Exceptional (On Hold)

Chapter Two

        I woke up unusually early—it was Saturday, a day for me to sleep in as I had no school. The thing I hated about Saturdays was the lack of time for a run, resulting in my inability to sing over the weekend. When I tottered to the window and pulled back the threadbare drapes, I took in the sight of the sun just barely beginning to peek over the horizon. I rubbed my eyes, groaning, and wished that I could go back to sleep; unfortunately, although I was practically waterlogged with sleep, I felt wide-awake. Running my fingers through my tangled curls, I pulled my hair into a hasty ponytail before reluctantly sitting down on the floor with my schoolwork, decided that I might as well do something productive since I was awake anyways. I stared at the worksheet, willing the numbers to make sense; unfortunately, they didn’t.

        The Web never took studious children or the children who seemed to have an easier time with schoolwork than the rest. It seemed that the Web had little purpose with scholars; nevertheless, the Web rarely turned their noses up at the chance to take someone with a natural capacity for learning and gladly took the geniuses and prodigies. Most often, they claimed the mathematical geniuses—luckily for me, however, I was nowhere near a mathematical genius. When it came to crunching numbers, I was about as useful as a capful of water against a wildfire.

        A strange sound on the edge of my consciousness consumed my attention with little effort to stay focused. I laid down my pencil and shoved the tidy page of equations to one side, cocking my head in a futile attempt to locate the source of the sound. My mind raced, sorting through possibilities until I hit on an idea that made me sick to my stomach. I swallowed, morbid curiosity forcing me to the window; I peered outside, my eyes darting frantically from side to side and nearly fainting when I saw evidence that I was right.

        Far away at the beginning of Birchwood Lane, a black carriage drew steadily closer, growing larger and larger as the rumbling sound of clopping hooves grew louder. I sank slowly to my knees and clutched the windowsill so tightly that my knuckles whitened, and I closed my eyes in anxiety and dismay. Shaky, weak inside, I knew that I had only moments before the four black draft horses thundered into my driveway. I pulled myself to my feet with a profound willpower I hadn’t known I contained and went to my parents’ room.

        “Mother… Father…” I whispered, my voice cracking horribly. I cleared my throat and tried again, this time managing to keep my voice steady and suitably loud. My parents woke irritably, probably wondering why someone had disturbed them so early in the morning on a weekend. “The Web… The carriage is coming. For me,” I clarified hoarsely.

        Suddenly alert, Father shook Mother’s shoulder urgently, properly rousing her. “Alice!” he hissed. Mother sat up slowly, blinking at me sleepily.

        “Charlotte?” she questioned. “Whatever is the matter?”

        I swallowed with considerable difficulty and took in a deep breath, preparing myself for the two-minute speech I would have to deliver. “Mother, Father, I sing. When I go for runs, I go to the abandoned park and I sing. Ever since Hazel Grafton… back in grade three… It was all I really wanted… I’ve been doing it since grade eight. Not much, really, a few seconds… But someone heard.” Mother and Father stared at me blankly, clearly not following my garbled mess of fragmented sentences.

        I cleared my throat and looked directly at my parents. “The Web is coming for me.”

        Mother’s lips pressed together in a thin, disapproving line. “When?” She forced the word from her mouth.

        “Now.”

        Father pushed himself out of bed and stood in front of me, grabbing my shoulders fiercely. “You have to let them take you,” he ordered sternly. “You have to comply. You must.” Tears now coursed down his cheeks as he stared through me, boring into my eyes with his without truly seeing me. “If you don’t, they’ll kill us all,” he whispered. “You know they will.” I realized that he was begging me to abide by whatever terms the Web set before me; I could easily choose not to, I could choose to reject my father’s cowardice. I held the power, for the first time in my sixteen years of life—ironic, I mused.

        However, I knew I couldn’t and wouldn’t do that. Despite the distance between my family and myself, they were still family—I couldn’t sentence my three small sisters to death, nor could I allow my brother or mother or father to die, either. They didn’t deserve to pay for my choices and foolish mistakes, and they certainly didn’t deserve to face the Web. I had no right to ask anything of my family, either, considering how I’d pushed them away with my dangerous actions. I would have to fend for myself.

        I stood straight-backed with my head held high, and looked my father in the eye. “I know,” I said with an artificial calm that I certainly did not feel. “I understand.” Yes, I understood; it still tore my heart to pieces and greatly angered me that my family offered no consolation or attempts at protection. I knew I shouldn’t blame them, but I did, with every fiber of my being.

        To his credit, Father looked somewhat ashamed. “We’re sorry, Charlotte,” Mother said brusquely. I nodded; I’m pretty sure I saw a flash of pride and approval in both of my parents’ eyes, although I never would be certain, nor would I know if they would tell me they loved me, for at that moment came the dreaded knock.

        I forced my liquid legs to function and walked rigidly, holding myself erect, to answer the door. Mother and Father, I knew, would stay in their bedroom. I suddenly realized sorrowfully that I had been alone since the first time I sang. Utterly, completely alone. I descended the stairs as the knock reverberated throughout the house once again; I heard a door upstairs open—one of my little sisters; my brother would hardly have such selflessness within him.

        We were twins, my brother Colbert and I, fraternal twins—obviously. We were night and day, moon and sun, water and fire. There was little love lost between us; people have never thought of us as a pair, like with many sets of twins. We spent very little time in each other’s company and, in truth, knew very little about each other. Colbert was a virtual stranger to me.

        Before I could touch the doorknob, a small impact from behind left me breathless. My littlest sister, Jill, wrapped her arms tightly around my waist and she squeezed all the air from my body. “Char, don’t forget me,” she whispered. I opened the door. “I love you, Char. Mum and Daddy do too, they’re just too scared to say so. Pippie and Dennie too.”

        Piper and Denise, nine and eleven respectively, had quietly admired me throughout young childhood. I wasn’t close to them like I was to Jill, who was six, but I still cared deeply for my sisters. I smiled sadly. “And what about Colbie?” I asked.

        Jill wrinkled her nose. “Boys are dumb,” she declared.

        A person cleared their throat obnoxiously, reminding me of the crushing reality of my situation. I sighed despondently and gently pried Jill’s death-grip arms from my waist, and hugged her. “I love you too, Jill-bug.” Jill-bug, like pill bug, because many of the rollie-pollie pill bugs lived around our neighborhood during the spring. I knelt down in front of her, tilting her chin to look directly at me. “Behave,” I said quietly. “Be the sister and the daughter that I never was. Be smart.” Jill nodded seriously and for the first time that morning, I felt tears sting the corners of my eyes. The person in our doorway cleared their throat again, louder this time. Jill shoved something into my hand, and I rose to my feet to face reality.

        A.N.- I am going to be writing short chapters so that I can provide updates frequently without dragging chapters out unneccesarily. Bear with me please! :) xoxo