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rainbowfic2012-07-20 11:21 pm
bookblather) wrote in rainbowfic2012-07-20 11:21 pm
Ruby 12, Snow White 4, Orange 1: To Grandmother's House
Author: Kat
Title: To Grandmother's House
Story: Huge Scary New Story
Colors: Ruby 12 (poisoned comb), snow white 4 (glass slipper), orange 1 (apples and oranges)
Supplies and Materials: Bichromatic, canvas (Charlotte is about sixteen), stickers (this), fabric (this picture), beading wire (a vulture), pastels (unwelcome guest).
Word Count: 1037
Rating: G.
Summary: Charlotte at her grandmother's.
Warnings: subtle racism and sexism.
Notes: Last bichromatic. Again, if I fuck anything up, let me know.
It wasn't the money that bothered Charlotte so much as it was everything that came with it.
She sat bolt-straight on Grandmother Hennessy's cream-colored couch and tried not to touch anything. Beside her, Jack sprawled bonelessly on the floor, holding his English reading over his head and turning a page every so often. Miranda had somehow managed to get out of this mandatory appearance.
Jack dropped one hand and looked at his watch. "She's late," he said. "Do you think we're in disgrace?"
Charlotte managed a smile. "I think we're always in disgrace."
"I am, anyway," he agreed, and gave her a far more natural smile back. "Something about lying on her priceless rugs. Oh well."
"You could behave." She looked down at her lap, and smoothed a wrinkle out of her dress. She wore her favorite, one her abuela had loved on her, pink lacey fabric with a Mexican edge to the embroidery, but she was beginning to think that might have been a mistake.
Jack shrugged, an interesting contortion in a boy lying on the ground and holding something above his head. "I sort of think we'd be in trouble anyway?"
He was right, that was the part that hurt the most. It was probably a sin to think so, but Charlotte was a little happy that her Grandfather Hennessy had died before her birth, and that she only needed to see Grandmother Hennessy twice a month. The Inspection, Jack called it, not without some accuracy. If Grandfather had been alive, he just would have found more things wrong with her, with how she sat, with the way she touched the priceless objects, with how she spoke.
Lucky Miranda.
The door creaked open and their grandmother's maid Rosa came in, wheeling the tea cart ahead of her. She smiled at both of them, and said, in Spanish, "Back for more? Where's your sister?"
"She has homework," Charlotte replied in the same language, smiling back. She really liked Rosa, who reminded her of her abuela. "Mama said she didn't have to come."
"Lucky bitch," Jack commented. "Hi, Rosa, how're you doing?"
Rosa rolled her eyes and shook a finger at him. "Language, mijo. How do you think your sister would feel if she heard you call her that?"
He dropped his book to the floor and rolled over, propping his chin on folded arms. Probably giving Rosa his best dazzling smile, and her little brother though he was, Charlotte had to admit he was very good at it. "Probably she would be mildly annoyed, call me a jerk, and booby-trap my bed. All part of the sibling relationship."
"It's true," Charlotte put in, nodding. "Last time she put a frog in there."
"I don't even know where she got it," Jack said, contemplatively.
Rosa shook her head, and began setting out the tea service on the table. "It is days like this I thank God that I do not work for your family."
Charlotte got up and went to help her. "They only do it to each other, at least," she said. "They leave me out of it."
"That's because you're adorable and we love you," Jack said.
Rosa smiled. "Thank you, mija. And you, at least you know better than to bother your sister."
Jack sat up and smiled, and yes, that was definitely his charming smile. "Carlita has nothing to fear from me."
The door to their left opened with discreet violence, and Grandmother Hennessy stalked in. "Was that Spanish I heard? Charlotte, what are you doing?"
Charlotte, caught with a teacup in her hand, stammered, "N-nothing, Grandmother, I..."
"Stay, you imperfect speaker!" Jack announced, apparently at random, and when his grandmother's gaze snapped to him, smiled innocently and held up his book. "MacBeth, Grandmother. I was reading to Charlotte and Rosa."
Charlotte threw him a glance as grateful as she dared to make it, and said, quietly, "I think it's his English homework, Grandmother."
"Out, out, damned spot!" Jack added, helpfully.
Grandmother Hennessy eyed her narrowly for a moment, then said, "I hope so. We are Americans here, and we speak English. Isn't that right, Rosa."
It was not a question, and Rosa answered as she was expected to. "Yes, ma'am."
"Good," she said, and gestured at the table. "Sit, children. Upright, Jackson, if you please."
Jack merely grinned, and took a lackadaisical seat at the table. Charlotte, sitting rather more carefully, envied him his total disregard. Her grandmother always made her feel so self-conscious, ill-at-ease and stupid. Somehow Jack and Miranda could both ignore her, or at worst provoke her for their own amusement, but Charlotte never could.
"Sit gracefully, Charlotte," Grandmother Hennessy snapped. "Honestly, you're a young lady. You should know this by now."
