Prenderghast Puzzle

Stuk 3: Down to Earth

Julia didn't see Agatha for several days after that. Instead she wasted the days away like she always had, reading, talking with Miss Sarah when her father wasn't around to yell at her for the impropriety, writing in her journal, and practicing her (formal) calligraphy sets only whenever Miss Sharpe was in near-dangerous proximity.

But Julia eventually caught her sneaking in again. Well, she'd like to have said that—she'd always had exceptional eyesight, after all, perhaps it was God's way of apologizing for giving her such horrible eyes—but really, it wasn't she that caught the girl, rather it was she that took notice.

The dusk of April 14th found Agatha Prenderghast tied up in her blueberry bushes again.

"Why are you so obsessed with those blueberries?" Julia whispered, eyes darting between the bushes and her father's bedroom window.

"Why are your blueberries so obsessed with me?" whispered Agatha in return.

Luckily it was not just the blueberries keeping her there. Julia had wedged a nail into the outside of the lock on the garden gate days ago, back when Agatha had first run away from her, and placed a little pebble in the bolt rack to keep it from shutting properly when she closed it. The pebble fell out when the gate was opened, the nail fell into place, and Agatha, having no idea of such a trick, had effectively locked herself in. The ill-placed bolt could only be removed from outside the garden gate, and unless Agatha wanted to climb over picket fences in her petticoats, she would need Julia to go through the house to the outside just to escape the garden.

Well, that, or go into Julia's house herself… and risk being caught trespassing by the Judge.

When Agatha had found out about this little bit of trickery, she fumed quietly on the back door's stone stoop for a good ten minutes while Julia stargazed.

"That was a dirty trick," Agatha mumbled grudgingly.

Finally, she speaks! "You wouldn't have sat through any conversation at all if you had a way to get out of it."

"Yeah, well…" the other girl stretched out on the stoop. "I'd rather avoid being teased, if I can help it." Agatha laid down on the stone, joining her in looking up at the stars. "Are you sure it's okay to pen me up in here? Your father hasn't extinguished his candle yet; he may notice."

"He hasn't noticed much for the last few months. Father's just too busy working." Julia sighed. "He'll drive himself mad like that."

It was a little chilly, lying on the flat stone behind her house. The winter hadn't entirely thawed out yet, and summer hadn't begun to its yearly traverse. An April night chill, however, was hardly going to stop her.

"I'm sorry," Julia whispered quietly.

"I know," Agatha said. "She said so. It's my fault, anyways. I just assumed…"

"I just…" Julia sat up, hugging her knees to her chest. The hems of her skirts covered all but the dainty tips of her toes, bare in the cool of the early night. If her father noticed her shoes missing, he'd know she'd broken curfew and—even worse—gone outside without his permission. "I wanted to hear from them again."

Agatha sat up too, and looked down at her hands. She said nothing.

"I'm not usually this spontaneous, either," Julia sighed to the ground. "I just didn't think I'd get another chance to talk to you. It's not like Father would let me out to find you."

"Why?" Agatha asked. Julia was slightly surprised by her curiosity. Didn't the girl want to end the conversation?

"I suppose part of the reason is because I get sick easily. It was big shock when I lived."

Another heavy silence. Julia had the feeling Agatha was waiting for her to say something. Either that or they were both waiting for something to end the silence.

"Moeder doesn't like people knowing," Agatha finally said, her word for mother coming out more like mortar. "You know—about me. She won't talk about why, but she's always said that people would hurt us if they knew."

"I won't tell," Julia muttered, "But you might want to check out Goodie Knotham. If you really want something a secret, she's the worst person to tell."

Agatha laughed as well, albeit nervously. "Yes, I know. I tell Moeder that all the time, but they're great friends. Besides, Goodie Knotham would never tell anyone anything that would hurt our family."

"The road to Hell is paved with good intentions."

Agatha's laugh froze, and she stared at Julia across the dimness of the early spring starlight.

"…That's dark."

Julia shrugged. "Thus is the world."

"Not really. Everyone has their struggles, but isn't that why we're put here?"

"There are many that do not get that chance." Julia shot her a look. "From your own admittance, you know that."

Blinking, Agatha's face slowly became more genuine. Shaking off the last vestiges of shyness and discomfort, the girl seemed to have remembered Julia was very much like the souls she often comforted for loss. The only difference was that Julia still lived.

For some reason, Agatha's change in expression made Julia the uncomfortable one, and for the first time that night Julia felt she was no longer the one in control.

"But that's the way the world is. Some die, some live. It's not like they disappear, they just…" Agatha gestured vacantly with her hands. "Move on. We all do that—none of us can cling to the past forever. So it's not really a bad thing, so much as it's… well, it's different. Most people just don't like it because they don't know much about it."

"…It… isn't a bad thing?"

"No!" Agatha said, strangely cheery as Julia seemed to get it. "They're not gone, you just can't see them. But they can't get hurt, I don't think, and they can't feel pain, and they move on with their… well, not with their lives, but…"

Julia watched the girl struggle to explain.

"So you really can see spirits?" Julia said wryly.

Freezing and realizing what she just implied, the younger girl clammed up again.

"Um…"

Julia smiled wearily. "Did you really come into the garden to look for your sister's toy?"

Agatha had the manners to look slightly embarrassed by this. "No."

That was all Julia needed to know.

AN: Originally this conversation was going to get much more depressing and long—but hey, they just met each other. They know things about each other—well, vaguely—but not so much that they would trust each other with more than they already know each other knows just yet. Instead that kind of rather pivotal conversation will be saved for later.

Nothing new for this chapter, but watch this space. Interesting things might just show up…

And if nothing else, the Next Time's are always slightly amusing.

Tomorrow, an update on Act 3: Coraline explores the empty halls of Louvé Manor and finds the best damn Victorian super-villain lair ever. Also: dust.