Fine Lines – Chapter 2

Beams of sunlight littered the lands as the clouds obscured most of the sun's rays. The scattered rays of light were a peculiar sight- all over the place and the barren hills creating patterns of them. The people beneath the strange sky payed no mind, however. They were all too busy wondering what was in store for them today.

One of those people was Margaret. Her strawberry-blonde hair cascading down her back as she climbed down the stairs, she thought about the things she could write later, after her dreaded homework.

Making her way towards the kitchen, she met her brother, Andrew. She did her best to smile. "Good Morning, Andrew." She received a grunt in response. Now she wondered why her mornings always began this way.

Margaret sat at the buffet-sized table, keeping her smile. When she caught her parents' watchful eye, she suppressed a nervous shiver. "Good Morning, Mother, Father."

"And a Good Morning to you too, Margaret." Edwin Bennet greeted in response with an approving nod. "Good to see that you still know your manners at least," Then he returned to reading his newspaper.

Margaret inwardly cringed at that, her smile faltering. There, again with the daily criticism. It made her depressed whenever she tried to think about it too much, so she tried to shake off the comment.

Margaret's family- the Bennets- were high-class. She was born wealthy, and lived in what everyone else would describe as comfort. She really could have anything she asked for with a clap of her hand- if only her parents would allow it. While the Bennets were wealthy, they didn't like flaunting their wealth. Not snobbish, just really hard-working people with decent jobs.

That was how they got their wealth, and they intend to pass it on to their children so that it would not falter. As a result they made their children go to the most prestigious schools they could find, and made them practice the art of accountancy.

Margaret defied that dream, or at least, she tried to.

When she told her parents she wanted to become a writer, her life as an inside outcast began. Her parents became stricter and colder to her, and without them she was being mocked by the rest of her family.

They thought they broke the writing spirit in her indifferent violet eyes, but no. Well, it was their own fault that they didn't bother taking away her games and TV.

So when she walked out of the mansion an hour later, clad in her Washington State uniform, she continued to think of all the things she could write.

Life at school was tough for Margaret. It made her think like she was being plagued by verbal wars everywhere she went. They don't know what she goes through every day.

'And they don't have to,' she thought, putting on her mask of a smile as she walked through the door to homeroom.

Silently, unnoticed, she walked towards her seat, stationed in the back next to the window. Margaret was grateful for her position in class- that way she could be less prone to the sneers her classmates would sometimes throw her.

The classes seemed like a blur to Margaret, so fast, but forcing the ones who listen to understand what they were trying to teach. Lunch time, it was, and she was eager to get out early so that she would not end up sitting alone in the toilets again.

Grabbing a tray, she placed her usual slice of apple pie, salad, and glass of orange juice on it. Margaret quickly went over to one of the many still-spare tables, and placed the notes under her arm next to her. She then started to jot the ideas she thought of this morning onto them. This was a way of easing her thoughts, a way to remind her to not break down in front of everyone.

Just then, a trio of girls walked over to where she was. Margaret payed no mind to them, and she continued to eat and write.

"Um, hey writer girl!" One of them yelled at her, starling her and making her draw a large scribble on her notes. Great, on top of being bullied, her notes were now ruined…

Margaret's fearful eyes looked at the three girls before her. The first one looked satisfied at the shock she gave Margaret, and smirked.

"This is our table, in case you didn't know." She said, brandishing her hand against the table. "Or are you just so nerdy you couldn't notice?"

Margaret whimpered. "S-sorry, I'll leave,"

"You better. And take your lame notes with you." One of the girls accompanying her shoved Margaret's food in the poor girl's arms, startling her again. A reluctant hand reached out for the notes, before the girl held it further for her to reach. The girl put a finger to her chin.

"You know what, I think I'll keep these notes with me," She said, and Margaret felt a flash of fear go through her.

Setting her food aside, she tried reaching for the notes. "N-no, please give it back!" she cried, but the girl's cronies held her back.

"Hmm… 'What if the mythical fairies that we thought never existed came to life?' Ha! What sort of fantasy world are you living in?" she read the notes, line by line, eventually catching the attention of the crowds around her. Margaret gave up struggling in the girls' hold, and subjected to her humiliating fate.

When the girl was done mocking her writings, she threw them at Margaret's limp feet. "You're even more pathetic than I thought," The girl held up Margaret's face by the chin. "You think that someone's going to notice you through this half-assed crap? Well news flash! You're better off being the next lunch lady,"

And with that, the girls left, and the crowd turned away. Nobody even bothered to check up on her.

With a tear rolling down her cheek, she took her notes and ran out of the room.

There was a reason why Margaret Bennet didn't want to stand out much. Too much standing out brings too much responsibility.
In the Bennet house, she felt like she was alone, even with all the family surrounding her. Can she even call them family anymore? They seemed more like a dictatorship than anything.

But she had no choice but to follow in her parent's shoes, so she put on a smile and stood out. She had to act like nothing got to her. So act, she did.

When she came home that afternoon, she was smiling. No one would suspect her little show at Washington State.

Swallowing a lump in her throat, she faced her father. "I've come home, father."

Her father answered with a nod. "How was school, Margaret?"

Feeling the need to lie, she answered. "It was fine,"

Edwin took the bait. "Good to know. Now run along, and I shall see you at dinner later."

"Yes father," After escaping her father's sight, she made a beeline to her room. Shutting the door gently behind her, she sighed, and finally, she could let out the few tears she's been holding back since her little incident.

She sat on her bed, head in her hands. Her hair obscured most of her vision, and her breathing was slow. In her head, she whispered, 'They don't need to know, as long as I have my pen, everything will be alright.'

Quite a literal statement, that was. When she got over herself, she took a piece of paper, and she started repairing the notes she had been working on earlier.

Up until now, even after all these years, she still can't help but wonder why the rest of the world can't see who she was.

After dinner and bidding her family a good night (to which she received no return greeting for), Margaret once again retired to her room.

It really has been a long day today, so Margaret tucked into bed early. The last thing she saw before closing her eyes was a figurine of Cattail.

She has no idea what was going to be in store for her that night.

Author's Note: The multi-fandom plot begins the next chapter. And wow, am I severe with the bullying. Funny thing is I'm listening to an instrumental of Vorwärts March while writing this author's note…

Sorry, and I do promise you that the plot will come up soon… maybe next chapter. I think you may have a vague idea of what happens next.

Disclaimer: I do not own all the aforementioned fandoms, or anything in them. All I own is this plot.