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ONE WIDE-EYED WOMAN
(HALF A MILE AHEAD)
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DELIA THORNE IS infuriated, angry, ticked off; every synonym for angry in the book. Because here's the thing, she does not want to be here. In fact, right now, she's plotting ways to silently murder her parents for some sort of revenge. Maybe she can take the bloody synonym book and bash them over the head with it, knocking some form of sense into their brains. Or maybe she can run away right now. It's not like they'll notice at the moment, not with their incessant bickering.
It's not a new feeling. Delia's been angry before. Most teenagers have, of course. But you know how it is. When you're angry with your parents it's a completely different type of anger. Like, Delia loves her parents — she really does. But they get on her nerves sometimes. Like right now! When they act like teenagers even though they're literal adults with a child, might she add. (Although Delia doesn't really like to think of herself as a child, she thinks she's more mature than that.)
But still. She's taken a health class — teenage hormones and all, but that's not what's happening right now. Right now, she's actually mad at her parents. Because they're being annoying. It only really happens when they're bickering like they are now. Usually, they're incredibly mature people, they're lawyers after all — they've got to be mature for their job. But when they argue with each other? Apparently all the years they spent at law school fly out of the window and they end up arguing like two pre-teens fighting about who's faster.
She remembers this one time, way back during primary school when some absolutely insufferable boy named Drew was going on about how girls weren't athletic and could never ever beat him in anything. Now Delia thinks of herself as a girly girl, she always has — she loves getting dressed up, doing makeup and hair, all of it. But she also loves winning, it's pretty high on her list of things she loves. So of course she had to show him up and beat him in a race. And seven-year-old Delia revelled in watching him angrily storm off, halfway in tears.
Her parents arguing is eerily similar to that. Except for the fact that they actually like each other, and they're not arguing about who's faster. And also, her dad doesn't eat his boogers.
"Vin, I've been trying to tell you that we've been lost for the past half hour!" Gianna shouts.
"Calm down, I know exactly where we are," Vincent says back.
Delia groans, rolling her eyes and sinking into the car seat. Isn't it already bad enough that she's carsick and on the verge of hurling? Now she's got to listen to her parents' obnoxious bickering. When will the fun ever end?
Gianna barks out a laugh and glares at Vincent. "Oh really? Then tell me where we are Vincent! I would love to know!"
Vincent narrows his eyes at Gianna and turns his head towards the forest surrounding the road. Delia rolls her eyes again and presses her head against the car window. She wants to leave, she doesn't care where, she just wants to go.
They had stopped the car over thirty minutes ago, and now the three of them are currently in the middle of nowhere in the pitch-black dark of the night — they're lost, in the middle of the woods, no less. Whether Delia's stubborn father wants to admit it or not.
Sighing, Delia allows her eyes to wander, looking around at the dark greenery surrounding them when her eyes fall onto an oddly shaped building hidden behind the shrubs.
"Mum. Mum!" she says.
Gianna whips around in her seat and, taking a deep breath, asks her daughter, "What is it, love?"
"There's a house up there," Delia points out. And she points her finger in the direction of the building hidden behind all of the shrubberies. "Behind all of the trees."
Gianna turns her attention back to Vincent, who's still mumbling something about how they aren't lost and leans over her seat and into his. Her elbows dig into his thighs as she narrows her eyes and searches for the house that her daughter pointed out, hiding behind all the nature.
"Gi — what're you — OW!" Vincent yells out.
Delia can pinpoint the exact moment her mother spots the house and bites back a giggle as her mum digs her elbow into her dad's thigh once more before finally getting off of him and returning completely to the passenger seat of the car and sitting up straight.
"Delia's right," says Gianna as she pats down a crinkle in her blouse. "There a house a bit further up. Should we go and ask them for help, or is your ego too big and fragile to admit that we need help, as well?"
Vincent huffs and rolls his eyes. "Maybe you should go and ask them," he says. "And if they don't want to help, you could always just jam your elbows into their thighs!"
Gianna takes a sharp breath in and opens her mouth to make a comeback, Probably something witty, Delia thinks to herself, before she cuts her mum off. "Oh my God!" she snaps. "You guys are acting like kids! And in case both of you forgot, I'm supposed to be the child here!"
