Seven turned her head to regard her alarm clock forlornly. It wasn't time to get up. It hadn't been the last one thousand times she had checked throughout the night, and it still wasn't now.
The dragging minute hand, which lingered between three and four, seemed determined to torment her so she turned her head away once more and returned to finding patterns in the ceiling. The shadows were making some interesting patterns, including one which looked a bit like a rabbit if she relaxed her eyes enough.
She stared until she finally felt that it must be nearly seven o'clock. Risking a glance, she saw the hand had travelled the distance between three and six.
Unable to contain herself, Seven groaned aloud – how had it only been three minutes? Turning to face the wall she buried her head in the pillow and willed her body to finally surrender to sleep. Even if now she would only be allowed fourteen minutes.
"What's wrong?"
Her head shot back up.
"Five?"
"Yeah, are you all right?" Five asked through their shared wall.
She was glad of its presence, her cheeks now burning. Sunday was their one day to lie in; of course she ruined it.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." She breathed back, pressing her face against the wall to be heard.
An unexpected pop made her bang her forehead in surprise.
"Ow."
"Well I guess I have my answer now." Five said, pulling her away from the wall. "Let me look."
He parted her fringe and, after running his fingers over Seven's forehead, reassured her there was no bump.
"Someone should put a bell on you." Seven grumbled, trying to straighten her hair with her fingers – well aware it looked like a bird's nest after a night of restless tossing and turning.
Five just grinned back, no sign of remorse, while Seven nervously fidgeted.
She'd been waiting hours for the morning to arrive, where she could finally escape the half-formed nightmares that started every time she tried to close her eyes. Now she was no longer alone, which was all she'd wanted, and yet she didn't know what to do.
"I am sorry." She said, clarifying when Five frowned at her. "For waking you up."
"I don't care." He shrugged. "The alarm is going off in a minute, anyway. But why were you up – couldn't you sleep again? Why didn't you go get Six?"
She sighed, kicking her feet out from under her blankets. "You saw him yesterday, he was exhausted."
Six had been subjected to one-to-one training yesterday. From what she could decipher of his yawned out descriptions it had involved trying to summon different creatures. Seven didn't understand what that meant, but the dark circles under his eyes sent a clear message he needed to be left alone for a while.
"Then why didn't you come get me?"
Seven blinked at him, her surprise at his question prompting an unusual act of blunt honesty from her: "I didn't know I could."
She was even more surprised when Five appeared to be hurt by her confession.
"I know no one is going to be handing me a 'Best Brother Ever' trophy any time soon, but I didn't think I was that bad."
Her blush returned tenfold and she hastened to reassure him.
"I – I just meant – you're a private person. You don't like people. I mean, you don't like people going into your room." She said, stumbling through her reasoning.
Seven had never crossed the threshold of Five's room. She certainly hadn't considered doing it for the first time in the middle of the night just because she couldn't deal with some silly nightmares on her own. If the thought had crossed her mind last night, which it hadn't, Seven would have expected to be yelled at rather than encouraged.
It had taken several nights before she'd found the courage to go to Six for the first time, and he was her mellowest sibling who had sought her out at least half a dozen times before she did the same. Even though Five was the nicest to her out of everyone in the house – except perhaps Pogo – she'd experienced him sleep deprived before. His already notoriously short temper would get shorter. Five was not someone she wanted to get on the bad side of, but not because she was afraid of being yelled at. Honestly she was almost immune to that nowadays. She just couldn't bear the thought of losing the one member of the Umbrella Academy who always seemed willing to tolerate her.
The one who was now staring at her like she had lost her mind.
Maybe she had, although she had the defence she was sleep deprived.
"Yeah – people. You can come into my room." Five stated, talking slowly like she was three years old instead of thirteen.
The hallway alarm sounded; Five paused until it finished.
"The next time you can't sleep come and wake me up. Unless you'd rather go to Six?" He asked with a raise of the eyebrows.
Seven shook her head, her eyes wide and unbelieving.
"Good." Five said, standing up. "I better get dressed. See you at breakfast."
He teleported back to his room. They weren't allowed in each other's rooms outside their recreation hours, and Father would be unhappy if they were found together.
Seven stayed in bed for a moment before the sound of One and Two fighting to be the first in the bathroom prompted her to move. She'd never been late to the dinner table and, after seeing Four go without food for the day, was determined not to undergo the same punishment for tardiness.
Especially not on a Sunday when Mom always made pancakes.
