Plantaesapien: An Unlikely Beggining

Chapter 2

I was barely aware of the fact that Danny had left the room. When he had untangled himself from my limbs this morning the sunlight had barely seeped past my window panes. In my groggy state of mind, I could hardly tell whether it had in fact happened or if I had simply been dreaming - honestly at that point I could careless - and so I rolled over and fell back asleep.

It was late morning when my eyes finally flittered open. As it turns out, this morning was one of the busy ones. Danny had in fact left my room early; I was not dreaming.

I groaned as I rolled onto my side, blowing strands of hair out of my face along the way. I was not a morning person by any means. The sun was often too much for me, too bright. The people were far too annoying, all question-y. And the idea of getting out of the haven of my bed was so incredibly daunting. How on Earth can people like mornings so much?

It was the faint smell of coffee and the barely audible sound of voices downstairs that finally gave me the motivation to get up.

I shoved my feet into the slippers beside my bed - fluffy rabbit slippers; the best kind - and shuffled my way over to the stair case just outside my door.

"-seventeen for God's sake! Don't you think that she would be more than capable to handle that information at her age!"

"Will you quit being so immature! And lower your voice, she's still upstairs sleeping,"

By the time I reached the top of the staircase I realized that the voices were far from the usual early morning conversations held between housemates.

"Yes, she is seventeen, I am completely aware of that. But I do not think it is a good idea to tell her." Whisper-shouted a familiar gruff male voice.

"Why not?" I'd know that voice anywhere, it was Danny. "Why would it not be a good idea? Okay, sure, she could end up in a corner crying her eyes out because what we tell her is too much. She could walk away before we finish, slamming doors as she leaves the house. But where will she go? You know for a fact that she will come running back to us because she has no where else to go. We are the only form of family she has. And at the minute, we're doing a pretty pathetic job at being a family. We're hiding secrets from her, secrets that should be hers not ours to keep. She should know how her mother died!"

Danny was yelling now. He was furious about something . . . and I think that furious has something to do with me.

"Daniel, I know that you're concerned for her. But please leave it to me to handle. It's not doing her any harm right now."

I crouched down, so I could see through the bars of the staircase, only just able to see their shadows from the kitchen.

"Not doing her any harm? Really, Garith? I think it's doing plenty of harm to her. She has trouble sleeping at night because she's afraid she'll hear her mother dying all over again. And when she does get to sleep she wakes up screaming in pools of her own sweat and tears completely unaware of where she is and who I am when I come in to calm her down. How long do you think she'll be able to handle that? How many more times do you think she'll wake up in a shamble before she doesn't wake up at all? How long do you think she'll be able to last without sleep? Because truth be told I don't think that girl can handle much more."

My hands quivered as I reached out to grab the struts of the staircase, grasping tightly as I listened in to a conversation not meant for my ears but was most certainly about me. Why would Danny and his father need to talk about me? Why are they talking about my mother? Why do they keep bringing up how she died?

Mr Costello blew out a breath, flustered by the conversation. "Daniel, if we tell her this then she'll want to know how we know. If I tell her how we know, she'll want to be a part of it and I promised her mother that I would not, under any circumstances let her see this side of our world," he tried to reason.

I watched as the shadow of Danny's hand wiped over his mouth, he nodded absentmindedly, acknowledging what was said but not really agreeing to it.

"I think that she is old enough to make her own decisions. We need to tell her. What happens after that is not something we should worry about right now. That's for us to worry about later. And even still, if she wanted to become a part of this then that is her decision and hers alone. You need to stop babying her. She isn't five anymore, she's almost an adult."

Mr Costello's shadow shook it's head as I slowly creeped down the stairs. "I don't think you fully understand what I am getting at, my boy. She is a Finch. She comes from a long line of top tier mutations! Do you honestly think that girl could handle that? If she knew about us and then wanted to help we would have no choice but to activate the mutation. Do you realize how dangerous that could be? If she were still five years old perhaps then I would consider it because she'd be able to learn how to handle it. But at her age it's much too late. She'd be handling not just one mutation but three all at once; crown, skin and tail. That is not something for the faint of heart and once we tell her she will be faint of heart."

I was completely and utterly drawn in by this conversation; so much so that I wasn't paying attention to the fifth step up from the bottom.

The dreaded fifth step. When I was eleven-years-old I was sneaking back upstairs after raiding the fridge. I had almost gotten away without a hiding to the backside, but, as I now know, the fifth step up from the bottom had a squeak to it when pressure was applied too close to the railing. I was caught and so justly served with a tender backside for a week. I never raided the kitchen again - or so everyone thought.

When my foot came down on the fifth step, I put all my weight on it, leaning forward so I could see the two figures as they spoke. The creak rang out. Echoing throughout the old house and its timbered walls, reaching the ears of the bickering men.

Their heads snapped in my direction. The blood drained from my face. I had been caught.

My eyes darted from their shocked expressions to the steps that I crouched on. One, two, three, four. . . five.

You've got to be kidding me.

My first thought was to run but how would I get my answers if I did?

My second thought was to demand to know what was going on. But I was frozen to the spot, mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air.

The only rational thing left to do that I could think of was to sit there, and wait for somebody to explain.

"Chino. . ." Danny began.

My eyes flew up to him. I wanted to beg him to tell me what was going on, but words were beyond reach for me. I don't think I've ever felt so lost for words in my entire life then in these last 24 hours.

To my surprise it wasn't Danny who spoke next, but the man who had been stubborn throughout the whole argument.

Mr Costello sighed, "Chino, it appears as though we have some explaining to do."