Soaked
1868. New York
Time swept by, nothing of significance ever transpiring. Days were short and brisk, wind blowing, a cold front ebbing away while leaves and flowers struggled to burst through. It was the calmest time of the year, nature's clutch of death loosening as dark, ominous clouds filled the air, foretelling a major storm yet promising life. Jade liked and hated this time of year simultaneously. Despair and demise were still floating in the air, but, they were moving on out as well, only to be replaced by happiness and joy, Jade thinks darkly. This certain fact was dampening her mood. She was already unhappy as is. After all, her job was not what she thought it would be.
Working as a nurse at her father's old practice is boring. Not many people come, partly because it is right on the border of the outskirts of town and partly because not many people were sick (at least not in her area). Days meshed into each other, details becoming hard to remember. It was even tougher to recall when they had happened. When patients did in fact come, there were not many calls for the more pressing, more dangerous diseases, and which also meant no one came in cradling a bloody wound that called for immediate action lest the person died first. And because of the inaction, Jade spent her time sitting on a stool, back hunched over, reviewing medical journals as there was nothing else that needed to be done. Often times, she would stay after hours, because even though it was incredibly dull, spending time at home was even worse because then she would have to talk to her mother and even, perhaps, deal with him.
Beckett Oliver that is. Or rather, as he preferred, Beck.
Beckett was a handsome young man about twenty-eight or so with longer hair than the average man and a steady job as a factory owner. He was extremely wealthy and extremely proper. He carried himself rigidly, his shoulders pinned back and his posture straight as a stick. He was formal and polite, with an ever present grin curling at his lips. Taking in account other's feelings, he was caring and kind, soft-spoken and gentle, and refused to push Jade to do something she didn't want to partake in. With tender features and a rosy smile, he made for the gentleman girls fawned over. He lead the perfect life and it was essentially an unspoken promise that any woman he courted would have the most perfect life as well.
He could have any girl he wanted and fathers of young ladies were lining up, inviting him over for lunch, and requesting for an arranged marriage. He courteously declined every offer and instead pursued the independent, studious girl that lived a few houses down from him who had no family but her mother. He liked a challenge and did not care to marry for riches and fame, rather for love, an almost nonexistent concept at this time.
So, much to Jade's displeasure, he showed up often at her house to converse with her mother (the first step in proper courting). To discuss what, she did not know. Her mother had already attempted numerous times to give her away to Beckett, but the man refused, believing that she should marry him because she wanted to and not because that was what her mother wished for. On more than one occasion, Jade had gotten in an argument with the woman, her mother spitting and spewing that she should marry Beckett and if she told her mother she didn't wish to, then she was met with, "Marry or God so help you I will beat you." This was supposedly a wonderful opportunity for Jade and would make the West name all the more respectful.
But Jade did not wish to marry. She was opposed to anything society was tied in with. In part because she was her own person and refused to be defined by anything considered the norm, and also because anything society stood for, her mother represented, and she would not give in to her mother (although, at the same time, she was slightly hypocritical as she also agreed with society that certain people who were sinful were to be shunned). She would go to the ends of the earth to deny her mother what she wanted. Anything to show the strict woman she was not her puppet and not her toy. She was a human being with rights, and she intended to take full advantage of that however much it may upset her mother or even if it may upset Beckett.
Anyway, somehow Beckett had learned of her work schedule, probably due to the outlandish mouth on her mother, and commonly he could be found waiting for her at her house when her day was finished. It was only another reason to add onto the growing list of statements as to why she shouldn't go home after work. Sometimes if she was lucky and she waited long enough, Beckett would go home without troubling her, leaving only a note in his stead stating that he missed her and would be looking forward to seeing her the next day.
