Cinders [Completed]

Chapter 3: Decisions

I leave Elia at 3:45, so I have time to walk back to the house before Dad arrives at 4.

Before I'm halfway there I've already re-convinced myself three times what a terrible idea it would be to go to the ball.

Dad, as an upper beta, always goes to the Prince's reunion ball. He and Jonah would be sure to spot me and the very idea of being caught out of bounds turns my fingertips cold. I would never be allowed to take the job at the Palace then. I could say goodbye to any future for Lucy. It's too risky.

And curfew is at ten. Dad and Jonah would probably be out all night, so I wouldn't have to worry that Dad would come home and find me gone, but it has been drilled into my head. Curfew is at ten. The few times I've cut it close have left me with anxious tremors in my muscles and open wounds on my spine. It has been years since I've dared be out after 9.

"Mom, I'm home," I whisper as I enter the house. Goddess knows how much yelling startles her. She's probably still recovering from the shock of breaking a plate this morning.

"Lee," a different voice calls, and my spirits lift.

She's sitting at the kitchen table, a math book open in front of her. She looks up from her worksheet when I walk in and her face breaks into a tentative smile.

"Lucy, you're home early!"

Lucy would be the most beautiful 12 year old alive, in another life. She looks more like Mom than I do, with hazelnut hair that she keeps tied in a ponytail and bright green eyes framed in curly lashes. But her skin is too ashen and pale, the bags under her eyes too heavy, her cheeks robbed of the round, full look of childhood. She is too small for her age; even the crutches usually strapped to her arms look two sizes too big on her. Right now, they are resting on her chair, leaving her free to write out as many math equations as she can until her hands begin to ache.

"Yeah, the school kitchen caught fire. All it did was burn one cabinet, but they let the students go anyway."

I sit down next to her.

"Did you walk all the way home?" I ask, noticing the raw marks just above her elbow, where her crutches attach. It would take a lot of hobbling steps to create such a redness.

"Yep," Lucy says, shrugging her shoulders.

"You didn't call?"

"Mom couldn't answer, I guess. It was no big deal."

My forehead crinkles in concern. "Do you -"

"I'm not hungry," she whispers back.

Suddenly, she puts her pencil down and looks up at me.

"The Prince is coming back today, so they're doing the parade. Watch it with me?"

I nod. The reason she's down here instead of up at her desk is obvious.

"Do you need help up the stairs?"

Her shoulders sag. Embarrassment colors her cheeks, even as her eyebrows lower in exhaustion.

"Yes, please," she whimpers.

She can usually take the stairs alone. I don't mind. A few minutes later, Lucy and I are sitting on her bed in our room, Mom's laptop open on my lap. The livestream shows a few more minutes until the parade will begin, so Lucy tells me about her day.

"I made a story," she announces happily, patting her backpack where her writing journal hides. Her lips are paler than before, and I know even the journey upstairs tired her.

Lucy wants to be a writer. We don't talk  about it with anyone else. Dad wouldn't like it, these stories in her head.

I think they're beautiful. She one wrote about a star that fell in love with the earth. She always writes happy endings.