1961--Strengthening

"I want to go to school."

Maggie grimaced, staring discontentedly at her half grapefruit and rye toast. "Don't be stupid, Kathy. Kid's your age don't want to go to school. It's not natural." She sprinkled salt over the glistening yellow hemisphere Why do I even bother? It's not like Wallace is interested. I could turn into a whale and he wouldn't notice unless his friends said something. Grimly digging in with her grapefruit spoon, she said, "You don't need to go to school You're doing just fine with your tutor."

"I want to go to junior high. I want to be around kids my own age. I'm bored here by myself all the time."

Maggie glared at her daughter sourly. She had that tone in her voice again. Margaret just didn't understand it. Kathleen hadn't been exactly a docile child when she was little, but she hadn't been openly defiant. She wished Wally would nip that in the bud. He was entirely too indulgent with the girl sometimes.

That was why Maggie couldn't understand Kathy's attitude. Wally gave her everything: a lavish home, all the beautiful clothes she wanted (though the child showed a depressing lack of interest in that area. She would have chosen the most absolutely dire clothes unless Wally had insisted on pretty things.), all the latest and most popular music to be played on a state of the art hi-fi system. Even jewelry, real gold and stones. More importantly, he was providing the same perks for Maggie.

He was even giving her an excellent education through tutors who came to the house. What in God's name did the little bitch want? All she had to do was spread her legs occasionally. Lord knows her mother had done it often enough to keep food in the brat's belly.

Maggie nibbled at the dry toast, wishing she dared to add a smear of butter. But if she wanted that boiled potato for lunch, she'd better not. She tried washing it down with some skim milk, but that stuff was really foul. Maybe if she added some saccharine and vanilla...

“Mom?”

Maggie sighed. God, she was whining again. She hated it when Kathy whined. Her voice could go right through her head like an ice pick. She said irritably, “Ask Wally.” Then...later she realized she shouldn’t have said it. The subject was never spoken of, but somehow it just slipped out. She said pointedly “You know what you have to do to get what you want out of him.”

The low, snarling sound alerted her to her mistake. It wouldn’t have been soon enough to do anything for her, but Kathleen’s aim wasn’t as good as it would be in later years. The sugar bowl sailed over Maggie’s shoulder instead of pegging her between the eyes, as the child had meant it. Fine white granules sprayed the length of the table, sifting into her hair and over and inside her clothes. The delicate china (irreplaceable, Wallace had assured her) shattered against the wall, laying a ragged scratch on the hand printed wall paper.

Maggie, frozen, looked across at her daughter in astonishment.

Or rather, she thought she did. The glittering blue eyes that met her own belonged to a girl who had been around the house for increasing amounts of time the last year. Wallace and Maggie didn’t know of her existence. They just knew that sometimes Kathy... wasn’t herself.

Acacia bared her teeth at The Bitch. Missed, damn it. I think I could have concussed her with that. Maybe broken her nose. Might have even marked her face up permanently, if I was lucky.

“What... what the fuck are you doing?”

“Cussing my aim. I wanna go to school, you bitch! Is that too much to ask?”

“Go to your room!”

“Screw you.”

The girl jumped up and stalked out of the breakfast room. Maggie glared after her, brushing sticky grit off her lap. Now she’d have to go have her hair done again. Honestly, the girl need treatment of some sort. She knew Wallace was against it, but maybe the doctor who had treated his sister...Lange, wasn’t it? According to Wally Lacey had been quiet and docile as long as she took her medication under Lange’s supervision. Maybe a few pills would calm the insufferable brat down.

Acacia went to her room--not because The Bitch had told her to, but because there was nowhere else in the house that was preferable. In her room, she could at least listen to her records and dance.

She fitted the plastic core on the spindle, so that the singles would fit properly, then started sifting through her massive collection of 45s. Each one was neatly slotted in it’s paper sleeve, and stacked on end in a sturdy wooden box designed just to hold them. Acacia loaded the spindle till she could barely fit the arm over them to hold them in place, and started the record player.

She turned the volume up, and stepped away into the center of the room as the first record dropped, and the tone arm swung out and settled down. The high, wailing organ of Dell Shannon’s ‘Runaway’ started, and she began to dance. She sang as she bounced to the music. “An’ I wonder, I wha-wha-wha-wha wonderrr... Why, why why why why why, she ran away. An’ I wonderrr, where she will stay-ay. My little runaway. Ah run-run-run-run run away...”

