Chapter 6
The Midsummer Morning
The next week went by in a heated flurry of meetings, socializing, running, and other such exhausting activities.
Althea often spent time out in the mountains to practice on her beloved violin. It was, after all, the sole reason she came.
And so she sat on the midsummer morning, violin poised for a heated practice session, string gliding over string. She cringed. The produced sound failed to meet her expectations and, as a result, she plucked a yellow, dulled, eraser-less pencil from the wildflowers and hastily crossed out notes she'd written, inserting new ones.
She took the piece from the top. A series of light, high notes drifted through the air like a butterfly on a summer breeze. The melody lulled into melancholy tones, soft and sweet. As she drew the bowstring across slowly for the ending note, she sighed. Something was lacking.
Althea started at the sound of clapping. Claire sat a few feet away from her, a beaming grin upon her face. "Wow! You sure have gotten good, Alto!" Claire laughed.
"D-don't call me that," Althea grumbled, "And, uh, thanks!" A light blush dusted her pale cheeks as she smiled meekly.
Claire giggled, "But it's such a great nickname!" She lifted a wicker basket from behind her. "Oh, and, I brought lunch!" she exclaimed, grinning wider.
Althea laughed and shook her head. "It's only, like, ten o'clock, silly," she chided her gently. Her hands set about tucking the violin away in its case. The latches shut with a click, and she set her hands in her lap, tilting her head at her friend. She'd arranged to stay at the Inn, much to Claire's protest, in order for them both to have their own bed and living space. It'd definitely taken some getting used to, she recalled.
The boy with the UMA hat, Gray, also dwelled at the Inn. She was forced to deal with the loner once more, and their second meeting was probably less pleasant than the first.
• • •
"Hey, girl," Gray grumbled, tugging on the brim of his hat. He shuffled over to where Althea stood, wrestling with the lock on the Inn door.
"What?" she snapped, instantly regretting saying anything once she realized who it was. The stoic blacksmith's apprentice.
He grimaced. "Fine, stay locked out for all I care!" he barked, stomping to the stairs.
"Hey, wait," she called, "Don't you need to get into your room, too or something?" In her irritation, she gripped the key harder, hearing a loud snap! She froze. A stream of curses flitted through her head. No no no no no... Not now...
Her eyes slowly drifted down to the lock, looking cautiously at the thin metal object in her fist. Yup. The key's shaft was completely seperated from its tip, the latter still shoved in the keyhole. Who on earth made a key that fragile.
"You broke it, dummy," the Gray grumbled from behind.
She jumped back toward the door to see him standing over her. Did everyone in the village have a habit of appearing out of nowhere? Her face twisted into a confused frown, she looked him up and down before responding, "Well? Aren't you a blacksmith? Fix it." She stepped aside, holding out the key and jabbing a finger on her other hand at the lock.
His face darkened, then flushed a deep red. "Just because I'm a blacksmith doesn't mean I can fix everything! Why can't anyone understand that? I'm not like Grandpa, I can't just fix things, there's a reason I'm called an apprentice!" he ranted, more to the hallway than to Althea.
Said blonde stood, slightly dumbfounded by his behavior. "Um," she began, "I-I'm sorry, I... Wasn't implying anything of the sort." She huffed a sigh, eyes darting anxiously about the hall. Why did it have to be so difficult to talk to... An adult, no less?
"No, I'm sorry," he shook his head. He shuffled moodily to the door, gesturing for Althea to move out of the way.
She obliged. Althea held out the key shaft.
He roughly grasped it, then got on a knee to inspect the lock. The apprentice squinted at the broken metal shard. He stood up. "I don't know how to fix it," he grumbled.
"Ah, well, I suppose I could stay at Claire's for tonight," she shrugged, knowing Doug probably wouldn't mind. He'd know better than most in Mineral Town just how old everything was. Still, she hated having to bother Claire again.
"Hm," Gray grunted in reply. He began shuffling away, muttering something like, "Idiot."
• • •
Claire laughed, snapping her fingers in front of her friend's face.
Althea fell backwards in surprise. "Hey!" she protested, rolling back into a sitting position. She huffed.
Claire merely bubbled in laughter. "You're so fun to tease!" she exclaimed.
"I wonder how fun it'd be to swing my fist at your face," Althea replied, primly grabbing the basket.
The straw-haired girl chortled in a lighthearted fashion, then reached her arms up in a stretch. She fell back as an exhale puffed from her chest.
"So, uh... If you don't mind my asking, are you interested in any of the young men here?" Althea inquired. Rooting around in the basket, she found nothing appetizing, so she set it aside.
Claire gave a heaving sigh. "Nah," she replied.
A breeze rolled by, tousling the blonde hair of both girls and tossing around plucked flowers. "Really?" she pushed her inquiry firther.
"Really..." Claire groaned, rolling onto her stomach and poking at the moondrops before her.
"I'd be lying if I said I believed you," Althea chuckled softly, gathering toy herbs with the goal of making a toy chain.
"Fine," she spat, "I kind of like Gray." She furrowed her brow and shoved her pink lips into a pout.
Althea frowned at the sentiment. "But he hates everything," she stated dryly, nimbly fashioning a flower chain between her fingers.
