When I Was Innocent

“I wish I could say I regretted it,” I laughed and swung from one of the rafts on her bottom bunk bed for support. 

“How can you not? He’s going to be sick for weeks,” Worry lines creased along Vianne's eyes and she frowned with the look she saves just for me. She fidgeted with a lock of her blood orangish hair. 

"Sai, you can't do that. I thought you liked Aren anyway?"

I shrugged and went back to tidying my bunk. I start folding my shirts and slacks, which I shove into my trunk. "He yelled at Silver, I'm done with him right now. Who yells at a little kid for spilling juice on a bedsheet?"

Vianne laughs and shakes her head at me. "You." 

"That's different," I go back to folding. 

Vianne sighs and hugs the small pudgy white duck she named Feathers. On a birthday, our dads go out and leave Aren in charge for a few hours. The duck was her 9th birthday present. She still hasn't outgrown it. 

By now the fabric of the duck's body is frayed and close to the splitting point. Not to mention the year's worth of smudges and dirt that cling to the white fringe. 

I have a green jumper I got last year for my 14th birthday. I love it and wear it as much as I can without my dad Octavian tearing it away from me and washing the hell out of it. 

Vianne dropped Feathers on her bed and held up one pair of my jeans. She stuck her hand through a gaping hole by the knee and gave me a disapproving glance. 

“I plan on fixing it. Calm down.” I pick up a shirt, shake out the wrinkles and tuck it into my trunk. 

"Sai, what's the point if you don't even wear that pair?" 

The question stumped me so I just narrow my eyes and shove it down to the bottom of my trunk. I refuse to ever throw anything away. What if I need it?

~

Later that night after a day of homeschooling and chasing younger kids begging them to brush their teeth and get in their stupid pajamas, I hide under my covers with a flashlight in my teeth and listen to the other people in my room breathe. 

 I’m trying to research the plants in the area. I’d always been interested in foraging but I got serious about it when I was nine years old. 

That’s when I started to realize what could have happened if we didn’t find this place. I was so grateful for that, and I even did my chores for a solid couple of weeks without complaining. 

The older kids talked it out, and we agree we need to find a way to repay Octavian and Lotus when we grow up. I want to become a botanist and give them as much as I have to spare.

They deserve it. 

So this is what I do every night. Lotus says I shouldn't eat mushrooms I find, but I only almost died once and that's because one of the triplets switched a Violet cornucopia for an Icicle mushroom. They're both long thin blue things but one heals boils and the other one gives you the worst fever of your life. 

I must have fallen asleep without knowing it because the next thing I know my eyelids flutter, and my flashlight falls out of my mouth. 

-

Light glows through the window and cold wind whips the already pale curtains of their last color. The morning sounds come from guard dogs barking in the nearby cottages. An owl who must not realize it's day yet gives off a shrill hoot. Idiot.

One of the kids groans slightly. I shift on the hard planks that make up my bed. I sympathize with the groaner. I don't WANT to garden. The ground is practically frozen outside in the morning anyway. 

However, the door to our room opens and I hear footsteps creaking across the damp floorboards. 

"Psst-" A clear, pleasant voice. "Wake up. Time to get ready." The voice is at a whispering volume, but it's loud enough to catch our attention. My eyes are still closed, but I smile.

"Get your arses up I let you sleep in another half hour.”

"I don't want to stab at dirt . . ." Sam grumbles and turns over in his bed, trying to clutch his blanket tighter to his chest. 

Octavian rolls his eyes and grabs Sam's quilt. He yanks it off and stuffs it under his arm. "You'll get this back later, all of you GIT UP we're eating breakfast and going out." 

Gardening day. Everyone hates gardening day. At least we all say that. 

Octavain walks over to me and pulls the covers off my head too. He picks up the flashlight, which is still on. Octavain clicks it off and sighs. 

“You up late last night again, weren't you?” 

“No.” I take the light and shove it under my pillow. "My head must have bumped it.

“Liar,” Vianne said in a muffled voice above my bed. I kick the boards above me that hold up her bed. The wooden slabs are cracking because I kick her nearly every morning. 

Octavian shook his head and turned around to speak to the rest of the room. “Alright, we have oatmeal downstairs. There is fruit and chocolate chips on the counter. You may have FIVE chocolate chips.” He shot a dirty look at Sam who smiled innocently. Sam was only eleven and practically begging to be banned from the kitchen. 

I kicked off my sheets and pulled on my remaining non-ripped cargo pants and my plain brown ‘gardening’ T-shirt. I want to say about 20 kids are living here. Ranging from ages seventeen to three. As the warm light starts leaking through the big stained glass window above our breakfast table, the chatter gets louder, and the scarfing of oatmeal dies down as everyone starts to finish.

Lotus herds us out back to the greenhouse and garden beds. Sun rays beat down onto our hair and backs. The morning is always freezing, which is when we have to get up, then the rest of the day is boiling. 

Octavain gives out assignments and instructions. The youngest that live here are USELESS and they do NOTHING. They try to climb up into the one shredded hammock we own all afternoon- but it doesn't matter because they always fall out anyway. I always laugh because it's hilarious, but everyone says 'it's not funny' and 'there's something wrong with me.'

Usually, Lotus works with the 8-year-olds and up. Octavian works with kids under eight, which is weird because he loses his temper a lot, especially with little people. Last year a kid ate a worm, choked on it, and almost died. Octavian ranted about it for the rest of the day saying we had no common sense and it was a miracle we were still alive.

I get to hoe the roots. Hoeing is just chopping up every solid thing in the dirt. It’s great because I can let out all my fury without cutting off anyone's limbs. When I get too violent, Lotus comes over and grabs the hoe. He guides my hands so I slow down and then leaves me with a weary look. One time I split a tiny bolder in half and everyone avoided me for the rest of the day. 

We work outside for a few hours. Lotus and Octavian walk around helping people. The sun shines on all the fruit and vegetables and makes the surroundings smell like summer.

We call it gardening day, Lotus calls it outside-work-day-because-we-raised-you-all-and-oh-my-gods-why-are-there-so-many-of-you. At one point Lotus said that out loud and his voice wavered throughout the whole sentence. Octavian sat down next to him and put his arm around his shoulders. "He's fine, just a lot going on right now," he whispered to us before shooing us out of the room with his hand.

The beginning of the gardening day sucks but the evening makes it worth it. Lotus is so stubborn and every year tries to grill but fails dismally. Milana always takes over which is embarrassing for him; she's only twelve.

We garden all day, then crash and stuff ourselves with burnt cookies, watermelon, and shredded venison on buttered bread which Octavian makes himself just for this occasion. 

When the sun starts to set, we wander around the outskirts of the forest and pick the sour blackberries that are somehow never ripe. It's a competition that can catch the most in their mouth. None of us have managed the skill but we still try. 

We run around like crazies until Lotus and Octavian force us back inside to sleep. The time changes every year but it's always too warm of a summer night to sleep. The ones that can stay awake wait until the others fall asleep then climb outside onto the roof. 

~

The time comes for us to sneak out. It's my favorite part of the whole day. Some of the kids are really freaking short and can't get thrugh the window so its a lot of boosts out of the tiny window onto the roof, my hands are so sore after from having people step on my clasped hands I can barely climb up myself. 

As I lie there with my hands underneath my head with the hot wind blowing my hair back, I remember all the good times- usually it's the opposite. 

It didn't exactly stay that way.