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LMS VI: The Halls of St. Julian's



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133 Reviews



Gender: Female
Points: 1832
Reviews: 133
Fri Aug 12, 2022 9:03 pm
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looseleaf says...



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The Main Characters

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Name: Eduard Klement
Age: 16
DOB: October 13, 1918
Traits (as if he were a Sims 3 character): athletic, people-pleaser, proper, workaholic, ambitious

Name: Theresa TBD
Age: 16
DOB: June 7, 2004
Traits (as if she were a Sims 3 character): perceptive, bookworm, coward, vehicle enthusiast, socially awkward

The Secondary Characters

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Name: Edwin Wolfe
Age: 16
DOB: February 27, 2004
Traits: athletic, bookworm, people-pleaser, schmoozer, lazy (work-wise)

Name: Bonnie Neill
Age: 17
DOB: December 7, 2003
Traits: good, excitable, disciplined, artistic, genius

Name: Cameron (?) Flanagan
Age: 17
DOB: March 3, 1917
Traits: Mean-spirited, schmoozer, lucky, athletic, inappropriate
  





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Tue Aug 23, 2022 3:38 am
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looseleaf says...



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No names so no spoilers. :)
  





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Wed Aug 31, 2022 3:46 am
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looseleaf says...



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spoilers for the character collages above since they're the playlist covers

Eduard ~ Theresa


Spoiler! :
Eduard
Artificial Flowers - Bobby Darin
Moody Blue - Elvis Presley
Auld Lang Syne - Guy Lombardo
I Fall In Love Too Easily - Chet Baker
Lonesome Tears - Buddy Holly & The Crickets
Take Your Time (Coming Home) - fun.
Everybody Loves A Clown - Gary Lewis & The Playboys
Blue Velvet - Bobby Vinton
Oh Noel - idkhbtfm
Who Put The Bomp - Barry Mann
Across That Fine Line - Nation of Language
Venice Blue - Bobby Darin
The Folks Who Live On The Hill - Peggy Lee
We'll Meet Again - Vera Lynn, Sailors, Soldiers, & Airmen of Her Majesty's Forces
Angel of the Morning - Merrilee Rush & The Turnabouts
Always On My Mind - Pet Shop Boys
Photograph - Ringo Starr
Goodbye Mr. Blue - Father John Misty
Operator - Jim Croce
Little Things Mean A Lot - Kitty Kallen
It's Now Or Never - Elvis Presley
I Am A Poor Wayfaring Stranger - Jos Slovick
Would You Rather Be Lonely - Red Rum Club
Little White Lies - Annette Hanshaw
Dream Lover - Bobby Darin
Lost Cause - Beck
Take Good Care Of My Baby - Bobby Vee
If You Could Read My Mind - Gordon Lightfoot
Your Face - Maureen McElheron
Big Time - Angel Olsen

Theresa
Chevy Thunder - Spector
Here Comes Your Man - Pixies
Country - Good Morning
Farewell Never Never Land - Tom Russell
Nobody Likes The Opening Band - idkhbtfm
There's Always Something There To Remind Me - Lou Johnson
Walk Out Backwards - Bill Anderson
I Got A Name - Jim Croce
1000 Times - Hamilton Leithauser, Rostam
Magical Mystery Tour - The Beatles
Hallelujah - Jeff Buckley
Fade to Grey - Visage
Suspicious Minds - Fine Young Cannibals
Turn! Turn! Turn! - The Byrds
Dream of Mickey Mantle - Bleachers
America - Simon & Garfunkel
Dream A Little Dream of Me - The Mamas & The Papas
The Gambler - fun.
Danny's Song - Anne Murray
White Of An Eye - Patience
Twenty Nothing - Spector
Superstar - Carpenters
Romeo and Juliet - The Reflections
I Beg Your Pardon - Kon Kan
Cry for Me - Erich Bergen
San Francisco - Scott McKenzie
Brand New Key - Melanie
The Times They Are A-Changin' - Bob Dylan
Hemiplegia - HAERTS
  





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Fri Sep 09, 2022 12:12 am
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looseleaf says...



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Week One
Actual Work


The smell of fresh potato pancakes flowed through the interior of Eduard’s old Ford Runabout. The smushed starches were en route to the Dostals’ home, to be eaten by Mr. Dostal’s motherless son and heartless nanny. Mrs. Klement watched them the entire time they cooked so they would be the perfect golden-brown color for the young boy. She was like that. Her own kids hurriedly spooned oatmeal into their mouths for breakfast while her clients ate warm, authentic meals.

