The Island of Mysteries

20

"Amelia, stop." A voice shouted with a tone of authority, but I didn't stop. My laughs continued to echo through the hallway of my childhood home as I my feet moved quickly away from my mother. My mother, who was anger and quite frustrated with me, briskly walked after my eight year old self.

"Amelia, stop this nonsense right now!" Mother called after me once more. I giggled in response. I had been outside playing in the bushes when my mother came outside and announced that we would be having guests for dinner. This meant that I would need to bathe and dress up but, like I had always done, I ran from my mother in hopes of being able to eat dinner with my leaf infested hair and dirt coated skin.

"I don't want to, mommy." I stopped my feet as I stood outside my bedroom door. My mother was standing at the end of the hallway with her hands on her hips as she readied her words to lecture me with.

"I don't care if you want to or not. You're going to bathe and then you are going to dress yourself like a big girl in your dress."

"But I don't like bathes or dresses or stupid dinner parties."

"I don't care, Amelia." My mother raised her voice. She was becoming increasingly frustrated, even I could tell, but being the kind of eight year old I was I wasn't going to do this cleanly or silently.

I stomped my way into the bathroom to shower and made sure to slam the door. As I showered, I made sure to dump at least a gallon of water on the pristine tiles. When getting dressed I purposely wrinkled the sunshine yellow dress that was decorated with blue and purple flowers. In my mind at the time this was the biggest form of rebellion I could commit.

"Amelia!" My mother called from the stairs as I combed through my unruly dark auburn hair. The Irish roots were strong and came from my father's side of the family but it was from my mother's extremely mixed side that my parents expected I got my dark inky eyes from.

"Amelia, are you dressed yet?"

"Yes, mother." I called out grudgingly. Though, even if I suspected she didn't hear me, I heard he heels click off in the direction of the door. I descended the staircase slowly. I felt the anxiety bubbling in my stomach at the thought of the dinner guest.

Nearing the bottom step my little feet stopped short of the hardwood flooring that spread out through the bottom half of the house. The man was now standing in the foyer speaking to my mother with his back turned to me but stopped as soon as the bottom stair creeked.

"This must be your daughter." He committed without making a move to turn around. The man wore a dark black suit that was tailored to a T. He stood at an easy six foot five inches in the air but that wasn't the most remarkable feature about him. It was the snow white hair that was tied back in a small neat bun on the back of his neck. I had never seen anyone in my life with hair so pure looking.

"Amelia," My mother looked from around the man and motioned for me to come closer. I shook my head quickly and turned to run back up the stairs. My mother was too quick for me, unfortunately, and caught my arm in a mother's death grip.

"Amelia, enough of this being rude. Introduce yourself to our guest." She hissed into my ear harshly as she pulled me to stand in front of the freakishly tall man.

"I'm so sorry about her." My mother gave the man a nervous laugh in hopes that he wouldn't be appalled by my behaviour.

"Kids," He said simply. "They are a handful. I have quite a few of my own, Mrs. Steward."