Threads of Fate: Chapter 2
AN: How exciting, the first time I've posted more than one chapter to anything! This is officially a multi-chapter fic now XD
Disclaimer: I don't own Coraline: talk to Neil Gaiman/Laika Studios.
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Dorothea circled the kitchen table, humming softly to herself as she set the stage for supper. Her neatly braided hair, secured with no-nonsense rubber bands, swung to and fro as she worked; her impeccably ironed dress skimmed her knobby knees, and her polished black shoes clicked quietly on the floorboards as she made her way to each place setting. Every piece of flatware was aligned perfectly straight with its neighbors, every napkin crisply folded, every plate laid down gently in the precise center of the arrangement. Nearby was her mother, preparing their meal, the delicious scent of pot-roast filling the air. 'Mamma is the world's best cook, for certain,' she thought to herself, adoring. 'Someday I want to be just like her, with my own husband and children, living in a big house. Mamma's so lucky too--her house is pink! And soon Papa will come home, and we'll be a whole family again...'
At the ripe old age of thirteen, the elder Lovat daughter sought to be every inch the ideal young woman, considered herself in training to be an exemplary wife and mother. 'After all, this is 1940. A girl needs to be prepared for the future.'
The sudden 'bang!' of the screen door jolted her from her thoughts. Scowling, Dorothea planted her hands on her hips and turned to regard her twin sister, Abigail, the very picture of a ragamuffin after a day spent playing outdoors. 'She's made a mess of her clothing, again. And those ridiculous ribbons in her hair make her look like a maypole! Wasting time when she could be practicing her needlework, which is atrocious…or her spelling, which is worse.'
But to Dorothea's chagrin, Mamma never seemed to notice these things. Smiling down at her daughter, she laughed and patted her on the head. "Abby, sweetie, what have you got into now?"
The younger twin held out her hands, coated with soil. "Digging in the garden for snakes! I'm sure I saw one yesterday, and I'm going to find him!"
Dorothea shuddered. "What do you want with an awful, slimy thing like that? And your fingernails are packed with filth, just look. Ugh!"
Abigail stuck out her tongue, taunting. "Dory, you old stick-in-the-mud, you don't know. You have no idea what fun even is!"
"I do too! Just today I--"
"Finished knitting a sock? Re-read all your schoolbooks? How boring. Bor-y Dor-y!" she laughed, skipping around her older sister and scattering the grime caked on her shoes everywhere.
Mamma stepped in just as Dorothea looked ready to explode. "Enough! Abby, go on and tidy up, supper's near ready."
As soon as their mother's back was turned, Abigail made a face at her twin before dashing off for the washroom. Stamping her foot angrily, Dorothea whirled around to finish setting the table--the sun shining through the kitchen window was incredibly bright…
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Again, Dorothea awoke to the harsh light of a new day scalding her tired eyes. "Damnable curtains, don't do a thing…" she grumbled. Thinking of the memory she'd re-lived in her dreams, the old woman cringed. 'Mamma, little sister, forgive me…'
Each rasping breath she drew reminded her that she needed her morning dose of medicine. Gathering her strength, she shrilled as loud as she could: "Wybourne!"
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Wybie's eyes snapped open as his name rang out. Groaning, he rolled onto his back and sat up, unable to contain a jaw-popping yawn. Smacking his lips sleepily, he reached for a shirt and tugged it on--only to pluck it away from his chest when the material made him itchy. "Yikes! What kind of fabric softener is Grandma using these days?" Trading the top for another, he pulled it on over his head, and immediately flung it away when he felt the irritation flare up again.
Dumbfounded, Wybie ran a hand along his arm. His skin felt unusually rough, the texture unpleasant. "Great…dry skin."
Sliding back into the shirt, he tried to ignore the discomfort as he made his way downstairs.
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Coraline practically staggered out of the house that morning, barely conscious. The niggling feeling of wrongness that seemed to surround her like a thick, invisible fog had kept her wide awake and high-strung most of the night. Hearing Wybie's motorbike approaching, she pried her eyelids open just enough to see the steps and tried to descend. Not paying attention, she tripped over a badly-tied shoelace and began to fall, watching with mild interest as the ground rose up to meet her.
"Jonesy!" Wybie lunged forward in a heroic attempt to catch her: unfortunately, as he was hardly any bigger than Coraline himself, both tumbled to the ground with force.
The tingling bite of a fresh wound was enough to bring her out of her daze. "Ow…" Coraline surveyed the damage--a wide scrape stretched across her knee, bleeding a little. Knowing it could have been a lot worse, she looked over at Wybie, who was rubbing his shoulder with a wince. "Thanks, Wybourne. I don't know what's wrong with me today…"
He grinned sheepishly, blushing. "I-It's nothing. Hey, don't you think you should cover that or something?" he gestured to the cut.
