Battle Quills... ready! Circulation: 127,331,912 Issue: 258 | 22nd day of Gathering, Y8
Home | Archives Articles | Editorial | Short Stories | Comics | New Series | Continued Series
 

Eavesdropper's Answers: Part Two


by lightninglover34

--------

"So my owner isn't really Mom?" Yasha whispered.

     "I'm not sure about all the technicalities, but it would seem that Mom didn't create you. You're adopted."

     "I know what that means, Sorrel! It means she lied to me."

     Sorrel laughed. "Yasha, parents lie a lot. They usually try to keep us safe. Although sometimes they do 'forget' to tell us that there's cake in the freezer, and they 'forget' to tell their kid she's adopted."

     "Well, if Mom isn't really my mom, I have to find the person that created me. They might be able to give me some answers."

     "That's just what people say in books, Yasha. Can you say something a little less cliché?"

     Yasha scratched the top of her head. "Okay. How about, I'm going to find the person that created me and beat the living daylights out of them unless they tell me everything I don't know about myself?"

     "Much better."

      * * * *

     The girls opened the front door and walked into the kitchen. Mom was sitting at the kitchen table, scribbling on some papers, as a pot bubbled cheerily on the stove. It was ordinarily a scene that would warm Yasha's heart, but she was far too angry for that.

     Mom greeted them with a smile. "Dinner in five, girls. Go wash up, okay?"

     Yasha scrubbed her paws in the bathroom sink with vim and energy not to be expected of such a mild-mannered creature. Sorrel shook water from the tips of her feathers and watched her sister out of the corner of her eye. "Yasha, come on. I bet Mom has a perfectly good explanation. She's a great hand at explaining."

     Yasha snorted and stormed off to the kitchen. She plopped down in her chair and sat there silently until Mom served them.

     She poked her food with a fork and let it fall to the table noisily. Mom and Sorrel looked up and then back to their food.

     "So, guys," Mom said, trying to break the silence, "I think I've found the perfect house for us in Faerieland. It's roomy, comfortable, close to the school..."

     "And far away from that boy," Yasha sullenly added.

     Mom's jaw visibly tightened. "Yasha, what did we talk about?"

     "What boy?" Sorrel was obviously intrigued by the prospect of new information.

     "Never mind, Sorrel. Just an old... friend of mine."

     "A friend that you yelled across the neighborhood at."

     "Yasha! That is quite enough out of you."

     Silence ruled over the dinner table. Mom was seething, Sorrel was wondering, and Yasha was brewing inside.

     Finally Yasha couldn't take it any longer and stood up. "If you'll excuse me, ma'am, I'd like to go to the room I currently occupy."

     Mom stood too. "Don't call me ma'am! I am your mother, and you will talk to me like I am!"

     "You're not my mother!" Yasha screamed. An intermingled look of pain and understanding flashed into her mother's face. Yasha stifled a cry and fled to her room.

     Sobbing into her pillow, she let all her rage and confusion seep out through her tears. She cried so long that her energy drained, and she fell asleep.

      * * * *

     Yasha awoke to darkness. It was night, now, and very late indeed. She sat up on her bed and thought hard for a minute. They would be moving shortly, she had no doubt of that. Mom would want to get her as far away from the boy as possible. And that might buy them a few months, maybe a little more. It wouldn't take long for the boy to find them. And when he did, who knew what would happen then?

     She wrestled with the problem for several minutes and found a solution that seemed best. Having done so, she crept out of her room and down to the kitchen, where she raided the well-stocked cookie jar.

     A creak sounded through the darkness behind her. Cookie crumbs falling from her mouth, she whirled around to see her mother standing there with a glass of milk.

     "I thought you might want this, too," she whispered softly.

     Yasha hopped off the counter and approached Mom slowly. "I have to know who he is, Mom."

     "You don't, Yasha. We can live just fine without him."

     "I have to know, Mom. Otherwise, for how long will we live like this? Transferring to a new location every few months, me making and losing friends, and never stopping to take a free breath?"

     Mom sighed. "It's not the life I wanted for you, Yasha. I wanted you to live a life like all the other kids. I didn't want a big custody battle, but..."

     "What's a custody battle?"

     Mom sat down at the table and motioned for Yasha to join her. "Honey, I guess if you need to know, I'll tell you. Ask away."

     Yasha propped her chin on her paws and stared into her mother's blue eyes. "What connection does the boy have to me?"

     "He's your father."

     Yasha inhaled slowly and nodded for her mother to continue.

     "We were the best of friends, at one time. Cybunny Day was approaching, and we had both wanted one. But we decided it would be best to share one. We both created you, although you stayed with him. I would visit every day while Sorrel was at school, and she didn't know that you had even been born. She didn't know that she had a sister.