She silently followed her siblings' downstairs once they were all clean and dressed, the six clustered together chatting amongst themselves while she trailed behind.
They took their assigned places, Seven stuck in the dreaded spot opposite Father, and waited for permission to take their seats.
Another lecture droned on in the background as they started their meal. Seven took care to remain as quiet as possible as Father hated anyone making noise while the records were playing. Even her cutlery noiselessly cut through her food while her siblings' clanked against their plates and set their glasses back down too heavily on the table. She hoped they displayed more stealth when they were out on a mission.
Glancing to her right she watched Six's eyes droop, his head bending heavily over his plate before abruptly snapping up again. Four didn't look much better beside him, his skin pale and eyes bloodshot. The two had bunked together last night but evidentially failed to stave off their respective nightmares.
Seven turned her concerned eyes away from her brothers only to find Five's own worried gaze on her. She supposed she probably didn't look much better for wear than the other two. She had two dark circles under her eyes and was slumped in her chair, instead of sitting at her usual state of attention. Her hair had been untameable after such a restless night so she had pulled it back into a rare ponytail.
He watched her pick at her food, shooting a pointed glare at her plate when she met his eyes.
With a silent sigh, she tucked into her breakfast with slightly more enthusiasm. She only had half the number of pancakes her siblings' did, more than enough for her. After all, it wasn't like she worked up much of an appetite playing the violin and reading all day.
Silently setting her knife and fork upon her plate she leaned back in her chair, joining the rest of her siblings in waiting for their Father's dismissal. On Sundays, when the Umbrella Academy's training sessions were more relaxed, he would make them wait until the entirety of the recorded lecture was finished before excusing them. Unless he had cooked up some new training exercise they needed to start early for – which, for her siblings' sake, she hoped he hadn't.
Two was mindlessly tapping his fingers as he waited, One sending him annoyed looks over the table. Three was trying to scrape as much remaining syrup off her plate as she could. Four and Six were investing all of their energies into not passing out in their seats; Five giving them a kick whenever they appeared to be losing that battle.
Seven watched them all silently. No one was interested in the lecture. She wasn't even a hundred percent sure what it was about. It was a futile exercise of their Father's; if even Number One wouldn't listen to them how could he think any of them ever would?
Her eyes glassed over, head thunking lightly against the top of her chair as she leaned back into it.
"Dismissed." Father barked suddenly, catching Seven off guard. He had finished his own meal: oatmeal. He had it every Sunday, often left plain.
Seven's chair was the only one not to scrape against the floor as they all rose.
On a Sunday the Umbrella Academy were to report to the training room for two hours of light practice before lunch. Usually they then got to spend the afternoon as they wished, commonly holed up together downstairs playing games or split off into their smaller groups.
Seven would read or play her violin, often alone but sometimes with Mom for company, in her room or the library for most of the day. Perhaps today Five would ask her to play for him again, or Six might join her in the library. Sometimes he liked to sit in there with her when the others got too rowdy.
They parted ways in the foyer, Seven not even noticing her closest numbers trying to wave a little as they parted, beelining for the staircase. She didn't feel like playing the violin at that moment, given how tired she was she'd just end up butchering anything she tried to perform and disturb the others.
Getting back to her room she discovered a new book on her nightstand which must have come from Six. He often leant her his books once he was finished with them. Six was the only one to ask Father for books (unless you counted the textbooks Five requested, which Seven most certainly didn't) and, as he contributed to the household, he was usually granted them. Pogo often chose the titles although Six would sometimes request something specific.
Glancing at the title she saw it was another Huxley; Six must have enjoyed Brave New World too.
Hopping onto her bed, she leaned back. Flipping past this edition's introductions – Seven always saved those for last – she got to the first page and started reading. It was a good way to spend a day, immersing herself in another world. Pretending she was anywhere other than the Academy. Except she couldn't get into it, perhaps as it was a series of essays rather than a novel. A shame as the promise of music in the title had held promise to the aspiring violinist.
Glancing back at the contents page she skipped forward to the next essay hoping it would spark more interest. As they were more factual than fictional she might be able to convince Five to give it a go when she was finished, which encouraged her to persist with it. The last time she had convinced him to read fiction she had made the mistake of offering Six's copy of Pride and Prejudice which was, in retrospect, too flowery for Five. Unfortunately, despite now having created a long list of books which he would likely enjoy, Five was adamant he was sticking to non-fiction from then on out; an ever present pile of mathematics, philosophy and science books taking up residence beside his bed. Seven wished he would give fiction another go – Five was often given books by Father and, if she could get him into literature, she could request books through him which she would never get to read otherwise. She'd tried appealing to Six to request more gothic, mystery and thriller novels but after reading Dracula it had put him off the darker genres.
