Malvina:
The loud ringing of the bell and the rustling of papers announce the completion of my final exam. I am officially done with my exams.
The teacher collects my paper, and I grab my belongings and exit the exam hall.
The students are leaving in a hurry as if they stay even a second longer here, they have to take the exam all over again. I sigh.
Most of them had plans made up, vacations, family visits, or maybe a summer job.
I walk out of the college campus and start walking toward the bus stop. The manor is almost thirty minutes away.
A text pops up on my phone. I smile at the text, my brother just texted me to inform me that he will be late. I shake my head and put it back in my pocket.
He is a smart kid, too smart for his age, and a maths freak, numbers are his best friends as he likes to call them. He can get into the top universities if he keeps up his current pace.
That idiot thinks that I don't know about his little side quest. He is working part-time in a bookshop near his school.
He recently took up that spot. In a neighbourhood, where everyone knows everyone, if he thinks I wouldn't find out, he's naive.
His tactics to save every penny and spend as little as he can, while the boy of his age goes out every weekend to those fancy restaurants out of Norfolk, my baby brother keeps his head buried in his textbooks.
The pocket money I give him is never spent but safely tucked in a small box which he keeps under his bed.
From waking up early to clean the room so I can sleep a little longer, to putting the blanket on me when I am too tired to even move, he takes care of it in every way he can.
Sometimes I think he is not a mere teenager but a responsible adult, one who understands the daily struggles of his sisters and tries his best to help.
He is my most valuable treasure, a brother gifted to me by the heavens. We are each other's only family and we are enough.
The bus comes to a halt and I step out. I walked through the streets of Westwoods towards the restaurant.
I stop in front of a two-story vintage looking building and glance up at the huge letters that say, 'The Runaway'.
It is the only place in the entire town of Westwood where the rich sophisticated people from the nearby towns come for classic Friday nights.
The place had an old rustic country hall vibe. It is owned by Mr. Lewis Sutton and his wife Linda. Well, our town has withstood modernization in terms of architecture.
Every evening, music performances are made and people get to enjoy the melodious music. I sang here every weekend, without Ms. Lily's knowledge. She wouldn't allow it if she knew.
The place is beautiful and cosy, with a big hall filled with tables that surround a grand piano and a small stage, reserved for the performance.
It's almost always busy. It is on the main street of our town, unlike the manor. Also, it is like a sophisticated place for locals to gather and have get-togethers.
Ms. Lily's hotel too has a piano, grander than the one in The Runaway, a pretty antique one, it's in the main hall of the hotel.
I learned while watching Ms. Lily herself playing it in the late hours of the evening.
One day I asked her to teach me how to play and she did teach me a beautiful tune.
I play for a few of our guests who come to the manor as a gesture of welcome, these days the hotel remains closed for the other guests besides a few.
I reach for the antique-style handles and pull.
Just as I walked in, I bump my head into someone's shoulder, and a warm woody aroma engulfs me.
Strong hands steady me and I look up, only to meet a pair of deep brown eyes. Coffee. Before I can admire him more or take a better look at his face, the rays of the sun hit my vision and I am forced to look away.
"Are you okay?" Are you okay? I gasped and quickly pushed away from him.
What was that? A strange memory?
I leave the door handle and apologise immediately.
"I apologise, I was in a hurry, and I wasn't looking. I hope I didn't hurt you." I mumbled a quick apology.
But he didn't say anything and just left. I turned around to look at his face, but in vain as he walked off. How rude.
I didn't care much as he disappeared into a corner. I pull open the door and enter the place.
A moment later.
I got the job in the restaurant, and it turns out that a few important guests will be arriving this weekend. I left the part-time job recently, because of my exams, but now that I am free, I know where to get that cash.
Everyone needs money.
I was hired the moment I asked them for the job, Mrs. Linda even hugged me and sighed in relief, it turns out that she desperately needed someone to perform for her special guests.
Westwoods is a small town; everyone knows everyone and helps each other around. So, me helping out Mr. and Mrs. Sutton should not be a problem besides I am done with my exams.
Still, I must hurry back home, otherwise Ms. Lily would worry. I started calling that place home since after one random morning, Ms. Lily made me breakfast before school and said that one should always leave home with a full stomach. I don't know why but Ms. Lily feels like my own. My lips tilt at the memory.
I quickly finish the coffee that Mrs. Linda generously offered to me as I just -according to her-saved her day.
Just as I was about to leave, Mr. Lewis calls me behind the counter and into the kitchen, "Malvina so sorry to bother you, dear, but can you wait the tables for a bit, Andrew is making the pizzas, Isa has a day off and John went to run a few errands, you can take some pizza home, okay?" He spoke in a jolly voice.
I smiled and nodded, "You are in luck uncle, I happen to have a few hours on my hand before my curfew."
I place my bag on the cupboard for the staff, tie an apron over my clothes, turn around and grab the notepad and pen, " I will take your special homemade pasta." I shout over my shoulder and go to the front to collect orders.
"Certo caro. Take whatever you want." Mr. Lewis shouts from the kitchen. I smile and turn around. Mr. Lewis is part Italian, and so is Mrs. Linda. It's fun hearing them talk in their native language, although I don't understand a single word.
I momentarily freeze as a sudden memory crosses my mind.
The same faceless people, a swing, the loud laughter of childrens playing. I shake my head and head towards the tables.
It happens a lot. Since as long as I can remember, I get these weird flashes of incidents, conversations and mostly dreams or nightmares.
They come and go in a lapse of seconds. Just like lightning, once there, then not. They never tell me anything, only make me more confused. I have made peace with it by now.
After almost two hours, I remove my apron and gather my long hair in a loose bun on top of my head, run my hands over my faded jeans and fasten the lace of my white canvas shoes.
I exit the restaurant with my pasta takeout and start walking on the pavement towards my home, humming some random tune I heard somewhere.
Just as I turn around the corner, I feel a pair of eyes on me. Not a bone-chilling stare or something but a rather common gaze. I turn my head in time to catch a petite figure disappearing around the street.
At a distance, I just cannot figure out who they are, but from the looks of it, it's certainly not a man, but a woman.
"Off you go. No way in hell I am following that." I am not curious enough to follow someone into a dark alley, I have seen enough crime shows to perform such ridiculous actions.
Without paying much attention to the weird person, I walk towards the crossing. The roads are empty and the traffic lights are pretty much useless as no one in this little town follows them.
To make my day better, just as I am about to cross the road, a black car speeds towards me. One moment I am watching it approach me, the next moment I am on the road with my hands supporting my body and a sneering pain shooting up my leg.
"It hurts!" I examine the scratches on my palm. They are bleeding.
I looked towards my bag, sprawled in front of me. Gladly, the pasta container is intact. I am so ready to binge on it. That is strangely still my priority.
I groan in pain. I look towards the car and gasp, it is a 'rich people car' all black and with tinted windows and all. How the hell is such a car in this neighbourhood?
I rarely see these types of cars in this area. Although Westwoods is a prosperous neighbourhood, people don't usually drive such cars here.
Lost in my thoughts, I don't realise that someone steps out of the car.
"Miss? Are you okay?"