"Hey, he's only like that at first," she piped. The girl plucked a dandelion from the tall grass and examined it. "He's actually really nice and sweet on the inside," she murmured.
Althea couldn't help the soft smile on her rosebud lips. "You two sound like you're a match made in Heaven, now that I think about it," she sighed, "I definitely see it now." She swiftly looped the last Toy Herb into the first.
"Yeah," Claire sighed happily. She propped her head up on a calloused fist. A sly smile worked its way onto her face. "What about you?" she chirped.
Althea knew the way the conversation was headed, and she didn't like it. "What do you mean?" she countered, feigning at cluelessness.
"Silly, you know exactly what I mean! In all your travels, have you ever, you know, had to leave anyone behind?" Claire's voice dropped to a discreet whisper as she finished the question.
Of course, there would be no fooling Claire. The Toy Herb chain forgotten in the grass, Althea folded her hands in her lap once more as a heavy silence hung about. "I suppose," she broke the silence at last, "that I have." Her face pulled into its usual, almost haughty expression once more. A flash of pale skin beneath a short blue sleeve, a blue-eyed memory of what once was pushed itself to the front of her vision. Her lips pursed, her brows angled, she struggled to come up with something to avert the topic, anything, anything at all.
Then, Claire said something unexpected, "Well, Alto, he didn't know what he let go. So I guess that was for the best." The farm girl nodded in agreement with herself.
Althea lowered her head. She never did like remembering; it always arrived with a rush of pain and a pit in her stomach. Then, it subsided slowly, a slow-burning fire being leeched away by the cold. "Yes, I... Suppose it was, wasn't it?" she murmured on a painful breath.
"And, you're here now, right? You can always look at it as a fresh start," Claire offered, swinging her legs up in the air.
"I can't forget, though," she responded.
Claire merely gave a soft laugh. "Sometimes it's okay to forget," she cooed.
No it's not, she retorted silently. She sighed, looking up at the giant cotton balls dotting the sky.
"Hey, I should get back to the farm. Think about what I said," Claire cheeped, jumping up to her feet. She swept up the basket and waved goodbye. "See ya later!" she called. The farmer hurried back to the bridge and out of sight.
Althea waved in a nonchalant fashion, glancing at her watch. Wednesday, July twenty-second, eleven forty-seven in the morning. The piece she'd constructed was to be performed in two days' time. So far, things had been quite mediocre, and she hadn't a clue how to fix anything. She could practice, but the urge to pick up and play was absent. Althea gazed at the quaint bridge. A sleek, ultramarine bird perched atop the railing chirped a beckoning tone in her direction.
"Are you calling for me?" she thought aloud.
The bird twittered a response, it seemed, hopping further down the railing.
"Oh, alright, I suppose," she chuckled. Her fingers clutched the case of her beloved instrument as she stood. She trotted through the tall flora to the ramshackle little bridge. The bird flew toward the lake clearing as she approached.
With an amused laugh, Althea broke into a run, following the bird through the clearing as it soared overheard. She sprinted faster and faster, until- "Oof!" A hard mass collided with her. Then, everything seemed to fall into slow motion. She watched with horror as her grasp loosened on the violin, sending it flying into the unknown. Her vision blurred and refocused. The air in her lungs rushed out forcefully, ripping breath from her.
The ground felt hard, and the grass tickled her cheeks.
"Ah, I'm terribly sorry! I didn't see you there, Althea! Are you alright?" a familiar deep voice called out as a pale face loomed into view.
She squinted at the dark eyes examining hers. "Doctor Trent," she coughed.
He nodded. His dark brows lifted. "That is me. I'll repeat my question: are you alright?" he replied, a hint of concern in his voice.
Althea blinked a few times to clear up her vision. "Yes, I'm fine," she told him, pushing him away and sitting up. Questions began to flood in. Why was Trent at the lake again? Where'd her avian friend fly off to? However, the most prominent question must have been answered before all others. "Where is it?" she demanded.
"Althea, I have no idea what you're asking for. Are you sure-"
"My violin!" she screeched, "Where is it?" In a frenzied craze, she kneed Trent in the face while jumping to her feet, head swiveling rapidly. The leathery case sat not in the grass nor on the shore, which led to an... Unfavorable conclusion.
Trent's eyes widened as he rubbed his forehead gingerly.
Haltingly, she stepped toward the water's edge, peering down into its clear liquid. Surely enough, a pear-shaped, black mass sat nestled among a bed of aquatic vegetation, halfway to the bottom of the lake. A rim of silver glittered along its edge.
"I-I'm so sorry..." was all Trent could offer at Althea's horrified expression.
"Oh my goddess."
Author's Note: I almost saved this until later, but I had this brilliant idea of how it could get some goooood plot rolling. I figured that Althea would've procrastinated on going to Mineral Town until she felt inspired to, then bought all the tickets and junk, then had to force herself to go. And had some randomly half-composed piece lying around. "HEY. Because why not?"
I apologize for Trent's out-of-character-ness, but you'll see more of his stony-faced attitude, I assure you. *evil chuckles* I feel evil. IT FEELS GOOD. *evil maniacal laughter* I'll let you wonder why I did some things the way I did in this chapter.
Anyway, I hope I haven't failed you with my increasingly spread apart updates D: