That night after dinner, Elina sprawled on her bed, lying on her stomach as she read the latest issue of Tiger Beat. The record player resting on her mirrored, vanity-style dresser played one of three Carpenters albums she owned. She was reading an article about Leif Garrett, a heart-throb of the era, and how he, along with another teen star, raised money for muscular dystrophy awareness by participating in a 'jail-o-thon'. She sang along to the airy, melodious lyrics:

"Why do birds suddenly appear every time you are near?

Just like me, they long to be close to you.

Why do stars fall down from the sky every time you walk by?

Just like me, they long to be close to you.

On the day that you were born

the angels got together and decided to create a dream come true.

So they sprinkled moon dust in your hair of gold

and starlight in your eyes of blue.

That is why all the girls in town follow you all around.

Just like me, they long to be close to you."

Her father, Jimmy, had been outside her closed door listening to her sing; it sounded quite different than if she were singing in Swedish with her mother, as it was lower-pitched yet still powerful as all that. It was reminiscent of a seductive jazz singer in smoke-filled cabaret, yet not as raspy—Elina's English singing voice was clear and rung nicely to anyone's ears, not just his own. He opened the door slightly, seeing his daughter laying flat on her stomach as her long, wavy white-blonde hair resting on the length of her back and on the bed around her. She continued singing until the oboe bridge of the song began, looking up to see her father.

"Oh, dad," she said. "Hi."

"Hello," he said. She was nervous; he sounded so serious, and when he made his way over to her record player to lift the needle off the record, she closed her magazine and sat up, watching him as he took a seat on the edge of her bed. His warm brown eyes met her fiery hazel-green ones as her anxiety increased.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

"You know, I wanted to talk to you about something serious," he said. "Don't hate me for it, 'cause you're my little girl no matter how old you are. I just want what's best for you."

"Tell me," Elina ordered sternly.

"Well, I saw you with that boy today," he began.

"So?"

"How did he come up to you and your friend?" he asked.

"Well, Lily and I were walking after Jules left us alone, and…he comes up to me, I look behind me, and he's there," she described. "He gave me that rose you saw. Very unexpected, if you ask me."

"But why would you accept it from a stranger?" he asked.

"Because I was being polite," she replied. Why was he acting like this? So what, she met a boy, big deal. However, it was a huge deal for Jimmy—he did not want any scumbag boy breaking his daughter's heart.

"Look, I know at your age, you have…uh…well…feelings," Jimmy began, looking at his daughter's beautiful face. "You also have to think."

"Oh, come on, don't start again with your no-boys talk!" Elina snapped. "I'm thirteen. I'm not a baby anymore."

"Elina, I'm only trying to look out for you. Boys break girl's hearts at your age. I've seen it," he said, trying to maintain calm around his beloved youngest daughter.

"Get out," she commanded.

"Elina—"

"Get out!" Now, she was gritting her teeth, her temper starting to flare like a viper with poisonous, sharp fangs. She was so tempted to send him out of the room using just her mind, but she saw the pained look in his face.

"Please, Elina. This is serious," he said sternly.

"I'm serious! Get out! Now!"

"Elina! Please!"

His voice got slightly more aggressive, holding the sides of his daughter's forearms and looking down into her eyes solemnly. He could see the fire burning in her eyes, and her lower lip trembled ever so slightly. Her face was perfectly framed by the long, platinum hair that cascaded down her back, and her lips were slightly parted. Jimmy gazed down at her extreme beauty—she was definitely more beautiful than her mother.

"Elina, you're my daughter," he said. "I care about you, and if that means babying you just a little bit, then so be it. Remember, I will go to the ends of the earth to keep you safe, even if it means killing whoever harms you." He sighed, taking a breath and calming himself down. "I'm sorry, but…I know you may like that boy, but for now, no boys. At least not for a while. You're too young."

"I'mtired of being too young," Elina cried, tears forming in her eyes.

Jimmy held his daughter close, letting his clothed shoulder be soaked by his daughter's tears. He hated to see her upset, especially since he was well-aware that he provoked her tears to flow like rivers from her fiery eyes, dousing the flickering flames in her pupils and intense eye color in the process. She felt warm against him, but she was always warm, which contradicted her wintery appearance with her fair skin and snow-colored blonde hair. He ran his deformed fingers down the length of her hair, lulling her to stop crying and calm down.