Her parents both sigh in unison and turn around to face her. "We're sorry, Rory," Gianna says. "It's just... we're both a bit scared — you know? We're practically leaving you all alone."
Delia puts on the saddest face that she can muster up. "Then don't leave me," she pouts, puppy eyes and everything. "I want to stay home — with you guys!"
Vincent laughs. "Nice try, Rory. But you know we have to do this. You need this. OK?"
Delia sinks back into her seat and she rolls her eyes. "But it's not even my fault!"
Her mum glares at her and Delia sighs. "Alright fine. Maybe it was a little bit my fault, but that's it."
Vincent leans towards Delia. "I'm sure, which is why this is only for a year. And then you'll be back with us. Right? And if you want to find a way to make it up to us even faster — you could walk up to that house and ask them for directions."
"Don't tell them it's because your father got us lost, though," Gianna says. She turns to look at him. "We can keep that embarrassing information to ourselves."
Delia groans. She should've seen this coming. Her cunning father — screw him! She doesn't have to do what he asked! So, she shakes her head and stares out of the opposite window. "Absolutely not. Something could muck up my shoes!" she says, looking down at her brand new pair of white Converse. She will not mess up her new shoes just because her dad has a terrible sense of direction.
And then, an idea bulb lights up above her head. "Unless..." she starts.
Gianna turns to face her again and smirks at her daughter. She looks back to Vincent and smirks at him. "You should've seen that coming," she says.
It's true, he should've. Her parents raised her to use anything and everything to her advantage. Delia grins as she leans forwards and she places her elbows where the passenger's seat is separated from the driver's seat. She smiles gleefully at her parents with the underlying notion of something more. "Can I please get another pair of shoes, Daddy?" She looks to her dad.
"No! Absolutely not! You're wearing a new pair of shoes right now!" her father says.
"But," Delia pouts. "I'm going to need a new pair once these get ruined from all the mud."
"Her shoes will get ruined from all the mud, Vin," says Gianna, looking over at Vincent and pouting at him.
"Oh come on," says Vincent. "This isn't fair!"
"Thank you, Daddy!" Delia shouts as she throws open her car door. "I'll let you know which ones I want!" she shouts, as she's about a metre into the forest. "You can bring them to me next week when you visit!" Delia turns around and starts trudging up the hill, the house becoming closer in her sight with each step.
As she walks, she looks up. The sky looks gorgeous at night, as it always does. But Delia feels a sort of peace overwhelm her right now. Sure, she feels a little shitty. After all, she's moving into her cousin's house because she just got expelled for attempted murder. But the stars just look so pretty tonight.
Now Delia's not normally a naturey person. All the bugs, mud, and the dirt just isn't her thing; but stargazing. She's always wanted to do that. But she's never gotten the chance — not really. Because sure, she's only fourteen, but for a fourteen-year-old, she's busier than most. She's top of her class, actually. (Well — was top of her class, she guesses now.) And not to mention the four hours of dance classes that she was doing every day on top of that. She's a busy girl. (Well — was a busy girl.)
Everything's just so sucky now. And it's all because of Dianne Johnson. All because one day, little miss picture-perfect decided that she wanted to vie for captain of the dance team and compete against Delia. When it was a well-known fact around the school, and pretty much all the neighbouring schools too, that Cordelia Thorne ran the St. Anthony's girls ballet team. How in the world is Delia's fault that little Dianne Johnson thought she could change that? And get this — one of the girls told Delia that Dianne was looking to "end her reign of terror," like what even! Sure, Delia can admit she was a little hard on the girls, but that's only because they needed to keep up with her since she was — is — the best!
So yeah, maybe Delia accidentally slipped a teeny tiny bit of crushed peanuts into her food during lunchtime, knowing that Dianne's got a deathly allergy. But if anything, she was asking for it! After all, what did she expect? Coming into a new school and deciding overnight that she was gonna knock down Delia from her place at the top? Please.
Delia continues to walk towards the building, and it's getting closer in her sight, but she groans when she feels her foot sink into the ground. And so she looks up to the stars again, hoping that someone above can maybe save her brand new white trainers from this terrible fate.
