Disclaimer: Tuck Everlasting belongs to the wonderful Mrs. Natalie Babbitt. I own nothing except for the plotline, and a few new names I've created to make it a bit more interesting. I use this story to make no profit. All characters belong, unfortunately, to Natalie Babbitt.
I do not own, nor does "Everlasting" belong to me. Soundtrack by Boa. The song merely served as my muse for inspiration. No copyright infringement intended.
I
Every afternoon, after my studies had ended for the day, I was chauffered through our small, deciduous town of Treegap. Ballet practice at three, piano at four, horse back riding at five, indoor swimming at six, and no later than seven, a masqued dinner banquet with the Fosters, my family. Masqued, because we all had pretending-to-be-happier-than-we-actually-were, down to an art.
"How was piano, dear?" My mother dabbed at the corners of her thin lips, elegantly folding the velvet cloth back into her lap.
'Try, excruciatingly dull.'
"Fine," I said instead, plastering on the most genuine smile I could muster. "I practiced Beethoven a bit more today, and a little more of Mozart's Moonlight Sonata."
"That's wonderful, dear." My mother replied with convincing, fake enthusiasm, and returned stirring her broth in small, slow, steady circles. "Isn't that wonderful, darling?" She set her eyes on my father. Expectant.
"Oh?" He peered over his amber-toned brandy, uninterested.
"Winifred," My mother began, her paitence wavering. "Her piano lessons are coming along wonderfully. Isn't that great darling?"
"Oh. Yes, wonderful indeed." He said, taking a few more sips of brandy and returning to his meal. "I expect nothing less from our Winifred." He finished, and after a long silent pause, that had been that.
XXXXX
After dinner, complaining that I had had a terrible headache, which wasn't entirely false, I escaped into the privacy, or as private as it would get, into the closed quarters of my bedroom. I threw myself down, clawing at whatever was in reach.
Ripping my quilts, pillows, and sheets from their bed, I sank to the floor, exhausted, once more. I pulled my hair up between my fingers. I wanted to scream. I hated them. I hated them so much. I hated my father for pulling away when she was reaching for his hand. For meeting his secretary after hours, not bothering to hide the foreign scent of perfume or cheap lipstick. I hated my mother for her long, private excursions with my swimming coach. I hated them both. I hated it all.
"Miss Foster?" A bar of golden light escaped into the shadows of my room, and a slim silhouette rushed frantically into the darkness, falling to my side.
"Miss Foster, are you well?" She pulled at my arms, still weak from pulling at my quilts and sheets, then said, "What happened? Do you need me to call for the Doctor?"
"No. I'm fine." I said finally. She hesitated, most likely contemplating whether or not to run for my parents.
"I'll help myself." I said, pulling myself to my feet, trudging to the vanity. She flicked the lights on, and I sat there too stunned to speak. My cheeks were flushed bright red, my eyes were wet with tears that I hadn't even realized I'd been crying, and my hair was knotted and tangled.
"Your grandmother explained that you weren't feeling too well. I brought you a cool glass of water, and some medicine for your head." She set the glass, and powdery white pills to my side.
"Thank you." I murmured. I was embarrassed to say the least. I imagined I looked quite silly to her; a small child who had just thrown a severe tantrum.
"Here," She said, lifting my silver hairbrush into her hands, "Let me fix your hair for you." My back straightened, and she pulled the brush through, gently lifting and parting my hair until it was smooth again. She pulled a tissue from her vest and dabbed my eyes dry. I was beginning to feel a bit relieved when I heard thunder rattle the sky.
"Is there going to be a storm tonight?" I asked not remembering any gray skies on my way home from swim practice. She turned to lift the blankets and pillows from the floor.
"No storm, Miss Foster. Just the fireworks, I presume."
"Fireworks?"
"There's a carnival in town for the weekend. Tonight's the last night, didn't you know?"
"I didn't." I said quietly, and I raced to the balcony door to see for myself. The ferris wheel was turning on the horizon, and a few other bright-lit rides ran through the darkness aswell. I imagined the sweet taste of cotton candy, and warm, fluffy, buttery popcorn in my mouth. I'd never been allowed to have either, and so I knew I would never be permitted to go. None of the renowned, prestigous families in Treegap allowed their children to go, and that certainly included me.
"Don't forget your medicine, Miss Foster." The young maid was now to the door, her hand resting on its handle.