With a quick glance at the clock, Jade packs her things together (a book, a pencil she insisted on bringing, and a catlin she intends on stealing because yes, in her boredom and thirst for knowledge, she has taken to stealing) to go home. It's late enough that she's almost positive Mr. Oliver won't be there and her mother will be asleep. So she gets up from her place on the stool, stretches, and heads for the door, not bothering to lock it on her way out because the Wellingtons (the owners) live there on the upper floor and they never bolt it. Jade considers that stupid because someone, like her, could easily stroll in and take anything they wanted. Chloroform, scapulas, forceps. They were all at a thief's disposal. But Mr. Wellington believed in the best of people and didn't give a single thought to barricading his goods from the rest of the town. So who was Jade to defy him? She left the door unlocked and would laugh the day when someone finally stole something, not that it was a common occurrence and not that if she saw a break in she wouldn't try and stop it, but it would be ironic nonetheless.
The walk from the practice to her house is fairly quick, even when she takes her time, letting the night engulf her in all its sadistic blackness. She doesn't care; she has no fear of the dark. She's Jade West and she never lets anything intimidate her because that would make her weak, and she is not weak and she will never give in.
So she goes home in no hurry, watching as the flickering flames in the houses she walks by are blown out, the people inside ready for bed time. In her part of town, everyone is rich and all the houses big and boisterous. Then, as it neared the outskirts, the houses suddenly shrunk and it was where all the poor people flocked to. It was odd. Odd how there was no middle class and instead of a gradual change, it went from rich to poor in one heartbeat. Typically for business the rich tend to ride inwards instead of towards the outskirts, clearly trying their best to avoid the poorer citizens at all costs. Because of this, it made business hard for Mr. Wellington's practice, such as it was standing precariously on the thin line between the outskirts and the rich.
Such as the rich went inwards for business, the poor kept outwards, knowing they would never fit in nor be able to afford the more expensive goods where the rich shopped. On the poor side of town, taverns were placed haphazardly around, an easy access to anyone. Buildings were run down and an abandoned factory stood tall about five minutes from the most frequented bar. Because of the factory going out of business (due to the old machines that consistently broke down, the amount of people that died in comparison to the usual, the strike outs that were common, and the owner running out of funds) many of the people were out of jobs. It wasn't particularly hard to find a new job with the industrialization that was booming, but the fact that even the nearest railroad station was quite the far walk, even by horseback, made it so many of the people remained unemployed, which is why when the Civil War had rolled around, many of the folks in the outskirts signed up hastily to be part of the army. But now everyone was back (or maybe only half), with a small amount of spending cash in their pocket from revenue collected from service.
Jade reaches her home after another minute and strolls up to the steps, flinging the door open and locking it behind her. She hears talking coming from the room to her left and feels anger bubbling within her. He's here. Her mother is awake. Jade fully intends to storm upstairs, but the voice of her mother stops her.
"Jade, dear, is that you?" She resists the urge to go over and smack her mother in her face and instead lets out a grunt in response. "Mr. Oliver is here for you! Why don't you come in here and greet him? He's stayed up so late just to say hello to you!"
"Just call me Beck, Ms. West," Beckett tells her and Jade can hear her mother let out a shrill, fake laugh. Jade ignores her summonings and begins to head towards the stairs that would lead to her bedroom. Unfortunately Beckett walks out from the room he had been chatting with her mother in and heads over to her, cheerful face sporting a welcoming smile.
"Jade, hello. I haven't seen you in a while. Is work keeping you busy?" he questions, eyes inquisitive. He runs a hand through his brushed back hair and shoves the other in his grey suit's pocket. Clearly the suit is expensive with its sleek look and vibrant color (even if it is grey).
"No," she deadpans, telling the truth. His smile wavers the tiniest bit and a smirk spreads across her face. She loves making people squirm, making them feel inferior. She liked dominance and was quick to express her authority to others in their first meeting. If she was in charge, she could control what happened. Let go of control and you'll end up like my mother, Jade snorts to herself.
"Oh, I suppose you have other duties to attend to then? Well I won't p-"
"No."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I do not have any other duties to attend to. I would just rather spend my time sitting at my job, doing nothing, than to be here, talking to you." She studies him and watches how he sighs, demeanor becoming slightly tense. This is not the first time she's said something of the sort to him before. A loud voice booms from the other room, telling her to mind her manners, before being followed by a taunt looking woman.
