god this rewrite is tedious
Arc I, The Heart of Cresselia
Chapter Four:
The Place Not Called Home
Sophie's fingers clutched the cold railing, her heart beating so loud that she thought she might have heard it echo in the staircase. After facing the humidity and heat since that morning, the air conditioning was both welcoming and ominous. She could hear her aunt yelling, even from the floor below, over the sound of the fan.
"Evening, Sophie," said her upstairs neighbor. He was headed downstairs with a raincoat and an umbrella in hand.
"Hi, Richard," she replied, a little breathlessly. She had been absorbed by her thoughts. "Why do you have an umbrella? There wasn't a cloud in the sky when I was walking home."
"Oh no, it's definitely going to rain," he said. "My Castform has been changing forms all day, simply going nuts. She looks excited. She doesn't get that worked up unless we're in for a torrential downpour." He tapped the brim of his hat. "Just be careful if you go outside tonight."
Sophie nodded slowly, feeling like this surreal conversation, unlike most of the other small talk that she and Richard shared, was part of a dream. She watched him walk down the rest of the staircase, listened to the echo of his boots on the steps until she heard the doors slam shut.
Her mouth felt dry. She mustered the courage to walk to her front door, as she had for years.
But it never got any easier.
She closed the door as quietly as she could and tiptoed through the halls. The house was impeccably clean, but there was a bitter stench in the air, and the television, as usual, was much too loud with the sounds of a random game show. The family Meowth was lounging on a shelf, his tail hanging lazily over the edge as he slept in the late afternoon sun. He gave half of a "Mraow" in greeting.
If she could make it to her room unnoticed, then she could possibly have the rest of the evening for herself. She had spent nearly an hour furiously jotting notes in her agenda. Ask if the scholarships would cover her travel expenses to Kalos. Buy the plane ticket. Speak with a lawyer. Turn eighteen. Turn eighteen. Turn eighteen. Hundreds of things to do, and little power to do them.
Legal adulthood couldn't come soon enough. She had beat the walls of her bedroom late at night, angrily wondering why children could travel the world with their Pokémon and she wasn't even old enough to lawfully obtain her parent's inheritance money. All because of —
"Sophie," came her aunt's strident voice from the kitchen. "I saw you walk in. Come here, please."
Sophie internally groaned. Ben and Marney had invited her to ice cream before the football game tonight, but she had hoped to nap before leaving. All attempts to cover her tracks forgotten, she tossed her backpack into her room and went to the living room, seeking her aunt.
Her aunt was sitting at the kitchen table, a cloud of obsidian smoke floating around her face. Her frail arms held a magazine that looked bleached and ripped at the corners. "Why are you home so late?" she asked, flipping a page.
Sophie's neck tensed. "I went to Literature Club," she said. "We read Dickinson in groups today."
There is another sky...
"Which club is that?"
Ever serene and fair...
"The one where we read books and poetry," said Sophie stiffly, "and we talk about what we've learned."
And there is another sunshine...
"Hmm."
Though it be darkness there.
Sophie tried to pretend that her legs were made of stone, and that they were permanently planted into the ground. Imagining that her heart was hard as marble was the only thing that carried her through these after-school conversations. Her aunt cared little for her academics or extracurricular activities. Plus, she smelled awful. But stone never breathed — it never needed to. Sophie had to tell herself that, as ridiculous and childish as it sounded.
She stood there, aching inside. "Can I go to my room?"
"Where's the money?"
Sophie braced herself further. "What money?"
"I know that you went to Marney's last night to make those brownies," said her aunt, who finally looked up from the magazine. She gave the paper a loud shake. "That was for some fundraiser, wasn't it? How much did you make?"
Sinking into the depths of the ocean would have felt better than this. Sophie felt a familiar fever behind her eyes, an unrelenting heat. But as she had done hundreds of times before, she planted those legs and became a statue. A dead-eyed, concrete statue.
"Six-hundred dollars," she muttered, remembering how Ben — her wonderfully innocent boyfriend, Ben — had bet the entire courtyard that he would dye his hair blue. And knowing him, he probably would. Her lip quivered. "I won't give you the money. We were going to donate it to the Lilycove Botanical Gardens."
Her aunt narrowed her eyes. "You mean you've got six-hundred dollars in your pocket and it's not in my possession."
Not entirely correct, thought Sophie, her face warming up. She felt mad. Horribly and irreversibly mad. The school will catch me embezzling. They'll catch me, and they'll know I've been doing this for months. I'll be expelled, and I'll never leave Hoenn. I'll never get to Kalos.
"I'm not going to give it to you," she repeated, firmer that time. Her heart hatefully beating, she dared to venture further. "I don't need my parents' inheritance for university anymore. I received scholarships. And as soon as I graduate, I'm leaving. So I won't be giving you money anymore."
Her aunt considered these words with an ugly sneer. She stood up, her chair screeching on the cheap hardwood floors, and made her way to Sophie, who she then mercilessly slapped across the face. Sophie bit her lip, tears freely running. Through her blurred vision, she looked outside and saw the Taillows in the garden. They sung and flapped their wings.
There is another sky...
"You won't?" her aunt asked. Then she slapped Sophie again. "What about now?"
Ever serene and fair...
Sophie trembled. "I—"
And there is another sunshine…
SLAP.
Though it be darkness there.
She suppressed her cries, wondering if she could ever be smacked so fiercely that her eyes could be dislodged and roll from her head. "I don't have it either way," she whispered, wondering even more passionately if her aunt's eyes could be removed by force. "I left it at the school in the student council lockbox."
"Then you will go get it," said her aunt, enunciating each word. She took a tremendous inhale of her half-burnt cigarette, her expression unchanging. "Leave. Now."
Sophie remained a fallow shell. Then she clenched her fists, and miserably shuffled to the door.
She reached out for an umbrella, hazily recalling Richard's warning. But for some reason unknown to her, she withdrew her hand and left it.
If the rains were to come, she would welcome them.
End of Chapter Four