"If these people have a dog I swear to God," she grumbles as she slowly lifts her foot off of the ground, feeling the pull of gravity trying to bring her foot back down into the muck she'd stepped in.
Delia almost loses it as she brings her foot up and grabs the front of it so that she can see the sole of her shoe, and realises that thankfully she's only stepped in mud. But either way, her trainers are completely ruined now. She wants to scream. But she settles for muttering a string of curses under her breath as she tries to wipe the sole of her shoe on the grass as she trudges her way up to a sign reading, 'The Burrow.'
She rolls her eyes seeing the sign, it's just a bit tacky to name your home. It's not like she calls her house 'The Thorne Residence' — although, actually — that doesn't sound half bad.
Delia continues her way up to the house, fixing her hair in the process and smoothing out the pleats of her dress. Her mother always told her that first impressions are everything. Even if you're most likely never going to see them again, you should leave them with a good impression that they'll be thinking about for the next week or so. Some people might call it being a kiss-up. Delia calls it tactful initiation. Once they like her, once she gets on their good side? They'll love her. They'll do anything she wants them to do. Like back at St. Anthony's, Delia practically had everyone under her thumb, because of her good first impression. So yeah, first impressions are pretty crucial.
As she approaches the house, Delia takes a moment to look at it before she softly raps on the door. The house — or building more like — looks (and Delia means this in the nicest way possible) like it's about to fall apart. It looks like it was once just a small house (like one of those adorable tiny houses), but extra houses were added almost everywhere until the once tiny house, was about five stories high.
In her defence, she's scared that if she knocks on it too hard, the building will come toppling down and crush her. She looks down and notices that surrounding the front door is a collection of rubber boots for — looks like about — nine people? Christ.
Delia starts to knock more rapidly on the door as she sees a couple of chickens hobbling their way across the yard and over to her. Isn't it bad enough that her shoes are ruined? She doesn't need a gaggle of chickens running up to her to make this day even worse. Maybe if she's lucky, the building will collapse and kill her before the chickens get to her.
A lady with red hair and an apron wrapped around her waist opens the door. "Lyla I was—Oh!" she says, looking at Delia and realising that she's in fact, not Lyla. "Hello there, how can I help you?"
Delia sighs in relief after realising that the woman knows her cousin and plasters a smile onto her face. "I'm so sorry to bother you," she says with a hand over her chest. "But I'm Lyla's cousin — Delia Thorne — I'm moving in with her today and we seem to have gotten lost. Could I trouble you for the directions to her house?"
The woman smiles down at Delia and puts one hand on her hip while the other one furiously gestures Delia into the house. "Oh of course! I'm Molly Weasley, come in, come in! Can I offer you anything? Water?"
Delia smiles at Molly as she follows the older woman into the house. "Water would be nice, thank you."
Her mother also taught her that during a first impression: When someone offers something, you always accept.
"Sit down, please," Molly says and Delia takes a seat. She looks around the house, trying to keep her composure as she watches the enchanted items go about.
Here's the thing. Delia knows about magic. She knows what she's getting herself into by moving in with her cousin and her magical family. She's known about the Wizarding World for a while. But that still doesn't make it any less insane when she sees magic happening right before her eyes. She thinks gotten pretty good at hiding her reaction, though. Delia's got a killer poker face. She likes to think that others would believe she's grown up with magic by how used to everything she looks.
Molly walks over with a glass of water and Delia smiles politely at her as she takes a small sip of the water.
"So, I'm assuming that guys are wizards as well?" she says with a small laugh, gesturing around the room.
"Oh, yes, we are," says Molly, smiling at Delia. "You're not?"
"Oh, no," Delia says, taking another sip of water. "No, I'm not."
They sit in awkward silence for a brief moment before Delia remembers what else her mother had told her. "Always keep the conversation going. Keep it interesting."
She would've kept the conversation much briefer and much less personal if Molly didn't know Lyla and Fiona but — clearly she knows them, and the two girls probably know the woman as well — which most definitely means that Delia will be seeing more of Molly.
She clears her throat and gently sets the glass of water down on the table. "Are you here alone?" she asks.