At least there were a few books in the library that more closely aligned to her tastes, but her choices were limited. Well, her choices in everything were limited. From what she wore to who she could speak to. A few days ago Father had caught her giggling with Four over an interview her siblings' had given with a teen magazine and scolded her for 'distracting' her brother. What exactly she was supposed to have distracted him from, given he had already completed his training, she wasn't sure. Yet the stern gaze was enough to break up their conversation and sent Seven scampering back to her room.
In her thirteen years of life it felt like she had spent twelve of them inside the four beige walls of her bedroom. Five thought it wouldn't be so bad if she decorated a little but, even if she had the bedroom of a Queen of Versailles, staying in one room for so many hours a day did little for the mind and soul.
Dropping the book back down on the bed, Seven decided the others would now be sufficiently distracted with training to enable her to freely wander the halls. She could see what Pogo and Mom were doing – provided they hadn't been roped into assisting with training – and walk around some of the rooms.
Moving with care down the hallway, she prided herself on how quietly she could move. Years of attempting to blend into the scenery had given Seven a wealth of knowledge about the house: knowing which floorboards creaked and how far she could open a certain door before the hinges would squeak. There was no getting around the cameras that spied on them throughout the day and night, however she knew Father and Pogo couldn't monitor them constantly and was fairly confident about what hours of the day she could get away with exploring.
On expeditions like this she always liked to imagine she was a spy, tiptoeing around some secret base for clues. It was a game she told no one else about – knowing that to the real heroes in her life such a revelation would make her seem like a pathetic dreamer. She still enjoyed it though; it gave her an opportunity to play and move around.
Hurrying across the landing, Seven peeked in Pogo's bedroom. She'd been in there before and had always found the pictures he'd taken of biology microscope slides fascinating. Scientific but also artistic, she liked that. He'd once taken her around them all and told her what image each represented. Her favourite showed a plant cell – it was several shades of pink and purple, large looking bubbles pressed tightly against each other.
Opening his door a fraction wider (unlike the children's doors which were kept well oiled, Pogo's had a persistent squeak in the top hinge which she needed to be wary of) Seven side-stepped into the room. Softly closing the door behind her, she skulked into the room.
If she believed Father would give her the resources to decorate her room, not that she had ever asked, Seven would most like to style it after Pogo's. All the colours were soft and inviting. The furniture was a dark wood, but all the blankets and pillows were in shades of green and blue. She would leave the objects preserved in formalin however; she wasn't even a hundred percent sure what it contained, her face contorting in disgust when Pogo tried to explain what specimens he had preserved in the jars.
Choosing to look over his bed, Seven read the titles of his degrees. It surprised her that Father had enabled Pogo to have such a thorough education – to the extent he had gained a doctorate. It made her wonder, as she had no future in the crime fighting world, if he might pay for her to have a college education someday. Whether he would hold a degree in music in the same regard as one in biology seemed unlikely, however he always seemed to appreciate a pursuit of knowledge. The few occasions he had viewed Seven positively was when he acknowledged the dedication she put into mastering the violin. In fact the other week he had almost complemented her when she was playing Beethoven's Violin Concerto in D Major.
Not with words per se, but she was sure he smiled. A little.
Backing out of the room, Seven wondered if she could see what Mom was cooking for dinner without being spotted.
Sticking to the left-hand side of the stairs, she crept downstairs taking care not to tread on the ninth step which always groaned near the middle of the board.
She could vaguely hear her siblings' voices now she was on the first floor but she was confident they were far too busy to wonder where she was and she could pass by with ease.
Keeping her head down and sticking to the darker side of the hallway, Seven passed the open door without glancing in the six's direction – as if the very weight of her gaze could be enough to give her away. That meant she couldn't be certain no one had seen her but there was no break in the conversation so it was likely they hadn't. Even if they had, she couldn't imagine anyone wondering what she was doing outside of her room.
Grace was leaning over the counter rolling out pastry as Seven hovered in the doorway. They always left the kitchen door open; it seemed their pseudo mother was doomed to never have privacy in her domains.
She caught of a whiff of fish and grimaced; Mom was making a fish pie again. Words could not express how much Seven hated fish pie.
"Seven, dear. Are you hungry?" Mom asked, her back still turned to her.