"Just give me one chance Jade-"
"Jadelyn to you."
"Jadelyn, and I can prove I'm not such a bad guy. And not to blow, but I've been told I'm a fun man," he quips. "Two days from now. I will come for you at one sharp or God so help me I will drag you out of this house if need be." Beckett dons a smirk of his own, matching her facial expression.
"What if I'm not here?"
Beckett just winks at her, knowing she will be, if only because of the women standing off to the right whose face was reddening, purple veins appearing in her forehead. She was a vain, vile woman, but he was glad he had her to rely upon. If anyone could control Jade West...well her mother had the best shot. And with that, he unlocks the door, strolls out of the house, both hands in his pockets and whistles an upbeat tune just to pester Jade because he thinks it cute when she's annoyed.
Jade's blood is at boiling point and she ignores her mother's chilling insults she spews from her place near the door. Without any more hesitation, Jade heads up the stairs, brushing off the pestering woman. She slips inside her bedroom and gets ready for bedtime. When she finally completes her nightly routine, she lays on her bed and dozes off, sleep filled with the usual nightmares.
The next morning she gets up and heads to her job. She's greeted by Mr. Wellington, who informs her that he will be out most the day and is leaving the practice in her hands. She's the only other employee there (because it is a small practice) so it makes sense. He tells her the usual and explains that she should call him if anything dire comes up. They both know nothing will so he leaves and she's left to waltz around the place as she pleases, taking stock (once again) and reading through the numerous books compiled in the corner of the living room.
It hadn't taken him long to hear the gossip around town. A few days at best. When he learned of his wife committing adultery and the new rumors surrounding his ditzy daughter, he exploded with anger. He had grabbed Caterina close, his breath blowing in her face, carrying the distinct smell of rum, and he had shook her, rage making his hand shake and tremble.
"What have you done! I leave you alone for a short amount of time, and you ruined everything! I told you not to cause trouble anymore!" He was not fully drunk, just tipsy, but it was enough to let the anger boil in his blood, festering in his heart and strangling his logic. "But you do!" He had shaken her more before tightening his hold on the rim of her shirt, causing it to choke her. Panic sprinted in her and had she been able to breath at all, she would be hyperventilating. She could already feel herself becoming faint, black splotches dancing at the corners of her vision. "I can't trust you anymore, you dumb bitch! You've ruined me! What's a man without his name? I say, what's a man without his name Caterina!" She was able to croak out that she didn't know and she was sorry, but it was the wrong thing to say. Immediately his eyes hardened and he backhanded her and then pushed her against the wall. Instantly, her hands snaked up to her neck, tenderly fingering the deep line in her skin made from the cutting material of the dress she was wearing.
"And you let her betray me. You let your own mother turn against me! And now she is on her deathbed. She's going to die Caterina and it's all your fault!" He had paused in his rant, heavily breathing, eyebrows furrowing, sloping down towards his nose. His expression was one of utter disgust and she couldn't help but look away, tears springing at her eyes. "Who are you, Caterina?" Another silence. "Who are you?"
She knew she was expected to answer. "Caterina, d-daddy."
"Wrong. You're not my daughter." He left her, a foreign look in his eyes. One of malice, one of rigid coldness, one she had never quite seen before. It was the look of a changed man who fought in a war. One who had to kill to survive. One who would still kill to live.
As he walked away, she had slumped down to the floor, hiccuping and breathing quickly and shallowly, feeling as if she was getting no air. After a minute or so, she had passed out, the events that had just transpired to much for her to process.