The question is answered for Delia with a creak on the staircase. She looks up and sees three people: two boys and a girl, who all look about her age. Delia takes a deep breath and quickly reassesses. She'd thought that there was only a middle-aged woman living here but that obviously isn't the case. Now that there are these three kids, she'll have to make a good impression on them too.
As soon as her eyes fall on them they (not so) quickly rush behind the wall trying to hide, and not doing an amazing job of it. Slowly, their heads peek around the corner and Delia smiles at them as Molly whirls around.
"What're you lot doing up?" she says. "It's much too early to be awake right now! Why are you up?"
The three of them stand there with their heads hung slightly low. Delia feels like she's intruding, this is clearly a mother berating her children. Something she doesn't want to be around for and probably shouldn't be around for. She picks up the glass of water and takes another small sip. She looks at the three kids, who all look about her age, and her eyes meet a pair of green ones. She puts the glass down and smiles again at the boy who gives her a small one back.
He walks down the stairs towards Molly and stops when he's right in front of her. "I'm sorry, Mrs Weasley it's my fault. I heard the knock on the door and got curious. I wanted to know who it was."
Molly rushes over to the boy with the green eyes and places her arms on his shoulders. "Harry dear," — Harry, that's his name then? Good to know — "Are you having nightmares again? Are you not sleeping well?"
"I'm fine Mrs Weasley," says Harry, trying to fix his hair with his hands after Molly releases him. Delia frowns, he desperately needs a haircut.
She coughs lightly, to bring the attention back to her. Another thing her mother taught her: Always know how to subtly command the attention of a room. The four of them turn to face her and Delia puts on a small smile. "Delia Thorne," she introduces herself. "I'm guessing you're my cousin's neighbours?" she asks, even though she already knows the answer.
"Oh, how rude of me," says Molly. "Delia, this is Ron, Hermione, and Harry."
Delia smiles, "Pleasure."
"You're Lyla's cousin? The one who's living with her for a year?" says Ron, his eyes wide. "The muggle?"
Delia clenches her teeth as she keeps her smile on her face. She hates that word. She hates how it's what the wizard side of her family calls her, it sounds so... degrading. And she knows they mean no harm when they call her and her family the word, but it doesn't change the fact that Delia absolutely hates it.
The three of them were so obviously eavesdropping on her conversation with Molly, why ask an obvious question? "Yes, that's me," she says through her teeth.
Delia looks to Molly, she's had enough of this. Her parents are probably wondering where she is anyways. "I'm sorry to cut this short but I really should get going; the directions?"
Molly gasps. "Oh yes of course! I almost forgot. Their house isn't much further down, just keep heading straight and you'll be there in a few minutes."
Delia smiles at Molly and extends her hand, Molly grabs it and shakes, a pleasant smile on her face.
"It was lovely to meet you," says Delia. She moves to the left and smiles at Harry, Hermione, and Ron before walking towards the door. She turns around, smiling at them. "I hope to see you guys around."
She opens the door and steps out into the darkness again, but not before she hears Molly, "Ronald Weasley, why would you say that to her—!" Delia doesn't hear the rest as she closes the door and slinks into the night with a small smile on her face.
She'd be lying if she said she didn't love the nighttime. It's the prettiest time of the day, no question about it. Delia looks up at the stars and smiles again as she slowly walked back to the car — the cool autumn air gently hitting her face.
She wonders what it'll be like living with wizards. Sure, her cousin and their family had come to visit Delia and her parents a couple of times, but they never outwardly used magic all the time. Delia had seen them cast a spell a couple of times and she always thought it was amazing, but what'll it be like to live with them? Will she be the black sheep, the odd one out? Delia shakes her head as she approaches the car and makes a mental note to establish her place in the house when she gets there.
Delia reaches the car and opens the door, sliding into the backseat. "My shoes got dirty," she says. "I expect those new ones for this."
"We need the directions first, Rory," says Vincent.
"Oh yeah," Delia grins. "So you both are idiots and the Weasley's are going to be my new wizard neighbours for the next year. Lyla's house is just down the road a bit."
Gianna turns around to face Delia. "What? They're wizards too?"
"Well, yeah," Delia shrugs.