She tried to repress a sigh. Obviously she had gotten caught. At least in her defence Mom was an artificial being, perhaps harder to sneak up on than the average human.
"No, Mom. I just wanted to stretch my legs a bit."
"All right. Do you want to help me make cookies?"
Shrugging, Seven agreed. While Grace may not be capable of the most stimulating conversation, she was preferable to being alone.
"Why don't you get the recipe and measure out the dry ingredients while I finish the pie?"
Pulling out cook book, Seven flipped ahead to the recipe they usually used together. Grabbing the flour, sugar and baking soda, she paused next to the fruit bowl.
"Mom?"
"Yes, dear?"
Seven held up an orange. "What do you think about putting orange zest in? For a change?"
Mom's head titled minutely as she processed the suggestion. "That sounds lovely, Number Seven."
Smiling happily to herself, Seven measured everything out. With the dry ingredients mixed, she grabbed the grater and took off a fine layer of the orange skin. After a moment's thought she cut the orange in half and juiced a little, thinking she could substitute the vanilla extract for the juice to make the orange flavour stronger.
Mom joined her as she added the wet ingredients, taking the knife to cut a chocolate bar into chunks. Seven always thought it tasted better that way than using store bought chips, something Mom had started to do for her after she voiced that preference.
Now if only she could work up the confidence to tell her how little she cared for fish pie, perhaps she could break Mom's delusion it was her favourite.
When the cookies went in the oven, Mom sent her back on her way with a promise to call her when they were ready. Seven wanted to try one before everyone else; if her idea hadn't worked, she didn't want them to taste it. Ruining their dessert would only become another thing they blamed her for.
The siblings would wrap up for lunch soon, they were usually given a short window to freshen up before heading back to the dining room. Glancing at the clock, Seven decided it was too much of a risk trying to sneak around again and went upstairs to pick up her violin. Moving around had perked her up and she no longer felt like she would play terribly.
Sticking to one of her favourites (mainly because she loved to say the Germanic title aloud), Seven allowed herself to fall into the piece and could largely drown out the sound of her siblings running up the stairs.
Three was grumbling about something as she passed her door. Although Seven could feel the pin of her glare, Three said nothing to make her stop playing again. Several others went by without stopping.
Five entered her room, flopping down on the bed. He did that sometimes, keeping his arm over his eyes as he laid there. The first few times it had made Seven abruptly stop playing until Five requested that she continue; apparently he found the music relaxing after the chaos of team practice. Nowadays she had gotten used to his presence and knew not to stop. Five was hardly someone who would be subtle if something were bothering him; if training had gone badly, he would have ranted about it the moment he crossed the threshold instead of patiently waiting for her to finish the piece.
Focusing on her sheet music, Seven played until Mom called for her attention.
Jabbing Five with the bow as she passed, making him smile, she reminded him he only had twenty minutes to get ready for lunch before rushing off.
Mom beckoned her into the kitchen, offering her one of the cookies for approval. It was lucky their Father wasn't around – he would never condone sweets before a main meal.
"Mmm." Seven mumbled around her first bite. "That tastes quite nice."
"Excellent. I'll hand them out after lunch." Mom said, offering her usual beaming smile. She turned back to the meal, her pink skirt fanning out as she twisted. Seven knew Mother's unearthly beauty sometimes made Three feel insecure but she never could quite stop seeing Grace's clear lack of humanity. They designed her to be their one source of guaranteed love in the household but being sat in her arms sometimes felt more like being caged than reassured.
At other times however, she seemed the most relatable to Seven in the household. Always on the periphery, expected to do everything asked of her without ever being asked what she would like. That was if Mom could even make decisions on her own.
The pills she was constantly reminded her to take made her feel like Mom too; always numb and easily confused. She admitted there were times she considered stopping taking them but there was always a small edge of fear to that thought which stopped her from following through.
Heading to the dining room, figuring there wasn't much point returning upstairs with so little time to spare, Seven stood behind her customary chair and waited to be joined by the others.
Two came in first, his hair still damp. He took his place on Father's left-hand side, failing to even glance in her direction.
One surprisingly came in alone, he was always with Three nowadays, and took his seat opposite Two.
"Fun session today." One said with a grin, trying to provoke Number Two.
"You're lucky I didn't slice your fat head off." Two snapped back.
"Like you could."
"Oh I could."
"Knock it off would you." Three said, walking into the room to stand beside One. She didn't look happy with either of her brothers. "We're supposed to be a team."
One looked at Three unhappily while Two now wore the triumphant smile.
