The Virginian Love Massacre of 1871

Chapter Two.

Going into town on our own is a delicacy my brother and I aren't often granted. Our home is more secluded and near the academy. While mother and father come here often, we mostly stay to ourselves.

Grim isn't fond of the looks, or the way people quiet when we walk by them. He doesn't like the attention. It's difficult for him to manage his temper in these situations, so he never goes into Falls Church unless it is mandatory. Even then, he will try to get out of it.

"That man just grabbed a child to silence her as we walked by." He mutters with narrowed eyes. He looks behind us to find the old man he was complaining about. "I don't even think she was his child"

"He thinks he is being respectful." I remind him.

And this is true, people in our town never know how to react to us. The silence, the nervous smiles they give us, are their idea of showing us respect.

Grim only shakes his head. "We aren't royalty, they do not have silence themselves as we walk past them." He huffs, stomping on the snowy ground. I don't have the heart to tell him that his angry face will only scare them more. "I just wish we could come to town and not be gawked at the entire time."

I pat his shoulder and give him a beaming smile. "What fun would that be?"

We turn the corner right to Mrs. Smith's building. I am absolutely desperate to go inside, the weather is cold and I cannot feel my fingers. Even with my mittens. "Are you ready?" I ask my brother.

Grim wears a nervous face (one that looks similar to his happy face, his sad face, all his faces really.) "Just one minute." He tells me, but he is visibly shaking from the cold.

"Grim, I fear my fingers are going to fall off at any moment." I hardly get my complaint out before he is shooting daggers at my from his spot. "Oh really, Alice? I have no coat." He sneers.

"That is precisely what we are here for!"

Honestly, I will snap at him if he keeps this up. He sat at breakfast for what felt like over an hour, picking at his food and stalling the table with philosophical questions.

"Have you ever considered that we are on the brink of an economic collapse? We should be saving our money."

My father only answered by telling him that as unfortunate as it may be for others, our family is not in danger of losing our finances.

"We have just had a war. Soldiers were not wearing brand new coats, they only had the heat of battle to keep them warm."

My mother responded, telling him that he is not a soldier, he is a rich boy. And rich boy's wear new coats.

"What is a coat, even? What is this world? What are we, as people?"

Then we all rolled our eyes and left him at the table.

Now, he is tapping his foot nervously on the ground. He waits a few moments before finally conceding. "Fine! You go in first."

I huff and shoot an aggravated look deliberately in his view, he can be such a baby.

Still, I make my way to lead us through the door.

"Would you look at that, it is just a room with beautiful fabrics and measuring tape. Would you quit acting as if we are stepping into Hell itself?" I ask him while grabbing his arm to force him through the door.

He removes his arm from my grasp in a hurry, and whispers, "it is my hell." Quickly looking around to make sure nobody heard him.

Such a baby.