"You are the worst boy, Theodore Laurence."
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For centuries, humankind has used the stars. Whether it be for navigating across unfamiliar oceans, for preserving myths and legends of great heroes who were bestowed a spot in the heavens by the gods...
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THE STREETS OF Paris were lined with flowering trees that gleamed and shimmered like pearls plucked from the deepest depths of the sea. In the slightest of breezes, their perfect petals scattered through the wind and decorated the lush green grasses of fine parks and the cobblestoned streets of narrow avenues, and they swirled together in mesmerizing circles like a pair of dancers entangled in a waltz.
To Charlotte Kohler, the little flowers reminded her of lazy, late winter and early spring afternoons spent under the shade of the garden as the sun set on Concord, Amy March's delicate fingers braiding her messy hair into a ladylike braid as Beth wove in tiny pink blossoms like they were fine jewels. They reminded her of reddening Meg March's cheeks with rouge before one of Jo's plays and the blush that covered Laurie's cheeks when he laughed at some silly joke or when he teased her. In their faint pink color, she could feel the soft wool of the newborn lambs in a far-off barn in Kittery, Maine, and the silky smoothness of the hair ribbon Amy had lent her when she had none. And in their delicate smell, she could breathe in the air of Geneva, where the glassy lakes and snow-capped mountains shimmered and welcomed her with enthusiastic delight.
Charlotte's mind was swimming with thoughts of home and all the people that had made her heart warm for two reasons.
First, the letter in her pocket. Marmee had kept Charlotte up to date with life in Concord ever since she had departed for Geneva two years ago, and Charlotte could never part with her sweet words and kind comforts She kept it folded neatly beside her at all times, reaching into her skirts and holding onto the delicate paper whenever the heart began to sink and her head filled with confusing and sad thoughts. But while Marmee's sparse letters healed the aches in her heart momentarily, the wounds were beginning to grow larger with each passing month. She teared up at Meg's children's messy signatures at the bottom of each letter, sprawled out in childish swooping letters and jagged, wild curves. She held onto hope for Jo and prayed for her forgiveness, as she read the proud updates Marmee included about her life in New York and promised that the anger in her heart would subside soon and they could be friends again. Marmee never spoke about Beth, besides a small mention here or there, but Charlotte was grateful for any happy mention of her.
And secondly, the plan that was brewing in her head. As she sat in an elegant carriage that was rumbling down a stone-paved road that cut through a beautiful park, Charlotte breathed in the fine winter air and watched as the flowers got caught up in the air with a homesick smile. This had been months in the making and she could only hope everything turned out alright.
"Have you been listening at all, Charlotte?" Amelie Kohler's amused voice reached Charlotte's ears and broke her her train of thought. Amelie's dark curls spilled over her shoulders in rolling waves of onyx and obsidian in a way that would make her mother shrivel with distaste, but Amelie was thinking of other things besides her mother's preference for coiled buns and fashionable hats. She stretched her glove-covered fingers out of the carriage as it rolled down passed a group of boys, still dressed in their college-attire. She sent them a dazzling smile, receiving a few chuckles and turned heads.
