The candle flickered on my bedside table, and I longed for my electric light. But of course, I couldn't use it for fear I would be punished for reading late into the night. The electric light would bring too much unwanted attention to my room. No, the candle was far safer than the electric light. It would have to do.

My house on the hill was small and quaint, perfect for my small family of four. However, the placement of my room was most inconvenient, since my parents' bedroom was down the hall, straight across from mine. When I was less experienced in the art of reading gardening books by candle, I was caught by my mother a lot, and punished for reading late with my books being taken away. The books were the closest thing I had to actually gardening, which was my real passion. Something about giving plants life after arranging them beautifully just drew me in. My brother was studying for his law degree, and my father was a judge's clerk. My mother was a housewife, and I was also expected to do just that. It wasn't that there were limitations on women, the justices would say, their minds are just far more fragile. And so, women were normally required to be housewives.

I wasn't going to be. I planned on getting a respectable job and being an independent woman. No attachments, no worries. But for now, I was a school girl, aged 16, unable to do anything for myself.

Suddenly, I recognized my mother's softly pounding footsteps coming towards my bedroom door, and I was quick to blow out my candle and put my book underneath my pillow.

Just not quick enough for Emila Everheart, my mother.

"Aria Mae Everheart, what are you doing up this late at night? You have school tomorrow!" she whisper-scolded after locking my door behind her. Both to block my only way to escape and block my father and brother from coming in if they heard.

"Mother, please, don't tell father," I begged. My father was a cruel, hardened man with no love for anyone but my mother.

Mother sighed, and her features softened, "I won't tell him, but I will the next time I catch you up."

I nodded as mother unlocked the door, closed it behind her, and padded back to her bedroom. For fear of being discovered once again, I curled up in my linen sheets and drifted off to sleep. 

~o0o~

The next morning, I woke up early like always and slipped into my finishing school's uniform. The blue dress hit just underneath my knees, and I pulled the white stockings up to my shins. The only thing I could choose about my uniform was my footwear, but my mother was insistent that I wear blue kitten heels with my completely blue and white uniform. 

After I was done dressing, I walked out of my room, careful not to wake up my brother or my father, and headed to the kitchen. As a young women in my household, I was required to help my mother with the cooking and cleaning to have experience when I make my own household. I detested that rule, but what I detested even more was the implication that I had to start a household and get married right when I turned 18. With that date looming closer and closer, I began to feel squished between pleasing my family and pleasing myself.

With those happy thoughts to start off the already foggy morning, I walked into the kitchen and fell into rhythm beside my mother making ham omelets, bacon, and toast. Because of my father's judicial clerk salary, we could afford niceties such as bacon, but not help. We couldn't look like we were enjoying life too much, or my father would be fired, hence the second-hand furniture and carriage.

When the sizzling bacon slid off of the pan and onto a dish to be put on the center of the table, I brought the toast and bacon to the table so the men of the house could start eating. It was a small mercy that they both finished early so mother and I could proceed to eat earlier. It was custom in our house to sit through the men's meal, and then the women could eat what was left. 

"Thank you for getting up to help with breakfast this morning, I know you were up late," my mother said casually, biting into her butter and jam toast after my father and brother left.

"Mother!" I complained, even though I could hear the teasing tone of her voice.

"Darling, you couldn't honestly expect me to leave it alone? You do need some punishment for last night, don't think I've forgotten."

"I know, mother," I sighed, and I started to push my omlet around the border of my plate.

"Stop playing with your food," she reminded me gently, and I nodded, finishing my breakfast and setting my plate lightly into the gleaming silver sink.

Grabbing my school bag on the way out of the kitchen, I walked through the living room to the front of the door, past the mismatched furniture pieces; such as a deep green couch with a yellow coffee table.

"Goodbye, mother. I'll be back after school," I called behind behind me before the screen door slammed closed, and I walked down the winding path in front of my house to get to the town square. 

Jam packed with people on a normal day, the square was always bustling. The court house loomed on the left, the private garden was housed in a smaller land plot on the right, only there because of a petition three years ago for a garden instead of another statue of our king. On the far end, the road extended on to the castle of King Charming after two or so miles. I had never traveled on that road.

I walked across the multicolored cobblestones, almost flinching when I walked through the shadow of the imposing justice building. It loomed high above, the scowling justices carved into the roof, looking down on the passerby. Most people weren't affected by the building in the least, but I didn't have the best relationship with my father, and the building represented everything my father stood for and agreed to. 

I visibly relaxed when I came out of the shadow and onto the sunlit path leading to Madam Pushfoot's Finishing School for Future Wives. The name itself is demeaning, to say nothing of the things we were taught inside of the bright pink stone walls.

I trudged up to the school, regretting each heavy step, and I buzzed in on the small intercom next to the oak door that held so many terrible memories, because of my tendency to think becoming a wife and mother was overrated, and the fact that my favorite hobby was reading about gardening over hair styling, gossiping, or make-overing.

