Warning: This chapter does contain child abuse from a teacher. If you feel like this chapter might negatively effect you, I will put a * mark where is begins and ends, so you can still read the chapter.
Snow fell on the house, as daylight did its best to break through the clouds. Mother opened the door to Marissa's room, walking in to wake her up for the day. It was 6:30 in the morning, and she needed to be ready for school by 7:30. She hated to wake her up, but she wanted to make sure that Marissa was ready for the day. She gently stroked her daughter's arm, and said, "Wake up, sweet thing, it's morning" trying to wake her gently.
Marissa, though not an overly heavy sleeper, hated waking up; She mumbled, "Sun, go back to sleep" which made her mother chuckle, "I know, I don't like waking up early either. But I have a few surprises for you".
Her curiosity got the better of her. She opened one eye and said, "What is it?" Still laying down, but her curiosity peaked.
Mother smiled with her closed mouth grin, "For breakfast I made Cinnamon toast, your favorite, along with eggs, and bacon" getting up and opening the curtains, "I also pressed your favorite day dress, the blue one with the white pinafore, and packed your lunch" walking over to her dressing table and lighting the lamp.
Rubbing her eyes, Marissa sat up, sweeping the covers off of her and said, "Mother, may I ask you a question?".
"Certainly, dear" turning back to face her.
"Who died?" Sitting at the edge of her bed, removing the ribbon from her hair that held the braid in place.
Mother chuckled , "No one dear, I just thought since this was going to be such a long day for you, that you should have a good start. I'll let you get dressed" walking out of the bedroom and shutting the door.
Marissa stood up, made her bed, and began getting ready. First, brushing her hair, then tying part of it back with a blue bow. She unbuttoned her nightgown, and put on her underdress for the day, then picked up the lovely blue dress and pinafore that her mother kindly washed and pressed for her, and put them on.
The dress was air force blue, with short puffy sleeves that had a frill on them. The skirt had built-in petticoats, so it flared out a little and stopped at mid-calf. She took a pair of white stalkings out and rolled them up her legs, then on came her black lace-up boots, that stopped above her ankles. Once on her feet, she gathered her books and coat, hurrying down the hall and stairs, past the parlor, and into the dining room, to see the lovely breakfast waiting.
Merissa sat down, smiled up at her mother, and said, "This looks lovely, Mother. Thank you" looking back down at her plate of food, which was hot. The eggs were fresh out of the pan, as well as the sizzling bacon. The toast was freshly coated with cinnamon. Her heart fluttered, for she knew the day would not be a total disaster, with breakfast this promising, and her mother, who smiled at her back with the same kind of admiration; Her daughter looked like a little lady today, which pleased her very much. But, then again, she would have looked at her that way even if she were covered in mud and the neighbor boy, standing next to her, with a black eye. She admired her in all forms.
She dug into her breakfast, as she thought about the day. Who would she meet? How would she feel about them? How would they feel about her? What would she learn? All this ran through her head as she heartily ate.
Merissa had an appetite, and that was no secret. It was something her father tried to conceal from suitors. He felt it was unladylike to eat the way she did. He used to tell her, "Men don't like their women eating like a horse", to which mother promptly replied, "I don't know, I've always had quite the appetite, and I managed to spark your interest" taking the attention off of Marissa, to which father would nearly forget, and smile at his wife.
Though Father was a strict, critical man, he was also a man who valued the simple things. He truly loved his family, it was just hard for him to show that sometimes. All he really wanted was for his wife and daughter to be taken care of, and happy.
In his younger years, he chased wealth as though he would drop dead tomorrow, following business scheme after business scheme, only to end up a man in debt, living on the street. After the first night of living with nothing, he did a lot of soul searching and decided to make a fresh start. The one thing he had going for him was a resume with a lot of impressive references, and him being a Jack of all trades didn't hurt his chances either. Within a week he had a job once again, working as a cashier at a local restaurant, then in a factory, repairing typewriters, a year later. After five more years, and a new job at a bank, he married a lovely young woman by the name of Rose Lockwood, now McAlister, and the mother of Marissa. He promised her an easy life, with luxury, and travel, so you can imagine the shame he feels for not keeping that promise, but he's never given up on providing for his family.
Francis smiled at his wife, "And it was the best decision I ever made" reaching for her hand and taking her soft one in his, savoring the moment, all while Marissa continued to eat her breakfast, quickening her pace, for it was getting close to the time to leave for school.
