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Bathic !!Z9LmIhi3uII

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Bathic !!Z9LmIhi3uII ID:lfZF6n4Y Fri 24 Oct 2025 06:51:12 No.6322563 View View Report

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"I'd say so. We have upwards of thirty... well, hello, primrose!" Your father has turned around. "Made it out of your hole? Or Henry fished you out, I should say. Thanks, Henry."

"Anytime! Should I take over the accompaniment?"

"That'd be wonderful. So, where've you been? You know that your mother and I expect you to make the rounds."

"I was just in the other room," you mumble, as the piano strikes back up.

"In the other room for the whole party? You know almost all of these people, Charlie. They don't bite."

"And you look so pretty in that dress," your mother adds. "I know most of the guests aren't your age, but they do have sons your age, so it's in your interest to—"

But you have somebody already. Do you have somebody already? "Mother," you mutter, "you have to stop—"

"It's not her fault you're so highly eligible. Or, well, it is..." Your father nudges your mother, who bats his shoulder. "...but she's already gotten it taken care of! Would a drink make it easier on you?"

"Martin!" your mother says. "She's—"

"She's 23! She's all grown up. Ruby doesn't have to hear a thing. Primrose, I know you have a sensitive palate, but they dump so much syrup in some of these things that you really can't taste—"

"I drink," you say defensively. "And I... um... Mother?"

"You don't have to listen to your father, sweetheart."

"No. Um." Something is really eating at you. "Shouldn't you be in bed?"

Your father chuckles. "At 8:30? I know you want us to wrap this up, but you're just going to stick it out. Make the rounds, then say hello to Claudia, if you must escape. She's around here somewhere."

"Outside," Henry says over his shoulder.

Your mother covers her mouth. "If that girl is ripping out my flowerbed, I swear to God, I'll—"

"I'm sure she's supervised, Clara. I mean, I hope she's supervised. The amount of trouble she... hold on. What's the matter, primrose? Are you feeling well? We can plant new flowers, I promise."

The feeling is worsening. Maybe you do need a drink. "No, it's... I don't... is this real?"

Your parents exchange glances. "Seems pretty real to me," your father says eventually. "Put it like this. Is there some reason it wouldn't be?"

"I don't know." You wish you had a drink, sugary or otherwise. "Um, I just— I don't think I'm supposed to be happy. Or something. I'm supposed to be suffering all the time, because it ends up for the best, and it's good for— I don't know. I don't remember."

"Sweetheart!" your mother says. "Have you been spending time with Claudia? Because I know for a fact that I raised you to always—"

"Always look on the bright side. I know. I just don't feel very well. That's why I was in the other room, and... um... I think I'm going to check on Claudia, actually. I don't want her to wreck anything."

"You can take a lie-down, Charlie. If we'd known you weren't—"

"No, it's okay. I'll be back in soon. I'm just going to... um... have a nice party. Bye."

(3/4)

Bathic !!1oQZB1czRDh

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Bathic !!1oQZB1czRDh ID:gQBVQ5Xr Mon 07 Oct 2024 08:29:26 No.6118487 View View Report

Quoted By:

>Continued

—

"You have to stop doing this to yourself, Charlie."

You are sitting on the front stoop of your porch, one leg curled up to your chest, one leg stretched out all the way. The stretched-out leg is the one with all the blood. "I didn't do anything! All I did was—"

"Run around where all the rocks were? Where your aunt told you not to run? I know you don't like to listen to her, but she's not wrong about everything, primrose. And now look at you."

You sneak a peek at your leg: your father initially described it as having a "real nasty laceration," but backpedaled to "big ouchie" after you started tearing up. You don't know what a laceration is, but your wounded knee, all oozing blood and yellow bruising and tattered skin and bits of black gravel, is definitely a big ouchie. You glance away before you start feeling sick and meet your father's eyes. He smiles at you. "Do you feel sorry at all?"

You bite your cheek. "I'm sorry I fell."

"And?"

"I'm sorry I hurt my knee. 'Cause it really hurts."

"Are you going to go run around in the rocks again?"

"If I go run around in the rocks again," you say, "I won't fall. 'Cause I'll be more careful."

