Chapter 3: Learning Very Slowly

Waking up that morning, I had thought I was back in my old stiff mattress and was afraid to move for fear of my back hurting. After a few moments, I realized the mattress I lay upon was softer than my own. Or was it my own? Having not yet opened my eyes, I did so. As my eyes adjusted to the light that came in through a large window I didn't remember being in my room, I found myself staring at a white ceiling. Which was odd because my room had tan walls and a crusty ceiling...

Oh, right.

Realization hit me as the events of yesterday passed through my mind. I wasn't in my room. Well, wasn't in my old room. This is my room now. It will take a while to get used to a… better yet worse life. I was still determined to hate this place and last night had proved the fact that I should hate this place. The only place filled with light I saw last night was this house and the people here, and that was suspicious. Barnes was also included in the light data, but it still didn't make much of a difference. I was glad that I had met good people rather than the bad kind, but I was still skeptical. No place should be surrounded by this much dark, after dark. So much so that even the dark loving dead couldn't stand to be near.

Sitting up on my plush bed, I took a look around my room, drinking in all of the details and flaws it had. The walls were a very pale blue and the morning sun shone through my large, orange-slice-like window. It was divided into four slices all meeting at a circle in the middle. Plaster covered up a few holes that I assumed were made by thumbtacks. Even the door had few chips and worn out spots on the wood. The dresser and wardrobe were the nicer pieces in the room, but nevertheless, they also had a few wear spots and chips in their lacer. Inhaling, the only sent to pass my nose was the paper and paints coming from the dresser drawers.

Without a word, I kicked off the covers. I grunted a bit as I pried open the dusty wardrobe, putting on a skirt and one of the four button ups I had brought with me. I slipped on a pair of nylons and slid into my nicer pair of boots. Closing the wardrobe, I looked into the mirror. I hadn't seen a better day. I sighed aloud and hung my head.

It would be very hard to hate this place considering how nice it actually was.

With a frown, I sat back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of the house. Popping and fizzing could be heard from the other side of the room. After a few seconds, a groan followed the nasty gurgling sounds. I didn't look around, those noises were so familiar that I didn't need to look. I studied the light fixture above me as the Skull began to talk.

"Well, it's not the Buckingham Palace, but it's sure as hell better than the closet you were living in before." I smiled, but my eyes never left the round light.

"My old flat wasn't that bad." If I could have seen its face, I would have seen the look of pure disgust.

"It had mold and water stains everywhere, the bed was almost made of bricks, the floors creaked constantly, and it smelled of vomit. This is paradise." I sighed, pulling out a hairbrush from my suitcase I didn't remember packing. I stare at the object for a few seconds, wondering. This was my sister's. My elder sister Molly must have packed in my bag when she had loaded the suitcase. I mentally thanked her as I began to brush my mop of hair.

Out of the six sisters I had, Molly was the only one who didn't like the idea of sending me off. But she did, in the end. I couldn't blame her entirely and I was rather harsh when I left. I had gotten into a row with her two weeks before, accusing her of starting this whole mess. But I knew she wasn't to blame. I knew it wasn't her fault she let it slip one night in front of my legal guardian on accident. I made a mental note to at least try to make amends with her.

"I know…" My voice trailed off at the end as I thought of how I was supposed to feel about this place. Nothing about this place felt safe, except this house. I frowned, "but something is weird here, the houses and the castle… they don't seem… right. It's as if there is some kind of malicious intend coming off of every building. The only exception is this one."

The skull looked at me, raising an ectoplasmic eyebrow at me. "Lucy, there may not be malice in this building, but you're not entirely safe here, either. There is an old sadness in these walls and a growing distrust. I wouldn't be surprised if they kicked you out." I knew he was right and nodded my head.

"I'll keep alert, you can be sure of that. There is no way I am letting my guard down." I opened the door as I spoke, about to let myself out of the room.

"You're leaving me here?!" The skull cried out from its spot on the dresser. I stopped in the doorway "At least put me by the window!" I sighed once but complied with its wish. I was leaving him up here alone, after all, least I could do was provide some type of entertainment. I told it to be good as I closed the door and hurried downstairs. I stopped, however, on the second landing.

I don't know why I stopped, but my eyes immediately locked with the first wooden door in the hall. What was it about that hall that made me want to see what was inside? What could that door possible hold that was so important that it needs a room that no one was to go into? Or at least, something about it seemed… important. I sighed, even if I didn't know, I wasn't going to ask. I was told not to go near it, and that's what I was not going to do.

For now, at least.

I continued downstairs, a few of the floorboards creaking under my weight. I hopped over the last step, making sure not to step on it. I had done this ever since my 'sixth sense' was heightened. I smiled for a second, remembering something Molly had said once. Lost in thought, I failed to notice George in his grey skivvies. I am thankful I didn't, but in the process, I had also failed to notice a piece of equipment sticking out of a coat hanger. I didn't feel it at first, but I certainly felt the blood trickling down the side of my cheek. I gingerly touched my hand to my cheek.