Her father looked at the time, seeing how it was now 7:00, and school was to be starting in 30 minutes, "It's about time you head off to school, you don't want to be late, especially on your first day".
Marissa nodded, "Of course Father. I'll hurry" taking her last bite of food, drinking her milk, then grabbing her books, and putting on her coat. She hugged both her mother and father, giving them each a kiss on the cheek, before hurrying out the door, "Have a good day" looking back at them as she waved.
Her mother called out, "You too, dear" her arm around her husband's waist, as it was around hers, both waving at her as she ran out the door.
Rose smiled at Francis, "Do you want some more coffee? I made extra this morning" looking up at him cheerfully.
"Love some" he smiled, as she pulled away from him, picked up her coffee pot, and poured him another cup.
"I baked too many oatmeal cookies yesterday, so I think I'll put a few extra in with your lunch, if that's okay with you," she said, chuckling as she took out the cookie jar, and put a few cookies in with his lunch.
"If you baked them, then I will always be happy to have them with lunch" wrapping his arms around her waist, and kissing her cheek.
Smiling as she looked at him from behind, "Why do you think I bake them so often?" Flirtatiously chuckling.
They could still see Marissa through the kitchen window, so there they stood, holding each other and swaying, watching as she slowly disappeared into the distance.
"She's growing up so fast" Rose hummed, thinking about the day she was born, which felt like yesterday to her.
"I know, and deep down I know that I am partially to blame" Francis sighed to himself.
Rose turned around to face him, took his hand, "I think all parents push their children to grow up too fast in some way or another. Sometimes even by trying to hold them back" looking into his eyes kindly, "At least with what we are doing we know the reason why. She will be well taken care of if all goes as planned".
Francis shook his head, "She resents me for this. I know she's calm and compliant, but deep down she is angry, and I can't blame her. I want her to be happy".
"I do too darling, I really do. Deep down in my heart I believe there must be a better way. But what is the price to pay for that way? Somehow I feel as though the cost would be more, even if the benefits would outweigh the price. Could we afford it?" Rose thought out loud.
He took hold of her hand, looking into her eyes lovingly, "What if we were to play it by ear; Let's not make a decision so fast. Let's find out what Marissa wants first before we make any plans".
Rose's smile grew big, "Let's talk to her together, after she meets her suitor for tea"
Francis hugged his wife, then said, "That's a splendid idea!" Then he twirled her around, pulled her close again, and kissed her as though he was kissing her for the first time again, his arms wrapped around her waste comfortably, with her arms around his neck.
Marissa ran down fifth street, careful not to knock anyone over as she hurried to Singhouse Prep, snow falling heavy all around her, the sounds of automobiles blaring their horns, wheels clicking against the cobblestone roads, as well as people conversing with each-other.
Singhouse Prep was a school for young ladies that needed polishing. Any skill a housewife needed to know, Singhouse Prep taught. There were strict rules that were always abided by, such as no tartiness, only speaking when you have been spoken to, you must always look your best, curtsy to everyone when you come through the door, and when you leave, and last but most important, never talk back when you are being scolded. Not everyone despised attending, but most girls don't exactly jump for joy when they find out they are being sent there.
She made it to the school, five minutes before class would begin. When she walked through the door, she curtsied to the room, then hung her coat on a hook and brushed the snow out of her hair with her hand. Then she stood with her back to the wall like the rest of the girls did, her hands behind her back, doing her best to do what they were doing, down to a T.
The school itself was not intimidating, it was the teacher who presided over the class; Miss Vankfield. There were countless reasons why she was Miss instead of Mrs. One in particular was the fact that she was a highly uncouth person.
Miss Vankfield walked into the class room, her grey hair tied up the way a proper woman's hair was up. Her crushed velvet dark blue gown with a bodice that hugged her frame dragged gently against the floor. Her wrinkled hands with a ruler clasped in them looked like they were waiting for the chance to use it on some poor, unaware girl's hand. Her face was the most intimidating part; Her eyes were like those of a snake, very cold, and lifeless, "Good morning girls" giving a shallow curtsy to the girls standing against the wall, her voice rather smooth, and it projected well across the room.
All in unison deeply curtsied, their posture as perfect as you could get, "Good Morning Miss Vankfield" all at once, gentle smiles.
It wasn't that the smiles were genuine, but they were required in order to be acceptable in her class.
