Prosy: The Other Side of the Gate
Dec. 11th, 2011 11:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
clare_dragonflyTitle: The Other Side of the Gate
Word count: 865
Rating: PG-13
Prompt:aldersprig's: My favorite house back in Rochester had a gate with no fence.
Notes: I haven't finished this, but I have almost five thousand words so far and I don't know how much longer it's going to be, so I decided to give up and post the beginning so I can move on to the next prosy and then, hopefully, finish this one later.
Maricia had expected to really hate moving to a new town at the beginning of her senior year of high school. She was happy enough to leave where they had lived—where her father had lived with them—but she’d been looking forward to a few classes, and all this changing of address and such right before she started applying to colleges was inconvenient. And it was hard to get everything situated for the new school year, and there were a lot of things to adjust for, but overall, she was finding that she did like it.
There were just as many people who made fun of her, but that felt less personal and more because she was the new student in a fairly small town. Also, the fact that she was instantly unpopular made a group of school misfits adopt her, and she got along very well with the misfits. She made particular friends with a girl named Layla in her same year. So between Layla, her mother’s happiness, and the way her younger brother was suddenly doing well in school, Maricia decided the move had been a good idea overall.
The first time Layla invited Maricia over for supper, she did of course ask her mother’s permission first, and her mother seemed so relieved and happy when giving her permission that she wondered if she would have to ask in the future. Maricia and Layla walked home from school together—everyone walked here—and neither of them commented on the fact that they were walking northeast, while Maricia usually walked southwest, and the houses were smaller and cheaper in the south of town and larger and more expensive in the north.
Layla’s house was beautiful, large but with a cottage-like look, and lovely flowers growing in the yard, even though it was fall. There was a smoothly paved stone walkway leading to the front door, and a sweet little white-painted wooden gate, without a fence, between the road and the walkway. Grinning, Maricia walked up to the gate and reached for the latch.
“Wait!” Layla reached out and grabbed her arm. “Don’t go through the gate.”
“What?” Maricia stopped in her tracks, confused. “Why not? It’s so cute.”
“Just…” Layla shook her head and quickly let go of Maricia’s arm. “I don’t know, actually. It’s just the rule. Maybe we should ask my mom.”
They went around the gate to get to the walkway, and walked between the flowers to get to the door. Layla didn’t have to unlock it to get in, even though nobody was home. Her parents, she explained, were at work, so they went up to Layla’s room to do their homework until someone came home.
Layla’s mother did so in due course, and they went downstairs to see her. She proclaimed herself delighted to meet Maricia and said she was going to make something special for dinner. Maricia and Layla went into the kitchen to sit at the table, watch dinner being made, and ask questions.
“Mom,” Layla eventually asked, “why don’t we ever go through the gate at the front of the yard?”
Layla’s mother frowned and punched the dough she was working with somewhat harder than necessary. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, Mar was about to go through, and I didn’t have any real explanation to give her for why she shouldn’t.”
She looked up, her eyes narrowed. “Neither of you went through the gate, did you?”
Layla shook her head. Maricia just watched the two talk, puzzled. “Of course not,” said Layla. “I’m used to it. I mean, there’s no real reason to bother. But why is it there, if we don’t use it?”
Her mother took a deep breath and turned back to her dough. “That’s not something you need to worry about. Maybe we’ll take it down at some point. Just don’t go through it.”
Layla looked at Maricia and raised her eyebrows. The expression seemed to communicate a desire to go upstairs. Maricia nodded quickly, and they both jumped up out of their seats. “Okay, we’ll be down in like an hour for dinner?” Layla asked.
Her mother nodded as she folded the dough over itself. “Probably about that long. I’ll call you when it’s time to set the table.”
A moment later, they had escaped and were sitting in Layla’s room again, the door closed. “That was extremely weird,” said Layla vehemently.
“I thought so,” said Maricia. “But I figured your family is just weird.” She grinned to show she was teasing.
Layla grinned back. “We are. But not that weird. I mean, my parents usually like to explain things to me, even when I can’t understand the explanation yet. I don’t know why she wouldn’t explain this time.”
“She seemed angry,” said Maricia, thinking about Layla’s mother’s expression. “Like… I don’t know, how moms get when they think you’re doing something dangerous, I guess.” Like her mom used to look when she went out with boys from their neighborhood. Their old neighborhood. She probably wouldn’t look like that if Maricia went out with boys from this neighborhood. She wasn’t sure how her mom would feel about girls, though.
