The Explorer's Apprentice

8:Dear Friend

I don't own Rose.:)

Marley Faulkner

February 15 – Yesterday was hell. Some call it Valentine’s Day.

I have never truly believed in Valentine’s Day. I think a couple should show one another devotion every day of the year, not only on one that’s been invented by business owners to sell their pink and red rubbish. I woke up this morning to find that Cal, however, has sure made an effort, by going out all on his own and buying me a new dress. I doubt he actually knows my favorite color – he probably got blue by mistake. I finally decided to not burn it, but wear it, only to see my mother turn absolutely green with envy. She knows she cannot afford new clothes anymore.

I made sure to blink in all my Valentine’s Day pictures. When that film develops I am going to get a good laugh.

 Marley sits with her knees pressed against the chair in front of her, eyes squinting hard to see in the dim light of the school’s auditorium. She has number 62 scrawled on the sticky note on her shirt. Despite the 61 acts before her she could be learning from, she feels she could not be any more prepared than she already is. She is glad she brought the book.

 February 20 – This afternoon Figaro brought me a dead bird. Or so I thought, until it started flying around the house, screeching and shedding feathers. It took me nearly an hour to get it outside, with Mother screaming and Cal hiding beneath the table. Leave it to Figaro to get me to laugh harder than I have in months.

 Marley can vaguely see her new friends in her peripheral vision, taking up two rows among them, squirming in their seats and itching to be called. “Woot! There’s Danny,” says Alison in a stage whisper, pointing. “Danny!”

Hidden from the judges by a prop of purple mountains, an olive hand twitches aside the far curtain. Startling eyes, every shade of green, survey the audience, finally landing on Alison’s waving hand. Danny returns her wave with a thumbs-up and a smile, a bright white half-moon in the shadows of backstage.

 March 25 – Kate had a dream again, or so she wrote me. It was always funny, how she could sometimes know what I was going to say before I said it, just because she dreamt me saying it. Sometimes she could guess what the cooks would serve for dinner – that is, before they all left.

When mother and I still lived in our grand manor, Kate, my maid, had been my best friend. She is still practically my sister. But then Cal shoved his way into my life and wanted her gone, so we would have more ‘quality time’. Being an orphan, she had no place to go. But for all the hours I argued myself hoarse, I had no say. I still have no say. Mother, Cal, and I moved away, into a small, faraway house.

Thankfully, not long after, Kate was adopted by my dear uncle and is given the life of love and happiness she deserves. I am so happy for her. We write back and forth as often as we can.

This time, Kate said she could not remember the dream exactly; only that something horrible was going to happen to me, very soon. She warned me getting on that boat to America was a bad idea, and that perhaps I should escape. Just because of her odd dreams, I admit at first I was worried. But then I remembered she has never before had a particularly good or bad prediction, and it has been so long since her last one. Whatever gift she had as a child is gone now. I believe hers was simply a dream, nothing more. Now that I think about it, it is quite funny.

‘Of course,’ I wrote back to her, ‘As soon as I get to America, I shall have to marry Caledon. That would inspire nightmares in anyone.’