Chapter 3

"No."

That word... That one word is like a physical blow.

"Willow?"

"She's staying here, with us," mom says, eyes lowered in shame.

Olya finally speaks. "How long will we be there?" Unlike me, she's practically shaking with excitement, probably already envisioning all the rich, handsome boys she'll meet.

"As little as three years," dad replies. They both seem pleased to see her so happy.

I stand up and silently make my way outside, leaving both my parents to celebrate with Olya. I even hear Willow squealing. Of course, she probably doesn't know what's going on.

Our backyard is the Mansions backyard. It's a massive, flat stretch of green land. A few trees dot the land, and leads to a towering forest of dead-looking trees. At the very edge of the forest is a small, oddly clear lake; beside that is a massive weeping willow. Without my noticing, I've walked to the weeping willow and sat down by its slightly up-rooted roots.

I can see to the bottom of the lake, to the several multicolored stones I've tossed in.

Seeing it reminds me of a memory I shared with my mother. It was one of the few normal and peaceful ones.

~

The six year old me stared at my reflection in the still waters of the clear lake. I had my head resting in my moms lap as she brushed my hair with her fingers.

I reached out one still baby-soft hand to touch the surface of the lake. Moms hand snapped out and wrapped around mine.

"No, baby. You mustn't touch the lake."

I twisted my head to look at her. "Why?"

She released my hand after setting it in the grass beside my head, then pointed to the water.

"Do you see how calm the lake is?"

I nodded, staring at the sandy bottom.

"Well," mom continued. "It's hard for the lake to be that calm, and if you touch it..." As if to prove her point, a dead leaf from the forest floated down and landed on the surface, making the whole top shake. "...then the whole calming process has to restart."

"Oh," I replied, not understanding why the waters being calm was such a big deal, but I nodded and kept my hand away.

~

I pull my knees to my chest and sigh.

It was such a sweet memory. I rarely have those anymore, and thinking about how long it will be until I have one again brings tears to my eyes.

My mom and I have a distant relationship, but my dad and I barely know each other. I think that every time he sees me, his Demon daughter, he's reminded that my mother most probably had an affair.

Willow though... Willow and I have the type of relationship that a mother and daughter should have. She even called me 'mummy' once, it was adorable and one of my most treasured memories, but I could see the jealousy it lit in my mom.

I rest my head on my knees and begin to cry noisily, sobbing and sniffling. A hand on my shoulder jolts me back to reality. I twist my upper-body to the side and find Olya pretending to play the piano on my shoulder. I bat her hand away. "What do you want, Olya."

"A pretty outfit to wear to school," she replies happily, not noticing my puffy, red eyes or tear streaks on my cheeks.

I sigh and turn back to the lake. "Don't they make you wear uniforms? Isn't that what fancy places do?"

She looks thoughtful for a moment, then shrugs. Then screams.

I panic, jumping up and shoving her behind me, pulling a tiny, makeshift knife out of the tiny pocked on my ripped jeans. The field is empty. Behind me, Olya giggles. "Calm down, I just got exited; do you think there'll be a lot of rich, handsome boys at the school?"

I turn my face up to the sky, closing my eyes, then groan loudly in annoyance.

She frowns at me. "Why the attitude, Ms. Grumpy?"

I turn to face her. "Have you even thought about the fact that we won't see mom and dad or Willow for over three years?"

"They'll visit," she tries to assure me.

I sigh. "Olya, they can't afford to visit."

She just stares at the ground for a while before starting to head inside, looking sad.

She stops halfway there and calls over her shoulder, "You need to pack, we're leaving in two days."

I flinch when hearing the amount of time I have left with Willow, then return inside to pack.

Mom and dad Ignore me, and Olya's nowhere in sight. Willow, however, runs around like she's on a sugar high as I pack almost everything I own; it fits into one slightly large bag.

Hefting the bag over my shoulder, I walk into the living room, and drop it by the door.

I sit down at the dinner table, now clean and cleared of the plates from dinner, and Willow jumps onto my lap, holding a book that she demands I read almost everyday.

"Willow Wilted had a funny name, and all the mean kids began to play a game that they called She'll Wither. It made Willow very sad..." I continue to read the story, and Willow giggles and claps when she hears her name. The little girl in the book had fiery red hair, shimmering dark green eyes that almost looked black and tons of freckles. She looked creepily like my little Willow. Everyone in our family had about those looks. Mom had brown eyes though, and Olya had brown hair, but was very elegant, had a thin face, beautiful green eyes, and a charming, flirty smile.

I was another story with my long White hair, light green eyes with flakes of gold that were constantly swirling around, and inability to smile.

I finish reading the book, set Willow down, and go to Olya's and my room. It's small, with just enough room for a narrow bunk bed, a tiny dresser in front of a window that faces the field and the door to a closet. The closet isn't much to look at either; it's empty now though, and that looks strange.

The top of the bunkbed is pressed next to the door to the closet, while the end is next to the window. On the other side of the dresser we managed to squeeze in a mirror. I inspect myself. I'm pretty curvy, but nothing compared to Olya. It's a shame she can't flirt, or she'd have snagged a rich husband and gotten us out of this 'poor' mess.

I continue inspecting myself for a while, looking at my long, lean legs, my flat stomach and small waist. After a while of this, I finally catch sight of Olya in the mirror, she's leaning against the closet door, rolling her eyes; she looks like she's been there for a while. I jump, accidentally smacking my funny bone on the side of the desk.

"Done yet?" she asked teasingly.

"No," I snap back while rubbing my elbow, and she blinks at me in shock.

"Hm," she then laughs. "Wow, so there's someone more vain than me in this house."

She turns and walks out. "Didn't think that was possible," I hear her mumble as she goes.

I roll my eyes at her back, then follow her out.