"Please don't cry, sweetie," he said. "It's for the best."

"I want you to leave," Elina said.

"Why?"

"I want to be alone," she replied, sounding a bit calmer. "Please?"

"Are you alright?"

"Just please leave me alone, dad," Elina begged. "I'll be just fine."

He reluctantly agreed, standing up from the bed and taking one last glance at his beloved daughter before walking out of the room and closing the door behind him. Elina was furious—how dare he try to pin her down and baby her like some mindless ragdoll? She felt the uncontrollable urge of her power, holding out her hands and forming fists, grunting as she felt the burn of conjuring fire as she opened the back up to open palms. Her hands were consumed by the fire she had summoned from her mind, yet she was immune to it—no blistering, no charring of flesh and bone, no odor of burning flesh. She stared into the flames, seeing her reflection like a mirror before she calmed down enough for them to die down and go away completely. She proceeded to sit on her bed, crossing her legs at her bare ankles as she fiddled with her fingers.

Jimmy, who had gone back into the master bedroom to see his wife under the covers reading a book, caught her attention with his somber expression and slow, steady movement. He sat on the edge of the bed where Britta was, and she closed her box without any intention to keep her place, and she rubbed the side of her husband's arm.

"What is the matter?" she asked.

"Elina," he said.

"What about her?"

"I tried to talk to her about…you know…" No, I do not know, Britta thought.

"Is it about that boy? She was on his arm earlier," she asked.

"Yeah," Jimmy said. "I just don't wanna see the girl hurt. I've seen it happen, and…even you…you've had it happen before meeting me…and even before…the show had to be shut down. But…you know…she's my pride and joy."

"I know, she is growing up," Britta replied. "You are her father, and a very good father at that." She kissed his cheek, looking into his deep, dark eyes with her vivid green ones. "One day, you will need to…let her go. She is becoming a woman."

"Yeah," he nodded, leaning in slowly to kiss his wife and caress her soft, feminine jawline. He could feel her kissing back gently, and he broke to kiss to look at her; oh, how he loved her so. Britta stared back at him, her green eyes allowing her to unwittingly entice him into something further, something they hadn't had in so long.

"Britta," he said, looking at his wife's ageless beauty.

"Ja, min älska?" she asked, looking at him fervently and with full attention. After twenty-five years of marriage, he knew exactly what she was saying—she called him 'her love'.

"I love you," he said, kissing the corner of her mouth affectionately. "I want to…be one with you tonight."

"It has been so long," she said, feeling her heart race.

"It sure has been, doll," he said, his deformed hands caressing her face as he kissed her softly, beginning to straddle his wife as he pulled back the covers.

They spent time that evening making gentle love to each other, but as years progressed in her marriage to Jimmy, Britta felt like sex was more like a duty for her husband's benefit; she did love her husband, and she did enjoy how he touched her, but most of the time she had to keep quiet during the act. No child, no matter how old they are, wants to hear their older parents rocking the bed. Plus, she had gotten pregnant so many times from his perpetual carnal desires—she had been getting older, even if it didn't show in her face, and their family couldn't grow anymore due to that; what was she worried about?

The following morning, Bette and Dot woke up and went to the bathroom in the barnhouse, brushing their teeth and freshening up their appearance with a specially-made blue dress. By 8:00, breakfast had always been served, but when they walked out of the barnhouse to the path leading to the front door of the Darling family home, they saw a delivery man of sorts carrying a huge bundle of the most beautiful red roses money could buy—Bette, seeing the vibrant crimson from the distance, gasped and smiled.

"Dot! Look! Someone's sending flowers!" Bette said joyfully.

"Jimmy's gonna have a fit if he sees they're for Elina," Dot replied pessimistically.

"How do you know they're for her?" Bette asked, the leg on her side of their conjoined body leading them to speed ahead.

"Hey!"

Dot reluctantly went along with her sister's frantic movement on her side, despite that if they moved fast enough, they looked to be a crippled single body trying to move at a steady pace. As the delivery man made his way up the front steps, the twins, who were only a few yards away, looked at him—Bette waved her hand to get his attention, and he looked at them in horror.