“What did Mr. Dostal ask for this time?” Hedvika asked. The bags of food were on her lap. Mom had insisted Mr. Dostal’s were not put in the trunk with the other packages.

“The usual,” Eduard answered, “Potato pancakes, sweet tomato sauce, and.. co to bylo, co to bylo.. and duck.”

“Must be celebrating something if they asked mom to cook duck,” Hedvika said as she peered into the paper bag, “Maybe Mr. Dostal is remarrying?”

“I hope not, for grandma’s sake.” Grandma Schovajsa always insinuated that, when Ms. Klement remarries, she should aim for Mr. Dostal. He did meet the requirements: he was Czech and attended Church at least once a week.

Hedvika giggled. It was a sweet but refined noise, one that braved the stock market crash and dad’s death and came out alive. It could change a room full of people’s emotions in the blink of an eye. It was one of the things Eduard would miss most.

The engine sputtered as the car came to a stop behind Mr. Dostal’s Hudson Town Sedan. For a moment Eduard worried that his rusty Runabout would be swept off the ground by the slightest gust of wind. Then, he saw part of Mr. Dostal’s fender was missing, and he felt safe again. Eduard moved a lock of dark brown hair that had fallen behind his glasses lense out of his vision before stepping out of the car. There was no point in actually opening the door, seeing as there were large spaces where the windows should be, but Mr. Klement taught him to never touch a shoe to a car’s paint job. So he didn’t.

Hedvika followed her older brother as he walked up the pathway to the front door. It was a small, craftsman house, much like the others in the neighborhood. The white paint was chipping off the shingles, the wooden porch had one too many holes in it, and the flowers were long past saving. Eduard removed a crinkled sheet of paper from his front right pocket. His mom’s handwriting was scribbled all over it, listing off food items and prices. Eduard’s eyes drifted down the bottom of the paper.

$2.35

He sighed as he knocked on the door. That wasn’t enough. He had told his mom that before, begged her, to take Mr. Klement’s insurance money as her own. But his father’s will was clear. The money was to go to Eduard and Hedvika’s education only, so they could afford as many opportunities as his parents provided him.

“How much is she charging him?” Hedvika asked. Eduard looked back at her. She was too mature and aware of the world for her age. A thirteen-year-old with a pretty laugh and gorgeous curls shouldn’t have to worry if mom and uncle could afford dinner.

The Klement son was about to respond when the front door swung open, revealing a disheveled Mr. Dostal on the other side.

“Dobré ráno Eduard a Hedvika,” he said with a small smile.

Hedvika glanced at her brother with a furrowed brow. Being only two when the Klements immigrated from Czechoslovakia, she had never learned their native language. People thought her lazy for not learning it but, Eduard knew, she truly struggled to grasp it.

“He said good morning,” Eduard informed his sister before turning back to the lawyer standing before him, “Here’s your delivery, Mr. Dostal.”

Mr. Dostal thanked the two Klements and transferred the bags into the soulless nanny's open arms. Lois Dostal was nowhere to be seen.

"How much do I pay?" Mr. Dostal stumbled over his words.

Eduard's eyes landed on the small charge his mother had written down. $2.35. That wasn't enough.

"Two dollars and forty-five cents," Eduard said, putting the list into his left pocket when the older man's gaze was focused on the nanny.

Mr. Dostal’s lips formed into a thin line as he fished around his wallet for spare change. One dollar, two appeared from the depths of his battered wallet. Eduard knew for a fact it was real leather. Lois boasted about it to Hedvika not long after the banks closed.

Two dollars, a quarter, two dimes, and a nickel landed in Hedvika's outstretched hand.

"The nickel's for you," Mr. Dostal said as he reached for his briefcase, "Please get treats with it."

“Thanks!”

“Thank you, Mr. Dostal.”

Mr. Dostal stepped out of his home and shut the door behind him softly. Lois must still be sleeping. Eduard missed resting during summer mornings, with the window cracked open and the sun ever so gently warming the room as you rose. That habit died with Mr. Klement and the loss of his income.

Hedvika and her brother moved to the side of the pathway as Mr. Dostal rushed past, checking his watch as he did so.

"Are you okay, Mr. Dostal?" Hedvika called out.

