Girls On Fire {an RWBY Novel}

Chapter Five: Messages, Part One

w: No. He just wants something to nag at me about.

r: k

r: does he not like me

w: Whitely doesn't like anyone. Especially poorer people.

r: im not poor ! :(

r: im middle class

w: PoorER. He doesn't see the point in being friends with somebody unless the friendship benefits him.

r: sounds dumb

w: Agreed.

"Weiss, will you put your phone away?"

I turn off my phone quickly, tucking it into the pocket of my trousers. Whitely is glaring at me from across the table. It's Thursday night, six days after the party where I met Ruby. Thursday nights are for family dinners, we're supposed to bring ourselves together and bond a bit before our Friday parties, or at least that's the idea. Thursday dinners are usually filled with awkward silences between Mother and Whitely, and small-talk conversation until Mother gets tipsy and the maids escort her to her room for the night. I don't fully understand why we still pretend to enjoy these dinners, but Whitely thinks it's important that I'm engaged in the conversation, no matter how boring or awkward it is. Being a Schnee, apparently, is about putting up appearances even when there isn't an audience.

I don't know what's made me so bitter tonight. I'm usually fine for dinners, indifferent.

My phone dings. Once, twice, three times in a row. Three messages from Ruby that I can't open, not while Whitely is looking at me like that. There's no point in pissing him off further.

Mother smiles at me, sensing tension. "You know, even though Ruby's father is middle-class, he's going to be marrying into a sizable fortune. Miss Goodwitch's family has a very respectable reputation, especially in Vale."

"Right, Mother," Whitely stops glaring at me for a moment to turn his head towards our mother, "I only wish that Weiss would take caution with this girl. This whole friendship seems a bit overeager to me. Weiss went from being a stranger with Miss Rose to being nearly best friends overnight. I don't want her to be taken advantage of."

Can we not talk about this? I want to yell at them for discussing my life in front of me while knowing that I can't say anything back. I want them to stop acting like they deserve to get a choice in my relationships. So what if Ruby and I talk a lot? That doesn't mean she's trying to play me, that just means we're getting to know each other. I'm allowed to get to know somebody. I look down at my plate, roasted chicken and mashed potatoes and green beans and cauliflower purée. Suddenly I feel very full.

"If Ruby begins to act suspiciously, we can take care of that then. Weiss has found a friend, that's a good thing."

"A friend she barely knows."

I see my mother roll my eyes, and take a sip of the dark, red wine in her glass. I pretend that the sip was shorter than it was.

I play with my food, barely eating, through the rest of dinner. Whitely changes the subject to finances, then to his studies (going exceedingly well, especially in his French history class), then to the guests arriving tomorrow evening, then back to finances again. By the end of it, I can tell he's just talking to fill the air with noise. Mother slowly gets more and more drunk over the course of half an hour, and by the time she's finished eating, we have to have a servant help her keep balance as she goes back to her room, which is so typical. Whitely doesn't acknowledge that anything is wrong with this. I know he feels guilty for the way she behaves at these dinners.

But it's not really his fault that he looks so much like Dad.

I stand after a few minutes of watching the door Mother walked out of, and Whitely mutters a quiet goodnight as I leave the room. I run off to the hall with the five pictures, and then, finally, I take out my phone and check my messages.

r: btw my dad wants u to come over for like a visit

r: he wants to meet u ig

r: i can send u the address. does tomorrow work? ik it's last minute

I don't think before I reply.

w: I would love to.

r: cool

r: also ive been talking abt u to my dad if that wasnt obv

r: sorry if thats weird

w: It's fine. I tell my family about you too, hence Whitely's aforementioned opinions on us.

r: wat do u tell them

w: That you never stop texting me and you won't leave me alone.

r: shut up

r: u probably tell them abt how cool i am and how u looooovvveee talking to me

I feel a smile crawl onto my face in spite of myself.

w: Keep thinking that.

r: i will

w: I have to go.

r: k, ill send u a link w info for tomorrow in a sec, need to talk to yang first

r: bye

w: Goodbye.

It's a little past eleven now, and most of the manor is empty. Servants won't be sweeping this hall until tomorrow morning, so it's all private for the next seven hours or so.

I didn't forget about seeing Torchwick on Friday night, and I didn't forget about the conversation I overheard. I've been trying to push away thoughts of him during the daytime. But at night...

When the manor is dark.

And I am alone.

And nobody is watching me.

Torchwick is the only thing that I think about. And not just think about. Act upon.

The Schnee family has a dark history with certain gangs, certain vigilantes and certain terrorists. And we've always had to hide that history from public view; my mother tore herself away from that history when my father died. She didn't want a part of it.

This manor was built for the Schnee's. Designed for us, tailored to my great-great-great-great grandfather's whim. It was built to be a place to hide our secrets, our dirty business, to keep our more undesirable guests entertained away from the eyes of a gossiping servant. That's where the tunnels came from.

I lift my father's portrait from the wall, struggling for a second with the hefty frame before setting it down on the floor with a soft thump. My father has an office towards the opposite side of the manor, which is filled with books and semi-important files. But his real office, the one that he did most of his business from, was hidden from plain sight. Hidden from everyone, including Mother, including me. I press against the wall where my father's portrait had hung, until I feel something give, and slowly a small, doorway-shaped section of the wall gives way beneath my weight, and I step into the history that my Mother is trying so hard to escape from.

I step into the secret tunnel system of the Schnee Manor.