Miss Vankfield smiled lightly, "I see you all have grown since the last time you were in this room. Who wants to go first for inspection?" Her eyes roaming over the line, till they landed on a redhead, calm in composure, but a hint of fear in her eyes, "Beatrice, why don't you go first. Step forward please".
Beatrice stood almost right in the middle of the line. With her arms behind her back, she stepped forward, giving a curtsy to the teacher.
"Hands" she stated, holding out one of her hands that was free of the ruler.
Without skipping a beat, she showed the teacher her hands, tops facing up.
She took one of them, examining them with great attention, "Clean nails, but they need to be cut. See that you come back tomorrow with shorter nails. Now let me feel your hair" not even asking, before placing a hand on one of her curls, which were smooth, but it took much effort to get them that way.
She looked back at her face, "Your hair is much improved. Nicely done. Now, turn slowly" she explained.
Beatrice nodded, slowly turning, her pink dress swishing a little as she spun.
The teacher looked her up and down, then back at her face, "Your skin no longer has so many freckles, but I'm afraid you have not developed at all since the last time you were here. You are still scrawny, freckle riddled, and you have very little chance of developing anything even resembling a bust, and red heads can't wear pink, so pick another color. Next!".
Beatrice backed up into her spot, hands behind her back, with her eyes downcast, almost as though she was about to cry, feeling slightly smaller than she walked in.
"Lucy, you are up next" pointing at the dark haired girl, with blue eyes, wearing a yellow dress.
Lucy stepped forward, giving a shallow curtsy to the teacher, then standing up straight, and bringing her hands out in front of her, showing the teacher her nails, which were sparkling clean, and short.
"Those are nice nails, Lucy, good work. But your hands are stubby. Do some finger exercises after school, and they should slim down" then touching one of her waves carefully, " Your hair is pretty, in a wild sort of way, so try and neaten it up a bit" .
Lucy nodded, then spun slowly, her yellow dress flouncing up at the ends.
"Yellow brings out your sallow complexion, don't wear it again. Stick with blues and greens. Next!".
She backed back into her position, staring at the ends of her dress in comparison with her skin. She too, looked as though she wished to cry a little, but refrained by smiling and biting her lip.
"Mary, you next" pointing to the blonde with tight curls, perfectly framing her face, and hair fashionably styled, with a pink bow that matched her dress.
Mary stepped forward, her boots shiny and clean. She smiled at Miss Vankfield, curtsying just the right way, then bringing her dainty and perfectly clean hands forward, showing off beautiful clean nails that were just the right length.
Miss Vankfield smiled, taking one of Mary's hands and looking at them, "I think these are the softest hands I have ever felt!" She exclaimed, "And your nails! Absolutely sparkling!" Letting go of her hand, and bringing a hand to feel her hair, " These curls are natural, and well taken care of. You have done well, so far. Now, turn for me please" motioning with a finger in a swirling motion.
Mary turned slowly, her posture immaculate, with her skirt swishing a little bit like a bell, and shoes not making a single sound against the floor.
"You are filling out nicely. Soon, you will be ready for stays. Pink is your color. I'm very pleased" the teacher praised.
"Thank you, Miss Vankfield " curtsying in a humble fashion, then stepped back into line, smirking at the girls who had been put down about their looks.
"I think we should see Marissa next. Come forward please", pointing her long fingers at her.
She kept her posture straight as she walked forward, keeping calm eyes on the teacher, a slight smile on her face. Once in front of her, she curtsied the same as Mary, one foot behind the other, with shoes just as shiny, and lifting her blue dress effortlessly on the sides.
Miss Vankfield watched intently, waiting for the usual mistake from Marissa, whether it be dirty nails, or dirty boots, she was scrutinizing everything she possibly could, and not finding a thing to pick at, "Marissa, I see you have changed much since the last time you were in my class" she looked her up and down, "You are due for stays, I see".
Marissa nodded, keeping gentle eyes on the teacher, and bringing her hands out in front of her, revealing the same clean nails that Mary had, at just the perfect length.
"I see someone took notes last time they were in my class; Those hands are looking nice. And your nails are absolutely perfect "then she brought her hand up to her hair, feeling the strands, "your waves suit you, and the bow brings out your high cheekbones. Spin for me please".
She slowly turned, showing the teacher how much she had changed in such a short time.
The teacher looked her over with a fine tooth comb, scrutinizing her every move, but not finding hardly anything to gripe at, "Excellent job, Marissa.I expect you to be this lovely all the time" then turned to the other girls in the room, "Take notes ladies; She is your competition, after all".