Jack, slung across his chair, lifted his eyebrows.
Charlotte swallowed, got up, and sat again, sweeping her skirt out and over her knees. Grandmother Hennessy watched her closely, and gave a tiny nod at the end. "Good enough, I suppose. Pour. Be careful, the teapot is antique."
"Yes, Grandmother." This at least she had down, the smooth motions and graceful arc of the wrist, filling the tiny china cups full but never too full. She remembered practicing with her father, tea parties full of laughter, her mother holding out a cup and ostentatiously extending her pinkie.
Grandmother Hennessy watched her do it, then, as she set the silver pot down, asked, "That dress, Charlotte, do you really think it's a good idea?"
Charlotte glanced down at the light pink fabric spread over her legs, confused. "I... I like it, Grandmother. I think it's pretty."
"So do I," Jack added, not at all nicely. "It makes you look lovely, Carlita."
"English," Grandmother Hennessy said, sharply. "It makes you look so dark, Charlotte. You should wear white, or black. Simple colors."
"I think," Jack said, his tone sharpening more, "she should wear whatever she wants."
Grandmother Hennessy dismissed him with a wave. "You don't know anything about it, Jackson. Kindly confine your remarks to subjects you understand."
Charlotte stared down into her teacup. "I like it, Grandmother," she repeated, fisting her hands in her skirt. "I think it's pretty."
Her grandmother tsk'd. "It hardly matters if you like it, now does it? It isn't at all flattering."
"Yes, grandmother."
"Good," Grandmother Hennessy said, and picked up her teacup. "Now, tell me about your schooling."
Charlotte got through the afternoon somehow; she always did. Jack did his best to keep their grandmother's attention on him, especially after that, but somehow she always swung back to Charlotte, picking at the least little mistakes, watching with narrow eyes, and never, ever expressing approval. Why should she? What was there about Charlotte that fit into her opulent world?
Tea with Grandmother Hennessy never lasted more than two hours, but it felt like forever.
Title: To Grandmother's House
Story: Huge Scary New Story
Colors: Ruby 12 (poisoned comb), snow white 4 (glass slipper), orange 1 (apples and oranges)
Supplies and Materials: Bichromatic, canvas (Charlotte is about sixteen), stickers (this), fabric (this picture), beading wire (a vulture), pastels (unwelcome guest).
Word Count: 1037
Rating: G.
Summary: Charlotte at her grandmother's.
Warnings: subtle racism and sexism.
Notes: Last bichromatic. Again, if I fuck anything up, let me know.
It wasn't the money that bothered Charlotte so much as it was everything that came with it.
She sat bolt-straight on Grandmother Hennessy's cream-colored couch and tried not to touch anything. Beside her, Jack sprawled bonelessly on the floor, holding his English reading over his head and turning a page every so often. Miranda had somehow managed to get out of this mandatory appearance.
Jack dropped one hand and looked at his watch. "She's late," he said. "Do you think we're in disgrace?"
Charlotte managed a smile. "I think we're always in disgrace."
"I am, anyway," he agreed, and gave her a far more natural smile back. "Something about lying on her priceless rugs. Oh well."
"You could behave." She looked down at her lap, and smoothed a wrinkle out of her dress. She wore her favorite, one her abuela had loved on her, pink lacey fabric with a Mexican edge to the embroidery, but she was beginning to think that might have been a mistake.
Jack shrugged, an interesting contortion in a boy lying on the ground and holding something above his head. "I sort of think we'd be in trouble anyway?"
He was right, that was the part that hurt the most. It was probably a sin to think so, but Charlotte was a little happy that her Grandfather Hennessy had died before her birth, and that she only needed to see Grandmother Hennessy twice a month. The Inspection, Jack called it, not without some accuracy. If Grandfather had been alive, he just would have found more things wrong with her, with how she sat, with the way she touched the priceless objects, with how she spoke.
Lucky Miranda.
The door creaked open and their grandmother's maid Rosa came in, wheeling the tea cart ahead of her. She smiled at both of them, and said, in Spanish, "Back for more? Where's your sister?"
"She has homework," Charlotte replied in the same language, smiling back. She really liked Rosa, who reminded her of her abuela. "Mama said she didn't have to come."
"Lucky bitch," Jack commented. "Hi, Rosa, how're you doing?"
Rosa rolled her eyes and shook a finger at him. "Language, mijo. How do you think your sister would feel if she heard you call her that?"
He dropped his book to the floor and rolled over, propping his chin on folded arms. Probably giving Rosa his best dazzling smile, and her little brother though he was, Charlotte had to admit he was very good at it. "Probably she would be mildly annoyed, call me a jerk, and booby-trap my bed. All part of the sibling relationship."
"It's true," Charlotte put in, nodding. "Last time she put a frog in there."
"I don't even know where she got it," Jack said, contemplatively.
