Chapter 7
Calen and I used to be friends back when we were younger. We weren't thick as thieves or anything, but we would hang out together during outside play at school. It was not until around age 10 that we started growing apart. Calen went through puberty at a much faster pace than I did, growing quickly into a handsome boy, one noticed by all. Girls began stealing him away from me at play time, and we spent less and less in each other's company. Of course, being the baker's son, Calen was easily the healthiest boy in my year. Hauling flour sacks every day strengthened and toned his muscles, adding to his list of desirable traits. Naturally, every female's parents had their eyes on him for their daughter. Soon, at all hours of the school day, and sometimes afterwards too, Calen found himself in the company of other merchant girls that were more attractive and not as rough around the edges as myself.
So, my circle of friends was forced to change. My personality grew more blatantly sarcastic, and I found that I fit in better with children who did not directly live in town. Genever, who came from a family not merchant, but not Seam, quickly became my best friend. I haven't spoken to other merchant girls in my year since Genever and I became friends. The things they usually talk about, like boys, hairstyles, and town gossip, completely bore me to tears. And since those are the girls Calen surrounds himself with… honestly, I think this may be the first time he's spoken directly to me in two or three years.
Standing behind Calen is Clara Tenderling, the daughter of the town apothecary and healer. I guess she must be the other part to Calen's "we". The two sit down beside me, placing their dishes on the table. They look at me expectantly, awaiting an answer to the question I have already forgotten.
"I'm sorry, what did you ask? I was lost in thought."
"How do you like the party so far? Nice little soiree, don't you think?"
I can't tell if he's joking around or not. The party is a complete snooze-fest. Before I'm aware of the quizzical look on my face or the awkwardly long amount of time I'm taking to answer, Calen jumps in again.
"Not enjoying it, then. Alright."
He looks down at his plate, piled high with the delectable meal, his nostrils moving as he takes in the aroma of the fare.
"Well, the food looks marvelous. I don't think there's ever been a time that I've been able to eat something quite as fantastic. I hope it tastes as good as it smells."
We sit in silence, savoring our dinner, until more people begin to arrive at the table. The butcher and his wife sit across from us. At first, I think they might actually be plotting to ruin my night with their sappy glee. But instead of resuming the excessive flirting, they strike up a conversation with Calen and Clara.
"So, Calen. How have you been, son?"
"Good, Mr. Marxwright. And Mrs. Marxwright." He nods in the direction of the butcher's wife and she gives a coy smile. I'm so caught up in the piece of meat stuck in her teeth that I nearly miss Calen's next words.
"You both remember my girlfriend, Clara?"
"Ah yes, of course, Mr. Tenderling's daughter. How are you dear?"
Calen is dating Clara. Exclusively, too. Well, I can't say it surprises me, but it does stir up a little emotion. She's nice and all, and an expert healer from what I can tell of the conversation going on next to me, but she's just not who I expected for Calen. I always thought he would go for someone a little smarter. Someone less vain.
The pitter-patter between the two couples goes on for the rest of the night. They speak of the weather and business and who in District Twelve is likely to get married next. It's times like these that I'm glad a future life with Markas means I won't have to deal with idiotic things like this. Dinner parties and shallow girls.
When my parents find me at the end of the night, I'm huddled in an armchair a few feet away from the table where my dinner company still sits, trying to lose myself in thought as Calen's fingers draw swirly patterns on Clara's palm.
"Lynnetta, my darling angel. It's time to go home. Why don't you go say goodbye to your little friends and we'll find your coat," my father suggests sweetly. It seems he's had a little too much white wine this evening.
"They're hardly my friends, papa."
I pull myself out of the chair and briskly walk over to the coat racks in the hall.
"Lynnetta, don't you think you should say goodbye to Calen? He truly is such a delightful young man," my mother sternly suggests, as she plucks my jacket from the rack and hands it to me, giving me a sharp look in the process for good measure.
"And handsome, too. Strong. The kind of strong you want for your grandchildren," my father adds dreamily.
So they've been pulled into Calen's charm, just like the other parents. Great. One more thing to worry about. Absolutely lovely.
Still, I take a deep breath to calm myself, and then walk over to the table where the two couples are still engaged in a light discussion. I smile as as sweetly as I can.
"It was great to see everyone. Get home safely. Goodnight."
They all wave politely and wish me safety as well. With that finished, I skirt away and out of the door, pausing only a moment on the porch for my parents to catch up with me.
In the middle of the night I awake abruptly, covered in sweat. My eyes are puffy from tears, wait, no, my whole face feels puffy actually. I force myself to remember the last few moments of my unconsciousness. I've been jolted from a nightmare where I'm running through the Seam, away from something chasing me. It's dark, with a mist that creeps over the worn dirt path, and everywhere I turn leads to a dead end. My feet slap across the cold, damp ground. Crawling out of the small houses around me are corpses coming to life, black from coal and wet with blood. Some of them cough, spewing blood from their mouths, and as I run, I look down to see my nightgown speckled with little red flecks. But the corpses are not what I am running from. They just keep getting in my way, and redirecting my path. The twists and turns seem never ending, and I can't run fast enough. The thing chasing me is coming. Finally, I find myself at the center of the town square. The moonlight illuminates a shadowing figure to my left, and another to my right. One of them is my father. The other is Markas. They had both been chasing me, but which one was I running from?