Seven never understood what Father's intentions were; if he were trying to make them into an effective team why did he spur such fierce competition amongst them all? One of these days all of their attempts to one up one another could only lead to someone getting hurt, and she worried on that day Mom's medical functions wouldn't be enough to fix the damage.
Four kept a wary gaze on Six as they walked in together. Six looked about to ready to fall to his knees. They were sat next to each other, all the even numbers on Father's left and all the odds on his right – divided just like their bedrooms.
Five was the last to arrive, the only one to greet Seven.
"Mozart?" He asked, referring to the piece she played earlier.
Seven nodded. His recognition of classical music was getting better. "Eine Kleine Nachtmusik."
"Gesundheit." Four muttered under his breath as their Father walked in.
"It was good." Five whispered as the tape was started.
Seven listened this time, it was about navigation.
"Be seated." Father commanded, taking his own.
Grace served the pie between them once they were settled.
Several sets of eyes swivelled in her direction as they were given their lunch, knowing it was Seven's fault they were all eating fish pie. At least she knew Four liked it, but then Four liked anything. And Two would never let her say a word against it, always the most worried about Mom's feelings even when most of them were convinced she had none.
Five just smirked and Seven had to quash a returning smile.
They all ate dutifully, cleaning their plates even if they had to sip their water more frequently throughout the meal than they usually did.
When they were finished, Seven helped collect the plates while Mom instructed the children to go down to the kitchen. Father didn't question the request, used to Grace providing them with baked treats. Given the regularity of the six's workouts they hardly needed to watch their calorie intake.
Joining them downstairs, Seven watched them all tuck into the plate of cookies. The praise was automatically going Mom.
"It was Seven who did all the work. She even thought to add orange to the mixture." Grace deflected, moving to start washing the dishes which Two offered to help with.
"Tastes good Ven." Four complimented, swallowing half of his second cookie in one bite. "Maybe you should become a chef."
She shook her head. "Knowing me I'd just chop off a finger."
"That won't do, then you wouldn't be able to become a world-famous violinist." Six said, taking another cookie.
Seven went over to his side, leaning forward to grab a cookie for herself. She nudged Six as she moved, asking under her breath: "Are you all right?"
"Just tired V. Don't worry about me."
She always worried. There was no pill on the planet powerful enough to stop that since the day they put on those domino masks.
Taking a seat next to Five, who was too busy eating to make any comments (a rare occurrence indeed), Seven pulled her cookie apart into smaller chunks and considered variations she could make to the recipe. Or maybe she could ask Mom to help her make a lemon tart next time. It was her real favourite, not fish pie, though she doubted anyone else knew that.
"Thanks for the cookies, Seven." Three said happily as she walked out of the kitchen alone, calling Seven's attention away from her food. Something had definitely happened in training between the lower numbers though it was likely nothing more than over-inflated egos and typical sibling rivalry.
Looking back down at her pile of cookie crumbs she realised it looked smaller than it had a second ago and turned a suspicious stare on Four who was resolutely not meeting her eyes.
"Come on Six, you look like you could use a nap." Four said, pulling Six up by the arm.
"Huh?" Six spluttering crumbs as he spoke with a full mouth. He grabbed onto the table to stop Four from successfully pulling him to his feet. "No, I want to stay with the cookies."
"Hey Four, want to play darts?" Two asked, Four eagerly agreeing.
One sat looking surly as he watched Two and Four leave before glancing at Three's empty seat. With a sigh he grabbed another cookie and left the room. Seven didn't watch him go, not seeing how he suddenly caught himself in the doorway to turn back.
"Hey, Seven. Thanks by the way – they taste good."
"Oh, you're welcome Number One. But it was Mom's suggestion." She said, turning around to give him a timid smile.
One headed back upstairs.
"Are you playing this afternoon, Seven?" Six asked, leaning back in his chair.
"I'm not sure." Seven hesitated. Usually she waited to see what the six's plans were before making any of her own.
"Come on, let's all go to the library." Five decided for them.
"Have fun children." Mom supplied, still diligently washing dishes.
Five leaned into Seven's side as they walked down the hallway and lowered his voice. "Pick something boring which will send him to sleep would you?"
"If you want to send him to sleep you'd better pick something." Seven retorted, the sting of her words undermined as she hid behind a curtain of hair.
Five snorted in amusement, heading for the engineering section of the library while Seven ushered Six onto a sofa.
