The Forgotten

More and More Ruddy Pink

Mr. Bristill looks triumphant as he leads me to his Mercedes. I imagine my pupils changed to dollar signs when I saw it. It was white and without a scratch or smudge. A footman opened the door for me, something I certainly wasn't accustomed to. I need to practice being a spoiled girl if I'm going to convince people I'm Raven. I hope her diary gives me enough information to be able to pull this off. I can picture the Bristills' (particularly Mr. Bristill's) retaliation if I am unable to fool whoever it is they're trying to deceive.

The footman shuts the door. I wonder how much he's being paid for his job. I've never been paid for a job since I started working at age seven. Young, yes, but the government doesn't seem to care about age and rights.

I fasten my leather seatbelt and lean back in my seat. This really is a very fine car. At least, I've heard it is. Even though I'm fifteen, I've never driven a car. I've never even sat in a car before today.

We arrive at the Bristill home within twenty minutes of the driver starting the car. I didn't check the street sign. I'll have to get the address later. The house itself is large and white. The Bristills seem to have an affinity for that color.

Mrs. Bristill leads me inside the house. It's just as grand on the inside as the outside. There is a chandelier in the foyer. The stairway upstairs is pretty extravagant for a staircase. I'm surprised they don't have an elevator; this must be one of the older homes. I've heard that the newer ones have elevators if they have more than one floor. As the Forgotten Compound is one of oldest buildings of the new United States, it doesn't have elevators, just crudely constructed metal stairs.

A maid meets us at the door. Her eyes widen at the sight of me.

"Miss Raven!" she exclaims, "you are back from the hospital!" She speaks in a thick foreign accent. I didn't know America was still receiving immigrants. I hate not knowing things. Back at the Forgotten Compound, I was the smartest, sharpest, and most mischievous person there. I'll have to work hard to convince people who do know these things that I've grown up with them.

"Oh, yes, I am," I reply, glancing at Mrs. Bristill. She gives me a nod to let me know I did the right thing.

"What is up with your clothes?" the maid asks. She sounds shocked. I look down at myself. I'm wearing a cheaply made green long-sleeve shirt, a black leather vest, and jeans. I'm guessing that's not the type of thing Raven wore.

"I'm going up to change," I announce. I quickly remove myself from the scene and head upstairs.

On second thought, I'm glad they have stairs. I wouldn't know how to use an elevator.

"Raven!" Mrs. Bristill calls. I keep walking for a few steps, forgetting she's addressing me. I freeze. This will take some getting used to. I turn around.

"Yes," I reply. She has a tight expression. I brace myself for bad news.

"You'll have to go to Raven's high school tomorrow," she informs me.

"You said I got a few days," I remind her.

"I thought we did," she says, looking at her phone. "The school just messaged me."

"You do realize this will ruin any chance I have of successfully convincing them I'm Raven, right?" I ask.

She purses her lips before saying, "We don't have a choice. Raven has been gone for a month. If she is absent another day, she'll be expelled. We can't afford to let you skip."

"You can't afford for me to go without knowing anything about Raven," I retort.

"Use her diary," Mrs. Bristill orders. "I don't care how you do this, but you had better go to school tomorrow." Before I can argue, she briskly walks away down the corridor.