Marvelo and Wonderland’s Key Snippet
By: E. M. Peterson
"Well, we are moving in, Cedric,” Dad replied from his battlefield.
My eyes narrowed as the arrogant triplet strode in on his high horse. Cedric glanced around the kitchen before running a hand through his short black hair, sighing at the mess. His chilling blue eyes narrowed through his rimless glasses as he watched me furrow my eyebrows as I went through the knives.
"Careful," he said as he watched me like a well-groomed archer. I swear, Cedric would be prouder than lion if he could see me in a cage, just so long as I was safe.
"Oh no! Watch out for the terrifying, parnips!" I mocked, putting the vegetable before the knife and cutting board I had selected. "Or the horrifying potatoes!"
Cedric eyebrow arched, not amused. “Perhaps I should paint you a picture?” he clicked.
That quickly shut me up. Cedric’s Main Power was not anything I liked to mess with. He was born with the ability to bring to life anything he drew. The more detail he used, the better it could sustain in the world. His Secondary Power wasn’t anything to sneeze at either. I wasn’t exactly a fan of going to an art gallery and seeing my brother walk through a battlefield scene as if it were completely natural
"Come off it, Cedric. She was only teasing," Klaus defended. "She has nothing to do with your break-up."
"Correction, she has everything to do with it. Why do you think we moved here in the first place?” he hissed back.
The room grew unnaturally quiet. Even Dad and Lars clammed up. I simply lowered my head even further and carefully began to cut the vegetables solemnly. I couldn’t deny it, there was truth in his argument. If it hadn’t been for me, he would have still be with his girlfriend back home.
"I’m sorry," I whispered as guilt sunk in. I couldn’t even bring myself to glare at him. I just had to keep cutting the food. A heavy hand patted me on the shoulder.
“That’s quite alright, Mr. Thomas. I feel like I must be intruding, I better go. But thank you. I’ll come back to visit another time.” The voice replied before making graceful steps towards the door. Suddenly the squeaking wood stopped.
“ T’ere some-fing I can help ye wi’f?”
“No,” the voice giggled. Jack was certain it was a girl but she had yet to step into his view. “I was just ‘admiring’ is all.”
“JA’K!” boomed Mr. Thomas. “Ge’ ba’k ta work!”
In an instant, Jack sloppily began to push books desperately onto the shelf. A faint blush burned against his cheeks as the girl left the store.
After he finally completed his job, Jack rushed to the front desk with empty box in hand.
“Who was that?” he asked Mr. Thomas, setting down the cardboard.
“Who was wa’t?”
“The girl who stopped in.”
“What do you mean ‘W’at girl’?! The one who stopped in just now!”
“Don ye be raisin’ tat voice! Twas jus’ yer imagin’ fings.”
“But I heard you two talking! She brought medicine.”
“Ja’k, just go ba’k ta yer book. Ye only have another two ‘ours ‘fore ye need ta get.”
Jack grumbled knowing that Mr. Thomas was right but it still stung to think that the bookkeeper wouldn’t tell him. He sighed and found his way back onto the couch, trying to desperately escape his burning curiosity. Finally, after a few scenes, he disappeared back inside the world of Shakespeare. His eyes rarely lifted from the page as the actors dances about inside his head. But alas, the clock moved with such swiftness to point accusing hands at 9:00 p.m.
“Alrigh’y boy, tim’ ta ge’ goin’.” Mr. Thomas said, patting the couch. “Keep da book. I’s a gif’. An’ don’ ferg’t yer umbrella!”
Jack watched Mr. Thomas in surprise until he disappeared into the back room of the shop. He quickly turned over the large hardcover to find a price of £30.00! He rushed to the door in a huff and pounded on it.
“Mr. Thomas! Mr. Thomas, I can’t accept this! Mr. Thomas!”
“Ge’ outta my shop, Ja’k. I’ll see ye next we’k.” grumbled the tired voice.
Jack bit his lip, holding back his hand from knocking against the dark oak door once more. He carefully tucked the book under his arms before taking off down the aisle, grinning wider than the English Channel. The store’s bell announced his leave as he hurried onto Kowl Avenue.
His eyes were blazing with passion and his heart bounded about in his chest. He could feel the wind whip his hair into a mess of small waves while the rain soaked rapidly into his clothes. The dark gloomy sky drummed steadily as lightning rumbled amongst each cloud. Huckleberry Lane wasn’t too far and as he turned the corner onto Augusten Street, he could see the boarding school lurking in the distance. The road was much more crowded than the others for it led directly into the heart of London.
© E.M. Peterson exlibris9.tumblr.com