𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐎𝐍 𝐗 𝐎𝐂

𝐢𝐢𝐢. ✭ 𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄

AUGUST, 1959; THALIA

"𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨,
𝘜𝘯𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘣𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘺,
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘥𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘳
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 -"

- Dorothea McKellar

"Hey, can you..." I cleared my throat which was thick with hesitance. "Can you slow down, please?" My tone was polite and the request was certainly not unreasonable but that didn't stop the irritated sigh that sounded from Cameron who was ten paces ahead of me.

The redheaded boy let his shoulders fall but they still seemed remarkably tense as he swiveled around to face me. His eyes avoided my gaze and instead when he spoke, he seemed to be looking at the patch of mushrooms beside my feet. "Tell me, Thalia Lewis...is this a habit of yours? Roaming around the woods without a care in the world..."

"I do have cares. I have many cares." Shimmying between two large tangles of blackberry bushes, I stepped carefully and raised my arms up to avoid the sharp thorns that wrapped around the fat fruit that dangled off of the stems. Once free, I crouched down and picked a handful, smiling at my find.

Back at Quixote, the only fruit that could be found would be off of trees and bushes laboriously planted. Even then any crop would be sparse because of the kids that would run around the neighborhood, plucking anything ripe the moment it presented itself. Out in the wild, nature provided, undisturbed, its scattered seeds leading to tasty treats.

"That didn't answer my question." Remarked Cameron and I heard his footsteps draw closer. His shadow told me that he still kept a careful distance between us but I saw him craning his neck over to me. "What are you on the ground for?"

"Look." With earnestness, I twisted toward him, displaying the collection of berries that lay in the scoop of my palms. What I had done felt so right and the obvious thing to do upon stumbling on such a treasure, that is until I saw Cameron's distaste. "Berries..." Slowly rising, I popped one in my mouth. Sweetness rolled around my tongue. Naturally, I offered the fruit to him, assuring that it, "Tastes like summertime."

He stepped back as I stepped forward. His mouth is so downturned, along with the rest of his freckled face. "Thalia, your hands."

I glanced down and saw that the berries' plumpened state had already led to purple juice leaking out and staining my pale skin. My palms were now a lilac color. "Whoops."

The huff Cameron exhaled was caustic. He had given me the impression that it wasn't very proper or ladylike to get on the ground and shove my hand through prickles for berries. No, people in the Welton circle would be expected to eat their fruit when it's arranged beautifully on plates, not in grubby girl hands.

"Drop them." Ordered Cameron.

Immediately, before I could stop myself, I replied, "No." I couldn't help it. Throwing away something perfectly good like these blackberries would have earned me gossip and dirty looks in Quixote.

The hairs of his fine red brows raised. A tingling swept up the back of my neck and up my face. I challenged him. Me, timid, Thalia, had challenged this boy who had begrudgingly decided to show me out of the woods.