A/N: I haven't finished the book yet, we're reading it in Language
Arts. So this is kind of an in-the-middle thing. I think I just finished
Ch. 9, but I'm not really sure which chapter it was! LOL but you can
probably guess, it's in the barrier between 5 and 10. By the way, my
favorite character is Rab, but this story is kind of against him, in
Cilla's eyes. But I don't mean it to be, I just think it might look that
way to you . . . Okay, on with the writing!
Bells rang in her ears, warning me that Johnny was coming - today. She knew that she couldn't avoid him anymore. Or. . . Could she? Besides, Miss Lyte probably needed help in the kitchen. . . Or something. . . Of course she would. She should get to that instead. Johnny could wait.
"Priscilla Lapham!" Miss Bessie's voice broke the critical silence. She rushed, tripping over my own two feet, to start whatever chores she had to do today. Miss Bessie was smiling as the middle-aged girl walked in, and Cilla wasn't sure what she was so happy about.
"That young lad, Rab, came to see you," She chuckled to herself. Cilla didn't see what was so funny. She hardly thought of Rab as more than a friend. But everyone seemed to think they went well together. And she, as a young lady, couldn't contradict them.
Cilla, or as her full-name suggests: Priscilla, walked through the parlor room to the front door, where Rab stood leaning against the wall, his dark red hair tied back behind him. He had brought her sweets. . . Again. She loved being with him, but yet, she didn't seem to see it as he did. But Cilla smiled and hugged him. Maybe he knew things weren't meant to be.
"Shall we?" A glint in his eye told her that things hadn't changed. She sighed silently, and walked with him down the driveway of the Lytes.
"We could go visit Doctor Warren today, or perhaps, Paul Revere. . ." Rab seemed to go on and on. Cilla couldn't force herself to tell him. It was just so hard. Her heart belonged to Johnathon Lyte Tremain. She would do anything to be with Johnny right now. But it would break Rab's heart to hear that he had lost Cilla, especially to his best friend. Or whom she assumed was his best friend. Rab was hardly ever seen with anyone else.
Another step, another long train of thoughts.
"Cilla," Rab said, "is something bothering you?"
She smiled and replied, "Of course not. Well, apart from my mother being Mrs. Tweedie and all." They both laughed and Cilla even started to doubt her feelings for Johnny. Rab was just so much fun to be around, he was so secure, and generous. It seemed that no matter how long you knew him, you could always discover something a secret door, revealing something you didn't know. Johnny was selfish at times, and had a great deal of pride.
They were stopped in front of a large brown and gold coach, with a gorgeous white mare standing, and out of it stepped a rather large woman, as well as an enormous amount of frills, from her violet gown. She looked at the two young people and bellowed a loud laugh. Her face was anything but feminine. She had a mustache, or at least, it looked like it. Cilla was quite intimidated, and Rab looked as if he was holding in laughter as well as he could. She loved the way his mouth curled on the edges when he smiled.
"Now, you common children, keep out of the way! Haven't you learned to respect those of higher class?" The man/woman spat at them. Cilla highly doubted that she was of any higher class than the two of them, but she did not speak her thoughts out loud.
A girl was emerging from the coach as well. She looked to be not much older than Cilla. Her eyes were amber brown, and her hair was the color of burnt charcoal. The beautiful black hair, the same as Miss Lyte's. Cilla hadn't seen hair so fragile for awhile, even with Miss Lyte, apart from Isannah. Everyone in Boston loved her little yellow curls. She was looked upon as an angel, or so it seemed. Cilla adored her, but she knew that Johnny did not.
The young lady looked nothing like the previous woman. . . Or man. She was even prettier (if possible) than Miss Lyte, of whom many froze what they were doing to stare at her. Cilla half-doubtingly wondered if they were in any way related.
No. . . of course not.
The man/woman snatched the girl's hand and hissed something in which the couple could not hear. The black haired girl simply rolled her eyes and grinned at them. Cilla wondered if she'd ever meet her again, but she decided that the chances of meeting one girl in Boston again were very slim.
