Cherry Blossom Snow

New Home

Mia arrived at a small but well-kept house. From the artificial lighting and the sprinklers, it was safe to assume the house had both electricity and water. It was adequate. The surrounding area was a wealthy neighborhood with soldiers patrolling the streets.

Her new guardians, Helen and James Martella, were there to greet her on her arrival. Mia didn't care about them and didn't get a clear look at them. What they looked like wasn't terribly important, and neither were they.

"We hope you'll like it here," said Helen.

"It looks nice," said Mia.

"I don't like to brag, but we have had some wonderful luck in our investments. Still, we try to live modestly."

"I think I'll do just fine here."

"If you don't, too bad," said James. "Our son, Jaden, is a constant disappointment, but it would be nice if you can get along with him."

"I'll try."

"If you prove to be too much trouble, we'll have no problem with just abandoning you. If we could do that with Jaden, we would, but we can't. The state is providing us with modest compensation to care for you, and as long as you keep your cost of living below that amount and don't annoy or inconvenience us, we shouldn't have any problems. We're not your parents, you're not our daughter, and we don't love you. Got that?"

"Understood."

"Now, I know you just got here, but you and Jaden are going to be on your own for a while," said Helen. "Try to behave."

"Have you got somewhere to go?"

"No, we're just about to get absolutely wasted," said James. "Well, I guess that just about wraps up introductions."

"I think we handled everything," said Helen. "Welcome home, Mia."

Mia was shown to her bedroom, which was unusually orderly. On the left was a bunk bed and a door leading to a bathroom. On the right was a very neatly organized bookcase, adjacent to some shelves holding carefully lined up toys. The near side of the room had a dresser, while the far side had a window. In the middle of the room was a rose-skinned girl, about the same size and age as Mia. She was wearing a long-sleeved, orange-trimmed yellow blouse, an orange skirt, and long white stockings. She was bent over on her knees, resting her head on the floor, and facing between her legs toward Mia while flapping her left hand and clicking with her tongue to the rhythm of Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture as it played on a phonograph record atop her dresser.

Mia stared in confusion. "Are you all right?"

"All right," the other girl said with a soft, serene voice. "There's no need to worry about me."

"What exactly are you doing?"

"Doing. Thinking."

"About what?"

"About windmills."

"Hello, then. I'm Mia. I'll be living here now. And you are?"

"Living here. I'm Evangeline." Her voice wavered with vulnerability.

Mia remarked, "Good to know. They didn't mention a daughter."

"Daughter," Evangeline said. She sighed softly. "Here I am."

"They told me they had a son. Where's he?"

"No son," said Evangeline. "They meant me."

"Most peculiar."

With a kick of her legs, Evangeline rolled forward to a sitting position, then turned around, sitting on her knees and facing Mia, her emerald green eyes shifting to avoid contact. Her golden-brown hair was shoulder-length, with her bangs trimmed just above her eyebrows. A pacifier on a necklace hung around her neck. She blushed and rocked her head side to side as she groaned and fidgeted nervously. "My parents think I'm a boy, but I'm not," Evangeline confided in a vulnerable tone. "I'm a girl, no matter what anyone else says."