After that he had locked her away from the rest of the world. He refused to allow her to go out and even told Robert Shapiro that she had gone to live with her aunt when he knocked on their front door, inquiring as to where the curly-haired brunette had gone. She was allowed no contact with the outer world; neither was her mother. Not that her mother could move about. The lady was confined to her bed because the consumption had become so bad, she could hardly even hold her head up any longer. Despite Cat's pleadings for her father to call a doctor, he never did. He had no money to spend on the costly medicine it would take to heal her and did not want to waste his time with a doctor who would surely want to push him to buy the antidotes necessary for his wife's revival. Besides, he believed she had brought this upon herself. If she had stayed loyal she would have not been slept with a man who had tuberculosis and would not have caught it.
With nothing to do, Cat resulted to taking care of her mother (putting on a cloth that she had fastened to act like a mask whenever she entered the room) and playing games with herself. She made up plenty of games, including make pretend ones where she would use her crudely home made dolls to act out a family. One that was whole and complete. Other times she would throw something (often times a pencil or a piece of paper) at a target she had made for herself and see how many times it would take for her to hit it. After all, she had nothing else to do. Not with her father prowling around the house, an untrusting eye always placed upon her. He was frosty and did not talk to her. She was expected not to initiate any conversations with him and not to look at him, for when she did, his eyes narrowed and he made like he was going towards her, hand outstretched in a silent threat. She was to make her own dinners and to take care of herself while he would look after himself and sometimes her mother as well. But mostly, he let Mrs. Valentine rot belong side her daughter.
Her mother wasn't in good condition. Most of the time she was sleeping, but when she was awake she was hacking up blood and shivering, like all the blankets resting on her could do nothing to keep her warm. It was times when she was awake that Cat liked going into her room best because then she could fool herself into thinking the woman was going to be alright. She just needed a little bit of rest. She remembers when one day she was sitting at the foot of the bed, mask on tight, that her mother awoke unexpectedly.
"Caterina..." she had called softly, once she was fully awake. Her eyes landed on her daughter, who scooted closer to her and reached out to clamp onto one of her cold, clammy hands.
"Mama..." Her mother's eyes brightened and she lifted her hand to Cat's face, holding it, thumb moving in small, spastic circles. Her thumb, and in fact her whole hand, were shaking. "Are you hungry? Are you thirsty? Can I get you something? Maybe you're cold-"
"Dear," Mrs. Valentine cut off her child's unending questions. "I'm fine. How ha-" she broke off, hand falling from Cat's face, coughing some more. There was no blood with that bout, but instead just the dry expulsions of air racking her chest. It had taken a minute or two for the cough to subside and when it did, she leant back against her pillow, eyes closing. She just sat there for a minute, breathing.
"Mama, are you okay?" Cat had ventured and her mother's eyes flicked open.
"I'm fine. How have you been is what I was trying to say," her mother weakly added.
"I've been good," Cat told her, donning a smile to support her act.
In a whisper, Mrs. Valentine questioned, "Has your father been alright?"
She took a second, wondering what to say. To lie, or not to lie..."He's been okay. I've mostly been out of the house at Robbie's, so he hasn't bothered me much," she lied. This seemed to comfort her mother who contentedly smiled.
"I'm glad then," she admitted quietly, casting her gaze over to the ceiling. A silence fell upon them where neither of them moved or thought or did much of anything, but was broken in a moment's time by her mother's mild voice. "I'm going to die, aren't I." It was said like more of a statement than a question. It startled Caterina, who could only stare at her mother, brown eyes big and innocent, like death is a topic she knows nothing about. "It's okay. If I die."
"You're not going to die mama..." It came out more of a plead then an assuring fact.
Her mother let out a sigh before closing her eyes. "I'm feeling tired now Caterina." A spluttering cough resounded as her mother clutched at her chest like the cough was crushing the bones inside. Like it was killing her. And it probably was. She'd probably die, but Cat just couldn't accept that. Death only happened when people got too old. Her mother was young. Only thirty five. Satan should not be knocking at her door yet.
"I'm going to find you medicine, ma! And then you'll get better and we can go back to the old times and we can go for picnics and swim in lakes and cook together and eat meals together and play together and typ-"
"Caterina, sh," her mother shushed the talkative girl who had yet to take a breath. "I'm going to go to sleep, and we will talk when I wake up," her mother promised with a grin. It eased Cat only the slightest bit.