Rosa shook her head, and began setting out the tea service on the table. "It is days like this I thank God that I do not work for your family."
Charlotte got up and went to help her. "They only do it to each other, at least," she said. "They leave me out of it."
"That's because you're adorable and we love you," Jack said.
Rosa smiled. "Thank you, mija. And you, at least you know better than to bother your sister."
Jack sat up and smiled, and yes, that was definitely his charming smile. "Carlita has nothing to fear from me."
The door to their left opened with discreet violence, and Grandmother Hennessy stalked in. "Was that Spanish I heard? Charlotte, what are you doing?"
Charlotte, caught with a teacup in her hand, stammered, "N-nothing, Grandmother, I..."
"Stay, you imperfect speaker!" Jack announced, apparently at random, and when his grandmother's gaze snapped to him, smiled innocently and held up his book. "MacBeth, Grandmother. I was reading to Charlotte and Rosa."
Charlotte threw him a glance as grateful as she dared to make it, and said, quietly, "I think it's his English homework, Grandmother."
"Out, out, damned spot!" Jack added, helpfully.
Grandmother Hennessy eyed her narrowly for a moment, then said, "I hope so. We are Americans here, and we speak English. Isn't that right, Rosa."
It was not a question, and Rosa answered as she was expected to. "Yes, ma'am."
"Good," she said, and gestured at the table. "Sit, children. Upright, Jackson, if you please."
Jack merely grinned, and took a lackadaisical seat at the table. Charlotte, sitting rather more carefully, envied him his total disregard. Her grandmother always made her feel so self-conscious, ill-at-ease and stupid. Somehow Jack and Miranda could both ignore her, or at worst provoke her for their own amusement, but Charlotte never could.
"Sit gracefully, Charlotte," Grandmother Hennessy snapped. "Honestly, you're a young lady. You should know this by now."
Jack, slung across his chair, lifted his eyebrows.
Charlotte swallowed, got up, and sat again, sweeping her skirt out and over her knees. Grandmother Hennessy watched her closely, and gave a tiny nod at the end. "Good enough, I suppose. Pour. Be careful, the teapot is antique."
"Yes, Grandmother." This at least she had down, the smooth motions and graceful arc of the wrist, filling the tiny china cups full but never too full. She remembered practicing with her father, tea parties full of laughter, her mother holding out a cup and ostentatiously extending her pinkie.
Grandmother Hennessy watched her do it, then, as she set the silver pot down, asked, "That dress, Charlotte, do you really think it's a good idea?"
Charlotte glanced down at the light pink fabric spread over her legs, confused. "I... I like it, Grandmother. I think it's pretty."
"So do I," Jack added, not at all nicely. "It makes you look lovely, Carlita."
"English," Grandmother Hennessy said, sharply. "It makes you look so dark, Charlotte. You should wear white, or black. Simple colors."
"I think," Jack said, his tone sharpening more, "she should wear whatever she wants."
Grandmother Hennessy dismissed him with a wave. "You don't know anything about it, Jackson. Kindly confine your remarks to subjects you understand."
Charlotte stared down into her teacup. "I like it, Grandmother," she repeated, fisting her hands in her skirt. "I think it's pretty."
Her grandmother tsk'd. "It hardly matters if you like it, now does it? It isn't at all flattering."
"Yes, grandmother."
"Good," Grandmother Hennessy said, and picked up her teacup. "Now, tell me about your schooling."
Charlotte got through the afternoon somehow; she always did. Jack did his best to keep their grandmother's attention on him, especially after that, but somehow she always swung back to Charlotte, picking at the least little mistakes, watching with narrow eyes, and never, ever expressing approval. Why should she? What was there about Charlotte that fit into her opulent world?
Tea with Grandmother Hennessy never lasted more than two hours, but it felt like forever.
no subject
what is wrong with Grandmother Hennessy? (/rhetorical question)
Anyway, good job--the kids, apparently, aren't affected by her crap, and at least Rosa's an awesome egg. I bet once Grandma's out they have some real good times together.
no subject
Anyway, Charlotte... is affected, stronger than she knows, but less strongly than she would be if Jack didn't annoy their grandmother for his own amusement and Miranda didn't ignore her entirely. Them not taking her seriously helps Charlotte to not take her seriously, to some extent.
Basically, hurt Charlotte and both her siblings will end you. Or at least make your life difficult as only they know how.
Thank you!
no subject
Very nice, but boo Grandmother Hennessy.
no subject
Thank you!
no subject
no subject
Yeah, there's a reason they only see their grandmother every two weeks. And that's because their dad knows what she's up to.
Thank you!
no subject
THIS LINE. IT IS DOUBLEPLUS AWESOME. AND SO JACK.
I also really like the phrase "discreet violence". If it had been used for something besides a door, it would almost be sexy. Here, it was SCARY.
The sibling interactions in this are darling and heartfelt. Especially against that iceberg that flounces about in the guise of grandma.
no subject