Chapter 1: Defying the Wheel
It all started with a spring.
But when I approach this spring two years later, it is far from a joyous occasion.
I have to be quick; I don't know how much time I have until father's search party adventures into the woods. I scrambled in front of the spring and took out a piece of paper and a fountain pen I stowed away from father's study before I ran away. Before I could think about what I was doing, what I was giving up, I wrote.
When I was done, I folded the letter, sealed it, and slid it in the bottle carefully so that it would not wrinkle. After topping the bottle with a cork, I hesitantly slid the bottle in the water, testing how far it could go. Satisfied that water did not leak into it, I buried the bottle halfway into the mud, so that the next time a Tuck comes to drink at the spring, they can give the letter I wrote to Jesse.
Then, I look into the spring, my mind making a final attempt to convince me to live a normal, mortal life. But, my heart always being the contradictory one, tells me otherwise.
Is it really necessary to give up my mortality? Sure, I knew it was necessary to run away, but I could always start fresh in a new city, and maybe even meet a nice man. But all I can think about is Jesse's blue eyes, and the way his beautiful brown hair would shine in the sunlight. And his smile…
Why would I need death, if I could have this type of peace in my soul knowing Jesse was mine?
Without a moments haste, I dip my hands into the water, cup my fingers, and bring the liquid to my mouth. It tasted like heaven, and gave me an airy sensation coursing through my blood to my toes and fingertips; like I was flying. But then it was gone, and I frowned at the loss of this magnificent sensation.
All of a sudden, very softly, I hear dogs barking in the distance. I could tell from where I was in the forest that they were only at the fringe of the trees. I take a quick gulp of the water and make sure my letter to Jesse is secure one last time. Putting my bag over my shoulder, filled with everything I need, I run the opposite direction of the dogs as fast as my legs can take me. I run on the outside of the forest, making a circle around the forest away from the dogs, towards Treegap. I make sure to weave in and out of the trees, making random zigzag paths to throw the hounds off momentarily.
I know this is a very bold and possibly foolish maneuver, but it was my only chance of salvation.
Making sure to avoid the major roads into town, I make a mad dash towards the local bar. After a few appraising looks from the bartender and a sorry soul at the bar, half drunk, I head for the lady's powder room. I take my dress off over my head and after much struggle, wrestle myself out of my corset, thankful that I am able to breathe again. Then I change into one of my dad's work outfits he wore when he was a boy, which consisted of trousers, a long-sleeved button up shirt, a vest, and conveniently a hat to hide my long hair in. I must admit, changing genders temporarily has its perks.
Luckily for me, my father was almost my size, except the trousers and shirt were too long, so I rolled them up. I laced my leather boots on and put my hair up along with a hat. Looking in the mirror, I could have passed for a preteen boy, if it weren't for my feminine face. I rubbed a bit of dirt from my dress onto my face, hoping I would seem like I was a street rat.
Looking out the door slowly, I was thankful that there was more bustle in the bar, for evening supper had just ended and the men were clamoring for their liquor and card games. I slipped into the crowd and out of the bar, now on my way to the next town.
After and hour and a half of walking on the side of the road, I made it to the next town: Maumee, a much larger town, at least three times the size of Treegap. After asking around, I finally came upon the Pawn shop. Thankfully, it was still open.
I cautiously open the door and close it behind me as the bell on the door tolls. A groggy old man comes from the back of the shop to the counter and eyes me suspiciously.
"May I help you?" he asks in a gruff voice.
Clearing my voice, I dig the jewels out of my bag and place them on the counter. "I would like to sell these, sir," I said, trying to make my voice deeper and masculine.
The old man picks up a large brooch embedded with rubies and holds it up to the light, letting out a low whistle.
Putting down the brooch, he looks at me suspiciously yet again.
"So where did you swipe these from, rag muffin?" he asks smugly and surprisingly happily.
"Actually, these are my inheritance. But, money has been a little scarce, so why would I need any use for these? It's not like I'm ever going to use these. My mother was supposed to come into town and pawn these, but she's been under with the flu, God bless her soul," I lie off the top of my head. It wasn't really a lie when I thought about it, because I would probably never wear such ostentatious things in New York City.
The shopkeeper's grin flattens, but at least I stop getting suspicious sidelong glances from him. After examining each piece of jewelry under a small magnifying glass, he looks at me, tallying up the cost from each piece.
"For the whole lot, how about three thousand dollars?" he offers, raising his eyebrow, challenging me to go against him. Three thousand sounded about right. That was plenty to start a new life and the cost did not undermine the exquisiteness of the pieces.
"That sounds about right. But could I receive my money in cash, sir?" I ask. When I receive another inquisitive look from the shopkeeper I piped up quickly, "My mother doesn't believe in banks, sir. Full-blooded Irish all the way." He looks appeased, and goes to the back, most likely getting the money from the vault.
When he comes back, he places one stack of crisp hundred dollar bills on the counter and collects the jewelry, preparing to put them in the window.