"You'll see," she mummers to herself, before taking her leave as requested.
Thoughts of death and panic filled Cat's mind after that day. She couldn't lose her mother. Not the person who had taken care of her as an infant and had comforted her time and time again when Mr. Valentine took his anger out on her. Not the woman who had been there for her when the kids at school picked on her, called her foul names, and on more than one occasion tried to use physical violence to prove their point.
So eventually, she devised a plan. There was a medical practice run by Mr. Wellington not far from her house. He probably had medicine and books on the disease, not that she could afford any type of medication. Her father, angry as he was at them, actually had bothered to ask Mr. Wellington if he could have discounted medication, but was met with a no since the practice was not making much money and could no longer dispense anything with a discounted price. So she figured if she was able to sneak out, perhaps she would be able to then ensconce herself near Mr. Wellington's and when they closed up for the day, maybe she could find a way in and take some medicine. She wasn't one for stealing or breaking the law, but desperate times called for desperate measures and she's sure if no one found out, then no harm no foul, right?
So that's how Ms. Valentine found herself lurking around the medical center on nights such as this one. It was easy to get in. Often times her father would go out to the taverns at around 7:00 p.m. and though he would barricade her door with furniture, she did have a window, so she slipped outside and would casually walk around to the front of her house, grab her shoes, and then take off in the direction of her destination, which would usually be at about 10:30 p.m. Once there she would hide in a nearby bush and wait for the girl with straight, light brown hair to leave as that nurse was always up later than Mr. Wellington. Because they kept the door unlocked, Cat was able to slink into the building undetected and without difficulty. Once inside was where things became...Well, they fell apart.
On her first visit when she had planned to borrow tuberculosis medication, she realized she had no idea what the medication looked like or where it would be. So despite her search efforts, she had only ended up finding a pile of books in the corner of what seemed to be a library or a living room. She began picking through them, looking for something that would tell her what everything was. But when she opened one of the books, she realized her small, limited vocabulary did not allow her to read through the big, difficult books. She didn't have much of an education and couldn't write, let alone read a medical journal. Still though, she weeded through the information, looking for pictures and easy words that she could read in the hopes that she would stumble upon something of use. Some type of advice that would help her alleviate her mother's pain.
So she spent every night that she could at the building, staying well into the early hours of the morn. It felt wrong to be there, but at the same time, it gave her a thrill. She felt bad for doing it, but skilled for pulling it off, almost like a devious child who takes pride in the pranks they pull, even if they know it to be morally wrong.
As she spent more time there, she began noticing where things were placed. Like, for example, where the candles and matches were kept. She found where the medical supplies were located and where masks for working on the diseased were (she took one of those so she could enter her mother's room without using her makeshift one that most likely did not work as well). Eventually she began noticing something peculiar. Because she was wont to wander around the room, looking at things when she became bored of reading, she observed that certain things would just go missing. A tool sometimes, a book other times, even pencils that were usually kept in disarray upon a writing desk. And sometimes when the peculiar girl with the long brown hair leaves, a lantern dangling from her arm, Cat can usually spot something she swears is from the practice. The next day, the item is never replaced. But it's not her place to care, so she goes about her business, in search of something she hopes to find, but knows in her brain she never will. But still she attempts to find that something, grateful she hasn't been caught thus far. She's to sneaky to be caught.
So when she enters the practice tonight and goes over to her usual spot by the books, she's surprised to hear the door wrench open and slap against the wall. She turns quickly, fear etched on her face. "It's not what you think!" she says without thinking about it as the brunette advances on her, fists at her sides (items the brunette had previously been holding discarded to the side and lantern placed on a nearby desk), jaw clenching.
The girl lets out a haughty, mocking laughter. "Not what I think it is? Because I'm pretty sure you just broke into this building," she barks. "What are you doing here? And more importantly, why shouldn't I just stab you with a saw right now?" The intimidating girl is now close to her, staring down at her, blue eyes on fire and eyebrows sloping towards her nose, facial expression one of hatred.
