hair, Over Sharks and Spiky Objects, Caught by the Man Locked in the Cage will be performed, and it will be performed this day, or off to prison you both shall go!'" She roared. Then, the spark in her head ebbed away again and she was back, standing in a tall grass field in front of Mrs. Phelps and by a sparkling, pretty blue lake.

"What... What happened next?" Mrs. Phelps asked desperately.

"I dunno," Matilda said honestly, shaking her head. The sparkling and the fizzing had faded and she was left with an unfinished story.

"What?" Mrs. Phelps reeled back, shocked. "How can you not know?"

Guiltily, she told her, "It just comes to me in... fizzes."

"Well, could you fizz up a little bit more for me?-- Now?"

"I–" Matilda stammered hesitantly, "I don't think it works like that."

"Of course it doesn't," Mrs. Phelps said in disappointment, setting her lemonade and popcorn bowl down.

"Where is this coming from, Matilda?" The librarian asked suddenly as she stood up.

Matilda looked at her, confused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, it's incredible," Mrs. Phelps said, picking up a bottle of something, "but it's taking a rather dark turn."

"Maybe I shouldn't tell you any more," Matilda said worriedly.

"No, no, no. No." Mrs. Phelps told her, looking desperate, "We must find out how it ends."
Matilda agreed.

"All I'm saying is," The librarian said, looking at her in concern, "is everything all right? You could tell me."

Unwilling to tell Mrs. Phelps the things that were going on in her life, she swallowed and glanced away before saying quickly, "I'd better go, Mrs. Phelps, Mum's waiting." She scurried to where she was earlier to grab her hat and book bag. "She gets so upset when she's away from me. She says every minute is like an eternity, so..." Matilda trailed off, unsure what to add to her lie to convince Mrs. Phelps that Matilda lived in a happy, wonderful family.

She turned around, beginning to hurry in her steps back along a well-worn grassy path. 

"Is she coming here? Can I meet her?" cried Mrs. Phelps.

Matilda shivered at the thought. As she put her hat back on, she simply said, "Bye, Mrs. Phelps!"

"Matilda, tomorrow I'm at the windmill." She heard the librarian call, and she shouted back, "Okay, I'll find you!" in acknowledgement as she continued running down the path.

-

When she got home, she immediately set to work drawing the characters from her story in a small, yellow notepad of hers. It was lined and certainly not for drawing, but she didn't have any sketchbooks or copy-paper to use.

She used a short, half-dull pencil to sketch as her parents fought in the background, shouting angrily as they tried helplessly to take a superglued hat off.

Matilda looked up from her half-finished drawing, sighing as she watched them try to pull the hat off in the doorway and shout.

She returned to her drawing.

Something was off about the child. The acrobat and the escapologist looked fine, but the child looked wrong. The face, the clothing– all of it just didn't seem right. It didn't click with her. With a pencil and frustrated sigh, she scribbled the face out. With a short pause, she promptly began scribbling out the entire body as well. She scribbled it over until it was dark and near black from how hard she was pressing down with her pencil.

Matilda focused hard on her drawing as her parents fought near her.

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Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thank you for reading, and like always, please comment/offer feedback! I accept constructive criticism!