So, I'm discontinuing WCLC (for now), and am going to try and write this straight through. The characters should be pretty recognizable, but please let me know if you are confusified.

I'm gonna stay a couple chapters ahead to ward off writers' block.

Enjoy!

Chapter 1

To the other cars on Interstate 95, it looked like a typical blue van. It was a dark blue, its newness gleaming in the afternoon sun shining over Baltimore. But behind the right side door, a ramp sat quietly, folded and ready. Next to the ramp, a girl of thirteen sat in her electrical wheelchair, looking out of the window at the sound barrier. Her father, Mr. Thornberg, kept his eyes on the road, searching for the Northern Parkway exit. To the girl's left, a pile of boxes sat, overflow from the U-Haul behind the van.

"Daddy," the girl said. "Could you pass me another pretzel?"

"Of course, little Rosie," Mr. Thornberg replied. "We're almost to our new home." Rose managed to grasp the pretzel rod, and take a bite.

"It doesn't feel like home yet," Rose said. "I miss New York."

"Oh, you'll like Baltimore! You'll make all kinds of friends at Roland Park!"

Behind the boxes, Rose's elder sister sat and listened. She knew she wasn't going to make "all kinds of friends." Baltimore City College advertised "acceptance," but who would ever accept her? Cow. Spotty. Mutt. Those names were what she was known as throughout her ten years of school. But her name was Elizabeth. She valued her name. She had been named after her maternal grandmother. Her mother had insisted on naming her and keeping her, and after she died giving birth to Rose, Elizabeth became Rose's official caretaker. At two years old.

But why did Elizabeth Thornberg go through such mental torture? Well, Mr. Thornberg suspected that she was a product of his wife's lax morals. Specifically, of relations between Mrs. Thornberg and the African American man who ran the local pharmacy on 40th Street. Another reason could have been the matter of Elizabeth's skin. It was not a fine golden color like most people of mixed race, but instead had patches of dark and light skin throughout her body. Vitiligo. That was the name of her condition. Her curse, her father said. But she knew she could make City College great again. She was sure that the authorities would restore her passion: Latin.

Ah, Latin! Mrs. Thornberg had taught Elizabeth a little before she died, but that small amount of time hooked Elizabeth for good. She was determined to be a Latin teacher, and she knew that Baltimore City College could get her there! She was happy about the move, she decided.

"Eliza!" Rose squealed. "Look! We're here!" Elizabeth looked out the window, and saw a red brick house with a long ramp leading to the door.

"I see that," Elizabeth said cheerfully. "It looks like a perfect house for you, Rosie."

"Elizabeth!" Mr. Thornberg shouted. "Quit chattering and untie your sister! Don't be lazy!"

"Yes Dad," Elizabeth said in a monotone. Obediently she took the tie downs off Rose's chair. But it was hardly a chore. Elizabeth loved her sister, and would do anything for her. If only her father believed that.

Mr. Thornberg and Elizabeth spent the next two hours unpacking boxes and arranging furniture. They did Rose's room first, which really was two rooms made into one, with an adjacent bathroom. Then they got the dining room in order, setting up the table and chairs and such. In the end, Elizabeth was left to set up her room on her own. She had a bed that was a foot off the ground, a small wardrobe, and a desk.

And books. Tons of books that either her mother had given her, or that she had convinced Rose to buy for her. Oh yes! She had Shakespeare, Homer, Sophocles, Virgil, and so much more! She had Le Fantom de l'Opera in its original French, much more complicated than the frivolous Andrew Lloyd Webber musical. And so she read until Mr. Thornberg shouted that he and Rose were ready for dinner.

Throughout dinner, Rose went on and on about how excited she was about eighth grade. "And there's a dance in April!" she squealed. "I hope a cute boy asks me! Do you think someone will, Daddy?"

"All the boys will want to dance with my pretty Rosie," Mr. Thornberg replied lovingly. "Especially after I give her a present! Elizabeth! Clear the table!"

"Yes Dad."

By the time Elizabeth was done cleaning up after dinner, Mr. Thornberg had found his present for Rose. "I only put two pieces of tape on it," he said putting a large, thin box on the table in front of Rose. "I know how you like to open presents by yourself."

"Thank you, Daddy," Rose said sweetly as she started to tear the tape. "Oh, Daddy! It's beautiful!" With her left hand, she pulled out a flowing river of brown velvet. Elizabeth's eyes widened at the smooth, shining folds and the dangling beads at each end. "What a beautiful scarf!" Elizabeth almost automatically stood up to help Rose drape the scarf over her shoulders.

"Oh, my Rosie!" Mr. Thorneberg exclaimed. "You look simply elegant in that!"

"You really do," Elizabeth agreed. "Rose, don't even worry. You'll get a boyfriend in no time with that scarf."

"Oh, Eliza," Rose said comfortingly. "Daddy knows you don't need things like this."

"Well, what could he get me anyway? I clash with everything!" The sisters chuckled quietly.

Elizabeth was ready for bed and reading The Odyssey when Mr. Thornberg knocked on her bedroom door. "Elizabeth? Are you decent?"

"Yes Dad." She stood up and let her father in. "What is it?"

"You are starting your sophomore year tomorrow. But remember that the only reason you are even going to school is because you are required by law. If I had it my way, you would be your sister's aide in school instead of that incompetent old woman I just got off the phone with. But I forbid you to make a spectacle of yourself by babbling in that dead language that your sainted mother for some reason loved!"

"Alright, Dad. I understand. No Latin." Her voice quivered. She couldn't see how her father could hate such a beautiful language so much.

"Good. Now get to bed!"

Elizabeth tried to sleep that night, but excitement was her enemy despite her father's earlier insults. Tomorrow would be the start to her new life, a new chance at pursuing her passion. Mr. Oswald, the principal of City, would surely help her restore Latin. Oh, what a pair we'll be, she thought. Mr. Oswald and I. Not too long after, she fell asleep.

Hope you like it!

Thanks for reading!

Cheers,

Elle Dottore