"I-I'm sorry! I just wanted to, um..." Cat trails off, biting her lip, tears brimming at her eyes. She has no idea what to say, caught in a situation that anything she answers with would be bad.
"Well?" the abrasive girl demands, hostility evident in her posture. Everything about her seemed to display coldness, meanness, and destruction, and that fact that she towered over Cat made the girl feel even weaker as she cowered, praying for the mercy of this unknown girl.
"I was just playing and I thought my b-ball went in here, and it wasn't, so I guess I'll be going now," she tries, playing off her statement with a nervous laughter that was clearly faked. As she tries to push past, the taller girl grabs onto her shoulder and shoves her back. "Darn," Cat mumbles under her breath.
"Not so fast. Who are you?" Undoubtedly she did not fall for Cat's tall tale.
Without a second's hesitation, Cat answers, "Caterina Valentine." Only when it was out of her mouth did she realize that it might be a mistake to reveal her name. If possible, the brunette's face hardened even more, contempt disfiguring her features and dragging the corners of her mouth downwards. "Who...Who are you?"
"I don't have to tell you my name...I should report you to the officials."
Instantly Cat began to panic. "No, no, you can't do that! My dad will be so mad at me! I wasn't supposed to come out of my room and I did and now he'll know it!" she spews, words spluttering from her mouth, her brain working a million miles a minute.
"Woah, what are you talking about? Slow down." the woman spits, undeniably taken off guard by the seemingly childlike girl standing before her instead of the criminal she had expected to confront.
"He's going to hit me, he's going to kill me, oh my goodness, please, you can't report me or I'll just...I'll just..." Cat's vision begins to dance before her eyes, darkness swirling in the corners of her retinas, thoughts racing through her mind and a feeling of light headedness starting to affect her consciousness. She starts to hyperventilate, breaths short and shallow.
"Woah, woah, calm down. Are you a fucking idiot? Stop it!" the brunette commands, but when Cat's balance seems to waver, she quickly adds, "I'm not going to report you to anyone, even though I should." This seems to put Cat at ease a bit and the other girl takes a moment to fetch a paper bag from the kitchen and then hands it to Cat, who looks at her like she's crazy.
"Breathe into it. God, are you stupid?" Cat begins to do as instructed and within a minute her heart beat is back to normal and her breathing regulates.
"Sorry," Cat says once she has her breath back and the brunette just looks at incredulously, thinking to herself that she should have just let the smaller girl faint but then remembering that if something like that did happen, it would be on her hands. "Are...Are you going to tell on me?" Cat whimpers, even though the other girl had assured her otherwise just a moment before.
The tall woman takes a moment to think on this, questioning what she had said before and changing her mind, thinking to tell Mr. Wellington. She could not just brush it off like it never happened. After all, it was illegal. "Well, yes, I-"
"Oh no please, no don't! I wi-" Cat's cut off as a hand wraps itself around her mouth and suddenly her attacker is behind her. She beings to struggle, eyes bulging out of her head, thinking this woman could very well snap her neck and kill her.
"Relax," Jade hisses and Cat does as she's told, knowing struggling won't really help her situation at all. "And stop yelling, you might wake the Wellingtons up. I was only going to say I'm going to tell Mr. Wellington, and frankly he's too much of an idiot to actually do something about your nighttime excursion." Cautiously, Jade removed her hand from Cat's mouth, muscles tense and ready to jump on the smaller girl if she chose to start yelling again.
Cat spins around, frantic. "If you tell Mr. Wellington, then I'll tell that you steal stuff!" she blurts out. Jade sends her a scathing gaze.
"I what?"
"You heard me," Cat mumbles, looking downwards, very aware of the trouble she could well be getting herself into.
"I do no such thing," Jade remarks which causes Cat to ball her tiny hands up into fists.
"You do too!"