Marissa's face changed, but she held herself together. She raised her hand, looking at Miss Vankfield.
The teacher nodded, "Yes Marissa, you may speak".
"Thank you, Miss Vankfield, for your wonderful compliments. The praise coming from you means a lot. But I do not wish to be competition to my friends. I know there is a short supply of eligible bachelors, but if we continue to back bite, and act in cruelty, we need to ask ourselves if we are the reason why there is an even shorter supply of ladies" speaking up, but doing her utmost to remain respectful.
Miss Vankfield stood tall, eyes remaining cold, "Are you quite done disrespecting me?" Her ruler moving around.
Marissa knew her hand would feel the sting of the ruler, but she decided to keep going, "With all due respect, I'm not finished. Your words sting worse than anything you could do with that wooden implement of unreason, not to me, because I know how it works, but my friends behind me don't always know how to feel. Excuse me for saying this, but you teach because you couldn't be taught. You have never been married, and act as though you have dozens of suitors groveling at your feet. I refuse to be compared to your idea of a perfect woman, because you yourself don't even follow it".
Miss Vankfield's voice grew lower, and rougher, "Put your hand flat on the table" slowly, enunciating every word as though she is only saying one, her face hot with anger, flaming red.
Marissa grew either incredibly more courageous, or a thousand times more stupid, depending on who you asked, looking her up and down with humor dancing in her eyes, "Are you going to hit me with that" a smirk painting her lips as she set her hand flat on the table and braced for impact. She very clearly knew what was coming, but at this point, was only a little bit nervous.
The teacher lifted the ruler above her head, and brought it down hard on Marissa's hand, a stinging sensation, now turning into pain, and brought down ten more times, to the point of making her dainty hand bleed in the same spot.
Marissa kept her composure as best she could, staring up at the teacher, as the teacher threw the wooden stick down on her hand, one tear sliding down her cheek. She looked over at the other students, all cringing at seeing their friend in pain, except for Mary. She chuckled at the fearsome sight, hiding her laughter behind her hand.
After the eleventh strike, and the ruler lightly covered in crimson, she stopped, "Go stand back in line, Now!" Motioning with the ruler towards the wall, her voice raised, causing shivers down the spines of every school girl in that room.
Marissa stood up straight, backing slowly into her place, looking over at the other girls, all but one giving sympathetic smiles, and the ones next to her lightly petting her arms.
Miss Vankfield turned to the next girl, who was frightfully insecure, "Claire! You are up. Step forward please.
Claire was a blonde, with straight hair, styled into an updo, and green eyes. She had a thin frame, and was very tall for her age. She walked up to the teacher, shaking with every step, as she dared not look at her.
Miss Vankfield looked at her in complete disgust, "You are the worst one yet!" She shouted.
Beatrice gained confidence from Marissa's speech, "She is not!" Stepping forward, "Marissa is right! You are a monster! She didn't say it, but we are all thinking it, right girls" looking around the room, four of the girls nodding their head and stepping forward along with her.
Lucy raised her voice thoughtlessly, " I agree!" Though surprising herself after stepping into this revolt, her hands on her hips.
For the first time in Miss Vankfield's career, she was afraid, and it showed on her face. Her eyes grew like mother's fine kitchen China saucers, and her mouth threatened to hang open, if she dared try to move it, even forgetting to breath for a second, her breath hitching after a moment, gasping for more air, then quickly calming it. She backed away from the girls one pace at a time, her behind pushing itself against the desk behind her. She jumped, making a slight shriek, then paused, regaining her composure, "Anyone who says another word is expelled! I mean it!".
Marissa, Lucy, Claire, and Beatrice all looked at each-other, and in unison, all in one breath, said, "Good!" Locking arms, walking to their coats and hats, grabbing their lunches while they were at it, then marching out.
The rest of the class and Miss Vankfield looked absolutely shocked, their jaws dropped and eyes wide; Some impressed, others afraid, and Mary, smirking, thinking of what their punishments might be when their mother's and father's find out what they did.
It snowed hard outside of the school house, the streets still busy, the four girls immediately putting on their coats as soon as they get outside, their breath clearly visible in the air from how cold it was, as they put on their hats.
" I cannot believe I just did that" Beatrice said, looking through the post; Not noticing anything, from all the adrenaline.
"What did I just do?" Lucy exclaimed, a bit louder than she intended it to be, a few adults looking at her as they passed by.