"Oh great," I mumbled to myself. I hated getting cuts for one reason. Looking around, I saw a small mirror on the wall near the kitchen. Examining myself, I sighed, thankful that no one had seen that. It wasn't big, almost paper cut to size. I gingerly wiped the small bit of blood with my thumb and wiped that onto my skirt. Taking a deep breath and pivoting on my right heel, I led with my left into the kitchen. I felt that breath immediately hitch upon entering the room.

It had to have been 12 O'clock, but there was Lockwood in white pajamas with vertical blue stripes. Least I thought that's what his name was. The pajamas weren't very tight, but they didn't leave anything to the imagination either. His hair was messy from his slumber as he slumped back in a rather comfy looking armchair. He was reading a newspaper. How he got it considering how secluded this place was, or where he got it, was beyond my train of thought at the moment. I let my breath go, catching his attention with my not-so-subtle release of air. In milliseconds my prior discomfort was washed away with the tide of light that came from his smile alone.

"Ah, Miss Carlyle! You're awake, your breakfast is on the stove. George cooked, so I think you'll find the food pleasing rather than if I cooked." I gave him a smaller version of my trademark Carlyle Grin.

"I'll keep that in mind whenever you cook then, Mr. Lockwood." I turned to the rickety stove, tugging on the handle to open the door. I felt a small shiver run along my neck. My hand stopped midway before I shook my head and grabbed the oven handle. I took out the plate of lukewarm food, my thoughts swarming inside my mind as I went toward the chair opposite of him. That usually only happened when an apparition was extremely near, almost touching me. Suddenly, I realized Lockwood was talking to me.

"Please, Anthony or Lockwood will do." His charming demeanor was hard to look past even when the scent of food tempted my nose. I had been raised to call people by their last names until told otherwise, so I suppose this was being told otherwise, in my case.

"Alright, I'll keep that in mind, Lockwood" I stressed his name as I sat down to eat, a smirk growing on my lips. I had many questions to ask. The first being what and where the hell was I. My smile began to dissipate within the first few bites. I had to admit, although I was eating slowly, the food was some of the best I had ever had aside from my own cooking. Yes, for all the doubters, I could cook pretty well. I didn't do it often, but I could. Each bite was mouthwatering despite the face I was putting on.

"So Lockwood-"He held up a hand, his eyes not straying from his paper.

"Please, questions after food. Hungry and distracted people tend to repeat questions that have already been answered." I wasn't startled by his statement, but I gave him a quizzical look before I turned back to my food. We sat in silence for a few moments, his eyes flitted across the headers while mine lay on the disappearing food on my plate. It felt normal despite the fact this was my first, and probably not the last, meal I would eat in this house. I was comfortable eating in front of Lockwood. It was odd since the only other person I had eaten around was Mary. I felt I exposed myself to much the more people saw me with my guard down.

Suddenly, the quiet was broken with a tsk of Lockwood's tongue. I hadn't expected the sound, but instead of acting startled, I gripped my fork tightly. I glanced up at the boy who was shaking his head.

"59 dead in America, a mass shooting during a concert. The shooter must not have been a country fan. Ah! and Tom Petty was one of the victims. It's a shame, I rather enjoyed a few of his songs." I hadn't heard anything about a shooting, so it must have been recent. Although, I was confused on one thing in his statements.

"Who is Tom Petty?" Immediately I was met with an incredulous look from the brunette. His eyebrows creased inwards and his eyes bugged out of their sockets.

"You've never heard of Tom Petty? Free Fallin', I Won't Back Down, You Don't Know How it Feels? Anything?" With each question, his newspaper began to get closer and closer to a close. It was starting to ring a bell with me, but I wasn't one for country music. The closest to country music I ever got to listen to on my own was Simon and Garfunkle. Sometimes I listened to it with Mary on the Radio, just for kicks. A few songs I liked, but eventually they all started sounding alike and slurred together. So I listened less and less to the radio with Mary. It pained me to think of these memories, so I quickly pushed them away. BTimes like that will always be where I leave them.

In the past.

However, even though I was understanding what he was saying and had heard of the singer prior to this, I decided that it would be best if he didn't know my music obsession. Least not yet. With a mouthful of food, I shook my head no. His disbelief shown on his face like an owl staring at prey with its large round eyes. I watched as he stared at me, turned away for a second and stared back. He did this a couple of times before he began his musical knowledge attack.

"What about Marina and the Diamonds?"

