Tudor High (On Hold)

Chapter 1 - Make Me Fade

I picked up the last box from my room and lingered by the doorway for a long while. I knew I would miss this place. Memories had been created here. The room seemed so bleak without my personal stamp on it. It looked so empty now. Everything was in the moving van. There is something wanting in an empty room as though it cannot survive without its adornments much like a queen cannot rule without her jewels.

I sighed and turned my back never to return to this place. I hung my head low, trying to hide my tears. My room was my palace and away from it; I felt incomplete. I know I was being dramatic, but I felt my world had imploded while I was still trying to figure myself out. I didn't know what I wanted from life. At fifteen years old, who really did?

Noises could be heard from various rooms of the mansion. Each sound echoed as if lost memories were being found much too late. I walked into the living room and found my sister, Mary, was reading a book (as usual). The living room was devoid of furniture, but she made do, sitting on the floor with her book propped on her bent knees. She looked up at me from her book and smiled. How could she not be put off by this? We were losing our family home. The home had been in our family for generations, going back as far as the Renaissance.

I stepped in front of her, knocking the book from her hands with the full intent of telling her off. By then, I was boiling and I did not care who I pissed off. She took a calm breath in and picked the book up from the floor. "Did you want to talk?"

"How can you be so calm about all of this?" I exploded.

Mary said nothing, but opened her book back up and continued reading her story. "Don't you care?" I found myself shouting into Mary's face as my older brother, George, strolled into the room, but hesitated.

"Dare I tread upon this war zone?" He raised a roguish brow.

Mary looked at George with a disapproving eye, but he continued, "All quiet on the western front?"

"Shut up!" I glared at my impish brother.

"Look," George scolded, "we don't like the move either. But, do you see us complaining?"

I kept quiet and scowled at him. We had every right to be self-centered about this. The family was being uprooted. George was right and I was being selfish, but all of us should have been. Mary spoke up, "I will be going to Paris. You see, dad wants me to be educated abroad and-"

"Paris?" I interrupted, "How's Dad paying for it?"

"We have some money left. We're not poor."

"Okay. Fine." I crossed my arms.

Mary continued, "They have the best fashion schools there and mom and dad want me to have the best."

"Are you kidding me? Since when have you been interested in fashion?" I fumed as George observed me, a judgmental look upon his features. I sent him a do-you-mind-look and he held up his hands in a mocking fashion and left the room.

"Anne," Mary said kindly, "I-"

"Have stolen my dream!" I finished her sentence for her.

I knew my sister well. She meant me no harm and yet, there had always been rivalry between us. She reached out for my hand, but I flinched her away. The last thing I wanted was to hold her hand. I didn't know what I wanted. Emotions were running through me, making no sense. Torn between happiness for my sister for getting an escape, anger at my father for not thinking of me, anger at my sister for accepting Paris, anger at my brother for being a complete and utter ass, and anger at myself for being so angry, was it any wonder why I was acting the way I was?

I nodded, "One of us can go to Paris. You're the oldest."

"Thank you for being so understanding." She smiled and went back to her book.

I stood there watching her for a moment. She was beautiful in a bookish way. Her honey blonde hair hung around her like a sheet of silk. I sighed and left the room to find father and mother collecting their belongings. Father had begun to sit in darkness with his hands upon his head as though he was worried and I still do not understand why he would do that.

When we had moved into our new house, I realized it was smaller than the last. It boasted four rooms and was two floors. I knew there were families who would have loved to live in our new home. I knew I should not have complained, but it was a shock after having lived in our other home. Our previous home was a twenty-five room mansion with three floors, an attic, and a finished basement. My family and I stood outside by the moving truck and watched as our movers took our belongings into the home.

I glanced across the lawn to see a huge mansion with pink azaleas lining the walk to the front door. A silver sports car was parked in the driveway boasting a license plate: TUDOR1. I squinted in the sunlight as a boy walked out of the door shouting back, "Bye!"

He paused for a second; curious to see whom his new neighbors were. I knew his sort. The vanity license plate gave him away. He was the privileged boy who had never had to work a second in his life. He, without question, had everything including the girl, the car, the house, the money, the title, and most of all the power.

I had him pegged.

I smiled, amused by my wit, and turned my back to him. He walked towards his car; revving up his engine. He drove off, blasting his music with the bass so high I could feel the rumble. I did not turn back and walked into the house carrying a small jewelry box. I claimed my room, happy I had snagged the one bedroom with a window seat. I opened my jewelry box to retrieve my beloved necklace. Simple and elegant. It was an initial necklace with the letter B. The letter B was connected to a strand of pearls and three pearl drops hung on the bottom of the charm. I held it in my hands and sat in front of my window; gazing at my necklace. I may not have had much, but at least I still had this.

About fifteen to twenty minutes later, the car engine sounded again and I looked up. I had been distracted by my necklace. Across the street, my neighbor pulled into the drive carrying what seemed to be a fast food bag and out of his car came another boy. I opened the window a crack to hear them talk.

The other boy eyed the moving van, "So, people are finally moving in?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

"And what," my neighbor asked.

"Who's moving in?"

"I don't know, Chuck. Why don't you go ask them?"

My neighbor looked back at my house and saw me; sitting on the window seat. I turned away and pretended to be interested in my necklace, which could hardly keep my interest any longer. I looked back and saw him smile at my window. He reminded me of a strutting cat, proud of his domain. His wavy, auburn-colored hair reminded me of a pennant blowing in the wind. He was tall with a lean but muscular build. He was handsome. So handsome it was too good to be true.

Without hesitation, I shut the curtains and whispered, "That ought to teach him."

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