"My parents are going to chop my head off!" Which Claire said much too loudly, causing a lot of people to look at her in disgust and curiosity.
Marissa chuckled to herself, "Did you see her face? She looked so afraid" then she saw how her friends were faring, they looked so afraid, even ashamed.
"I can't see anything except the look on my fathers face; I'm going to be in so much trouble" Lucy said, tears nearly in her eyes.
Marissa grew a knot in her stomach, not for herself, but for her friends. She wasn't so worried about what her parents would say or do; She knew they'd be disappointed, but they would never be ashamed of her. Even she knew they loved her. She had absolutely no fear of how they would react, because she knew.
"Do you think it will be that bad?" She asked, trying to gauge the situation for the other girls.
Beatrice looked at her, "Yes! Yes Marissa, I do! You got us into this mess, and I believe you are going to also be the one to get us out!" Stepping closer to Marissa, almost violently.
Lucy stepped between them, "Woah! Don't you blame this on her! Did she start this? Yes, she did. But we are the ones who spoke up"
Claire raised her voice and said, "Stop it!" Then gained composure, straightening her back, "Is there a more private place to discuss this? We are making a scene, which our parents would not approve of. Besides, it's cold".
They all thought for a moment, "I know of an old shack; it's small, but has a place to light a fire. We could eat our lunches, and stay there till the end of the school day" Beatrice mentioned, still looking unsure of her idea, but it would give them a chance to cool down and collect their thoughts before throwing themselves back in the lion's den.
"That's a good idea" Lucy said, looking a bit more calm knowing she won't have to go right now.
"Where is it located?" Marissa asked.
Beatrice looked to her left, and said, "About ten minutes from here, not too far. If you see any good sized sticks or anything, pick them up so we have something to feed the fire. It's only ten o clock and school ends at Two Thirty"
"Good to know. Does anyone have a match? Otherwise a fire might be kind of hard to light" Lucy chuckled.
"I do!" Beatrice said, proudly.
"Why do you have a match with you?" Claire asks.
"What? You all ask if someone has a match then is surprised when I have one?" Chuckling, "I've been there before. I expected to visit again"
Everyone chuckled, but understood what she meant.
They began following Beatrice's lead, through the snow, arm in arm with each-other. Marissa and Lucy walking as Claire and Beatrice's arms were locked together, striding in front of them.
As they walked into the woods, the girls began to see sticks, and small branches. Each picking up as much as they could carry in their arms, doing their best to find the dry pieces of wood, eventually reaching the small house, that was about 5 by 5 and only had a small fire-pit in it, with a chimney on top of the roof
The outside was simple, with two windows, and a piece of sack cloth for a door.
"This is lovely. How did you ever find it, Bee?" Claire asked, calling her by her nickname, lifting the sheet of sack cloth, to reveal the inside of the the small house, which was nearly empty, except for the small fire pit, and a blanket spread out on the floor.
"A week ago I was chasing a cat, and I followed her all the way over here. I brought the blanket here, and was planning to make a little hideout, and bring more things to make this place my own.
"How marvelous! Aren't you the lucky one for finding such a paradise!" Marissa said, as she walked into the shack and sat down on the blanket, which was cool to the touch from the air. She jumped a little when the colorful quilt touched her leg, "Bee, could you hand me the match so we can warm this place up?".
Beatrice nodded, "Of course, but first I recommend we put some of the branches and sticks in the pit. Though there's a few, it's certainly not enough to keep it going for very long" arranging her sticks in the pit so they were all standing up, leaning against the side of the barrel that it was confined to.
The others put their sticks in, then Bee handed Marissa the match. She struck it hard against the barrel, then threw it among the sticks, creating a small blaze.
Lucy smiled at the sight, but then frowned, "We'll have to go out and get some more; the fire needs to be fed frequently if it's going to blaze for the whole day.
Marissa sighed, "You're right. How about you and I go out and collect some more, while Claire and Beatrice stay here and warm up; Somebody needs to watch the fire, then they can take a turn and go search for branches.
Lucy stood back up, and said, "Good thinking, we'll hurry back" walking out the doorway with Marissa in front of her.
Claire smiled, looking around the small shack, "This place is quite charming. Are you planning on doing anything with it?" Rubbing her hands together near the fire to warm them.
Beatrice also placed her hands near the fire, "I was thinking of making a club of some kind, maybe for books, or perhaps sewing" .
Lucy smiled, "That could be fun. How many girls were you thinking of inviting?".