"Do no- Why am I arguing with you? Even if you did tell him, he wouldn't believe you. You're nothing but a creep, stealing into people's houses at nights. Plus you don't have the best reputation Valentine," Jade points out, crossing her arms against her chest, in a very typical stance of hers.
"But what if he did believe me? His stuff is missing and if I tell him exactly what, then he'll know something's up."
"I could just blame you."
"Yeah, but I don't have any of the stuff. You do. Then when he doesn't find any of his things in my house, he will go to yours. Plus, I can't read. There's no reason for me to steal any of this stuff."
Jade didn't bother pointing out all the flaws in Cat's logic, instead inquired, "Then why are you here if not to steal? Why put yourself in danger of getting arrested, if you're not taking anything?"
Cat's face grew solemn and she began to play with her hair, twirling it around her fingers. "Well my mom's sick a-"
"Ugh. Why did I even ask. Never mind, I'm not interested in your sob story," Jade dismissed her. "Now would you just get out?"
Feeling a surge of bravery, Cat puffs her chest out and looked Jade straight in the eye. "No. My mother is dying and I'm not leaving until I find the solution."
"You don't have any grounds to demand things from me! Get out!" Jade snarls, pointing a finger towards the door. "Out," she adds for emphasis when Cat just stands there defiantly, mimicking Jade by crossing her arms across her body.
"Don't tell me out or...or I'll wake up Mr. Wellington and tell him I caught you stealing!"
"What? You can't do that, that doesn't make any sense. You'll only get yourself in trouble!"
"Nope, I'm going to tell him unless you back off!" Cat had to find a way to cure her mother or she would certainly die. If standing up to Jade was what she had to do, even if she was shaking from fear, then she would do it, no matter how much of a coward she actually was.
"Okay, okay, just stop talking so loudly!" Jade huffs, knowing that if Cat woke him up, this would look bad for the both of them. As much as the job was boring and drab, she couldn't lose it. It was her only solace. If she was fired, then she would have to spend every day at her house with her mother and the frequent visits from Beckett. It just wasn't worth it.
"So we're good?"
"Yeah, yeah whatever. Just tell me what you want and never, ever, come back again." Jade rolls her eyes, the defeat tasting bitter. Cat had her cornered.
"I want a lifetime supply of consumption medicine for my mother," Cat orders and as soon as the words are out of her mouth, Jade's eyes widen in surprise and shock.
"Are you kidding me? We have no money, let alone costly medicine to just give away for free! You're completely mad!" Jade exclaims, the anger returning to her face after the initial shock fades.
Intimidated by the brunette towering over her, Cat backs down a bit. "Okay, okay. Then give me lessons on how to treat tuberculosis," she compromises. Jade holds a hand to her forehead, leaning into it, obviously exasperated.
"You don't need lessons. It's easy to explain in five minutes or so."
"Well I want to learn what to do when my mother's condition changes and I want a nurse to tell me why she's gotten worse and how I can fix it. So how about we meet every few nights and you teach me?"
"How about no."
"How about I tell Mr. Wellington?"
"I don't want to teach you."
"I will wake him up," Cat states seriously.
"Fine."
Cat smiles, happy that she got her way. "Maybe you could teach me to read and do math and other things as well!" she quips. Jade sends a death glare her way and Cat seems to shrink back. "Anyway, I never got your name!"
The older girl debates answering for a second before telling the obnoxious curly haired girl, "Jadelyn."
"Jadelyn...Jade," Cat repeats, grinning.
"Listen. No one is to hear about us, no one is to know about us, no one is to even see us. Got it?" Jade hisses, knowing that should she be seen with such a poor, twisted girl, her reputation would be ruined.
"I like the name Jade, it's ver-"
"Caterina!"
"Sorry, sorry. I got it! You don't have to worry about that, geez, we'll always meet in secret. I'm not allowed to be seen by people anyway!" Jade doesn't care to question the other girl as to what that meant. Just icily watches as the younger girl walks towards the door, a small spring in her step. She turns around right before she exits, hand resting on the doorknob, and adds, "I'll see you tomorrow night!" And with that she disappears, door clanging closed.
