The Livingstones

Chapter Six: The Livingstone Declaration

Lenna Livingstone stormed upstairs to her room and threw herself on her canopy bed. From below, her sisters could hear her burning rage blazing and finally turning into warm embers.

Audrey felt guilty (guiltier for the person who had to mop the floors judging from the mud staining her boots). Was this what guilt felt like? It was like a weight was dumped on her heart or a sort of rope tightening her vessels, making everything seem so tight. Audrey didn't seem to like guilt at all.

"We're sorry about Lenna," Deborah bit down on her lip.

"She's just got a nasty temper," Candace murmured. "The poor girl's just-"

There was an awkward silence and Candace finally cleared her throat and led Audrey into the kitchen where the woman named Prudence already sat on the table and began jotting down notes on a scrap of newspaper.

"Isn't that the Chicago Sun Times Christmas Edition?" Candace pointed out.

"I ran out of paper again," Prudence replied flatly without look in away from her notes. "And I'm not going to risk writing on the walls anymore."

Deborah sighed and massaged the bridge of her nose. "S'alright, P. We'll get you another notebook when we stop by the paper shop tomorrow."

"W-what happens tomorrow?" Audrey asked.

"Laundry day," Prudence said, furiously scratching away a whole paragraph in her small, illegible print.

"Speaking of laundry," Deborah continued, "we've got a few rules in this house if you're gonna stay here, Audrey."

Audrey gulped. She was never the type to deliberately break the rules, nor was she the type to not break any neither. But she was ready to appreciate the rules the Livingstones were about to tell her.

"Now that you're in our house, doesn't mean you can laze around," Deborah said. "Rule One: We work hard in this family; do your chores."

She waited for Audrey to give her response. When she nodded, Deborah proceeded.

"Rule Two: We'll respect your presence if you respect ours.

Rule Three: Don't force any of us to do something we don't want to."

Candace continued the list of rules. "Rule Four: No men. Except for the Consulate."

"Who's the-"

"Rule Five: Any ideas are welcome here, so we'll listen in if you do too.

Rule Six: Please, don't drive our tempers. Especially Lenna's."

Audrey shuffled in her seat. Deborah leaned closer and gave her a grim look before informing her of the final rule.

"Last Rule: Whatever you do, do not go to the second-floor room next to the attic stairs." They all glared at Audrey, anticipating her reply.

Audrey gave them a terrified nod. The last rule only drove a queer curiosity that asked her: what was in the second-floor room next to the attic stairs? Yet, Audrey knew better than to meddle with their trust.

"Questions?" Candace grinned.

"Who's the Consulate? Why can't you let men in the house? What's on the second-floor room next to the attic stairs?"

Deborah nearly choked on a Pop Tart. "I've never met anyone who asked me more than one question at a time."

"Lucky for us, I've known someone who asked me six questions at a time," Candace conferred.

"The Consulate is someone from the government that comes over to our house to make sure that our family is politically okay because..."

"We're not actually a biological family," Prudence continued, dotting an 'i' on the newspaper.