"I was thinking our whole class, all except for Mary. She doesn't seem to have a nice bone in her body. It was shameful the way she smirked and chuckled as Marissa's hand faced the beating " Bee said, shaking her head.
Lucy looked unsure,"You too? I thought I was just imagining it. It's horrible how she treats others. Everyone knows she's jealous of everyone in Singhouse Prep, Especially anyone who impresses Miss Vankfield".
Bee chuckled, "Did you see her face when Miss Vankfield complimented Marissa? I thought I was going to bust out laughing, then have to take a punishment for being disruptive".
"I know what you mean. I had to hold back as well. Do you think she will ever change?" Looking back at Beatrice as they warmed their hands.
She shrugged," Perhaps. I want to believe in my heart of hearts that anyone can change. One day she's going to get what she's been giving everyone else, and it might make her think".
"I hope so. I can't imagine why treating people like dirt makes her feel happy, or complete. It makes little to no sense to me".
Beatrice nodded, "That's because you are nothing like her. Evil and mean will never entirely make sense to people who don't stoop to that level".
Lucy smiled, looking down at her hands, "I'm glad I'm not evil or mean, at least not regularly" chuckling, a look of seriousness washing over her face, "But if I ever am, please tell me".
She nodded, "I promise".
The two girls came back, their arms full of fire wood. They set the wood down, "That should hold us for an hour or two" Marissa smiled, sitting down near the fire and warming herself, putting a big stick in the pit, the fire consuming it slowly.
Lucy sat down next to Beatrice, "Marissa, tell everyone else what you told me, you know, of the boy in your room last night" snickering.
Clare raised her eyebrows, "There was a boy in your room?"
Beatrice chuckled, "Details please".
Marissa nodded, chuckling,"Alright, alright, I will tell. His name was Peter Pan, and, as crazy as this sounds, he can fly". Sighing, doing her best to read their expressions.
Lucy and Clare shook their heads, and Beatrice's eyes lit up, "Really? What was it like?" She asked, leaning closer.
"Picture a bird, but without the wings. Really, it was more of a glide".
"How is this possible?" Claire asked, disbelief written all over her face.
"I don't know, but I know what I saw, and he was flying, he said so himself", Marissa huffed.
Lucy nodded, "I don't know that flying is possible, but I know you saw something. Tell us if you see it again".
Marissa sat for a moment, staring off at the wall, "I'm not sure I'll get the chance. I don't know if he will com back, but if he does, I'm going with him".
They all gasped, Claire staring at her as she shouted, "Shut up!" Out of shock, "What are you doing? You don't even know him?".
"I know that I want to be happy!" She stated, loudly, "Besides, I have heard of Peter Pan before; He comes from Neverland, where you will never grow up as long as you stay there. That's where I want to be".
"No!" Lucy shouted.
"Yes!" Screamed Claire.
"Take me with you!" Beatrice pleaded, standing up on her knees, her hands folded together, the other girls looking at her strangely, "Oh what? You mean to tell me you have never wanted to run away from home before?".
They nodded at each-other, "Okay, you have a point, but still. Neverland isn't real".
Marissa crossed her arms, "Fine, believe what you will, but when I go to Neverland..." sounding as though she is about to tell her off, "You're still invited Lucy", she said, features softening, "You'll always be a best friend of mine" reaching a hand out, to take Lucy's, looking around," You all are my best friends, I don't know what I would do without you" embracing each other.
Lucy, Clare, and Beatrice, all in unison, sighed, "You too" pulling a bit from the hug, "And I'm sorry for doubting you. I'm sure if you saw something, you saw it" Lucy apologized.
A smile spread wider across the corners of her face, " Lucy, I don't blame you for being at least a little doubtful. After all, it all does sound a bit far fetched, but it really did happen ".
"I have faith in you Marissa" Lucy said, though not fully believing her ears, doing her best to show support.
For the rest of their time together they had their fill of fun, laughing, enjoying their lunch, which they called tea, and dancing in the woods. Though not confident in how their parents would react, they now had the courage to face it.
As they walked home, it felt a little as though they were soldiers, marching to war. Once they arrived back in the middle of town, they agreed to part ways for the rest of their soldier march, hugging each-other just a little bit tighter this time, before individually walking towards their houses.
Footsteps were particularly heavy for Marissa on this day, with her thick boots lightly tapping against the road. As she stared up at the sky, her house in view, she quietly whispered, "Please come for me Peter", stopping in her footsteps, staring at the house.