"I am late for work," he replied as he rounded the 1929 Hudson, "There was problem this morning."

"I'm sorry. I hope everything ends up alright."

"Me, too," Eduard tagged on.

"Thank you, children. Before I leave, how is Ms. Klement?" Mr. Dostal asked, his head the only thing visible above the top of the car.

"She's fine," Eduard stated. He stood still, his arms crossed across his chest as if challenging the older man to keep questioning. Hedvika obliviously made her way to the car.

Mr. Dostal nodded and ducked into his Hudson. Its engine jumped to life like a cat whose tail was just stepped on. It drove off down the road without a bump or sputter to be heard.

"Where to next?" Hedvika asked from her spot in the passenger seat. The bow began falling out of her hair and she quickly repositioned it. Her hair was always made to the finest detail, whether it was out of vanity or decency Eduard could never tell.

“The Foltys’.”

The two Klement siblings drove to the few neighbors who hired their mom. Hedvika distributed the packages while Eduard up-charged his neighbors ten cents, then fifteen cents more than the original price Mrs. Klement had set. He was determined to guarantee his mom and uncle would be financially safe when he was gone. Thankfully, Hedvika never checked the receipts.

1,119 Words
  





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Points: 1832
Reviews: 133
Mon Sep 19, 2022 4:04 am
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looseleaf says...



Week Two - 1041 Words


Eventually, the floorboards of the trunk were visible once more, and Eduard was making the all too familiar turn onto South 22nd Street. Hedvika was curled up on the passenger side of the car, her eyes fluttering in and out of sleep. She had babysat the night before for a cool twenty cents.

A constant flow of dust was swept from the road into the car’s path. Eduard bunched a handkerchief in his hand, reached around to the front of the windshield, and wiped away the grime as the car came to a stop. The dust always came back, like the birds in the springtime, and the glass would be covered again by noon.

Eduard opened the door slowly and stepped out into the open. His boots struggled to stay still on the brick road. The mortar had disappeared under a coating of slick dust. Eduard’s gaze rose to the red-bricked outsider that was the Klement’s home. In a way, he was glad to leave. One way. The boy sighed as he leaned against the car, partially to regain his footing but, mostly in a lame attempt to avoid going inside. His hand twitched as a crow landed on their mailbox, but he was not bothered enough to stop either of them.

Uncle Oskar’s Buick stood guard in the driveway, looming over Ms. Klement’s plants and the baseball resting in the grass. Its driver, the spitting image of his older brother, was visible through the cracked living room window. His eyes watched Aunt Vera as she lifted their newborn up and down and back up again. Uncle Oskar’s lips moved with silent words and his wife held her baby tightly as she stood and went in the direction of their bedroom.

Leaving his sister dozing in the car, Eduard made his way onto the porch. His hand instinctively reached for the door post.

Eduard Klement Sr. and his son Eddy Jr.
1924


Ten whole years of Eduard Sr. and “Eddy” touching the doorpost had practically erased the engravings from the wood. It was only in the past year that hands had stopped grazing it in an effort to preserve the sacred names. Nowadays, Hedvika was the only person who dared to call her brother Eddy. He was Eduard Klement Jr., their father’s replacement.

Eduard wandered into the house. The smell of Ms. Klement’s tomato sauce drifted around the house. Uncle Oskar was buttoning his shirt in the living room. His face was poorly shaven and splotches of hair were visible along his cheeks.

Where’s your sister?” Uncle Oskar questioned in Czech as soon as he noticed his brother’s son.

The car. She fell asleep.

I’m not surprised. She’s always been lazy.

Eduard scowled at the older man. Innumerable possible insults shifted through his mind: Your wife only stays with you because of the baby. You’re only here because no employer wanted you in St. Louis. Your parents would be disappointed. You’re nothing like your brother. But, Eduard bit his tongue and carried on. Arguments with Uncle Oskar never ended pleasantly.

The hallway walls were plastered with pictures of distant family members. Ms. Klement’s family was only partially represented, growing up too poor to take any decent photos. Mr. Klement’s side hoarded the majority of the space. The largest one was of Uncle Oskar and dad in front of their large childhood home in Czechoslovakia before they moved. That was 1923. Next to it was Mr. Klement’s St. Julian’s Academy graduating picture from 1912. That would be Eduard’s fate, soon enough.

