The paragraphs in italics are snippets of the memory. The regular text is in the present.
Setting: Pencilla's adopted parents' house. Pencilla is 11 years old.
Pencilla glared at him. She glared at him angrily, putting all the bitterness and hatred that she had ever felt toward him, (which is was quite a lot) into one hostile glance. He was always the perfect angel to their guardians, always the one that snatched up their attention. Yet, here he was, threatening and hostile, the real side of him. The side that had gotten their real parents killed.
Pencilla longed for the comfort of her birth parents. They were so kind and caring. Unlike the couple that had adopted them, Klaus and Franchesca Idhine. And yet, here they were, being forced to live a miserable life,- at least, to Pencilla it was miserable- all because of one word. One simple word.
Yellow.
And who had said the word? Frederick, of course. The teenage boy currently standing right in front of her. The boy who was, quite ironically, her older brother. The boy who was turning sixteen today, providing all the more reason for their guardians to dode on him for the umpteenth time.
The memory of her parents' death was still fresh in Pencilla's mind, though part of her willed for it to disappear, to be diminished entirely. But the other part, the more sensitive side of her, savored the memory. Treasuring it as if it were the most important thing on earth, which, in a way, it was. Only to Pencilla alone, of course.
Frederick and Pencilla were still young; Frederick was ten and Pencilla was six. They were in the science lab that their father had worked at, which was connected to their house. He was a scientist, and he adored his job. He was extremely skilled, and therefore, he worked with the most dangerous chemicals and mixtures. He worked in this lab at home to be closer with his family.
Children, especially children as young as Pencilla and Frederick, were not allowed in the lab, in fear of them having an interaction with one of the fatal potions. But Frederick had snuck in, and dragged his younger sister with him.
Normally, Pencilla wouldn't have cared much when it came to sneaking. But that time, that one specific time, she had felt a serious foreboding in her. And that foreboding had warned her right.
She stomped her foot, ironically, right on Frederick's, who was still standing next to her, keeping up the glaring competition. He yelped in pain and hissed menacingly. "What was that for?" When she didn't answer, he ground out, "You. Will. Pay." Then, he marched haughtily away, right out of her bedroom, where they had been arguing about the rights of how the house should be handled.
She watched him go with contempt. It was all HIS fault. To Pencilla, everything was. Everything was his fault.
"Daddy," Frederick had said.
Larry Tohassa, their father, had whirled around, the chemical in his hand nearly sloshing out of the test tube. His eyes were wide in surprise. "Freddy! You're not supposed to be here! And Penny, you too!"
Pencilla smiled softly as she remembered her father's nickname for her. It had always made her laugh. Now, all it did was bring back the most painful of memories, for the last time he said it was right before the cause of his death.
"Daddy, Freddy dragged me in here! I want to go back home and read!" Pencilla had whined. Even at six years old, her brain had been developed as much as a fourth grader's. Books and music stimulated her brain power, which would be the cause of her eventual success.
"Both of you should leave. This dangerous work. I don't want either of you getting hurt, okay?" her father had said, his eyes shining with concern.
"Dad, it was yellow! The sky's yellow!" Frederick had exclaimed, bouncing about enthusiastically.
"Freddy, stop! You don't fool around in here, alright? Now what's this about the sky?"
Frederick stopped bouncing, for Pencilla had beat him to the talking. He glared at her, changing his childish demeanor into one of deceitfulness. "No, it's not! The sky is regular! Regular blue! Freddy's lying, Dad!"
Larry had frowned. "Pencilla, I'll go check. I have strict precautions against working when storms are expected or coming. Yellow or orange skies often hint at fatal storms." He gently set the tube down and walked over to the window, peering out.
Pencilla's heart ached, and she blinked her eyes rapidly. Frederick had been just as clever as Pencilla herself. In fact, the whole Tohassa family was extremely bright, always having success, but keeping a humble air about it. All except Frederick. He bragged about his victories, showing off his bright nature. Only Pencilla knew his other side, the devious side of him. Mix this deviousness and his intelligence, and there was one perfectly planned disaster...that would not fail.
Unknown to anyone else, Frederick had everything planned. When their father had looked away, he grabbed the test tube and smashed it to the floor...right next to an electircal cord and outlet.