Jade blinks, unsure of what exactly she had just gotten herself into. Nonetheless, life must go on and she picks up her items by the door that she had tossed to the side when first seeing Cat. She places a small bookmark back on the bookshelf she found it on, conscious now of the fact that Cat was going to "tell" on her. It was stupid to be scared, however, since she could easily get rid of any evidence of stolen objects.
So she heads out the door and into the cover of the night, surprised and thankful that Mr. and Mrs. Wellington had slept through the entire encounter. Lucky they were heavy sleepers, or she would have had a lot of explaining to do. In almost no time at all she reaches her house, thoughts of Cat consuming her brain. She considers not showing up tomorrow and just going home, but realizes that Cat is unpredictable. Who knows what other dirt Cat has on her and what the smaller brunette would say to her boss should Jade not show.
As she throws open the door and takes off her shoes, the mindless chattering from the room across enters her ears. Thinking it to be Beckett smooth talking her mother, she storms over, fists clenched and hanging at the sides of her waist. She yanks the door open and is fully prepared to rant about the outlandish hours Beckett stayed up to see her, but is more than shocked to see it is not him. No, instead it is her mother (a given of course) and a man with tanned skin. Ethnic. More than likely he worked in the factory across town. Jade narrows her eyes, in no mood to deal with someone who could barely speak English.
"Ah, Jade. I heard so much about you." Today was just full of surprises.
"Who are you?" she ignores him, unease seeping into her stature.
"No need to get all uptight. My name is Lane Alexander, but you may call me Lane if you wish. I'm here for etiquette classes. Your mother called upon me, telling me that you have a very important...meeting, if you will, tomorrow." Lane's eyes sparkled with joy and gaiety, something Jade was not found of.
"Listen asshole. I don't need any manners classes no matter what my mother tells you. You wasted your time coming here and, actually, why are you here so late?"
"Well I was supposed to come tomorrow morning to give you a few pointers, but I happened to be shopping around here and decided to stop by. Your mother, a wonderful woman by the way, invited me to stay for tea and to wait until you got back. She said you would be late, but I didn't mind," Lane answers, quizzical and not understanding Jade's hostility even though he had been warned that she was very snarky.
"Well you should just go home." Lane nodded and stood up.
"I guess I should be taking my leave now a-"
"You should."
"And," Lane continued, ignoring Jade, "I'll be back tomorrow." Once again he pretended not to hear Jade's loud moan of complaint. "It was lovely seeing you Ms. West and thank you for the tea." With that he exits, Ms. West not far behind as Jade slowly waltzes out. He grabs his jacket and heads out the door without another word. Then Ms. West turns on her daughter.
"That was incredibly rude."
"Yeah, well maybe you should take a look at yourself. I don't need etiquette classes. I know how to be polite, I just choose not to."
"And that's precisely the problem. If you can just learn to be nice and proper and get into the habit then everything would be fine."
"I'm not going to learn."
"You're so disrespectful."
"I try."
"Jadelyn," her mother's voice rose. "Watch yourself. I can take away your books, your job, anything I want really." The sureness with which her mother says it makes Jade's skin bristle. She looks at her mother with pure disgust and resists the urge to just scream at the lady until she is blue in the face.
"You can't. I'm too old for that now. You can't control me."
"I can kick you out."
"I dare you." The challenge hangs in the air, animosity filling the room. Her mother says nothing at all and Jade knows she won't be kicked out. With a grunt Jade spins and heads up the stairs towards her room, knowing tomorrow was going to be an absolute disaster. First her appointment with Lane who seemed too jolly for his own good, then the few hours with Beckett, and finally her meeting with Cat.
Jade enters her room and throws herself onto her bed with a loud groan.
Author's Note: Again thank you to my amazing beta! This man is great. Go check him out! Also, thank you to the reviewers and readers and I hope you all enjoyed this chapter :)