     "Well, he went on vacation without telling anyone. You were left alone at his house, and there wasn't anyone around to take care of you. I broke in two days later, because I had heard your cries. I originally thought he had taken you with him, but he was too irresponsible for that.

     "I took you home with me and cared for you. He came back about three months later, looking for you. He couldn't find you, and so he found us. We had to move, to avoid him. I knew he would insist on taking you back, but I couldn't let you fall into his hands again. He didn't care about you. He only cared about having a 'special pet' that would bring a bit of extra status to him.

     "He changed a lot. I'm not exactly sure how, but he did. He doesn't care about you anymore. He just cares about taking you back. Mostly to spite me."

     Yasha pretended to think for a moment, and grinned. This was the perfect opportunity to present her plan to Mom. "Mom, I think I've found a solution. We'll find him and talk to him. I know he'll listen if he hears it from me. I'll tell him to stay away for my own good. And a whole bunch of other stuff too. Just tell me where he lives."

     "I can't, Yasha. He sold his house ages ago. He mostly uses the money to travel, looking for you. It's become an obsession. And he'll take you back if he gets the chance."

     A knock suddenly sounded at the door. Mom silently ordered Yasha under the table, where she was hidden under the tablecloth.

     Another knock. Mom approached the door slowly and opened it.

     It was the boy.

     "I know she's here, Bren. Where is she?"

     Mom smiled cheerily. "I was just having a cuppa. Let me get you one."

     "She's here, and I want to see her."

     "She's at a friend's house right now. She won't be back for quite some time, I think."

     "You're lying, Bren. I've been watching the house all day. I tailed her to the library, and I tailed her back here. She hasn't left. So where is she?"

     Mom put a finger to her lips. "Quiet, please. Sorrel is trying to sleep."

     "I don't care about Sorrel! Tell me where Yasha is!"

     "I told you, she's at a friend's house. You won't be able to see her right now."

     "Yasha is mine! I can see her whenever I want to!"

     "I'm not property!"

     Mom and the boy stared at Yasha, who had crawled out from beneath the table.

     "I'm not property," she repeated. "I don't belong to you. I'm not some toy that you can parade through the streets and play with, and then stick on a shelf somewhere. I have a life, and I want to live it. I refuse to spend it being a trophy for you."

     The boy grinned suddenly, a terrible, crooked smile. "You belong to me. And I'll take you home now."

     "No, you will not. I refuse to allow you to take me with you. Because that's called kidnapping. And it's a crime."

     "Is it a crime to take what's rightfully mine?" he countered.

     "Stay right there," Yasha commanded. She ran to Mom's desk and grabbed a piece of paper, upon which she scrawled some names and signatures. Running back to the kitchen, she presented the piece of paper to the boy.

     "There you are. An official document stating that I was adopted by Mom, and I belong to her. So if you try to contact my mother, saying that I belong to you, she can have you arrested. You're only lucky she hasn't done so yet."

     The boy tore the piece of paper in half. "What official document?"

     Yasha smiled confidently. "There are plenty more copies of those. So I suggest you get out of our house before we have you arrested for attempted kidnapping and trespassing. Shoo."

     The boy looked as if he was about to say something. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, and then opened the door. He shot a glare at Mom and slammed the door behind him, shaking the whole house.

     Mom turned to Yasha. "Where did you get that official document?"

     "Oh, I saw the blank form in your desk."

     "So you know I'm planning to adopt again?"

     "Yeah, but you'd better get a new form, then."

     Mom turned to go upstairs and stopped. "You fooled him with those signatures. Where did you learn to forge them?"

     Yasha tried to edge past her mother. "Oh, nowhere in particular."

     "You and Sorrel are both grounded." Yasha groaned. "But I'm still very proud of you," Mom added. "You were very brave."

     Upstairs, Mom tucked Yasha into bed and turned to leave the room.

     "Mom? We don't have to move again, do we?"

     "No, honey. We don't. Sweet dreams."

     Yasha closed her eyes and smiled. Oh, yes. Dreams would be very sweet now.

The End

 
Search the Neopian Times




Other Episodes


» Eavesdropper's Answers: Part One



Week 0 Related Links


Other Stories


---------

How to Be a Fire Faerie: Part One
Although, I reflected bitterly as I wandered down the bumpy track, I was only here because Dad had made me. I growled softly under my breath...

by purplefire_hawk

---------

Cleaning Out Your SDB: Help for the Packrats
Is your safety deposit box (also called an SDB) crowded? Is it chock full of items that you aren't even quite sure what to do with?

by lucky_dog_305

---------

Paint Brush Polls: Pirate!
T'day we're takin' a look at that most seaworthy of colors. Not only are Pirate pets unafraid of gettin' thar fur wet, but they're devilishly handsome too!

by kallykat_03



Submit your stories, articles, and comics using the new submission form.