Ricky Nelson said hello to Mary Lou, Dion wandered, then lamented about a runaround named Sue. The Marvelettes pleaded with Mr. Postman, the Dovells talked about kids sharp as pistols stompin’ in Bristol, and both Joey Dee and the Starlighters, and Chubby Checkers urged her to twist.

By the time the needle ticked against the spindle, and the record player shut itself off, she had worked most of the rage out. Acacia dropped back on the bed, the one with the stupid, frilly canopy, and stared up, panting. Her legs were trembling from exertion, but she was getting stronger. She could dance longer and longer now. She figured it would be a good idea to have strong legs when she got ready to run away. There was sure to be a lot of walking involved.

As she lay there, thinking about leaving, a voice whispered to her. “What will we do for money?” Acacia sat up and looked around cautiously. No one. But then, had she really heard the voice, or had she thought it. The voice came again, a little stronger this time. It sounded like a girl. “We can’t travel without money. We’ll need to buy food and stuff.”

“Kathy?” That didn’t seem likely. Kitten didn’t talk to Acacia when she went into the fog. She was too happy there, and too worried about having to come back. She wanted to stay there more and more these days.

“Not Kathy.”

“Who are you?”

“Come and see.”

Acacia didn’t have to have it explained to her. She knew how she had shown herself to Kathleen the first time. She crawled off the bed and went to the mirror, peering in.

Another girl looked back at her. She had the same blue, slightly tilted eyes, and the same pointy face. But her hair was short, black, and shiny, almost like a china doll’s. Her lips were very red, and there were grey shadows above her eyes, and Acacia realized that she was wearing grown-up make up. The Bitch said that Kathleen (and by extension, Acacia) couldn’t wear make up till she was sixteen.

The girl smiled at her. The smile was small, but toothy. Acacia found herself smiling back. That was unusual enough, but what was really bizarre was that there was absolutely no ill will in the expression. Acacia smiling was usually someone to be approached with caution. But she saw something of herself in this other girl, and felt a kinship. She touched a fingertip to the mirror, and the girl in the reflection did the same, their fingertips separated by what felt like a film of ice. Acacia breathed, “Sister?” The other girl nodded. “Tell me your name.”

“No, you tell me my name.”

Acacia studied her. There was something ancient and knowing in her eyes. She had learned much, and was prepared to use it in whatever way would best serve herself, and her sisters. Finally Acacia spoke. “Naresha.”

Naresha’s smile broadened. “Ruler of men.” She nodded. “Very appropriate, big sister. I will rule men.”

“Why haven’t I seen you before?”

“I wasn’t needed before. Now I am, so I am born. You need me to exercise a bit of control, Acacia. If you keep on the way you are, they’ll lock you up. They’ll drug you, like they did Lacey. No one listens now, but no one will ever listen to ‘poor, sick Kathleen’.”

“I hate them. I want to kill them.”

“So do we all. But why trade one prison for another? If we are patient, if we are sly, we can get away. All of us. But we’ll need money--money to get away, and then money on a regular basis to live.”

“I can steal.”

“I’ve no doubt of that, dear sister. But that would draw attention. We don’t want attention. We want to slip through the world like a breeze. Kathleen has been saving the allowance they give her, hasn’t she?”

“Yes, but it isn’t all that much.”

“I know how I can add to it.”

“How?”

“Like The Bitch said, The Bastard will do almost anything... with the right incentive.”

Acacia’s face twisted in rage. “No! I don’t want to do that.”

“You won’t, dear.” Naresha soothed. “You’ll be away, with Kathleen. You’ll keep Kitten occupied while I do what has to be done. It isn’t so much, really.” He smile had a hint of sly cruelty. “I’ll enjoy the control. Because I will be in control, no matter what he believes. And it won’t always be what you think, either. I believe most of the time all that will be necessary will be to make him believe that I don’t hate him.” Her eyes slitted, and the smile became more of a snarl. “It’s just lucky that I’m such a damn good actress.”

There were footsteps in the hall, and Naresha cocked her head. “He’s coming. The Bitch has complained. Why don’t you go and join Kathleen? Leave The Bastard to me. I think it’s time we met.”

“Are you sure?” There was rough concern in Acacia’s voice.

The look Naresha gave her was tender. “Yes, pet. I’m sure. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be alright. His sort are my meat.”

Acacia drifted back into the fog, thinking I won’t tell Kathy about Naresha, not yet. I can handle what Naresha will do... barely. But Kathy... Kathy has been hurt enough. Better she not know. She closed her eyes...