Five's plan worked perfectly, so well in fact that Seven also ended up nodding off until the tap of their Father's cane instantly set them all on alert. Six had fallen asleep with his head lolled back on the edge of the couch, mouth wide open as he lightly snored. Seven was dozing against his leg while Five sat in the armchair reading aloud to them – the only one to find the book remotely interesting. With the sound of Father's approach Six and Seven sat up straight in their chairs, detangling from one another and pretended to be listening intently to Five's explanation of Bernoulli's principle.
Father nodded approvingly, believing they genuinely were interested in learning about fluid dynamics, and carried on his way.
"Oh god," Six groaned, "he's going to test us on this now. Five?"
With an exaggerated sigh, Five said: "Bernoulli's principle states that the speed of a fluid – for example if we look at this from an aeronautical application we could use air – determines the amount of pressure a fluid can exert."
He paused when he saw his siblings' eyes glaze over.
"This would be so much simpler if you understood Newton's first and third laws of motion."
Six and Seven looked at each other.
"I should have chose the book." Seven said solemnly.
Five dismissed their concerns "He won't expect you two to understand it, anyway. If it comes up, I'll say I was asking you to test me once I'd finished the chapter."
"Great. Five gets the homework." Six sighed with relief. "I'm going for a nap upstairs – don't let me miss dinner."
"I won't." Seven promised, watching Six go.
"Are you going to keep reading that?"
"I'll just add it to the pile upstairs." Five said. He pulled out a pocket notebook and tore out a blank page to use as a bookmark. "What are you reading?"
"Music at Night – another Aldous Huxley. But it's essays this time. You might enjoy it." She attempted.
"If it's anything like Pride and Prejudice, I bet I won't." Five dismissed.
"How very prejudicial of you." Seven teased. "But it's nothing like that. One of the essays is called Sermons in Cats."
"Hmm, you can tell me about it when you're finished." He said, standing to stretch. "I think I'll go back to the training room for a while, I'm trying to jump faster and I want to give it another go."
"Oh, okay." She said, keeping her face clear. "I'll see you later then."
Five wandered out of the room, leaving Seven alone again. She only allowed herself to feel sad about that for a short moment before forcing herself to get back up. If she always gave into that feeling she would never get up again, then her Father really would give up all hope in her.
She scouted the library shelves again, determined to find something. Something interesting, something that could take her mind off that hollowness inside that made life feel futile. There had to be something here that could do that. Something apart from books on thermodynamics, mountaineering, deep-sea diving, botany, battle strategy, vulcanology and existentialism.
"Number Seven?"
Startled, she nearly toppled from the ladder she'd climbed to peruse the top of the shelves, but grabbed the rail for balance in the nick of time.
"Pogo?"
Moving closer, she could see his frown of concern. She didn't enjoy seeing that expression directed at her; it felt like a failure somehow.
"Are you looking for something?"
"I-I wanted something new to read."
He came to stand at the bottom of the ladder. "Has Number Six not given you anything new?"
"No, he has." Seven said. "I just wanted something, I don't know. Different?"
She said the last word almost as a benediction. She didn't just want a different book, Seven wanted a different everything. A different home, a different life, a different family.
Right now she was settling for a book.
"What kind of book would you like?" Pogo asked patiently, looking up at her curiously.
"I liked Dracula, but Six didn't."
"Gothic. Hmm, well I think I can make some more suggestions."
Seven shrugged sadly. "It doesn't matter, Father will never get me any."
Pogo nodded slowly in agreement. Seven was the only sibling to never receive a 'gift' from Father. Well, anything non-standard. Given she contributed nothing to the household, Seven supposed everything from her clothes to the food she ate counted as gifts. It was unfair really to demand more.
"I'll just re-read Dracula." She said dejectedly, climbing down from the shelves. "No one else wants it."
Passing by Pogo, Seven returned to her room, firmly shutting the door behind her and read until dinner.
Their final meal of the day, a lovely bowl of beef casserole, passed by normally – although she noticed her siblings seemed far more energetic than the last two times they had gathered around the table. Perhaps an afternoon of relaxing had paid off. It was a shame Father didn't give them more time to themselves.
Seven was the only one who stopped to help Mom once the meal was over, the rest returning to their rooms or the communal areas.
With the lack of sleep catching up on her, Seven shut herself in for the night. She picked up Six's book and climbed under the blankets even though she was still in her uniform. She had just reached the point where Jonathan Harker describes how he had watched Dracula climb the walls of his castle, himself paralysed in fear as he realised the unnatural situation he had found himself in.
