ANGEL IN BLUE JEANS | P. PATIL ✔

𝟗 - 𝗖𝗹𝗼𝘀𝗲𝗿 𝗧𝗼 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗧𝗿𝘂𝘁𝗵 ; 𝗕

ＩＳＡＤＯＲＡ ＮＩＧＨＴＥＮＢＬＯＯＭ ＷＡＳ Ａ ＴＨＩＮ, tall woman the age of forty, but strikingly beautiful as well. She wore her hair in a low ponytail, something Mallory did when she was still little, hoping to please the girls in her street. They used to call her names and give her odd looks. The only person who stood firmly by her side was a boy named Ivan. He was a muggle though, and her parents had refused to let her see him after she showed signs of being a witch at the age of eight.

"Mal, I thought you'd be at school." Isadora said, yet again dragging in bags of newly bought clothes. "If I had known, I would have bought you something. Unfortunately I only bought things for myself and mother."

"It's hardly a matter." Mallory grumbled, thankfully saved by the loud whistling of the kettle boiling and she rushed off to make tea, ignoring her aunt as she brushed past her.

"Two sugars please dear, lots of milk." Isadora hummed happily. Mallory rolled her eyes at her before she slipped in the kitchen. She had cleaned up the mess Evelyn made before Isadora had arrived. There was nothing productive to do, and she yearned to go back to school. There at least she could busy herself with Padma and her troop of friends.

When she was done with tea, she plopped down next to her grandmother, who looked pale since their conversation from this morning.

"Dora, it's time." Evelyn said, lips pressed tightly together, vanishing with her wrinkles. Mallory saw Isadora's hand drop the new cashmere sweater she had bought. "Mallory deserves to know. She's nearly sixteen." Mallory wanted to correct her and tell her that it's seventeen and not sixteen but she didn't have the chance to.

"Mother, both Jushtin and Beverly need to be here." Isadora said, picking the sweater up. "Beverly too needs to know the truth."

"Beverly made a choice the day she walked out Dora, she is hereby no longer a member of this family."

"She is still your daughter and my sister." Isadora hissed back, stuffing the sweater back.

"Not now Dora." Evelyn said, sighing and stirring her rose tea. "We'll just have to inform Jushtin when he returns from work."

Mallory kept quiet and looked at the women. They hardly ever argued, whatever this thing is, it must be very important.

"Mal, we have something to tell you and Beverly, but since she isn't here, not that she'll ever return, we have to tell you." Evelyn sighed. "Your father was right. Beverly had an accident and went into a coma three years before you were born. Her mental state was not in the right manner after. She became pregnant with what she believed was you and fell yet again into the coma, but the baby passed on."

"That makes no sense. Then how come I'm here?"

"We knew Beverly was going to be devasted upon hearing she lost the baby she wanted for so long." Evelyn said and sighed, looking at Isadora. "So-"

"So we decided that it'd be best to give her the child she was desperately wanting." Isadora said, shaking her head. "Jushtin, mother and I then came to an understanding that we will give her the baby and that baby is you." Mallory raised a brow. "Beverly isn't your real mother Mallory." Isadora sighed, shifting uncomfortably. Mallory rolled her eyes, she already caught that bit. If Beverly wasn't her real mother, then who was?

"Mallory, Isadora is your mother." And that's when Mallory's tea flung out her mouth, splashing Isadora and the cream white jumper she had in her hands.

*

ＳＥＣＲＥＴＳ ＡＲＥ ＬＩＫＥ ＢＯＭＢＳ. ＴＨＥＹ are ticking time bombs, waiting to explode and when they do explode, the remains are not the upmost beauty. The smithereens that remain are left to die, are left to rot and decay. Mallory was unfortunately the aftermath of a secret, and she didn't know how to feel about that. Lunch with Isadora, or rather her mother turned into a silent battle and Isadora left, sulking about her jumper. Mallory had retreated back into her room, deeming it the only thing that can't lie to her.

"Honey?" Mallory looked at her door, only to find her father peering in before he slipped in and sighed. "I wanted to tell you Mal, a long time ago but Evelyn and Isadora begged me not to."

"Well at least the woman I detest isn't my mother, the only good thing that came out of this." Mallory shrugged.

Jushtin shifted uncomfortably. "Yes, that's good I suppose." He said, folding his arms over his chest. "Would you like to go to dinner with us? Me and Isadora?"

"No, just because she's my real mother doesn't mean I actually want to be all friends with her." Mallory snapped and Jushtin nodded.

"I understand my dear. I'll call you when dinner is ready." Jushtin sighed before he made his way to the door, sulking as he went. Mallory only sighed, moving to pet her owl. He had returned this afternoon, though he was empty handed. She had told Padma not to write back, as she feared they might capture Casil or follow him back to her.

"I suppose it was wrong of me to snap at him like that, wasn't it Casil?" Mallory hummed, running a finger over its shiny black beak. Casil purred in affection, and Mallory laughed. "He after all is only trying to help me understand." She sighed. "And again, I suppose it's wrong of me to hate my m-Beverly still, even though I know that she isn't my real mother. You're lucky Casil, no mummy stress or family drama, you're just stuck with good old unlucky me." Casil squeaked and Mallory smiled, tossing him a treat. "I suppose I don't need this anymore Casil." Mallory said, reaching under her yellow pillow and pulling out the letter.

Mallory moved to her window, parting the candy blue curtains to have a better look outside, though there was nothing much to see. An old, battered cat was walking down the street, holding a dead mouse in its mouth. It was soon joined by a yellow plastic bag, and the cat jumped over it. Mallory sighed, cats and owls had it easy. Why couldn't she? She never wanted to be born in the first place? What if she wanted to be a duck? Or an owl? She opened the window and watched as the letter drifted away, drifting away with the remains of her happiness.

"Dinner is almost ready dear, wash up." Jushtin poked his head through the door and Mallory looked back.

"I already did." She lied. She wasn't in the mood to wash up now, she'd do it later before sleeping. "I'll be down in a bit."

Once alone again, Mallory rummaged through her wardrobe and pulled out an old blue jumper and threw that on before closing her bedroom door, making her way down the stairs, down to the people who have been lying to her for the past sixteen years of her life, down to the people she called family, down to the lions who acted like snakes, backstabbing, throat slashing, eye raking, hair pulling supposed lions.

As they held hands and said grace, though Mallory hadn't an idea why, they had never said grace since Beverly had left all those years ago, she could feel the horrid uneasiness in the air and she hated it. But she reminded herself that she was the victim here, her and Beverly.