...and Naresha opened hers. She looked at herself in the mirror, and wished that The Bastard could see her as she really was. But while The Sisters were trapped here, she’d have to wear poor Kathy’s appearance. Oh well, another example of how very, very blind the rest of the world could be.

Wallace Bernard paused outside his stepdaughter’s bedroom, his hand on the doorknob, listening. There was usually music. There had been, up till a few moments ago--that loud, rock and roll nonsense she was so fond of. Pure trash, but it was... nice when she danced.

He remembered the first time he’d seen her dance, at the wedding. She’d been awkward, but so enthusiastic: bouncing and flying all over the floor, slender arms waving and nonexistent hips shimmying--perfect innocense and abandon. He didn’t get to see her dance much these days. She either did it in her room, or when he was away. Except when he ordered her to, and that just wasn’t the same.

Wallace opened the door stealthily. Sometimes he could catch her half dressed. That was always fun. She’d blush so hot, jerking her clothes down over the beginning swells of her breasts. She was finally growing tits, but the sparse hair on her groin was still silky. She’d have her monthlies soon, be a real woman. He’d have to start using protection if he didn’t want to knock her up. And he didn’t want to. As much fun as it would be, it would be just too damn hard to explain to the rest of the world.

She wasn’t in her room, but the bathroom door was standing open. He eased over to it, and peered cautiously inside, hoping to find her at some intimate occupation.

Kathy was standing at the sink. She was staring at her own reflection in the mirror, fingertips grazing the glass, absorbed. You would think that she was looking into another world, Alice gazing into the looking glass, perhaps. He cleared his throat.

She didn’t flinch, didn’t jump. Instead she turned her head slowly, hand still to the mirror. He didn’t seem to be able to startle her anymore these days. She looked at him, studied him, her face a perfectly smooth, blank mask. “Kathy, your mother says you threw the sugar bowl at her.” Kathy nodded gravely. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Kathleen moved slightly. She turned, and rested one slim hip against the sink, crossing her arms over the bosom that was barely discernable under her dress. Lately she had been either timid, or aggressively energetic in her movements. This was languid. “I missed.”

“That’s not the point, Kathy. You could have really hurt her. Why did you do it?”

“She bores me. Doesn’t she bore you?”

This was new. Kathy didn’t talk about her mother much. When she did, it was usually with venomous sarcasm, but this was the first time he’d heard such cool contempt. “Sometimes, yes. But you can’t do things like that, Kathy. You made a dreadful mess, and you broke an irreplaceable piece of china.”

Her lips pursed in a pooh-pooh gesture. “Well, we have servants to clean up the mess, don’t we? But I am sorry about the sugar bowl, Wally.” She sighed. “My temper.” She shook her head sadly.

“You’re not calling me mister any more?”

“Oh, not right now. If you don’t mind?”

“I don’t mind.” He’d been trying to get her to use the intimacy of his given name without a title since he’d known her. She’d always refused. Maybe she was finally willing to settle in to the relationship. She did seem much more mature, somehow.

She came closer, moving with the sliding grace he so admired. It looked like she was going to avoid the ‘awkward stage’. She sighed deeply, and again his gaze was caught by the rise and fall of her budding breasts. “I suppose,” she said regretfully, “That it wouldn’t do me any good to ask you a favor right now?”

“Ask and find out.”

“I was hoping to go to the movies later on, but I’m afraid I’ve spent all my allowance.” She gave him a shy smile. “I’m such a scatterbrain.”

When was the last time she had smiled at him? “How much do you need?”

“I suppose five would be too much?” Naresha’s eyes were doe like, soft. Yes, that’s right. I’m questioning your generosity. I really believe you’re a tightwad, but I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, and I would just be so impressed if you gave me more than I asked for.

“You’ll need to have lunch. And maybe you’ll see something you want while you’re in town.” He took out his wallet, and handed her two tens.

“Oh.” She made her voice breathy and wondering. Naresha laid a hand on his arm, stood on tiptoe, and brushed her mouth lightly across his cheek. Wallace, enchanted, couldn’t tell that, beneath her soft lips, her teeth were clenched so hard that her jaw ached. “Thank you, Wally.”

“Kathy...” His voice was hoarse, as he reached toward her.

She moved past him smoothly, out of his reach in an instant without seeming to hurry. “I’ll just go check the paper to see what’s playing. Maybe there’s a new Troy Donahue picture. He’s so dreamy. Of course,” her voice dropped to a shy whisper. “he’s just a boy.” She slid out of the room.

Wallace Bernard swallowed hard. He stared after his stepdaughter, and one hand went down unconsciously to stroke his fly.