Ariana

Calvin

 I stopped outside the door, unsure if he was even home. I took the time to examine the peeling blue paint on the door closely.

Wow. I’m sad. Taking a deep breath I opened it and gathering my skirts, I stepped over the threshold.

The light was dim inside, but then again I don’t think it was ever bright in here. There was light further back however. Orange light that flickered and danced.

I carefully closed the door as silently as possible incase he was working and started making my way to the back of the building. There was a small fire in a hearth set into the wall and its warm glow filled the room. He was bent over it, taking something from the fire with a pair of tongs.

“If you get any better at sneakin’ in here I’m gonna fear for my life.” He said, putting down the tongs and turning to face me.

Calvin.

He swept his chocolaty hair out of his eyes and held out his arms. I ran forward and threw my arms around him.

“I thought the Fury had imprisoned you for good, love.” He said laughing. The Fury is what we called my mother for obvious reasons.

“Do you really have that little faith in my escaping skills? Or am I mistaken that you were the one who taught me how to bribe?” I teased, faking a hurt expression. He gave another laugh, “You bribed someone? Who?”

“The maid.” I said, smirking. “What are you working on?” I asked, for the thing in the fire had just drawn my attention. He reached over and picked up the tongs.

“Just a little project.” Indeed it was little. I couldn’t tell what it was supposed to be but it was barely bigger than my palm. Calvin wasn’t exactly a blacksmith, but he wasn’t a mechanic either. He was kind of a mix of both. Basically, give him a lump of metal and he could make almost anything.

“What is it?” I asked, curious.

“You’ll see.” He said mysteriously. He probably knew it would drive me crazy, but he just chuckled at my expression and put the piece of metal into a bucket of water standing nearby. There was a cloud of steam as the glowing metal hissed in the cold water.

He turned to me, grinning widely. “I suppose you’d be up to goin’ out?” He asked, a glint coming into his eye.

“Why do you think I came?” I asked, sarcastic. My mother didn’t approve of Calvin, at all. I think it had something having to do with him being a “dirty ruffian”. He smirked, “I’m meetin’ the boys by the docks, you game?”

I rolled my eyes, “’Course I am.”

“Then hurry and get changed upstairs.” I didn’t need to be told twice, I ran up the stairs two at a time and turned into his room. Reaching under the bed I pulled out a trunk from which I produced a bleached cotton shirt and cotton breaches. After a quick exchange of linen to cotton I pulled my carefully curled hair into a rough knot at the back of my head. After a moment of indecision I grabbed a sailor’s hat from the closet and hurried downstairs.

Calvin verified my disguise decent and we strode out the door and down the streets of London.

Sometimes, my life wasn’t so bad.