Fragments - Book One of the Missing

Chapter 10 - Rowan

The hard cover of the book she was reading last night woke her up as she rolled over. Annoyance flared briefly, before the slow burning shame of yesterday took it's place. She rolled fully on top of the book now, nose squished and eyes squeezed shut — they didn't need to be open to replay all the events of last night. She groaned.

She pulled the blanket over her head, delaying the inevitable. She didn't want to get out of bed. To face her father and her sisters. Or half-sisters, she supposed. But then again, when has she ever been able to do something for herself?

Sisters or not, she could only think of them as she slipped the soft black gloves on and readied herself for another painful day.

Downstairs, she busied herself with making pancakes for the girls. Usually, she would prefer they ate healthier before school, but with her mood closing in on new lows, the pancakes may be her saving grace. While she stirred, her elbow smacked the corner of the counter. She hissed. Oh my stars, she thought ruthlessly. She threw in some extra chocolate chips for good measure.

The smell wafted through the apartment. Rosie and Olive appeared like bees attracted to honey. Margeaux shuffled in, dragging her feed and announced her presence with a rather loud silence.

"This is just what I needed this morning, Ro! You are a genius!" Rowan smiled at Rosie's nickname for her, although she was the only one who used it. She beamed back.

"Nope! She can read minds, remember?" Olive laughed. Rowan cringed, afraid she had given herself away. She wasn't right, but she wasn't too far off either. Rowan wriggled her fingers at Olive, trying to feign innocence. Rosie tickled her from behind and they all started to laugh. All, minus Margeaux, who grimaced at the counter. But the laughter instantly transported Rowan away from her foul mood.

Margeaux used to be her best friend. They would do everything together. They had the same friends, played the same games, wore the same clothes and stayed up late telling secrets. Even though she had told Rowan she didn't blame her, Rowan couldn't help but feel their relationship was irrevocably fractured. It wasn't even that difficult to convince herself that she lied that day and still blamed her. She couldn't fault her considering she still blamed herself.

When Rowan dished out breakfast, they all dove in and inhaled their plates of chocolate and butter with a side of pancakes. A knock on the front door interrupted the comradely silence.

Olive didn't bother swallowing before she said, "Who could that be so early? It's not even 7."

Rowan swallowed an extra large bite, before standing up to get the door, but Olive beat her to it.

She pulled the door open, and two men filled the doorway. On the left was the younger of the two. He had a squirrelly look about him, gangly and thin with a small nose. And despite his age, his black hair was receding far beyond his forehead. The heavily gelled hair only emphasized his misfortune. Creepy was the first word that came to mind, but she held back her shudder.

The older man must have been mid 50s, about the age of her father. No, not her father. She shook the thought away and returned to the man. Even though the older man was shorter, he was much stockier. His gray thinning hair was combed over to the side and matched the color of his eyes, albeit one was slightly darker than the other.

Both men were wearing the gray, boxy uniforms of the Officials, informing her and her sisters that this was not a social visit.

Standing behind Olive, Rowan mustered as much authority as she could before saying, "Excuse me. Can we help you?"