I whisper a hushed thank you as I place the money in my bag and slip out the door. Feeling the urgency of my getaway hit me once I was outside, I quicken my pace and head for the train station.
Surprisingly, there is a fair crowd in the train station, waiting for the late trains to come. I go up to the ticket window, where there was a young man in his early twenties who appeared bored looking out into space. I tap on the window to get his attention.
"Excuse me, but I need a ticket on the soonest train to New York City," I ask, hoping the crack in my voice did not alarm him.
He looked at me, only seeming partially alert to the outside world. "There's a train leaving right now, but the tickets are sold out. The next possible train leaves in thirty minutes."
Sighing, knowing this was the best it was going to get, I consent, "Okay, I'll take it. Coach please."
I handed the man a hundred dollar bill, alarming him. But, when I send him a pleading look, he takes it without question, gives me my change, and hands me my boarding pass.
"Thank you," I whisper and I turn on my heel to the waiting area.
Finding a solitary spot, with a large family on one side and a couple on the other, I sit down, situating myself in my seat. I looked at the clock, determining how many more minutes I had until freedom. It startles me how it already is eleven o'clock at night and how only fives hours before I was being primped by my mother for the party.
I feel a pang of loneliness. How I will miss mother and father. I knew they had the best intentions in heart, but it just wasn't enough. Maybe if I continue to write to them, they will at least stop trying to hunt me down. I just hope one day they will be at peace with my decision.
I wonder how Jesse is doing. Where is he? I bet he is somewhere fabulous, like Rome or Prague. I know Jesse will be true to his word and come back to me. But I just wonder what time will be safe for him to start looking for me. Will he find the bottle? I took comfort in that to anyone coming to drink from the spring, the bottle would clearly be obvious.
I take out my copy of Spring's Awakening, tattered and worn from years of use. I remember just after the Tucks left for the final time, my parents hired me a tutor, Ms. Fields, for when we were on the road. When we were in Munich, she bought me this copy of the play in German, the original language it was written in. After my German reading skills had improved, I was astonished by the perplexity of the play and the outright scandal: teenage sex, suicide, and a multitude of other infractions punishable by damnation set me at the edge of my seat and gave me the adrenaline rush that comes when doing something you know is wrong.
I also remember that my mother fired Mrs. Fields when she discovered this copy. She didn't even know what it was about, but had just found out it was a "ludicrous" play from her girl friends. If only she had read it…
Another one of the misdeeds afflicted against me by my mother. A sore attempt, in my opinion, to keep my mind from exploring the other possibilities I could have. The next day, I quietly went through her room and found the play in her bed side drawer. But this time, I made sure to hide my copy well and I read it almost every night under the covers when my parents were sleeping.
As I read of the misdeed of Melchior Gabor and Wendla, I tapped my toes rhythmically. I was so caught up in my own little world I almost missed the announcement for boarding passengers to New York. I shut my book quickly and placed it carefully in my bag.
I ran up to the platform and gave the train employer my ticket. After checking my ticket twice and stiffly handing me my ticket back, he let me in. Letting out a breath of relief, I boarded the train and stowed away my bag, sitting in my seat by the window.
Having a few minutes until leaving I daydreamed, looking out the window. Thinking about it now, I felt bad for selling all those jewels my mother had saved for me. But knowing the police, they would search high and low for me and eventually find the jewels in the pawn shop.
I then noticed a policeman on the platform and immediately stiffened. It didn't seem he was looking for anyone in particular, but it still set my nerves on edge. Just to be safe, I took my bag and headed to the back of the train. Thankfully, the lavatory was open and I slid in there, closing the door. If I stay in here until the train leaves the station, then I can make sure it is definitely safe.
Taking out my book again, I read until I feel a lurch, almost sending me toppling. Assuming the train is leaving the station, I put my book back in the bag and walk out of the bathroom cautiously to my seat. Seeing there was no policeman waiting by my seat or any other unexpected surprises, I relax and walk forward, not stopping until I slink down in my seat, exhausted.
I look out the window and see that slowly we were picking up speed and that the station was rapidly becoming a speck off in the distance.
Now I can consider myself free. Free physically, mentally, and spiritually from my parents' tyranny. Once I was in New York, it would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack.
As I curled up in a ball, falling asleep, thoughts were whirling through my mind, almost making me dizzy. What will New York be like? Will I finally make at least one friend? How are my parents doing? What will do with my newly-liberated life?
But most of all, I thought about Jesse. How will he react when he finds out I drank the water? Will he be happy? Will he look for me? Or will he figure I'm not worth the trouble and let me get away? So many uncertainties, but I knew one thing for sure; I will have my eternity with Jesse Tuck, one way or another.
So, next chapter is Jesse's POV. All questions will be answered, and if it's itching at you what exactly was in that note, then maybe you'll find that out too… ;)
Why did Winnie run away? Why did she drink the water? How can Jesse have any hope of finding her?…
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