Children of a Murderer

𝓣𝓦𝓞 - 𝓒𝓛𝓐𝓡𝓐

Ms. Fitz and Jamee Patterson were taken out of class for the rest of the class. We got stuck with the creepy sub, Mr. White. Every girl in the grade knew how strange he was. He's been caught taking photos of people (girls and boys) and then deleting them when reported. What a weirdo.

I was sat next to Henry and his latest girl. Emilie was her name. She had shoulder length straight blonde hair with brown eyes. She was on the skinner side with the perfect shape. Emilie didn't have any freckles, but she did have dimples. I didn't have a problem with her, she never really was around when I was.

"Hate to break it to you," Mr. White cleared his throat, "but Ms. Fitz had a lesson planned. I want these questions answered and on my desk by the end of class." 

Henry turned to me immediately, shutting Emilie's pestering questions down. "Work together?" he asked. I nodded slowly, remembering Will. He didn't hang out with me just for answers. He was interesting.

Not that Henry used me for answers. Henry worked with me and would check answers, but then he just handed them off to the class and let it spread like wildfire. He knew Glinda wouldn't do anything to him so he liked to take the blame for things. Of course, some part was always my fault.

Mr. White got a boy named Aaron Hicks to pass the papers out. He winked at me, before earning a glare from my brother, slapping the paper on our desk. I never really thought much of Aaron. Like Henry, Aaron was liked by many (mostly the football team and girls). The boy can't help himself.

I worked with Henry and Emilie as I usually did. Emilie was a slow worker, but she ended up getting all of them right. Henry messed up on two but managed to correct himself without me stepping in. To my surprise, he took our papers and handed them to Mr. White without showing anyone else.

"You okay?" he asked, wrapping his pinky around mine. 

I smiled, remembering everything that happened last period. The laugh Will had, the cold eyes that warmed me; everything about him was worth this class over and over again. 

"Perfect," I smiled, my cheeks turning a hint of red. I pulled my Agatha Christie book out and began reading, letting the book unfold and shape the rest of the day.

*****

I walked with Henry home, since neither of us had a car. It was a warm breeze, fall just unfolding. The leaves fell near us and the trees shook through the wind. 

"How was your exams?" Henry asked, breaking the peaceful silence.

"Good, I finished first on all of them," I answered, turning my head to face him. 

Henry was only an inch taller than me, but that made all the difference with his looks. He had short dirty blonde hair that was getting blonder by the day and brown eyes. He was skinny but had muscles and he was very well kept. By looking at us, you wouldn't be able to tell we were siblings. 

For one, I had bright red hair and green eyes. I had a boyish structure and you could practically see my ribs through any tight shirts I wore. Henry wasn't aware it was unhealthy. He didn't know of my eating habits, nor should he. It's not something you talk about at a family dinner. At least, not in my home.

Henry nodded. "That's great," he hummed. He had a little peach fuzz forming, which soon Father would have to teach him how to shave it. "I have a friend coming over later. You're welcome to hang out with us in my room if you'd like," Henry offered.

"Oh," I exhaled. "It's fine. I'll stay in my room and out of your way." 

He frowned but didn't push it. I was able to make my own decisions and so was he. "Well, anytime throughout the evening the door will be open," he said, looking at our house looming at the end of the street.

We weren't a rich family to say the least. Our house was a small one story with only 4 bedrooms. Glinda and Dad have a shared master bedroom while me and Henry had our own. I wasn't ashamed of our house, moreso I was ashamed of my father's job as a mechanic. Henry was working with him as an engineer which I suppose was good, but it wasn't my dream. I had a stupid dream. I wanted to open a playhouse/daycare. A place kids can be. I didn't really see that in my future.

We walked up our sidewalk, Henry opening the door. You had a direct view of our stepmother, Glinda, lying in a chair completely covered in blankets.

 My body turned cold. It wasn't just any blankets. The blankets our mother sewed for me and Henry when we were ten. When she was on her deathbed. 

"Don't react, head to your room," Henry whispered to me. I let go of his hands and quickly turned away before I said something I would regret. 

I entered my bedroom collapsing on my white bedsheets. My walls had been painted by my mother. They were pink with flowers of all shapes and sizes. Whenever I would cry she would always remind me that some flowers take longer to perfect. She called me her little petal. Her petal of hope.

I don't remember falling asleep. But once I did..I dreamt of her. With her beautiful green eyes and dark brown hair. The eyes that looked at my dad like she loved him. The green eyes Glinda would never have.