Clandestine

one

-diane-

I sigh for the fourth time that night. Even though I'm surrounded by people and chaos, I couldn't be more bored. I sit tall in my chair, though all the seats beside me are empty. My father should be at my side, but perhaps later tonight he will join me. He, like everyone else, is enjoying his great displays of money and power.

A boy I don't recognize, but probably should, approaches me. He nods his head, a sign that should be respectful if it weren't for the crooked smile sitting against his even more crooked teeth. He says, "Your father sent me to get you. He wants you to come talk to some friends of his."

I roll my eyes, "Just tell him you couldn't find me. Say I wasn't at my seat."

He shifts uncomfortably, "I'm sorry, but I'd rather not lie to your father. From tonight, I can tell that he's not someone to mess with."

"Then just tell him that I won't come."

He starts to turn away to leave, but then stops, "Why don't you come? It's going to be the best act of tonight."

I shrug, "I wouldn't know. I haven't seen any of the other acts."

He stares for a second longer before turning on his heel. He weaves between the long tables and clusters of chatting people before disappearing.

Let him try to figure me out. I'm sure he'll gossip with all his friends about how he met me, Diane Tinsley, and how cold and superior I acted.

He can say whatever he wants. See if I care.

I play with my spoon in my soup for a few minutes. It's almost as much fun as staring at my hands. I just want this waste of my night to be over.

Unluckily for me, my father refuses to let me escape this night by just sitting alone in my seat.

His big hand lands on my shoulder and he says, "Diane, my dear, please come. I know you will enjoy this."

I say, "I'm sorry, I'd rather not."

He sighs, "But I planned this with you specifically in mind."

I want to turn him down, but his friends are watching. Well, I'm not sure if they are friends exactly. They all have money, none of it gained by the most honest practices. My father isn't a dirty criminal, more of a gambler. But he's a great gambler. That's why we have the money to host such a great party tonight. The friends of his are here to try to get closer to his bulging pockets and perhaps learn the secret of his gambling.

But he'll never give it away to any of them.

He frowns at me, adding a few wrinkles to his face, "Please, Diane. Just this once. I know you haven't left your seat all night and..."

The 'friends' lean forward, waiting to hear what they say. I know they are just dying to gossip with all their friends about the fight Alan Tinsley had with his daughter. I can't wait to hear the great things they make up too.

I sigh and then stand. "Yes, of course."

He claps his hands together, his face splitting into a grin. I stand from my seat, and follow after him.

My father pulls the door open for me and ushers me inside. I follow him into a dark auditorium. A large stage sits ahead of us, barely visible in the dimmed lights. The show must be ready to start. They are probably only waiting for my father and I.

He leads me to the third seat from the front. The rest of the seats in front of us are empty, but he can't stand to sit in the first seat. He says it makes his neck ache from having to constantly looking up at the stage. I think he just likes showing that he has the power to reserve not only the third row, but the second and first rows too. After all, it would be a shame if someone tall sat in front of us.

I sit beside him and realize that the 'friends' have left. My father must have made it clear that they weren't invited. They must be crying about it right now, in the fourth or fifth row. Poor things. They will have to find a way to flaunt their money more in front of him. Maybe they'll buy an even larger diamond ring from the black market or another poached tiger shawl to wear to the next party.

None of them know how little my father cares. He doesn't care that they have money or things or stupid social status.

I think in the end, my father just wants someone to actually talk to.

Of course, he would never admit to anything like that at one of his parties. He's too busy being surrounded by the greedy people practically begging for his money.

The lights completely darken and a single light bursts on the stage. The curtain swings open and the stage is filled with a single dancer. A slim girl dressed in stiff white skirt and silver corset. She dances around the stage, full of grace.

People start to shift as the ballet continues. They are clearly bored. They want bright lights and glitter and color. The illusion of beauty and life.

Not actual beauty and life.

My father, the gambler, anticipated this of course. Just as the ballerina pulls her leg up into an impossible split above her head, the lights go out for one second. Two seconds. Three, and then the people get what they want.

Bright flashing lights and colorfully costumed people pour onto the stage. They flip and twirl and dance. They do formations on top of each other. Twirlers fall from the ceiling, held up by brightly colored sashes. Some hang from thin wire barely visible in the flashing lights.

The show goes on for several minutes. It's filled with the people's cheers with every bright flash of light or incredible flip.

I know this show isn't for me. My father does too.

The beginning was for me. The single minute of pure beauty, quiet grace. That was for me.

My father squeezes my hand on my armrest and I find myself smiling for the first time the whole night. 

Author's Note

Hey everyone! Here's the first chapter of Clandestine. For this novel, I'm trying out the concept of dual POV. I'm also not making the chapters one uniform length. Some chapters will be a lot shorter or longer than others. This novel is still as long as most of my novels, about 80,000 words, but it will have 79 chapters. :)

Thanks for reading! Good luck for anyone who is starting school today. :) I hope your day goes well. If you have already started school, I hope your day goes well too. ^-^ 

Love you all!

Anne Brees