The coachman laughed and chuckled to a woman to his right. Their flirting was improper and disgusting, to Cilla's standards. Rab whispered something in her ear which she couldn't really hear, and they left.
Bells rang in her ears, warning me that Johnny was coming - today. She knew that she couldn't avoid him anymore. Or. . . Could she? Besides, Miss Lyte probably needed help in the kitchen. . . Or something. . . Of course she would. She should get to that instead. Johnny could wait.
"Priscilla Lapham!" Miss Bessie's voice broke the critical silence. She rushed, tripping over my own two feet, to start whatever chores she had to do today. Miss Bessie was smiling as the middle-aged girl walked in, and Cilla wasn't sure what she was so happy about.
"That young lad, Rab, came to see you," She chuckled to herself. Cilla didn't see what was so funny. She hardly thought of Rab as more than a friend. But everyone seemed to think they went well together. And she, as a young lady, couldn't contradict them.
Cilla, or as her full-name suggests: Priscilla, walked through the parlor room to the front door, where Rab stood leaning against the wall, his dark red hair tied back behind him. He had brought her sweets. . . Again. She loved being with him, but yet, she didn't seem to see it as he did. But Cilla smiled and hugged him. Maybe he knew things weren't meant to be.
"Shall we?" A glint in his eye told her that things hadn't changed. She sighed silently, and walked with him down the driveway of the Lytes.
"We could go visit Doctor Warren today, or perhaps, Paul Revere. . ." Rab seemed to go on and on. Cilla couldn't force herself to tell him. It was just so hard. Her heart belonged to Johnathon Lyte Tremain. She would do anything to be with Johnny right now. But it would break Rab's heart to hear that he had lost Cilla, especially to his best friend. Or whom she assumed was his best friend. Rab was hardly ever seen with anyone else.
Another step, another long train of thoughts.
"Cilla," Rab said, "is something bothering you?"
She smiled and replied, "Of course not. Well, apart from my mother being Mrs. Tweedie and all." They both laughed and Cilla even started to doubt her feelings for Johnny. Rab was just so much fun to be around, he was so secure, and generous. It seemed that no matter how long you knew him, you could always discover something a secret door, revealing something you didn't know. Johnny was selfish at times, and had a great deal of pride.
They were stopped in front of a large brown and gold coach, with a gorgeous white mare standing, and out of it stepped a rather large woman, as well as an enormous amount of frills, from her violet gown. She looked at the two young people and bellowed a loud laugh. Her face was anything but feminine. She had a mustache, or at least, it looked like it. Cilla was quite intimidated, and Rab looked as if he was holding in laughter as well as he could. She loved the way his mouth curled on the edges when he smiled.
"Now, you common children, keep out of the way! Haven't you learned to respect those of higher class?" The man/woman spat at them. Cilla highly doubted that she was of any higher class than the two of them, but she did not speak her thoughts out loud.
A girl was emerging from the coach as well. She looked to be not much older than Cilla. Her eyes were amber brown, and her hair was the color of burnt charcoal. The beautiful black hair, the same as Miss Lyte's. Cilla hadn't seen hair so fragile for awhile, even with Miss Lyte, apart from Isannah. Everyone in Boston loved her little yellow curls. She was looked upon as an angel, or so it seemed. Cilla adored her, but she knew that Johnny did not.
The young lady looked nothing like the previous woman. . . Or man. She was even prettier (if possible) than Miss Lyte, of whom many froze what they were doing to stare at her. Cilla half-doubtingly wondered if they were in any way related.
No. . . of course not.
The man/woman snatched the girl's hand and hissed something in which the couple could not hear. The black haired girl simply rolled her eyes and grinned at them. Cilla wondered if she'd ever meet her again, but she decided that the chances of meeting one girl in Boston again were very slim.
The coachman laughed and chuckled to a woman to his right. Their flirting was improper and disgusting, to Cilla's standards. Rab whispered something in her ear which she couldn't really hear, and they left.