I shook my head. With each name, he slowly rose from his chair and began pacing. George came in halfway through, his clothes on (not that I noticed in the first place) and crumpled shirt untucked. He really did remind me of a pig in a pig pen. All he was missing was the curly tail. Unless you counted his uncombed mop of hair, then he had plenty tails. He watched us as Lockwood and I went back and forth.

"The Beatles."

"Nope."

"Stevie Nicks?"

"Nada"

"Bastille?"

"Nien"

"Whitney Houston?"

"Niet"

"Elton John? Surely, you've heard of him?" Again, I shook my head no. George shook his head in disbelief. Truth be told, I had heard every single name given and had a few songs stored on my iPod of each singer. My music tastes were very extensive and again, I'd rather they not know about that. Least not until I got to know them better. Surely small lies were okay till then. Yet, I couldn't shake the comfortable feeling that this moment brought me at that moment in time. Yes, I didn't smile throughout his interrogating and yes I was still eating, trying not to spit my food out with every veto. But at the same time, I was rather enjoying our conversation.

"Have you been living under a rock your entire life?" I answered that in my head rather vulgarly but kept it to myself. Instead, I shrugged.

"I never really liked music that much." Now that, ladies and Gentlemen, was a full out lie. Though, it's not like they noticed it. They didn't know me. Finishing the last of my plate, I set it aside. George, almost hawk-like, swooped on the plate and took it to the sink. I almost flinched away due to the suddenness of the action but I managed to remain my cool self. "Now, my questions-"

"Ah, yes, yes, yes. But first, what about Simon and Garfunkle?" Lockwood sat back in his chair, folding his hands. We were facing one another and it was hard not to show how much it was killing me to lie about one of the things I loved. He got me there. But I didn't have to respond. George sat on the end of the table, saying his piece.

"If she didn't know the others, then do you think she knows who Simon and Garfunkle are?"

"Well, I can at least ask, now can't I?"

"I don't know, can you?" And just like that, George and Lockwood went at it. It wasn't a row, but it certainly wasn't a conversation. I sat there. listening to their voices. They resonated deep with me. Like a small, comforting hum of a heater or a vibrating pillow at night. Something that didn't obscure the silence but was still there, drumming along to its own special beat. It felt normal. It felt right.

And it was starting to scare me.

I didn't know when they stopped to look at me, but my thoughts were interrupted by a question I didn't know.

"What do you think Lucy?" I blinked at Lockwood, who had asked the question, I hadn't followed the conversation so I didn't know what topic they were on. I couldn't wait too long before answering or else I would seem deaf or slow. Thinking quickly and staying on the task of answering a foreign, non-specific, no-background-question, I went ahead and said the safest answer.

"What do you think?" well, I hadn't meant for it to become a question, but it did. Lockwood blinked as well, and George just snickered. I didn't like his tone. I didn't like his face. George Cubbins was just looking for a wailing.

"Do you have a problem?" I crossed my arms and leaned back in my chair. His glossy glasses turned in my direction. If George was amused, he sure as hell wasn't showing it and it didn't look like he was going to. His reply was short and bland.

"Yes, with your face." Again, his nonchalant and uncaring voice irritated me. My eyebrow twitched and I began to wonder how I was going to live with this oaf under the same roof. I rose from my chair, brushing whatever dust lay on my skirt.

"If you wanna go we can." George pushed his glasses up. He crossed his arms as well, mirroring me in his chair.

"Go where? Disneyland?" I was about to take a step toward him, but I was stopped by Lockwood's hand gestures and calm voice.

"Alright, alright. Let's not get carried away. We are civilized, not ruffians." I scoffed and nodded my head toward George as I spoke.

"He seems like one to me." This earned me a throat clearing from Lockwood, though I could see through his fake serious posture and expression.

"You said you had questions?" Lockwood asked, trying to derail our conversation instead of leading it further into disaster. I tried not to be sassy or snarky, so I decided to be myself. Which was the worst idea I could have picked out, out of the dozen of other choices I had swirling around the pools of my brain.

"You assumed I had questions."

My mind was hanging itself the very moment after I said it. I forgot that the real me was brash and sarcastic. My face was one of boredom, but inside I was a ticking time bomb. George didn't seem like he cared about whether or not I had questions at all. However, instead of taking it like every other person I had ever met, Lockwood responded with a bright smile.

"Well you do, don't you? So ask away." It took me a bit to process the fact that he had been nice about my response to his question. Yet the shock ebbed away as quickly as it came and I suddenly remembered my questions.

"So when does school start?" There was a pause, both boys looking at the other, talking with there eyes. After a few seconds, Lockwood answered me.

"In more or less five or six more weeks. Two months at the most." I sighed. I hadn't expected the wait to be so long. A week at the most, but two months? It would be the start of winter by the time school started. I was starting to question my bloodline and what they put me into.