For two years Eduard had attended Creighton Preparatory School. It was small, had an amazing sports program, and incredible teachers.. yet it could never be perfect, at least in the eyes of Mr. Klement. In life, Mr. Klement’s dreams for his two children, especially his son, couldn’t be realized. The sizable life insurance policy he left behind last year changed that.

How has your day been, mom?” Eduard asked in her native language, taking his usual spot at the kitchen table. It looked out the window above the sink to the backyard. The clothes hanging on the clothesline were nearly dry.

Ms. Klement sighed. Her hands effortlessly sliced the parsley and celery sitting on her old chopping board. The wrinkles on her once beautiful face trapped the sweat in, creating a glow that the steam from the stove kept feeding.

Alright. Thank you for asking,” she said. She shifted the vegetables into the tomato sauce carefully, “I have an meal order for you to deliver after lunch.

Eduard wanted to groan but decided to save it for another person. Mrs. Klement was too fragile a person to handle annoyance.

For who?

The Risavis.” The front door opened and closed as the clock on the wall struck 11:40. Uncle Oskar’s shift was about to start.

Eduard studied his mother as she toiled away at someone else’s meals. Long ago, he had decided that the woman in his parents’ wedding photo and the woman who raised him were two very different people. One was perpetually looking ahead to the future of a happy family and a job as a typist. The other was forever wishing time would go in reverse.

It was a moment before Eduard noticed the pamphlet sitting on the table. He had left it there this morning after he weighed the pros and cons of going to St. Julian’s during breakfast. It was not like they mattered, anyways– as long as they had the money, he was going to be forced to transfer schools. Hedvika would follow in the years to come and attend St. Julian’s sister school.

The sound of two doors opening and closing vibrated through the house. Aunt Vera appeared in the kitchen first, baby Anton sniffling in her arms, and was quickly followed by her niece.

“How was your morning, Hedvika?” mom said, returning to the language she could understand.

“Great! Some of the people we dropped off food with today gave us some extra money,” she reached into her pocket and took out her share of tips. Two nickels and three pennies. She slid them to the side of the table closest to mom and leaned back in her chair, “You can have them.”
  





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Mon Sep 26, 2022 1:43 am
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looseleaf says...



Week Three - 1018


The floor moaned as Aunt Vera pulled the highchair next to the table and set her son in it. Anton’s beady eyes explored the kitchen as if it was an alien planet. His thin hair was blond, almost white, but would be dark brown by next winter. The layette Grandma Klement had sewed for Eduard was tight around the baby’s sides.

“How was your day?” Aunt Vera asked, “Who did you see?”

She rarely traveled outside of the house anymore, except to attend Mass and see her parents. Eduard used to pity her. She was a pretty woman, rare for their neighborhood, but the Klements had worn her down. In the end, though, it was her decision to marry Uncle Oskar. No one but her could be blamed for her current life.

“Mrs. Folty–she said to say hello to you–and some other people you don’t know,” Eduard replied, “Apparently, we’re going to the Risavis after lunch.”

“That’s nice of her. Tell her I say hello, too, next time you see her.”

“Will do.”

“Did you give her the skirt I made her daughter?”

“Yes, Aunt Vera.”

“Have you gotten the mail, yet?” Aunt Vera said in a perfect Midwestern accent, the only person in the family to have one. Her grandparents were Czech, but she had never stepped foot in their homeland.

“What?” Eduard asked. The word came out of his mouth sounding exasperated. Too many people had asked him questions today.

“Eduard, be polite!” his mom shrieked. She swatted him in the back of the head with a towel. Her son was unphased.

“I asked if you had gotten the mail yet,” Aunt Vera repeated.

He sighed before answering. His mouth curled into the type of smile that was full of dislike, but only someone close to him would recognize that. With mom’s back turned to her children, and Aunt Vera and Eduard being closer to acquaintances than friends, Eduard was free to contort his face as he pleased.

“No, Aunt Vera. No, I have not.”

“It’s been delivered.”

“I know.”

“The letter was supposed to arrive today.”

I know.

Aunt Vera’s lips pressed together in a thin line. She knew her place in the family. She was the aunt who everyone simultaneously felt bad for and was constantly annoyed by. Despite this, she couldn’t help but venture out of her place once in a while.

“I think you should be happy, Eduard,” she said, making direct eye contact with him as he ate, “Few people today have the opportunities that you and Hedvika have.”