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Word count: 865
Rating: PG-13
Prompt:
aldersprig's: My favorite house back in Rochester had a gate with no fence.Notes: I haven't finished this, but I have almost five thousand words so far and I don't know how much longer it's going to be, so I decided to give up and post the beginning so I can move on to the next prosy and then, hopefully, finish this one later.
Maricia had expected to really hate moving to a new town at the beginning of her senior year of high school. She was happy enough to leave where they had lived—where her father had lived with them—but she’d been looking forward to a few classes, and all this changing of address and such right before she started applying to colleges was inconvenient. And it was hard to get everything situated for the new school year, and there were a lot of things to adjust for, but overall, she was finding that she did like it.
There were just as many people who made fun of her, but that felt less personal and more because she was the new student in a fairly small town. Also, the fact that she was instantly unpopular made a group of school misfits adopt her, and she got along very well with the misfits. She made particular friends with a girl named Layla in her same year. So between Layla, her mother’s happiness, and the way her younger brother was suddenly doing well in school, Maricia decided the move had been a good idea overall.
The first time Layla invited Maricia over for supper, she did of course ask her mother’s permission first, and her mother seemed so relieved and happy when giving her permission that she wondered if she would have to ask in the future. Maricia and Layla walked home from school together—everyone walked here—and neither of them commented on the fact that they were walking northeast, while Maricia usually walked southwest, and the houses were smaller and cheaper in the south of town and larger and more expensive in the north.
Layla’s house was beautiful, large but with a cottage-like look, and lovely flowers growing in the yard, even though it was fall. There was a smoothly paved stone walkway leading to the front door, and a sweet little white-painted wooden gate, without a fence, between the road and the walkway. Grinning, Maricia walked up to the gate and reached for the latch.
“Wait!” Layla reached out and grabbed her arm. “Don’t go through the gate.”
“What?” Maricia stopped in her tracks, confused. “Why not? It’s so cute.”
“Just…” Layla shook her head and quickly let go of Maricia’s arm. “I don’t know, actually. It’s just the rule. Maybe we should ask my mom.”
They went around the gate to get to the walkway, and walked between the flowers to get to the door. Layla didn’t have to unlock it to get in, even though nobody was home. Her parents, she explained, were at work, so they went up to Layla’s room to do their homework until someone came home.
Layla’s mother did so in due course, and they went downstairs to see her. She proclaimed herself delighted to meet Maricia and said she was going to make something special for dinner. Maricia and Layla went into the kitchen to sit at the table, watch dinner being made, and ask questions.
“Mom,” Layla eventually asked, “why don’t we ever go through the gate at the front of the yard?”
Layla’s mother frowned and punched the dough she was working with somewhat harder than necessary. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, Mar was about to go through, and I didn’t have any real explanation to give her for why she shouldn’t.”
She looked up, her eyes narrowed. “Neither of you went through the gate, did you?”
Layla shook her head. Maricia just watched the two talk, puzzled. “Of course not,” said Layla. “I’m used to it. I mean, there’s no real reason to bother. But why is it there, if we don’t use it?”
Her mother took a deep breath and turned back to her dough. “That’s not something you need to worry about. Maybe we’ll take it down at some point. Just don’t go through it.”
Layla looked at Maricia and raised her eyebrows. The expression seemed to communicate a desire to go upstairs. Maricia nodded quickly, and they both jumped up out of their seats. “Okay, we’ll be down in like an hour for dinner?” Layla asked.
Her mother nodded as she folded the dough over itself. “Probably about that long. I’ll call you when it’s time to set the table.”
A moment later, they had escaped and were sitting in Layla’s room again, the door closed. “That was extremely weird,” said Layla vehemently.
“I thought so,” said Maricia. “But I figured your family is just weird.” She grinned to show she was teasing.
Layla grinned back. “We are. But not that weird. I mean, my parents usually like to explain things to me, even when I can’t understand the explanation yet. I don’t know why she wouldn’t explain this time.”
“She seemed angry,” said Maricia, thinking about Layla’s mother’s expression. “Like… I don’t know, how moms get when they think you’re doing something dangerous, I guess.” Like her mom used to look when she went out with boys from their neighborhood. Their old neighborhood. She probably wouldn’t look like that if Maricia went out with boys from this neighborhood. She wasn’t sure how her mom would feel about girls, though.
Did you enjoy this story? You can read all my fiction posted at Dreamwidth!
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