Coraline arched a brow at him. "You think we've got band-aids? You know how my parents are about keeping up with things like groceries, let alone anything else."
Without thinking, Wybie reached out and snagged her wrist, checking the watch strapped to it. Coraline allowed him to hold her arm without a word, surprised; he turned even redder, but all he said was "You've got a little time before school starts. We'll stop at my place--Grandma is a safety-nut. We've got tons of bandages and stuff like that."
"Wybie, your Grandma hates me."
"U-um, of course she doesn't!" Realizing he was still clutching her hand, he let go as though he'd been burnt. "She just hasn't been well lately…" As if triggered by the thought, the odd itching sensation came over him again, and Wybie scratched at his skin with vigor.
Coraline stared, bemused. "What's up with you? Got fleas?" she jibed with an impish grin, feeling a little better in his company.
Wybie laughed and gave her a playful shove. "Yeah, right. Let's go."
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They walked up the road to his house, bike in tow, Wybie explaining that his Grandma didn't like to be disturbed by loud noises.
Coraline knew he wanted the old woman to stay asleep so she wouldn't know he'd brought her over.
The house was silent when they entered; the place seemed to have a pall over it, and Coraline felt goose bumps prickle all over her body. Wybie left her in the living room to find the first-aid kit, holding a finger to his lips urging her to keep quiet. Annoyed, she shooed him away, growling under her breath "You're more likely to make a racket than me, you blabbermouth!"
After several minutes of waiting boredom set in, and she looked for something to pass the time. Her eyes made their way around the rather cramped space, noting the striking lack of photographs: 'The way Wybie abuses that ancient camera of his, I'd thought this place would be filled with pictures. There's nothing but old furniture and even older books…'
The mantle was bare, save a nondescript vase whose contents had dried up and died long ago. "Creepy," Coraline muttered, wrapping her arms around herself unconsciously.
Something warm and furry brushed against her calves, startling a squeak from her.
Wybie's cat gazed up with huge blue eyes, purring.
"Hi there. You shouldn't sneak up on me like that," she chided, crouching down to stroke the feline's tatty fur. Cat arched into her touch without comment; twisting his head, he nudged her fingers gently.
"I'm petting you, already. What more do you want?"
He remained mum, of course, but nosed her again insistently.
Sighing, Coraline made to withdraw her hand. "Whatever, I don't--"
Cat nipped her pinky, sharp teeth drawing twin pinpricks of blood. "Ouch! You crazy thing, what was that--?!"
"Just what do you think you're doing?"
Coraline froze, immediately breaking into a cold sweat. 'Crap…'
Dorothea hobbled into the room, stooped and withered but still intimidating. "I asked you a question, girl. Answer!" she barked.
Wybie dashed in, stumbling over his own feet in his hurry. "G-Grandma! It's not her fault, I-I made her come in--she got hurt and I was just--"
A wrinkled brown hand sliced through the air, commanding silence. "I won't hear it. Leave, now. Wybourne, you are to come straight home after you drop her off, you understand me?"
The boy seemed to curl in on himself, shrinking away from her blistering rage. "Yes ma'am."
Helping Coraline up, Wybie all but dragged her out of the house, not stopping until they reached the end of the long driveway and the motorbike parked there.
The ride to school was rife with tension, Wybie's face hidden behind his heavy skull mask. Pulling up outside the front entrance, he wordlessly handed Coraline a crumpled pack of band-aids and took off without a backwards glance.
She watched him speed away, knee a dull pang compared to the ache in her chest.
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Unseen, the wallpaper in the Joneses' parlor cracked and peeled, exposing a tiny sliver of light.
Poor child…I'm listening…
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AN: Soon the really interesting stuff will begin...heh. I'm excited about this story and want to work on it as much as possible, whenever school/RL allow…Oh, to answer a couple questions you guys asked:
--Noname: Yes, because I don't think I can write anything that ISN'T at least a little romantic, haha!
--Snickering Idiot: Um, probably. I have at least one other idea for that series, although I'm trying to focus on this right now. Sorry I can't be more definitive… XD
Ask me questions if you have them, guys! If it's not too spoiler-ish, I'll (probably) answer!
--Also: Same naming problem with Grandma's twin--can't very well call her 'Sweet Ghost Girl,' so I thought Abigail was a nice choice.
Giant shout-out to all you lovely reviewers! You make me so happy!
Thanks and see you soon!
---258.