Eduard shrugged. His eyes were fully focused on his sandwich.

“St. Julian’s is a wonderful school. Their academics are arguably the best in the country. Just going there will allow you to do so much.”

“So I’ve heard.”

The gears turned in Aunt Vera’s head.

“Their baseball team is amazing, too. Better than Creighton Prep’s,” she tried. Eduard had played third base on some team since he was in Kindergarten. He was always second-best. The honorable mention at the awards ceremony. The coach’s backup favorite. The smallest photo on the yearbook page, overshadowed by the captain’s.

“That means I probably won’t make the team,” he decided to answer.

“Eddy, don’t be such a spoilsport,” Hedvika said. She had been following the conversation intently. Normally, her opinions would be influenced by Eduard. Whatever he thought, she tended to believe as well. But, her love for their father was even stronger than Eduard’s and she stood firm by Mr. Klement’s side.

“I am not being a spoilsport!” Eduard exclaimed. He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.

“Look, Eddy,” Aunt Vera said in an attempt to sound familiar. It only increased Eduard’s annoyance. He could feel the anger rising in his stomach, “I just think you should be grateful to go to your father’s alma mater. He always dreamed that his Eddy and Hedvika would follow in his footsteps.”

“Being able to go to my dad’s school is a poor substitute for him being alive, Vera,” he spat. His mom shrieked his name again. Eduard scraped his chair along the floor and left Anton to watch the women gossip about him in the kitchen.

He briskly walked back through the hallway to the front steps. The faces behind the frames laughed at him. His father’s eyes, which had been happy moments before, taunted him from St. Julian’s front yard. He knew of his son’s reluctance to attend a school so far from home. Yet, Mr. Klement destined him to that same fate.

Eduard paused at the front steps, debating whether to sulk upstairs or face the reality he had been hiding from since pneumonia won its war over his father. He looked out the window on the front door. It was covered in grime and had been cracked several times in the decade since it had been installed. Through its yellowed glass panes, he could see the crow still resting on the mailbox.

The front door slammed open and close as Eduard crossed the house’s threshold. The stone pathway was uneven under his boots. He grabbed one of the many baseballs littering the front yard and tossed it up and down, up and down, up and down. The crow paid no attention.

His pace slowed as he neared the mailbox. He had always hated birds, with their long beaks and knife-like feet. A moment of debating resulted in the baseball and feathers soaring. The ball cut through the air inches above the top of the mailbox, but the bird moved faster. It was gone within seconds of hearing the noise.

Eduard still hesitated for a moment before opening the front of the box. There it was: a white envelope with a blue, five-cent stamp depicting Old Faithful and Yellowstone National Park. The handwriting on the outside was practically calligraphy. It was the most exquisite way Eduard Klement Jr. had ever seen his name written.

With that, Eduard shut the door to the box, ignoring the other bills and letters within it. He ripped the top of the packaging open and began reading.
  





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Mon Sep 26, 2022 3:17 am
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looseleaf says...



alrighty, that wraps up chapter one! i think i'll post chapter one in its entirety in the publishing center sometimes after i edit it.

also, i've decided to write all of eduard's chapters first, then theresa's. since it switches povs between them (1930s to ~2019) i think it would be easier to write the chapters where the events happen and then write the chapter where someone is figuring out why (if that makes sense?). i'm sorry if that makes it more boring to read as i post it. :))
  





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Mon Oct 03, 2022 4:22 am
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looseleaf says...



Week Four - Chapter 2.1 - 1030 Words


The four suitcases were hastily pulled out of the back of Uncle Oskar’s Buick. A ratty old school bag, one Eduard intended to replace as soon as he found himself some spare change, fell off of the pile and lay forgotten on the ground.

Eduard flipped a small slip of paper up and down in his right hand. Before they had left home, he had pressed a piece of paper onto the etching on the door frame. Softly, with a pencil, he had colored over the engraving to create a portable copy of his dad’s writing. He made two: one was rubbing off in the palm of his hands and the other was somewhere in the school bag.

“Eddy, we’re going to be late!” his sister yelled while holding her own small suitcase in her hands. Mom had insisted Hedvika and her come with Eduard to Massachusetts–it was an extremely important occasion, after all.

None of the Klements had traveled outside of Omaha since they immigrated from Czechoslovakia. Mr. Klement had always wanted to go West, to marvel at the Grand Canyon and ride San Francisco’s trolleys. Those dreams had long since been forgotten by his family.

