The Truth

Violet walked home, her feet scuffing the ground, her gaze full of guilt. She strained to hear Nicholas call after her, strained to hear John's heavy footsteps, but of course she didn't. She was deaf, after all. That much she hadn't lied about.

But she had finally revealed the truth.

She knew what the treasure was. It wasn't the books with their fancy bindings, it wasn't at all whatNicholas had thought. It was what her grandfather had showed her. Her grandfather, who was Mr. Booker. Her grandfather, who knew it all.

Who knew the truth.

Her grandfather had led her along a trail, into a cave, bringing a shovel, shoveling out dirt to make the tunnel wider. Then they had walked.

Walked where the drill was.

Her grandfather had dug above the wall, dug deeply, then a rock had fell. A heavy, large rock. He took it outside of the tunnel, then turned and watched as the wall caved in, making the tunnel small once again. He had looked at her, sadness in his eyes, then took it outside, cleaning all the dirt off of it.

Violet had gasped.

Cold... out of her way... relaxing with it... of course!

It was a geode, a large geode, the prettiest one in the world. In the right kind of sunlight, it shimmered and glowed different colors, from the lightest purple to the deepest turquoise. That alone would be a hundred thousand dollars, but that wasn't it.

Inside, was gold.

And a note.

Here is your treasure, Diana. I love you. I got it for you.

That was before the hunt for the treasure had started. Before her life had changed.

Before she had a real chance to get friends. Before she had lied.

So now Violet was walking, knowing where she was going. The bluff. Where her life had truly changed. Where she had seen Nicholas- the boy she loved. The boy who knew everything. The boy who couldn't realize she could speak, if somewhat clumsily. She signed to him so he wouldn't detect the lies in her voice.

It was better that way.

She came to the bluff and sat, staring at her farm. They had gotten the new tractor, and she should be in art school in a month.

Violet remembered the boy on the bluff. Nicholas. She loved him. He was so smart, and funny, and he was probably remembering every word she had signed to him, every single lying motion of her fingers. And then hands were grasping her, pulling her away from the edge, and she got up and stared at the face in front of her. John.

She tried to read his lips, but they were moving too fast, screaming at her. Violet shivered and took a step back.

And the earth collasped.

The last glimpse of her adopted brother was his mad expression turning into horrible grief and horror. I'll be fine, she tried to say. See you at the house.

But she was falling, without ever saying goodbye.