The Hand That Held A Baby Can Hold A Dagger As Well

Officially Untrainable

A/N
The picture is of Shanalia.

I, Shanalia Lavendar Wilmere, adopted daughter of Ambrose Fernando Wilmere, and Raina Calendula Wilmere, am officially untrainable. Or so Madam Octimber claims.

"She is reckless, restless, and rowdy, even after I worked my magic on her," and here it is,  "she is officially untrainable."

My father's beetroot face comes into view, "please ma'am, it's just a stage she's going through, you can surely teach her some manners. You're the best in the province, our last chance." His meaty hands are clasped together, and as his face some how turns a darker shade of scarlet, I swear he's about to fall at Madam Octimbers feet blubbering.

The lady promptly flickes her nose into the air, and stares down it's rather elongated ridge at my father.

"Enough is enough, Ambrose. Your last chance is officially gone."

"Gone?"

In the one word alone I can hear the utter dispair, and hopelessness.

Madam Octimbers hands start to flie everywhere, a flurry of crimson nails. "Disappeared, diminished, what ever you want to call it, I'm gone!"

And with that she stomps out, leaving my poor father to lean heavily on his desk.

I have to quickly scamper away from the crack in the door as she  comes storming out. Finally she's gone. You know, I never liked her, her name sounded like someone to decided to mix October, September, and Timber together. I mean, who would do such a thing to a word!

I only realize I'm chuckling to myself when a exparated sigh coming from the office.

"Shanalia, Shanalia, what am I to do with you?"

My abruptly halted giggles make way for hiccups, like my diaphragm is begging me to continue laughing.

"Father, Madam Octimber merely had no patience. You see, all I had to do was climb tree in one of the dresses she so kindly lent to us, and-"

"You are 18, now eligible to be wed off to a good husband. I will not have the Wilmere name tainted by you barbaric ways."

We'd had the conversation before and we'll have it again.

"But Father, you can not expect me to stay cooped up all day in this musty old house, boring myself to death with embroidery."

The house, in fact is not old, rather modern compared to the ones lining Lilac grove lane. Nor is it musty, but polished from top to bottom regularly by our maids.

"I shall die of boredom before you marry me off to some rich, preposterously old pig-"

"Mind you mouth, young lady! I'll have you  well mannered and married off before the end of the month if it's the last thing I do!"

He suddenly plopped his vast behind down on his chair with a huff. As he started rifling through his papers, I felt a burning rage start to well up within me. I was about to open mouth to yell a mass of profanities at him when held up his hand, silencing me.

"Go to you room, Shanalia," he spat, rage simmer on his tongue, much better contained than me.

Teeth clenching, with one last defiant stomp, I thundered out of the office.

My heeled boots clattered on the wooden floor, each clack ear splitting. Mother gave me a stern glance as I clomped past the lady's room. "Your not an elephant, Shanalia."

Not bothering to answer, I give her a very direct eyeroll.

I barrel through the bedroom door, looking for an escape, feeling like my cornflower walls are suffocating me.

The balcony. I swing off one of its rails, scaling the sweet pea frame, landing in the rose garden.

I'm lucky my bedroom is only on the second floor, because if it was any higher, I might find myself in a bit of a pickle. A large pickle actually, I fear I might become terribly boring if I was holed up being a lady in there all day.

Boring. What a depressing word. The word that you utter when you feel as if there is nothing better to do than sit around. Boring describes everything being the same. Not a change. You have to be a boring person to be bored. While, an interesting person looks for difference, change and unpredictable. The opposite and enemy of boring.

This is why I find living in this household so hard. While that house, and all that lives in it is undeniably boring I am interesting. I like difference, and change. This is why we will never get along.