Eduard smiled softly at baby Anton, barely acknowledging the child’s parents, before following Hedvika through the doors of Omaha Union Station. He knew it was selfish of him but, In a way, he was grateful to leave home, to have nine months away from Uncle Oskar’s yelling and Aunt Vera’s pushiness. Hedvika and his mother’s charms would rub off Anton and, hopefully, be enough to set him on the right path. Eduard was betting on it.

The Klements’ first stop was St. Louis. Hedvika and Eduard had pleaded with their mother to let them explore the “big city,” but she hadn’t been swayed yet. From there they would mosey their way through the Eastern United States to Boston and take a car or bus to St. Julian’s Academy an hour away.

The two Klement siblings made their way to the Main Waiting Room, completed only four years before in 1931, while their mother got in line for the ticket counter.

“Do we have enough money for the soda fountain?” Hedvika asked as soon as her brother set the bags, and himself, down on a bench.

Eduard dug around in his pockets for a moment, pretending to have fewer coins in there than he did. He pulled out a dime.

“What are you getting?” he asked.

“A Coca-Cola.”

“I’ll have that if they don’t have Hires root beer.”

Hedvika nodded and sped off into the crowd, her pigtails bobbing in the air behind her.

Eduard chuckled at the sight before opening the pamphlet that Mr. Alarie, the head of St. Julian’s, had mailed along with his acceptance letter. He began reading. Eduard had meticulously read through it several times since it arrived. Each paragraph was already familiar and each word was already memorized. Yet, he couldn’t stop thumping through it as if a grievous error he hadn’t caught before would leap off the page.

In the back of his mind, he hoped something would.

Eduard rubbed his eyes and sighed. A week of scurrying around, purchasing overly expensive books and necessities, had tired him more than delivering food to the Dostals. Eduard attributed his exhaustion to a reluctance to leave. Ms. Klement thought he had the new school jitters.

“Sorry, Eddy, but they didn’t have that root beer you like,” Hedvika said, seemingly appearing from thin air. She held a Coca-Cola bottle in each hand, one unopened and one half-empty. Soda was a rarity to the Klements–water, milk, and orange juice were usually the only liquids in their house, along with Uncle Oskar’s beer. Soda fountains were for special occasions, one of which this day was.

“That’s alright,” Eduard replied. He took the filled bottle and took a sip. The drink fizzed on his tongue, the usually sweet flavor tasting bitter as it went down, “Does this taste wrong to you?”

“Mine doesn’t.”

He shrugged, then motioned for her to sit down beside him. God, he would miss her. More than his friends, his baseball team, his school, his house–he knew he would stay up at night, missing the familiar sound of her giggle or the daily gossip she would recount from her class. He would miss watching her navigating her first year of high school and the experiences she would have that he would hear about through the grapevine. Hedvika was always there for her older brother. Now, going into his Junior year, he was being ripped away from her.

“Do you want anything from Massachusetts?” he asked as they both watched the crowd. Mrs. Klement was three spots from the front of the ticket line.

“I’m going there with you, silly.”

“I know,” Eduard shrugged. He began flipping the stenciled piece of paper in his hand again, “I’m just trying to make conversation.”

“You’re not very good at it.”

“I know.”

Eduard’s eyes jumped from person to person walking in from the train tracks. A well-off-looking family and their dog were checking the items they had packed as they walked to make sure they hadn’t lost anything. An older man trudged through the crowd, letting out a raspy cough every few seconds. He wore a nice suit resembling a businessman’s, but his dirty fingernails and battered travel bag said otherwise. A couple holding hands scoured the crowd for familiar faces as if they hadn’t stepped foot in Omaha for months or even years. How Eduard wished he was them, traveling into the city instead of out.

“Mom’s coming,” Hedvika exclaimed. Her Coca-Cola bottle was practically empty, the last drops sticking to the glass.

Ms. Klement walked up to her children and held out a ticket to each of them.

“Mom,” Eduard said, “first-class? We can’t afford that! These are far beyond what we should be spending for them.”

“Oh, shush, Eduard,” mom replied, “This is a special occasion. I’m allowed to splurge a little on special occasions, especially when your father would have wanted it.”

“He would have wanted us to be stable!”

“Eduard, he would have wanted us to be happy.”
  








“I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.”
— L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables