QL, round 3
Falmouth Falcons, Beater One
Mandatory- Hey Now (Girls Just Wanna Have Fun)—Cyndi Lauper
Optional- (color) mauve, (object) wanted poster, (dialogue) "Pay attention to me!"
Hogwarts, Assignment 12, Philosophy task 2- Write about someone being freed from something (figuratively or literally)
Disclaimer- the lines at the start of each section are little snippets from the song
Word Count- 2142
some boys take a beautiful girl
and hide her away from the rest of the world
Her parents talk about her as though she isn't even there. Lavender holds her hand in front of her face, checking that she is still visible, that she has not faded away completely. No one notices. They continue discussing her life and planning her future.
She clears her throat, but no one acknowledges her.
"The Weasley boy," her mother says, closing her lace fan and tapping it against her chin in thought. "The youngest one, I mean. He would make a fine husband for Lavender."
"Hasn't got a penny to his name," her father insists.
"But he's a war hero now. So many doors are opened to him."
"I don't particularly want to get married," Lavender says.
But they talk over her as though she hasn't spoken at all, drowning her out and making her feel like a mouse—so small, so insignificant. Lavender opens her mouth again, her face warm.
"I do not want a husband."
It doesn't matter that it's expected of her. As an heiress, she has only one job in life: marry a man worthy of the Brown family fortune and provide more heirs. She had hoped that moving to America and coming to the west would have changed that. After all, who has times for silly things like weddings and children when there are outlaws, bank robberies, and a duel in the middle of this dusty town at least once a week.
"What about his brothers? One of the twins?" her father continues, smoothing a hand through his sandy blond hair. "They've made quite a name for themselves."
"As entertainers in a saloon! Imagine the scandal back home if anyone found out that our Lavender has fallen in with that lot."
"Pay attention to me!" Lavender screams, her delicate fingers curling inward and transforming her hands into fearsome fists.
Her parents stare at her, and she swallows dryly, squirming under the weight of their gaze. No matter how angry she had gotten, Lavender hadn't actually meant to shout. The disappointment is clear in their eyes. Even if they don't speak, she still feels like a naughty child being scolded.
She is all tremble now—hands, insides, voice have all transformed into earthquakes, and she desperately grips the arms of the chair, trying not to fall away. "I-I… I just… I don't want to be married. Men don't care about women. We are just silly little prizes to be won."
Her passionate plea falls upon deaf ears. Her parents stare at her a moment longer before resuming their conversation.
"The Weasleys are our best hope. No one else would want someone so damaged. All those scars…"
Lavender has never felt so invisible.
She would be lying if she said she isn't afraid. There's a constant voice, weaving in and out of her mind, like a spider spinning its web, reminding her of everything that could go wrong.
Lavender has never been on her own for more than a few hours, and that had been during her youth. After she had wandered into the woods and gotten attacked by a feral dog, her parents had refused to let her out of their sight. At the time, she had thought they had been protective, loving parents; now, she is almost certain they had been trying to protect their investment from further damage.
"Easy, boy," she tells her horse, stroking his dark mane as he stomps up a cloud of dust. "Come on."
She grips the wanted poster in one hand. Though it is folded up, she has already committed it to memory.
Parvati Patil, one half of the infamous Gemini Duo, is in the center, all dark skin and proud smirks. The reward for her capture—dead or alive—is almost obscene, but it isn't the money Lavender is interested in. It's the freedom.
When Padma Patil, the other half of the Gemini Duo, had been captured, she had been set to be hanged almost immediately. Lavender's father had insisted on taking Lavender to the gallows and witnessing it. Had he sensed that there is a wildfire blazing inside her heart, that she is more rebel than lady?
She had been in awe of Padma's serenity. Even as they placed the noose around her neck, she had looked content, and she had smiled until she had dropped.
"Women like at that are dangerous, sweet girl," her father had told her.
And maybe they are. Maybe they are more fire than flesh, but Lavender doesn't care. Burning sounds more enjoyable than living this dull life, waiting for a marriage she does not want.
Her thumb brushes over the poster, and she cannot fight the grin that twists her mouth. She will find a way to be free from her parents' expectations. She doesn't know if it will be by discovering a new life as a criminal or by taking a bullet to head, but it does not matter. She will know the taste of freedom.
i wanna be the one to walk in the sun
"We have to do something about these unsightly scars," her mother says, shaking her head. She tugs at Lavender's honey blonde curls, pulling them over her right shoulder with a frustrated groan. "This won't do!"
"I don't want to be married at all," Lavender says, and she's long since given up hope that her parents will listen. "If you would just pay attention to what I'm saying—"
"If the Weasley boy doesn't want you," her mother interrupts, "we may as well send you off to entertain at Madam Crimson's little den."
Lavender snaps her mouth shut. She may as well rip her own vocal cords out because her mother does not seem to hear her anyway. Without a husband, she is unimportant; her words have no sway. So she bites her tongue until she tastes the coppery tang of blood in her mouth. If she's quiet and good, maybe this will all resolve itself somehow.
"You'll do well to remember that there are far worse fates than becoming a bride, Lavender. You could be one of those horrid Gemini things."