Pencilla had gasped in terror and Frederick had squeaked, "Oh no! Sorry, I'll clean it!" He feigned the act of rushing forward, bare hands outstretched as soon as their father whipped around at the sound of the crash.
"No! Don't touch that! It'll burn you as soon as it gets in contact with the human skin. Grab that thick cloth over there, quick!"
Pencilla had ran toward it, for she already understood the danger. The cloth was within reach...just a bit farther...
"Ow!" she gasped. Frederick's arm had shot out and grabbed her. She was jerked backwards and ended up tumbling to the floor. "What? I need to-"
He slapped his hand over her mouth. "Idiot," he muttered in her ear. "Don't ruin the plan."
Pencilla struggled against him, straining to release the words, "What plan?". But she didn't succeed, unfortunately, and the next sound she heard stopped her in her tracks.
Crackling filled the room, and sparks began to fly from where the chemical had seeped into the outlet and cord. As both Pencilla and her father watched in horror, (Frederick was watching in glee) the objects burst into flames.
Smoke obscured her vision, and she choked painfully as the fire spread. The last thing she had felt before she drifted into temporary unconciousness was her father's strong arms lifting her out the door.
When she awoke, doctors had told her the whole story. As soon as she was safely away, Larry Tohassa had went back in for his son. But he couldn't find him. His last seconds of life were of pure agony and despair.
Pencilla's mother, who was cooking dinner in their house, which was connected to the lab. The fire extinguisher had disappeared; it was nowhere to be found. She too had been burned, her last moments were spent praying that the other members of her family were safe.
Pencilla glared at the wall. Afterwards, Frederick had told her that he had ran out the back door. That's why their father couldn't find him. And beforehand, he had grabbed every extinguisher in the house, leaving them directly behind the fence that enclosed their backyard.
Police investigators had come to the conclusion that Larry had experienced a short bit of carelessness and dropped the chemical. The children distracted him, therefore refraining his chances in diminshing the fire quickly.
This statement made Pencilla seeth with rage. Her father was never careless. He took his job seriously, and he would protect his children at any cost. Frederick had been the "distraction". The skies had been perfectly colored that day. A normal shade of sky blue.
To this very day, Pencilla still didn't know why Frederick had wanted their parent's dead. They were caring, loving, and they brought them up so well. To her, they were perfect.
She had asked him once, a year later. Her voice had risen two octaves as she deemed her hate upon him. They were never the closest of siblings, but after this, they bickered and fought repeatedly. It was a never-ending cycle of war.
Pencilla had tried to earn the approval of the couple that adopted them. She really had. But somehow, no matter how she tried, they turned their attention to Frederick. Oh, how she despised hearing that name. At times, she wondered whether or not these parents, these specific two people, were part of Frederick's plan as well. But how could he know that the orphan center would allow these two?
She scuffed her indoor shoes on the carpet angrily. There was too much she didn't know. Too many secrets. Perhaps someday, she would have a time of answers, where all questions would have a corresponding response. One day...
"Pencilla! Come here for a second," Mrs. Idhine called. "I bought something for you!"
Pencilla sighed and walked into the living room, where her adopted mother was holding up a light blue dress. Overall, it was quite pretty, but Pencilla knew, right then and there, that she would never, ever wear it. Something sparked within her, showing her in a mere split second what she should do.
"I won't wear it," she responded flatly.
Mrs. Idhine scoffed. "What's wrong with it, you spoiled girl? It's a very fine dress."
"I can't. It's not yellow."
"Youre not wearing yellow right now. I don't see-"
Pencilla didn't stay to hear the rest. She immediately marched out of the room and changed into a casual outfit of a yellow t-shirt and overalls, ridding of her former magenta and white pajamas.
From now on, I'll always wear yellow. To keep the memory of my parents alive. It'll be MY way to mourn them. Forever and always.
Pencilla is Number Two. I referred to her as that because I thought that she would be called by her real name with her family. In book one, page 101, it gives a small hint that Number Two had a bitter childhood. I made up pretty much everything. Except her name and the fact that she wears yellow...
Well, thanks for reading. Criticism welcomed. The ending did feel somewhat rushed to me...
~Dove's Wing