"Did you—"
"Yes, Mum," says Delia. "I even heard the mum of the house — her name's Molly — yelling at her kid for not being nicer to me."
Gianna smiles at her daughter and as Vincent starts the car, he turns around and grins at his daughter. "That's my girl."
They drive forward for a couple of minutes, the soft muffle of the radio keeping the three of them from sitting in complete silence. Delia traces the outline of her bracelet — she's never been away from her parents for so long. Although she won't outwardly admit it, Delia's a little scared. She's scared of going to a new 'reformatory' school, and she's scared of living with wizards and leaving her parents.
Vincent pulls up to the house and into the driveway. And as he parks the car, Delia takes a deep breath and fiddles with the clasp of her bracelet as she walks up the stairs and onto the porch of the house. She rings the doorbell and waits outside of the door for it to be opened. She hates this. The waiting, the nervousness, the not being in control. But thankfully, the door opens a moment later and Delia's met with the tired and puffy face of her cousin, Lyla.
"You look hideous," says Delia as she steps past Lyla and into the house.
"You haven't changed at all," Lyla replies before turning to Delia's parents and welcoming them in, helping the couple with Delia's massive amount of luggage.
Delia walks into the house and takes a moment to look around and take in her home for the next year. Even though she and Lyla are cousins, Delia's never been to her cousin's house before — Lyla and the others had only ever visited Delia and her parents at Delia's house.
She pulls a face, remembering how whenever they visited it was almost always painfully awkward. She's not that close with Heather, Alice, and Amelia. Sure, usually when they visited it takes a while for the three girls to 'warm up' to Delia and vice versa, and after that, they usually end up making decent conversation. But it's still awkward. And it still doesn't change the fact that Delia does not want to be here.
"We have to be quiet," Lyla whispers as she walks into the room with Gianna and Vincent. "The girls are sleeping and I have to wake them up in a bit to take them to the World Quidditch Cup."
Delia exchanges a look with her mum.
"Your room's upstairs, though. If you want to get some sleep," says Lyla.
"I'll head up in a minute," says Delia. Lyla nods and walks off to the kitchen.
Gianna and Vincent rush up to Delia and wrap the girl in a massive hug. Her mother kisses the top of her head, and Delia sighs.
"We'll miss you so much," says Gianna.
"Be good, OK?" says Vincent.
Delia smiles at her parents, "When have I ever not been good?"
Her parents roll their eyes and Gianna grabs Delia's hand, while Vincent put his arm around Gianna's shoulder. "We're serious, alright? We trust Lyla and Fiona and the other girls — to an extent. You're still our daughter, and you need to look out for yourself. Like always."
Her face becomes serious and she looks up at her parents, "I know, Mum. Always look out for yourself."
Gianna smiles, "I love you."
"We love you," Vincent corrects her.
"I love you guys too. And I'll miss you," says Delia.
Her parents turn around and start their way back to the front door, Delia follows them. Vincent turns around as Gianna opens the door, "We'll see you next week."
She hugs her father, "Bye, Daddy."
"Bye, Rory."
Delia watches and waves goodbye to her parents as they pull out of the driveway and fade into the dark. She takes a breath and toys with her bracelet. She's got this. The year will fly by and when it's over, she won't even notice that time has passed. She flips her hair over her shoulder and starts towards the kitchen where she finds Lyla making breakfast. Delia hops onto the kitchen island and grabs a piece of toast that's popped out of the toaster.
After she's done chewing (it's impolite to talk with your mouth full) she turns to Lyla and frowns. "Why don't you just wave your wand and make breakfast," she says.
"It doesn't work like that," Lyla answers as she cracks an egg into the frying pan.
Delia frowns, "Why not?" she grabs Lyla's wand from across the island and waves it. "Abracadabra breakfast-o."
"That's not a real—"
A blast shoots out from the wand and hits the cabinet across from Delia; the wood blasting everywhere and pieces of it flying across the kitchen. Lyla whirls around as her mouth falls open and her brows furrow, struggling to form a sentence.
Delia looks at the wand in her hand and then looks at the damage she's caused, and then, finally, she looks at her cousin. "...Shit."
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