Lavender starts to agree but an idea dawns on her. A faint, almost manic laugh spills from her throat. It's such a mad thing to even consider, but maybe madness isn't so bad. Maybe madness can be her way to find freedom, to leave this dusty old town behind and start a new life.
It's nearly sunset. Lavender groans at the realization. She doesn't want to have to stop for the night and figure out how to set up camp, but she can't exactly keep going without rest.
"A little longer," she tells her horse. "She has to be out here."
Lavender holds the wanted poster to her chest, exhaling heavily. She wonders what it's like to be Parvati Patil, to be as free as a bird without rules and expectations to bind her. The corners of her mouth lift into a lopsided, excited smile. Lavender will find out, or she will die trying. Somehow, both options sound good.
She tucks the poster under her armpit, freeing her hands so that she can smooth out the creases in the satin mauve dress. It's her finest gown—the type no lady in her right mind would wear while traveling a highway known for its thieves. A matching necklace with gemstones a few shades lighter than her dress hangs around her neck, the beauty of the jewels contrasting with her twisted, scarred flesh.
The sun has nearly set beyond the horizon when she finally decides to call it a night. She guides the horse along before finding a good stopping place and dismounting. Lavender isn't sure how to set up camp; she had hoped to avoid learning this now.
And yet she realizes she doesn't care as much as she probably should. She takes her small pack and takes out a sheet, laying it over the warm, coarse sand before laying on top of it. Her crystal blue eyes are fixed upon the darkening sky, watching the inky black slowly overtake the dazzling oranges and yellows of the sunset.
This is the first night she's spent without a roof over her head. Maybe she should be terrified, but it feels so liberating, like her whole boring life has been leading up to this moment. Lavender grins, watching the first star appear, shining against the darkness. She doesn't bother to wish upon it; in this moment, she has everything she could ever want.
girls just wanna have fun
Ron Weasley isn't terrible. He's handsome enough, all flame hair and soft smiles. But he isn't for her. Lavender can feel it in her soul; she is meant for so much more.
"I'm going to be blunt," he says as he walks beside her in the garden—a rare oasis of green in the dry, dusty desert. "I have no intention of marrying you."
"Thank God."
He stares at her with raised brows. A dark pink creeps into his cheeks, covering his freckles. "I thought you would be disappointed."
Lavender offers him a shrug of her slender shoulders. "Everyone expects me to be just a pretty face, just another girl who wants to be married and have children."
She has played that role for too long. By now, Lavender knows how to win the crowd with a perfectly painted smile. She knows how to giggle and act demure so that she will be dismissed as another silly girl with nothing to offer.
She is tired; she wants more.
"If I don't marry you, your mother won't give up," he tells her. "I have two unwed brothers."
"Don't worry about," she assures him, resting a gloved hand against his cheek. "I've got it all figured out."
Her bags are packed and waiting. She has her finest mauve dress ready to turn her into a pretty little target.
"If you don't want to get married, what do you want?" he asks.
Her lips pull into a smile that borders on a smirk. "Freedom," she answers. "Fun. Things that girls aren't supposed to have."
Lavender wakes up to the distinct sound of a hammer being pulled back. When she sits up, she finds herself staring down the barrel of a six shooter.
"You're either incredibly stupid," the girl holding the revolver says with a smirk, "or you have one hell of a death wish."
Lavender would recognize her anywhere. She has seen that face plastered upon wanted poster after wanted poster in town. Parvati Patil, the last remaining Gemini, is just as impressive in person. Though she looks to be about a head shorter than Lavender, and she's so thin that she looks almost fragile, there's a dangerous gleam in those dark eyes. No one knows exactly how many men she and her late sister have killed, but Lavender guesses it's quite a few.
"Or you fell right into my trap," Lavender offers.
Parvati snorts, rolling her eyes. She moves slowly, circling Lavender like a vulture ready to pick apart a carcass. "You're unarmed," she notes. "Judging by those delicate hands, I would bet my life you've never even touched a gun, let alone fired one. What trap?"
Lavender gestures at the dress. Mauve is a lovely color, but it's uncommon around these parts. Working girls stick to natural hues—browns and coppers, occasionally white and black. Colors—proper, radiant colors—are a status symbol reserved only for the wealthy. Her slender fingers tap against the jewels that hang from her neck. "Any woman who dresses like this on this stretch of highway must have ulterior motives," she reasons. "I had hoped you would find me sooner."
Parvati lifts a curious brow. She keeps the revolver trained on Lavender, though her finger is more relaxed around the trigger. "Why's that?"
"There's nothing left for me in town," Lavender answers, and she's surprised by the way her voice quivers with emotion. It hurts to actually admit it. "I want to be like you, and you need a new partner."
After several long moments of painful, tense silence, Parvati lowers the gun. "Was I right?" she asks. "Do you know how to shoot?"
"Not at all. I'm Lavender."
Parvati's plump lips form an amused smirk. "You already know me," she says. "Now, you've got a lot to learn, starting with how to properly set up camp."
Lavender offers her a mock salute. "Ready and willing."
"One thing doesn't make sense," Parvati notes, smoothing out the dusty sheet. "Why would you trade in a life of luxury for this?"
"Because risk and danger are more fun than biting my tongue and being the perfect daughter," she answers.
And as she follows along, hanging on to Parvati's every word and movement, she can't help but smile. She is free at last.