What if you had the ability to write? What if you couldn't control the story you created? And what if, the magic kingdom your hands are so keen on writing about turned out to be real?
Alessandra is used to the way things are. Life isn't great, but i...
"Can I have a word with you?" Mrs. Simmons asked the next day, as usual. They waited for everyone to leave and Mrs. Simmons asked her how everything was, as usual. Alessandra told her everything was fine, as she always did and Mrs. Simmons took of her glasses, told her if she needed anything, stopped mid-sentence, gave her the look, and gave Alessandra her typical arm squeeze, but this time, it hurt. Alessandra gave a surprised gasp. Until that moment, she hadn't even remembered her fall, but now she did. And although the squeeze hadn't been right on top of the worst part, it was still a bruised section and it hurt.
Mrs. Simmons immediately took her arm. Alessandra tried to take it back, but her teacher's grip tightened. She put her glasses down on her desk, and pulled up Alessandra's sleeve. There was a black bruise on her forearm and fainter, smaller ones around her elbow.
"Oh my goodness".
"I fell on the stairs", Alessandra explained. She didn't need a concerned teacher asking questions.
"I'm sure you did. Oh, honey, that old bastard". Mrs. Simmons eyes changed, as if she had suddenly understood the whole situation.
"I did! I ran up the stairs. It was a stupid thing to do, I know, but-".
But there was no way to convince Mrs. Simmons.
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She was listening to music while she wrote on her blue notebook that evening. She was so focused, that she didn't notice Sophie climbing up to her window.
"Is that a writing journal?" She suddenly heard right next to her. Alessandra gave a little shriek.
"Oh my God!"
"Sorry", Sophie said, but looked at the blue notebook, trying to read what was on it.
"No I was just... I..." She tried to make something up. Anything. If Atticus found out, he wouldn't wait for an explanation before burning it and yelling at her. "You're not going to be a goddamn writer. I will not have you on this house longer than I have to only so you can write. No good payment comes from writing, you know that", he would say.
"I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to, Ale, but please don't lie to me".
Alessandra sighted.
"It is. But don't tell Atticus".
"He doesn't encourage it, I gather?" She asked as she made her way into the room. When they were younger they would always show up at each other's windows.