I steeled myself for yet another day of finishing school torture. I stepped inside of the pristine entrance hall, closing the door behind me, and I walked down the hall as fast as I could without breaking protocol. 

Walking into Mrs. Harding's room right before the chimes tinkled the start of class, showing girls' ways of keeping time were much more fragile than boys', I noticed two new things: number one was that everyone was there before I was, and number two was that they had already started class. I checked the time to make sure, but I was correct in my assumption that the class started a little early, because I was right on time.

"Ah, Miss. Everheart, did you not receive the notice that class would start an hour early today so that we can fit in extra practice for the pageant of ladyship?" Mrs. Harding asked, and much to my embarrassment, her soft giggles echoed in the room, bouncing off the walls, floor, and ceiling to preserve my humiliation.

My cheeks were most likely tomato red by the time Mrs. Harding was done making me stand at the front of the class while she taught. When I reached my back corner seat, I slouched down (prohibited) and placed my head in my hands (extremely prohibited), trying to cool my fiery cheeks.

When Mrs. Harding brought out some books about the maths and science, explaining that it was required for the women to at least know a bit of both, I perked up for the first time in class. Here was a class that I actually knew the answers to, where I could learn things. The law about gravity and the algebraic basic equations were under my belt, but the text books Mrs. Harding had brought out showed a whole new world of theories and numbers. For that hour, everything was perfect. It shows just about how many times I've raised my hand that every time Mrs. Harding called on me the other girls looked at me in the back corner, surprised.

At the end of the day, I was happily considering myself a master in the law of gravity and algebra. Completely. I packed up and left the school, feeling happy the day was finally done. I was wondered if I was having a really lucky day, or good karma was being cashed out so that I could have a good day. This thought was further proved by the sign on the community garden,

Help wanted: Assistant gardener, minimum wage

I didn't need the money, my father took care of that and more with his job, but I did want to garden. Who knew what they grew in there, what I could discover in the serenity of the private garden. The plants had to be exotic and well taken care of because King Charming loved to spend some time every week in the garden, when the sun was high in the sky and the day was perfect for sipping lemonade in the shade of a tree.

Before I could second guess myself or worry what dirt stains would do to my baby blue uniform, I marched up to the garden's gate, grabbed a piece of tear off paper from the flyer for extra credit when I went in for the job interview. 

Conveniently, when I walked in there was a map for the king, showing the different key locations in the garden for his convenience.

As soon as I found the head gardener's shed on the map, I followed the path deeper into the garden, amazed at how the scent of the flowers and herbs combined immersed me in their scent completely, rendering me senseless. I started wandering, not caring if the gardeners saw me, or if anyone else there did. 

This is what freedom must smell like, was the only thought running through my head.

Too soon, I stumbled upon the gardener's modest gray shed. It stuck out like a sore thumb after walking through the wonderland of the kingdom's private garden. Hesitantly, suddenly questioning my decision, I smoothed my uniform and walked up to the door. Knocking on the door, I waited with baited breath for the gardener to open the door.

"Excuse me, miss, should you be here?" asked a voice behind me. "Because this could be seen as trespassing."

I felt my cheeks take on a pinkish tint as I realized this man was the head gardener. I would have guessed it if I had never seen this man that he was the gardener that kept these plants magnificent. With his wide brimmed hat, sunburned cheeks, gardening belt, and dirt and grass staining his pants, it was incredible how he fit the gardener stereotype.

"Sorry, sir, but I was wondering if you knew where the head gardener was? I saw a flyer out front and wanted to apply for the job," I tried to sound perky and upbeat, likable but not fake. 

"So you want to be an assistant gardener? What are your qualifications?" he started the interview abruptly and unexpectedly. I was flustered for a moment, until I realized he was analyzing every breath before I answered.

"Sir, I would like this job because not only will it prove that a girl can hold this job and do it well; it will also help me test my knowledge on gardening beyond the books or instruction novels I read," I finished with a winning smile to seal the deal, and I could tell the man was sold.

"Alright, you have the job. You'll be working every day after your schooling," he looked pointedly at my uniform, "until dinner time. Your duties will consist of cleaning my office and helping me plant new plants that will be replanted later. You think you can commit to this?"

"Yes sir!" I responded cheerfully.

"You start tomorrow, make sure to wear clothes you're willing to get dirty."

I thanked the gardener, whose name I learned was Phil, and headed back down the path I came from with a beaming smile on my face. My dreary life was finally looking up.

~o0o~ 

Word Count: 2157

3 bottles of gatorade and ten pieces of gum later, I've reached the first milestone, 2,157 words, without this note. YAY!!!! I'm done with the 2k word milestone! Make sure to vote and comment so I know what you liked and what I should change!

There may or may not be a serious plot twist coming up so...

BUCKLE UP AND SIT BACK!

thank you for reading,
~happyperson081

#ONC2021