Maybe Six was right, the story was a bit spooky. Too spooky to read solely by her bedside lamp with evening closing in outside her window.
Standing up, she went over to the door to switch on the ceiling light when she heard the hushed voices of her siblings.
"Okay listen up." One said.
Seven pressed her ear against the door to listen, suspecting that if she opened the door she'd only be told to close it again.
"Dad and Pogo are going to some lecture tonight, Pogo said they wouldn't get back until early in the morning."
"And Mom's charging from eight." Two contributed.
"Once she does we'll meet in the foyer, but we have to be careful not to make any noise or she'll realise we're leaving."
"What about the cameras?" Six queried.
"There's nothing we can do about them." Two sighed. "Except to hope Dad doesn't watch the tapes back tomorrow."
"Which he shouldn't unless we make him suspicious of us." Three stated. "Which means no getting caught."
"Why are you looking at me?" Four asked.
"I'm not looking at you, I'm looking at everyone."
"It feels like you're looking at me."
"Eight o'clock, everyone." One restated.
"What about Seven?"
It was the first time Five had spoken.
"No way, Seven will make too much noise." Two said, squishing the suggestion. "Three just said we can't get caught."
Seven pulled away from the door then, no longer interested in listening. She didn't think there was a likelihood of her hearing anything particularly nice.
Sticking to her bedside lamp, Seven got back under the covers and resigned herself to a lonely evening. It was a surprise, therefore, when there was a small tap on her door a little while later.
"Seven?" Three asked, peering into the dim room.
Abruptly sitting up, Seven hastened to welcome Three in. She could barely remember a time Three had ever come into her room. Of course she chose that moment – when it was only seven o'clock and she was already in bed. No wonder they all thought she was boring.
"Are you feeling okay?"
"Yeah, just doing some reading." Seven explained, holding up Six's book.
"Oh. Is it any good?" Three enquired, moving to take a tentative seat on the end of the bed. She'd closed the door behind her.
"Mm hm." She nodded. "I really like it. I don't think Six did though, he thought it was too 'dark'."
Three glanced behind her before sighing. "Look, the rest of us are planning to go out tonight. Four found this place he wants to show us – do you want to come too?"
Seven looked at the door too. She was fairly certain she knew who was standing behind it.
She offered a pleasant smile. "Thank you, Number Three. But I think I'd rather keep reading this. Have a nice time though."
Three was surprised by her response. "If you're sure?"
Why inflict her company on them; they didn't want her.
"Yeah – absolutely. You guys have fun."
"Okay." Three said, offering a broad grin before skipping out of the room.
Seven closed her eyes as the bright light from the hallway crossed her face, before the door shut again leaving her to her peace.
For all of Two's talk that she couldn't stay quiet, it wasn't hard to hear when the six left the house – but then again she had always had good hearing. Between the hushed conversations, creaking floorboards, doors shut too heavily and the small disturbance made when someone tripped down the last few steps, it seemed that Seven's anxieties about her siblings' safety on missions was not entirely misplaced.
Not wanting to listen to their return, to the stories of inevitable happiness that accompanied her absence, Seven switched off her light and burrowed into bed with the covers pulled over her head. It seemed to work, muffling everything around her. It was harder to muffle her brain however, her imagination working on overtime to produce an array of fun scenarios her siblings' could have participated in that evening, and it took what felt like hours to drift off into a fitful night's sleep.
Tomorrow was going to be a long day, she idly considered as she turned over again. Her sheets were getting tangled from all the movement but she couldn't get comfortable, and with her blankets pulled up she felt too warm.
Abruptly the sheets were pulled back, and she nearly shrieked at the sight of Five standing over her, managing to muffle her cry with her pillow.
"Five!" She gasped. "You scared me!"
"Sorry! Sorry, I wanted to check in as I went past." He apologised. "To see if you were sleeping all right?"
"I was." Seven grumbled, not meeting his eyes – instead focusing on rearranging her bedding.
Five was right – she was a terrible liar.
"Hmm." He muttered, sitting down next to her. She scooched over to give him some space. "Why didn't you come with us tonight? You would have had fun."
"Didn't feel like it." She shrugged.
"Oh, come on, Seven. Don't keep doing this." He moaned.
"What?"
"Hiding away in here. You could have come with us – Three asked you didn't she? And he's not here to tell you that you can't go."
"Why would I go somewhere I'm not wanted?" Seven asked, almost incredulously.
"I wanted you there." Five sniffed haughtily.
"Five." Seven said softly. "I like spending time with you. You're my favourite."