"There isn't a set date?" George shook his head, suddenly interested in our conversation.

"Nope. Not unless you're a higher-up." My eyebrows slanted in confusion. Why do only higher-ups get to know? Did they have special power over us? Who even where the higher-ups?

"Then how do we know when we get to leave?" I was met with pained looks and worried stares. The once lively room seemed to flatten and still with my question. My gaze flitted from one boy to the next while they glanced from one another, then back to me, only to repeat the process. They did this several times. I grew ever more worried as time passed the three of us by in a tense silence. After what seemed like ages to my frantic mind, the brunette spoke out. I could tell he was trying to choose his words very carefully. Why he was doing so, I had yet to learn.

"Lucy... How much do you... know about this school, exactly?" I didn't know much, that was true. I had been pressed on and on about looking the place up by Mary, but I had ignored her. I remember her exact words the last time she tried to get me to find out information. Little Sister, I'm afraid that time is running out for you to stay in your little play pretend world. Play pretend world. I wondered what she meant by that. Maybe she was mentioning my talking to things she couldn't see. Maybe it was the fact I looked after myself, the dead, and the things I held dear (which weren't a lot, mind you). I didn't know. And the same went for what I knew about the school. I knew no more than what I was told. To me, it was a boarding school for special kids.

"Next to nothing. Why?" My question was hesitant, but I managed to get it out. Lockwood's face didn't seem all too jolly like it had not even ten minutes ago. Even George had a more serious expression than normal.

"I... I don't know how to put this..." My breathing was slow, yet my heartbeat was racing. That tone. I hated that tone. It was the tone that told me my dog died. It was that tone that Mary had whenever she broke bad news. The same one she used to explain try to explain the schooling situation two weeks ago. At that moment, I wished I had listened to Mary about what I was going into. Now I was here. Now there was this nervous, strained, and pained tone in Lockwood's voice. My head was beginning to hurt and my stomach began to bubble. I felt the need to barf slink its way up my throat.

"This... This is home."

A/N: I am soooo Sorry about the wait! A thousand apologies and I mean every one of them. I could give you all dozens of excuses but alas, I am not going to bother anyone with those. I thought about bringing in recent events into the story, just to see how each character would react to the situations. I am not going to get into politics, but the weather and a few collateral events will be a factor I will add in. I am going to base the story in our time just to save some research, but no doubt I am going to have to keep up with happenings in the U.K. And I am still up for any song suggestions or requests!

I have decided also to post a weekly update on my profile page, just to keep everyone updated and to let everyone know where their favorited story is at while In-progress. Finished stories may or may not get added chapters due to popularity or an extream amount of views/reviews.

I am going to finish writing the Halloween bit that I am making for the Company. It's not going to be too Locklyle heavy, but It will have Locklyle and Flubbins, for sure. It'll be set after TEG and Despite my early release on it, will be during Halloween. So if you wanna read it, check the date on my Profile and I'll have it in by then!

And now, a small tidbit of what is to come...

Every store seemed to be Jampacked with different designs. Afterall, It was the first Halloween since the Problem had ended and the Curfew was lifted. The colors and the Gore seemed to be marketed on every window front, doorway, and even some of the buildings themselves were decorated for the festivities. To me, it seemed like all of London was out celebrating. As I walked down the streets of Central London with the gang, I couldn't help but be fascinated by the spirit in every single person roaming the streets. Everything was so lively, everyone so kind, it seemed to me that if anything were to go wrong, it wouldn't be enough to break these peoples' bright smiles. Even Kipps was wearing a smile of his own.

Granted it looked more like a small snarl than a large smile, but he was trying.

Holly squealed with delight and ripped my arm away from Lockwood's. "Lucy! Look over there!" and just like that, I was being dragged through central London. All the colors blinding me and blurring into one big mess. I would have thrown up if I wasn't laughing and trying to run at her pace.

"Lucy! Look over there!" and just like that, I was being dragged through central London. All the colors blinding me and blurring into one big mess. I would have thrown up if I wasn't laughing and trying to run at her pace. She stopped abruptly, letting me catch my barrings before stepping into a rather dull shop that didn't look like it received many customers.

Shout outs to people who Reviewed the last chapter!: Ligersrcool, Demonsarelife, Kooot, and BookProtector!

Ligers: Thank you for the input, I will be sure to try and fix the spacing as I go along.

Demonsarelife: I totally agree. I am making it so Lucy likes most Genres, but I won't make her an angsty teen either. I am definitely gonna add some older music to the tastes of this country bumkin

BookProtector: Thank you so much! I tried to get the house detailing as close as I could without copying to what I re-re-re-read in the first book. And thank you for the song! I have listened to it over and over and I think it is a really good fit for Lucy.

Thank You so Much for Reading and Stay Tuned!

~Pheonix