JET KNEW HE WAS IN TROUBLE, ever since the day his
parents entered his room screaming about the evils of the sun and how it
“destroyed his precious Blackfort skin”. He paused outside of the black wood door
that led to the library or –as Jet liked to call it- Onyx’s throne room.
A grin came on Jet’s face as he remembering the
first time he told Onyx that. Dad’s face
was so red I thought he was gonna blow a gasket! His siblings joked later.
Jet remember that day clearly. It was a month after his ninth birthday. He had
still been fuming about getting a diary for his birthday instead of the binoculars
he had been egging his parents to get. Later, Jet remembered, Shade had solved
the problem by suggesting using it as a research journal. Since journal sounded way less sissy, Jet
accepted his brother’s idea. His parents were furious that their gift had made
Jet spend even more time outside, and punished both Jet and Shade profusely.
From that point on, Jet’s siblings treated him as though he were a contagious disease. All with the exception of one...
“Jet,” his
mother’s voice was sharp in an I-am-in-charge-and-you-better-know-it-or-you’re-dead
way, “Get in here.”
Jet collected himself. He wiped the smile off his
face, and reviewed his “battle plan”. You think he’s crazy for having one? Well
his parents weren’t the understanding type. He didn’t fit into the Blackfort
mold, and they were going to make him.
Jet pushed the
heavy wooden door open thinking, In and
out. Don’t say anything to upset the enemy. You are on their turf.
The library, in a word, was huge. Easily you could
fit two or even three elephants in the room, and still have enough room to move
around. As is the normal in the Blackfort household, the walls and majestic
marble floors were black. On either end of the door that Jet had entered was
book shelves. Layered like a cake, they expanded at least fifteen rows on
either side. And then there were the books. There were at least two thousand. –Though
probably a lot more Jet had never bothered to count-. With everything from “How
to take care of a baby baboon” to “Albert Cabot’s guide to fencing”. They were
alphabetize perfectly, as it was a daily Blackfort chore. The only source of light
came from multiple fire escape windows that were necessary and greatly
despised.
In front of Jet, expanded a carpet. So long that
every time Jet entered he wondered how much his parents had to pay to get
someone to make it that insanely long. His eyes traced the black carpet to the
huge desk that sat like a throne in the far end of the room. In a black chair
that was so tall it probably broke many building codes, sat his father.
Next to him, Jet’s mother stood in her long black
dress covered up by her apron, with a (dyed black) wooden spoon in hand. She
had a calculating look on her face that meant she was either trying to figure
out how many cups of sugar would be in a double batch of cookies or she was
trying to figure her son out. Jet really hoped it was the first one.
Jet walked down the ridiculously long carpet that
seemed to just keep on going.
“Jet...” his father began when Jet reached the end.
“Yes.” Jet asked drawing out the s.
His mother continued for his father, “We know you
are going through a certain faze...”
Jet stared at them, all of his plans of staying
quiet and not upsetting the enemy flying out the tiny fire escape windows that
dotted the walls, “A faze! That’s what you call it?”
His father tried to continue “Ye-“
“Well, it’s not. If you would have been paying
attention, you would realize that I have been like this my whole life!” Jet
paused before adding, “And one more thing, I HATE BLACK! CAPICHE?”
Jet could practically see the vacuum that sucked
all the color out of his parent’s faces –not that they had much color to start
with-.
“Y-you don’t mean that,” Onyx stuttered as though
he was trying to convince himself.
“You’re just tired that’s all...” his mother tried
for a smile, “Yes, you just need just a nice solitude day in the house with
no...”
“Distractions?” his father supplied.
“Yes. Thank you, my love. Distractions from the outside world.”
Jet let out his anger, “What I need is for my parents to treating me
like I am some little kid who needs to be shelter from the horrible sun! I am
fourteen! NOT a child!”
With that Jet turned around and ran down the black
carpet.
“Jet, get back here right now!” but Ebony’s words
were lost to Jet as he reached the rough black door.
Jet shoved open the door, and was ready to run
back to his room, when he heard a voice.
“Trouble with the parental?”
Jet didn’t need to turn around to tell that it was
the only sibling that ever cared about him, “Hey, Midnight.”
“What did you do this time?” she asked as a way
greeting him.
Jet turned. His older sister was dressed in her
usually black-ware. Black skinny jeans tucked into black boots with silver
conches and a t-shirt that said, Black is
the new Black. Despite their two year difference in age, Jet was still
taller than her by about an inch. She had her short black hair pulled up in a
ponytail, her face fully makeup-ed. Her lashes were heavy with mascara, and
around them was dark and thick eyeliner. And the finishing touch of black
lipstick. With the outfit on top of her makeup on top of her Blackfort pale skin
made her the type you would mark as gothic -then steer clear. But Jet knew her
as his favorite sister.
“Oh, you know the same old.” He held up his arm to
show her the tan.
“I was wondering when you were going to get in
trouble for that,” Midnight grinned, “it’s starting to make you look like a
normal person!”
“The HORROR!” Jet and Midnight chortled before
laughing.
When they had finished laughing, Jet asked, “So
what are you doing down this a cursed hallway?”
“Searching for books...?” Midnight tried.
At Jet’s steely look she added, “Eavesdropping.”
Jet grinned in triumphed, “You are a horrible
liar.”
“You are no Prince of Lies,” Midnight shot back.
“That,” Jet snorted, “Isn’t really an insult.”
Midnight grinned at her brother, “Fair enough.”
An awkward silence stretched between the two like
a rubber band about to snap. Their common dislike of their parents was often
the only thing they spoke of. So they quickly ran out of things to say. The
twosome used to talk about anything under the moon, but lately Jet had been
feeling them growing apart.
Midnight finally broke the silence that surrounded
the two, “So, I heard Olive and Charcoal stole enough black licorice to feed a
family of walruses for years!”
Already knowing what she was suggesting, Jet cut
in, “I’m good Midnight I got some research to do.”
“They also stole some red vine...” Midnight
wiggled her black penciled eyebrows, “It sure would be a shame to have that go
to waste.”
Jet sighed, she
sure knows how to push my buttons. “Alright, let’s go.”
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