Dolls

Chapter 5: Secret Speaking

     So for the next couple of weeks, Father and I studied hard. He spent less and less time in the basement each day working and more and more time in the living room with me. I was flying through the material with ease. I seemed to be going through an entire week of material in one day. Father was impressed with my progress and he made sure to tell me. Each time I completed a lesson he praised me by buying me a chocolate bar. Maybe that was what kept me going, the chocolate. It was the most delicious thing I'd ever tasted, so why wouldn't I want to get more of it.

     In three weeks I had practically finished every single textbook that Father presented me with. I was learning so much, and it was all so interesting! It was strange though. All of the magazines that I read talked about how much teenagers disliked school these days. I couldn't understand how they could hate something so fascinating. Father just said that the magazines lied and to stop reading them. I couldn't though. The magazines were teaching me about how normal teenagers acted and what they liked, so whenever Father went out for groceries or anything else I snuck a magazine into my room and read it. Although, I always returned it to it's place on the coffee table before he returned so that he didn't realize I had read it.

     That day, I had just returned a magazine to it's proper place when Father stepped out from the basement door. "Good afternoon, Charlotte," He greeted me with a soft smile on his face.

     "Hi, Father," I replied simply, returning his smile brightly. He didn't catch me slipping the magazine back. Thank goodness, I thought.

     "I thought that I told you not to read those magazines anymore, Charlotte," His voice suddenly became stern.

     I guess I thought a bit too soon, I grumbled in my mind.

     "I told you before, Charlotte. Those things lie. Every single person who write those magazines takes simple stories and twists them around so that people will it and read it," Father stated.

     "Then why do you even have them, Father?" I asked exasperatedly.

     "I have them, so that I have proof on why you shouldn't read them. And if I ever catch you with one again I'll lock you in your room for the day and take away your books. Do you understand?" He demanded.

     I just nodded, my smile having long faded from my lips.

     "Good," Father sighed, "Now, I'm going out for a bit. You've almost finished with your current textbooks, so I figured I might as well buy the next set now," He stated, running a hand through his white hair. He'd recently cut it short, so that he now looked like an aged professor instead of a man who spent his days cooped up in his basement.

     "OK, are you sure you don't want me to come with you this time?" I asked, hoping to weasel my way into getting him to let me outside.

     "No, Charlotte. You should stay here and continue to study. If you want me to even consider letting you into a public school then you need to keep doing your work," Father said, shaking his head.

     I sighed softly, rejected, "All right then. Drive safe," I flashed Father a quick smile as he grabbed the keys to his old pick-up truck and headed out the door. Once he was gone I turned to the window, watched as Father backed the car out of the driveway and drove off down the cracked, grey road.

     After the car was out of my sight I turned away from the window and wandered back to my room, pulling an worn book with yellowing pages from the mahogany bookshelf. I plopped down on my bed with the book and opened it up to the torn napkin that marked my page. The pages crinkled under my fingers as I flipped through them, my eyes following the smudged letters.