"Thank you," I said. "For the bed, I mean." She closed her eyes, feeling no need for explainations, and when she opened them she was smiling.
"I may be speaking out of line here, but some things are always destined to turn around." She bowed respectively and was gone. I sat on the side of my four-post, dangling my feet over the edge when another unexpected explosion rocked the night sky. It hit me then just how badly I wanted to go to that carnival: to taste the sweet cotton candy on my lips, to splurge on all the soda I could get my hands on, and to ride every ride until I was near, or completely sick. It hit me again. What was stopping me? Absolutely nothing. I'd had more than I could take, and it was my turn to live, to feel alive.
I rushed to my wardrobe. I would need something dark. Something I couldn't easily be spotted in. I didn't own much black. It wasn't lady like to own such a color, but I did still have the black, button up petticoat from my grandfather's funeral. I threw it on. I felt guilty using his death for such a measure, but I knew he'd understand more than anyone. I found an old, yet new pair of black skinny jeans in the far right end of the closet, and threw those on too. If I was going to do this, I was going to do this right. I fell to the bottom of the closet, and unlatched the wooden chest. It flung open, and as if it had been waiting for me, a black knitted cap laid ready at the top of my stored, yet empty, photo albums. I rolled my long, soft, wavy brown hair neatly into the back of the cap and relatched the chest.
I opened the door to my bedroom, and peered out. No one. Nobody was there. Nobody would be there. My Father would be meeting his latest skirt, and my Mother would be drinking her misery away down a long bottle neck. This was too easy. They wouldn't even miss me. I kicked myself for not thinking of this before. I slipped through the hallway, and down the staircase unnoticed. I just had to get through the foyer and to the door, and I would be free.
"What do you think you're doing!" I froze. My heart beat accelerated. How stupid was I to think I could get away with this? It was over. This little bird would be forever imprisoned, unable to spread her wings and fly from this small golden cage. Confined for eternity.
"I've told you once already! Mrs. Foster will not eat this! Add more lemon!" Just the kitchen. I exhaled, and quickly grabbed the handle to the front door. I stepped outside letting the chilly autumn air wash through me. I half expected the hounds to be released as soon as my foot had touched the front step. I listened closely. Nothing. This was it. I was free. I was finally flying.
XXXXX
The carnival was just as I had expected it to be, if not more. I kept my head down, but it didn't matter. Nobody seemed to look at me. They were all enjoying themselves too much to care that a Foster was here, that one of Treegap's founding Fosters had decided to join them. They just didn't care.
I rode the ferris wheel first, and then again, and again. I never wanted to get off. It was too beautiful to leave, and when it reached its highest peak, leaving behind the towns street lights and festival rides I thought for sure I could reach up and touch the stars.
I made a quick stop at the concession stand then. I wasn't sure what I should try first, so I bought one of everything. When I told the girl my order she tried to catch a closer look at my face, but I quickly slid the money across the counter, and she walked away to ready my order. Popcorn, cotton candy, chilli dogs, salty pretzles, and tons of soda. I could die happy.
I rode the zipper-dipper next. True to it's name it zipped me around in a small, closed compartment, and the ride dipped occassionally, until everything blurred together. I had never had such fun, but I couldn't see straight. It went around again. The lights blurred. The people blurred. Everything was out of focus. I thought I was going to be sick, and couldn't understand what had made me yern for this pain before. Luckily, the ride stopped then, and I stumbled off. I stumbled into something or someone, I wasn't too sure, but my nose hurt.
"Hey, you okay?" I turned blindly to the sound and nodded. It was a boy's voice. I pushed forward, and lost my footing. I braced myself for the ground. I'd never really fallen before, not even during horse back riding lessons. There had always been people and several trained staff to quickly catch me if I did. So I figured it wasn't all that bad. I might even tell Father to tell those people who ran around me with open arms, that they were no longer needed. It didn't hurt at all. It even smelled nice; soft soap and honeysuckle. Wait. What?
"Well, I'll be. Looks like I've caught myself a Foster."
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(A/N) Well...? lol. I know. I know, it's been a while that I've worked on anything other than my own personal projects. It's also my first Tuck Everlasting ficiton. I actually really like it, and I'm going to stay as true to the characters as possible. Thanks for reading, and try to review if you can! Until next time!