I couldn’t believe it. Our new mom is here? Right now?
“Come and meet her, April!”
“Michael! Alright, fine. I’m coming!”
We stomped into the yard, the gravel scraping our boots. The garden here was empty and barren. We had stopped growing things after Mom had gone. Kicking at a clump of dirt and weeds, I pushed off the overwhelming thoughts of death and roses, and focused on the new mom. I was… happy, nervous, and sad. What if she takes advantage of Dad? What if she beats us and abuses us? What if…
I struggle to not scream. I don’t want that. I don’t want that for me or Michael. But Dad’s car is already here. I gulp.
The car door opens.
Dad steps out.
I missed him so much.
A woman comes out!
She is a brown-haired, rosy cheeks, blue eyed woman. She has a burning, bright fire in her eyes, and she just wears a simple red dress. Moving to dad, she kisses him, then hugs him tight. He smiles.
Enough for me.
Then I see them.
Are you kidding me?! More kids?
There’s a boy who is short and cute. Messy black-ish hair hangs over his emerald-green eyes. And a tiny green tuxedo to match!
A teen girl follows him out. She’s very, very pretty. Glowing hair over her inherited baby-blue eyes. A perfectly matched rosy blue dress. And a serene, peaceful air. She radiates kindness.
Maybe this is a good idea.
“Hello my darlings!”
The woman- Mom, speaks.
Dad squeezed her hand, then looked at me and Michael. I rush towards him. He picks both of us up and hugs me.
“I am so sorry.”
I wanted, craved, needed to hear that. But now I didn’t. I’m not mad at him for leaving us. I’m not mad at him for beating us. I’m not mad at him for when he told us that he was going to be married.
I don’t talk to him. I hug him tighter, like he is the only thing I have left. I keep on hugging him until he pats me on the back. I push off him. Michael does the same. Then I look at the pretty teen and cute little boy.
“Who are they?”
I asked the woman .
“Oh sweetie! They are my dear children! The young lady is Felicity! And the boy is William!” She gushed.
“But who are you, darlings?” She smiled sweetly and gestured at us.
“Me? Uhh- My name is April, um-and this is my brother Michael, and umm- uh nice to meet you?”
I awkwardly pointed at Michael and myself.
“Oh! Aren’t you polite! Let's come in our house, for this is no place for talking, darlings!”
So we went into the house.
One week after mom died:
Dark. Cold. Scared.
Dad was at the bar again. He would come back drunk again. He would beat me again.
I wince and rub my scarred back.
Mom died three days ago.
GONE! FOREVER! GONE!
She ran down the alley, clutching the photo of her family. An assassin leaped toward her. She ducked and crashed onto the factory. Shards of glass tore into her. But Nyxie knew what she was doing. She took out a potion and clutched it. Sighing, she dodged another assassin and blinked away the tears in her eyes. She didn’t want to leave, but she had to, to keep her family safe. Nyxie knew what she had to do. Uncapping the potion, she drank it and then ran. Five assassins followed. Throwing her bag away, taking out two assassins in the progress, she ran to the edge of the window. Nyxie pressed the photo to her heart and jumped.
Why did she never tell me that she was an agent?
Why did she never tell me that her heart can give people the power to turn anything into gold?
Why did she sacrifice herself to save us?
Was she caught off-guard?
Did she plan for this?
I always saw that bottle. Why did I not destroy it?
Mom, I’m sorry…
I sob into my blanket. Then a hand pats me.
Michael snuggles next to me. I smile.
Then the door slams.
Wow. The house table really is small now that the women’s family is here.
“You can call me Valkyrie or Val, honey!” She said.
“Why don’t you kids go play. I will make Christmas dinner!”
The woman told me when I was coming down the stairs.
She was very nice to me, treating me like I was with her since day one. Michael hugs her a lot. No hitting or harsh words yet. I’m warming up to her. She got dad out of drinking, and he is back to his cheerful, hard working nature. She got us new clothes, and new toys. But, most importantly, she gave us new hope.
I head off with Felicity. We pass Michael and William, giggling and laughing. They hit it off since they met.
Maybe it’s because their age’s are so similar.
Felicity is not like any other girl. She is compassionate and sweet, adventurous and brave. And a very nice friend.
“So what do you guys usually do for Christmas?”
“We eat fried carp and borscht (beetroot soup) with uszka (ravioli), and also the regular Christmas dinner.”
“That sounds delightful!”
“It is! We also eat open sandwiches (sandwiches without the top bread) with any topping!”
“I can’t wait to eat it!”
We both burst into laughter.
“The last tradition is camping out in front of the Christmas tree, eating snacks, enjoying songs, and having fun! Don’t forget to pray before eating though!” She added the last part so seriously that I chuckled. Then I jumped as the woman called:
“Girls! Come on! We are starting dinner~”
I trip over my thick, wooly socks and stumble to the table, Felicity following gracefully. The dinner table is mixed with exotic colors, wonderful smells, and delicious food.
“Don’t forget to pray!”
I fumble a lot of words when we are praying, but I come out with a smile. Sitting down, I already know that this, and hopefully, the rest of my life, will be great. Of course with tumbles and turns and trips. I smile.
“Pass the gravy please, Felicity!”
This story is dedicated to Felicity Williams for being a great, awesome, wonderful friend. Compassionate and understanding, well-liked and smart. Too kind! Too Sweet! Too Awesome! AAAAAAAAAaaaaAaaaaaaa
WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? GO FOLLOW HER!!!!!!!
GOOOO GIVE HERRR LIKESSSS AND FOOLLOOWERSSS!!!!!!!!
I Am Sorry If You Are Offended By This. Please Don’t Down-Vote Me. SOrry!