author's note: I wrote this for the twilight20 challenge on LiveJournal, and finally decided to post it here. Other than a few 100-word drabbles, it's my first proper Twilight fic, and I hope it accurately reflects canon :) Feedback would be greatly loved, as always!
Biloxi, Mississippi: 1915
Good Lord, I hate laundry.
Not that my opinion on the stuff matters much, as I'm still required to actually, y'know, do it, while Mother's gone to town. But that's not to say I actually enjoy the process. And, come to think of it, I'm not even sure what Mother actually does in town while she leaves me here stuck with the chores— other than gossip with the ladies in her gardening club, but that's none of my everlovin' business (to quote Daddy, anyhow).
Today is turning out dreadful, really— on the subject of laundry, that is. Cynthia's taken to climbing the trees in our backyard of late, and it dirties her dresses something awful. And when Cindy's dresses are dirty, it means there are more lights than normal, and when there are more lights than normal, it takes an extra-long time to get them clean. And I usually don't do well with extra-long times, to tell the truth— like when I was baking cookies for my Aunt Ellen's birthday and had to add bunches of eggs and flour to the recipe, 'cause of all the people I'd be giving them to at her party, but that meant it'd take an extra-long time to cook. And I was paying attention, really, I was, except that I had one of my pictures right in the middle of waiting for the cookies to bake— but it was just so real, I couldn't help but pay all of my attention to it!
Now I think of it, I get in trouble a lot on account of my pictures. Well, not on account of them, really, 'cause I've never exactly told anyone about them. I was sort of planning to, after the accident with the cookies (they still tasted good, really, just a lil' burnt…), but then my friend Lucy told me that her mom had a friend whose cousin's son went crazy and started talking 'bout the president and aliens and the Rosetta Stone, and he got sent to the lunatic hospital.
I'm pretty sure I wouldn't get sent to the lunatic hospital just 'cause of my pictures, plus Lucy lies some of the time— but its better safe than sorry, in'nit?
And it's not like my pictures are bad. I mean, I always know when Mother's going to go into town and stay late, or when Cindy's gonna try and steal my diary. (Which doesn't really have all that much interesting stuff written in it, to tell the truth, but I keep one anyway because somehow it seems like people who keep diaries of their interesting lives always have interesting lives, kind of by default.
Ha! Default is a vocabulary word in my English class, and we're s'posed to use it in a sentence whenever we can. Lucy says that's stupid, but I have to do it 'cause I'm in advanced English and I take it sixth hour with the grade above me and Lucy's. I think she just might be jealous that the school thinks I'm smart enough for that, but I don't like arguing with Lucy so I don't mention it.)
…Not that I suppose it would matter if Cindy saw my diary, since I don't write my pictures down in them. I wonder if I should start? Writing down my pictures, I mean, in case they might be important. Or, I don't know, it might make it easier to share with something if I can't share with someone. Oh dear Lord, does that make any sense at all? What I guess I mean is times like— oh! Like back when I had my picture of Billy Robinson asking Aggie, my second best friend (after Lucy) to the Spring Dance, and I was absolutely jumping 'cause I was so happy, since Aggie said she really liked Billy when she and me and Lucy were playing Truth or Dare— and I mean she really liked him, like wanted him to kiss her and everything. But it was so hard to not tell Aggie and Lucy it was going to happen, 'specially since Aggie was kind of sad Billy hadn't asked her yet. And, oh! I knew he would, but her and Lucy really would think I was just a little crazy if I told them I had pictures of the future. And that's sort of what I was getting at, being able to at least write things like that down and not have them cluttering up my head all the time.
I should've asked Mother to buy me a notebook in town… or, well, maybe not, 'cause every time I ask Mother to buy me something, like bobby pins or some new ribbons for my hair, she always asks if I have enough money to buy them myself. Which I think is kind of stupid to ask (even though I'd never say it out loud), since where am I supposed to get money from, anyhow? I can't work anywhere since Cindy's in grade school and gets out later than I do, and I have to watch her in the afternoons, since Daddy works real late and Mother's got lots to do with her gardening club and sewing group and whatnot. But I don't really mind.
Oh, well. I'll get new notebooks next school year, I guess.
Besides, my pictures can't be about anything that important, anyway.