"Ah!" he shrieked.

"What's the matter with you?" Dot asked coldly. "You should be ashamed." She hated how even some people still looked at them funny—they were both in the town for a long time. Why would their condition be such a big issue?

"I have a delivery," the man said. "That's all I came for."

"Where are those flowers from?" Bette asked. "What're they for?"

"A special lady," he said, walking away toward his truck to drive away. Dot looked back, but Bette admired the flowers left for someone they had yet to find out. The kind-hearted twin made them both lean down to pick up the ornate, water-filled glass vase the roses were placed in. Seeing there was a card attached to a wooden stick, Dot noticed the perfect, black-ink penmanship and read it aloud.

"Bette and Dot; two beauties in one body," she repeated verbatim, scoffing to let her sister read the rest.

"Aw, that's so sweet," Bette cooed before continuing. "Please meet me at the coffeehouse today at noon. I can't wait to see you." She paused. "Charles."

"Oh, he can't be serious," Dot sneered.

"I think it's sweet. I say we should see him," Bette said.

"I say you're a fool," her twin said.

"Let's take these inside," Bette insisted. "Let the others see."

Sighing heavily, Dot complied with her sister's wishes and gripped the other side of the vase tighter than she had been as they made their way into the house to be greeted by the smell of warm raisin toast, sausage, and eggs in an omelet. Bette took the smells in and smiled as they made their way to the dining room, putting down the vase in the center of the table. She smiled again at how lovely it looked as a centerpiece, and once Elina came in with dishes to distribute around the table, she gasped and saw the bright, crimson roses.

"Where'd you get those?" the girl asked.

"Mr. Loring sent 'em for us!" Bette squealed happily. "Aren't they just beautiful?"

"You don't say," Elina replied nonchalantly, putting down the stack of plates before leaning to smell the roses—the scent was crisp and clean, and the deep red petals felt a bit wet. They were freshly cut and watered; in her mind, nothing could've been better for those twins considering they've been cast out for a good majority of their lives. She smiled brightly at them both, her fiery eyes letting off shiny sparks.

"Well, isn't that special," she said, keeping a steady grin.

"Elina, you have the loveliest smile," Bette said, looking at the young girl, who giggled and approached the conjoined twins to give them a friendly hug. Dot and Bette's arms both hugged her back as one person—Bette rested her chin on the girl's shoulder.

"Breakfast is almost ready," the girl said, ending their calm embrace. "Sausage links, omelets, and cinnamon raisin toast."

By quarter past eight, the entire family was down in the dining room eating breakfast—Dell had kept on sitting at Britta's head of the table since he came there, but she was fine with it because her new seat had been directly diagonal from her husband and across from her daughter. Annika, who dressed rather plain that day with a simple button-up men's shirt and black bell bottoms, glanced over at her parents, who ate quietly. She heard nothing but the sounds of silverware against plates and quiet chewing through closed mouths. Surprisingly enough, even the boisterous, obnoxious Toby was quiet. This was very strange for such a lively family, and furthermore, neither of her parents asked why she had gone to the doctor the day before; it was as though she were a ghost, invisible to the world—she then noticed the bright crimson roses sent for the twins as their new centerpiece. She broke the silence.

"Hey, where'd the roses come from?" she asked.

"Oh, Mr. Loring sent 'em to us," Bette said with a smile. "Aren't they lovely?"

"Who?"

"Mr. Loring. Charles Loring. We met him at the market yesterday," she replied. "He was so charming."

"I think he's a creep," Dot sneered.

"Oh, stop it," Bette said, glancing at her twin, who just glared back with her cold, dark brown eyes. Bette resumed looking at Annika as if in a daze. "He owns a plantation on the other side of town. We woke up, tried to go here, and then a delivery man brought 'em to the door. On the card, Mr. Loring invited us to the coffeehouse for noon. Oh, I can't wait to see him!"

"The coffeehouse, huh?" Jimmy asked, taking a sip of his orange juice; it had been freshly squeezed with oranges harvested from their own farm. "It's a nice gesture, though. He seems friendly."

"Oh, he sure is," Bette said happily, taking a small, dainty bite of her cinnamon raisin toast. "I can't wait to see him."