"You're mine too..."
"But," she cut him short, "I know I'm not everyone else's. In fact for a few of them I know I'm their least favourite."
Five shook his head angrily. "If Two has said something else to you, I swear to..."
"He hasn't." Seven whispered.
Well, he'd said nothing particularly stinging of late so it was mostly the truth.
"...and it's not exactly breaking news that the majority of them hold joint first for most idiotic on my list."
"I know." Seven smiled. "But you're a team and you have to get along. I'm fine staying behind while you all go and have fun as a group."
Five called it. "Bullshit. No one likes getting left behind – if we did that to one of them we'd hear about it for months."
"You can take me sometime." She reasoned. "Now do you think I can get some sleep?"
"Do you?" Five asked. "You know I was serious this morning, I'll stay if you're having trouble sleeping."
"I'm not." Seven stated, hiding behind her fringe.
"I'll just go change and then I'll be back." He continued, not even acknowledging her attempt at dishonesty.
Seven watched him disappear then flopped back onto her pillow. The promise of his return was enough to already start lulling her to sleep; she didn't even hear him re-enter the room.
"I'm setting your alarm for six-thirty so I have time to get back to my room." He informed her, picking up the clock from her bedside table.
"Okay."
She pressed herself up against the cool wall so Five would have plenty of space.
"Hey, Five?"
"Yes, Seven." He said, settling down beside her.
She asked her question hesitantly, worried the answer would hurt. "Where did you all go tonight?"
"To this diner Four spotted on the drive home last week, it's open all night."
"Don't you need money for that?"
"Three rumoured the waitress." Five said disapprovingly. "I think she's getting a little too liberal about using her power. It'll blow up in her face one day. Especially if she ever tries that shit on me."
"Has she ever rumoured you?" Seven asked curiously.
"Not since we were younger." He replied, pausing as he noticed the tiny sliver of bed she was occupying; once again trying to make her already tiny body shrink even more. Tugging on her arm he pulled her away from the wall to settle more firmly by his side. "Once she rumoured me to be quiet and it took three days before Dad made her undo it. I think he enjoyed it." Five recounted bitterly. "He loves her power – sees all kinds of potential in it. I hope it backfires on him someday. Soon."
"Do you think Three ever rumoured Dad?"
"Maybe – when she was younger. I don't think she'd ever have the guts to do it now though." He replied before changing the subject. "I brought you a donut back by the way, but I figured you'd rather have it tomorrow."
Seven turned to beam at him although there was no way he could see that in the darkness. "Thank you, Five."
"You're welcome, Seven. Go to sleep now."
She settled down when a tap at the door disturbed them.
"Hey, Seven." Six said, letting himself in. "Are you awake?"
"We are now." Five grumbled, keeping his eyes shut.
"Five?"
"Six, are you all right?" Seven asked.
"Yeah, I just..." Six faltered, changing his mind. "I brought you a donut since you missed out."
"Oh, Five already got me one. You can keep yours if you want."
"No, I had way too many. I don't think I can even stand to look at it now." Six said, blindly crossing the room to leave the offering on her dresser. "I'll let you two sleep."
"Are you sure you're okay, Six?" Seven pressed, even as Five tried to tug her back down. Maybe Six couldn't sleep again – and if Four wasn't there for him then maybe she should...
"Go to sleep, Six. You too Seven." Five ordered. "We've got lessons tomorrow – next time we shouldn't go on a Sunday."
"Right. Goodnight, guys." Six mumbled, closing the door behind him.
"That was rude, I should go talk to him." Seven tried.
"Just because I said you were my favourite earlier doesn't mean I can't go off you." Five muttered, laying an arm over Seven's waist to stop her getting up.
Half a second passed before his eyes opened and he looked at her seriously, cutting off an internal flow of panic. "That was me joking, I won't get sick of you for having a different opinion. Okay?"
"Okay." Seven breathed. "Five?"
"Yes, Seven?"
"Go to sleep now. We have classes tomorrow."
"Goodnight, Seven."
"Goodnight, Five." Seven replied, shutting her eyes and letting another day at the Academy come to a grateful end.
I chose the book Music at Night because it has one of my all time favourite quotes (which I imagine Vanya would like too) - "After silence that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music." How beautiful is that?
I hope you all enjoyed this latest installation in the series, it may take me a while to post the next chapter (which will be set in the future as always in this series) especially if it ends up being 7k + like this one! Let me know your thoughts - I adore hearing from you all. Have a good weekend 3