The Guardian Wars: Part One #Wattys2016

Chapter Twenty

 It was strange to see my Sector at night. I had lived in Sector 1 for as long as I could remember, but I had never been able to travel through it like I did that night. We left Mabel's apartment, which was located in the center of the Sector, at 10:30 pm. We had seven hours of driving ahead of us just to make it to Sector 2. I knew Margaret would get my voicemail, and I could hopefully buy myself enough time to get through Sector 2 before she realized that I had not returned home.

My thoughts lingered on my family for a while. I had never been close with any of them, and I finally understood why. I had never belonged to them. Lynette would probably pretend to miss me for the attention. I'm sure she could play the part of depressed and concerned sister well. Travis would hate the scandal, but he would have one less burden in the long run. The things he had said at dinner that fateful night finally helped me realize why he had never been kind to me. He never wanted me. I was forced upon him, and he had to make the best of it. I concentrated for a long time trying to remember one kind moment with him and I couldn't come up with a single one. Not one happy memory with the man I had grown up knowing as my father.

I remembered him standing over Margaret, yelling, at the dinner table. She didn't deserve his degradation. She had done what she thought was right by taking me in. Because of her I did get to have time with Rowan. Because of her I never went without, the way Mabel had. It would have been so easy for her to let me go to an orphanage, but she didn't. I felt sad that I wouldn't get another chance to thank her. I knew she would miss me. She had loved me, even if she was bad at showing it most of the time.

As we drove south, and finally passed the last of the tall buildings on the outskirts of downtown, I began recognizing some of the boutiques my mother had taken me to when I was younger. A particular one tugged at my heart. We sped passed a small French style boutique called J'adore. Beside it was a little ice cream shop with black iron tables set up outside.

Suddenly I was 16. Rowan and I had just walked out of the French boutique after a grueling two hour shopping trip with my mother. She was trying on one last dress, and gave us permission to go next door for ice cream.

Rowan took me inside and let me select the flavor I wanted. As usual, I got strawberry and he got chocolate. Neither of us ever wanted the extravagant flavors like buttermilk pecan, or pistachio. We were simple when it came to ice cream. After he paid, Rowan ushered me outside to an iron table with two matching chairs. We sat down and both began eating our ice cream cones quietly.

"Are you excited about the dance tomorrow?" Rowan asked, referring to the debutante ball I attended once a year. I rolled my eyes.

"You know the answer to that question," I replied snidely Rowan laughed.

"Last year I did, but this year you're older, more mature. Maybe you like that type of thing now," he teased.

"Trust me. I don't," I answered in true scorned teenager form. Rowan winked and licked his ice cream. It had always amazed me how elegantly he ate. It was as if he couldn't make a mess if he tried. Right on cue my melting ice cream rolled off of the cone and into my lap.

My white tennis skirt now had a dark pink stain splattered across the front. There was no hiding it. I was equally embarrassed and frightened. My mother did not like stains. In fact she hated them with a vengeance. Rowan laughed, of course. He always found it funny when I was thrust into embarrassing situations. It wasn't until I looked up with tear filled eyes that he stopped laughing.

"Olivia, it's just ice cream," he soothed me as he handed me a wad of napkins from the table.

"My mother is going to kill me!" I hissed, feverishly wiping my skirt.