Your father's smile widens. "That's my girl. Now let's get this cleaned up, alright? We wouldn't want to get blood on your nice new dress. Your mother and Ruby would have my head."

"Okay," you say, and swing your leg a little bit. Your father is unscrewing the lid of the cleaner solution. He sniffs it, then dips a rag in it. "Will it hurt?"

"I don't know. Did it hurt all the other times?"

"It hurts when Aunt Ruby does it," you say.

"It... well... I believe she believes that discomfort is part and parcel of a proper childhood."

"Is it? Part and parcel?"

"Maybe a little, but I don't like to see you in pain, primrose. Even if you are handling this well."

"I'm brave," you say.

Your father laughs. "Yes, you are. It may still hurt a little. Keep being brave, please."

He takes the rag to your knee, and you hiss and wriggle. The solution stings nearly as much as the fall did, and it makes the blood foam up all scary pink, but at least your father is gentle with it. When your aunt does it, it's like she's scouring a pot. "Ow!"

"You have a lot of grit stuck in here, Charlie. You're going to have to be patient." Your father lifts the rag and peers down at your knee. "Huh."

You sneak another peek, but you can't see anything through the foam. "What?"

"You must've fallen pretty hard. There's something... er... don't worry. I think there's tweezers in here." He turns around and re-opens the medicine kit. You keep your eyes safely to the horizon. "There we go. Hold still, please. Do you want to hold my hand?"

Uh-oh. You grab his hand and squeeze it. He squeezes it back, leans forward, and starts to poke around. "Wow," he says. "Oh dear." And: "Maybe that's why it's so..."

(1/6?)

Bathic !!1oQZB1czRDh

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Bathic !!1oQZB1czRDh ID:A23gTW4T Fri 19 May 2023 10:26:23 No.5667887 View View Report

Quoted By:

>[???]

"Charlotte Fawkins!"

Your Aunt Ruby does not have to speak the words git-your-smart-ass-back-here to make her meaning highly apparent. You consider the possibility of not having heard her, then the probability of recieving a whooping, and abashedly emerge from the hedges.

"What in all goodness are you doing in there?" says your Aunt Ruby. Long experience has taught you that this question should not be answered. (There were monsters in the hedges.) "Is that a stick?"

You are not tall enough to reach the mantel. You let the stick fall from your grip. There are more where it came from.

Your Aunt Ruby does not willingly show approval. She inclines her head slightly. "I suppose [XXXXXXXXXXX] has been filling your poor little head again."

Your Aunt Ruby and [XXXXX] disagree often, and loudly, usually when they think you're asleep in bed. When really you're in the wall with a candle and a book— an excursion you don't take too often, since your Aunt Ruby complains about how fast the candles go, and several times they've blown out and you've been in utter void-darkness and have to creep back the way you came, worried you may step on a nail or an unseen trapdoor and fall and break your poor little neck, exactly what your Aunt Ruby told you would happen, and the humiliation of her being right would be worse than dying in the dark in a tunnel from a broken neck. Thus you always swear off crawling in the walls every time the candle blows out, plus every time you make a noise and your Aunt Ruby blames the rats in this old falling-down dump of a house, but you always return to it a week or so later.

But there are no walls to escape into outside, hot under the summer sun and your Aunt Ruby's penetrating stare. "I shall have words with him," she says brusquely, "again. Perhaps this time we can come to the common good. You are but a child; you emulate what you are taught, and you must be taught properly. I cannot fathom why this is so difficult to understand."

You dislike it when your Aunt Ruby calls you a child, because there's always an undertone of git-your-smart-ass to it, no matter the context. What you've mainly absorbed is that there will be more loud disagreements downstairs tonight, and you should go to sleep when you're expected to. You will hope [XXXXX] has not been drinking, which always increases the loudness considerably.

"Still, there are things you should know by now. It is unladylike to be gangling about in the hedges, Charlotte Fawkins. You could get dirty." Your Aunt Ruby pushes her spectacles up her nose. "At least you aren't wearing your good clothing."

Your good clothing isn't any good to play in the hedges with, anyhow.

"But the SUN!" she continues. (This is usual. You are waiting patiently for her to leave.) "It is the dead of the afternoon, foolish girl. You will get yourself burnt. Where did you leave your parasol?"

(1/4?)

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