Don't You Think That It's Boring How People Talk?

[Yugikun]

The ceiling was above her. Her room was around her. The music from her laptop filled her ears, the sound of classic rock — Bowie, Ziggy Stardust; one of the best albums of all time — making her smile because the world stood here, in this room, all around Roxanne. Because she had this moment; one where she could just lie down, look at the ceiling, enjoy the music she was listening to. Where she could just be her without having anything, anyone else interfere. No parents to come in, see her, shout at her to do some revision. No obligations to hang themselves over her head, cheapen any moment of relief she chose to give herself. No anything besides the room, the ceiling, the music in her ears.

And she knew that this moment wouldn’t last forever.

And she knew that at any moment she would hear the faint trace of her mother’s voice and everything around her would shatter as their world came back around her.

But it didn’t matter.

She didn’t care.

Because this moment, right now? The room? The bed? The ceiling? The music? This whole world around her?

It was all hers.

And nothing could take that away from her.

((Roxanne Herbert: Pregame Start))

…

…

“Anna, dinner’s ready!”

Her world went.

Their world came back.

And she pushed her body up, grabbing her laptop and putting it onto the bed beside her as she sat up. Paused the music and shut the lid as she took her headphones off. Looked around a little as she stood up, walked towards her door, gave her room one last little check before she said goodbye to it. She knew that she’d be back there in a couple hours so it wasn’t really going to be goodbye, but you never really know. Maybe in the next few hours she’d find some dreamboat straggler who’d take her on some sort of adolescent adventure that would take her far, far away from Chattanooga, Tennessee and she would never be within the reaches of the Herbert family home again.

That’d be nice.

Cool.

Ideal, even.

But she knew that it wasn’t going to happen. Those fantasies were for the books she sometimes read, ones where the romances and relationships they depicted were totally not creepy at all and one where the idea of some person taking a girl away from the life she used to live was somehow not considered kidnapping. They were for the stories. The dreams that the authors wanted to inspire in their readers. They didn’t quite measure up to the real world, where things didn’t end up perfect, where fairy tale endings couldn't ever happen, where she’d likely still be in this house for the next few years, at the very least.

Still, she supposed that was the thing with goodbyes. They were permanent, everlasting. Different from see’yas. If Roxanne said goodbye to someone and they never met again, then all would be fine because she had that ending. She had that closure.

And if things worked out that she would never see this room, this house again, she supposed that the goodbye would be warranted. A ‘good riddance’ would probably be more appropriate, but she supposed that she could care less. She supposed she had some sort of sentimentality.

Not much, but hey, it was there.

She moved through the hallway, letting her hand trace itself down the banister as she made her body move down the stairs. The feeling was natural, at this point. The feeling of her hand on the banister wasn’t even noticed until the hand went off, became a part of the empty air for a few moments before she went down the second set, placing her hand on the banister again. Ten more, and she was at ground level. In that space with the piano, between the living and the dining room. A few steps, and she was by the dining room table. A few more, and she was at the cupboard in the kitchen, taking placemats out. Six seemed good, six seemed right, so she moved back to the table, picking up the pile of cutlery on the way there.

Placemat, placemat, placemat, fork knife fork knife fork knife, and she was done. Ready to sit down.

One step closer to getting out of here for the night.

The rest of the family came in, soon enough. Her brother was first — he'd heeded the call when his parents had said dinner was ready, had come down even though he probably knew at this point that dinner wouldn't be 'ready' for another few minutes, at the very least. Her dad was next — he had come in, sat on the chair next to her, knowing that dinner was just about to be sent out. Her mom was last — she was carrying the plates in from the kitchen. She took one step into the dining room, looked at the table, and-

“Anna, we only needed five placemats tonight. Could you please put one of the ones in the middle back?”

"Oka-"

"Now, Anna."

…

((Anna Herbert: Pregame Start))

Her body stood up. Took the placemat and walked to the kitchen cupboard. There was no point in complaining. No point in arguing against her parents. If she did, she'd lose, and no matter what she said, there would be consequences, so as much as she wanted to, as much catharsis as it would bring, she couldn't. She wouldn't risk whatever grounding they might give her. She couldn't risk letting them take away her freedom.

...She just had to look forward, to what she had. To tonight. If she knew she still had that, she could make it through whatever her parents had for her.

She could probably make it through dinner.

So she put the placemat back in the cupboard. She took her steps back to the table as she sat down. Stared at the food she had. Steak was… not a food Anna really liked all that much, to be honest. Her mom's cooking was good, and for the most part Anna tended to like what she had to eat, but steak was… boring. Bland. Standard, at best. It was edible — meat was always pretty good, regardless of what it was — but it wouldn't be too enjoyable.

Still, edible was enough, at the very least. Once she finished dinner, she could be gone. Out of here, for the night.

And when she saw freedom right in her grasp, having steak suddenly didn't sound so bad.

So she picked up her cutlery. Ate. Stayed silent, eating in a manner that would befit the Herbert name, or something like that. She was partway through her dinner already, so she supposed she might go quick. Just had to have the rest of the chips, had to have the steak itself, and then-

"So how was your day, Anna?" Her mother asked.

"It was good, thanks," she replied. It was a basic enough response. Not necessarily detailed, far from truthful, but it would satisfy her mother — enough so that she typically tended not to ask elaboration. Enough to let her continue eating, get that much closer towards her nightly freedom.

"Did anything happen at school today?"

Of course, that wasn't the only question she was getting tonight.

"Not really, no."

But at least they were still easy questions. Even if her father laughed at her for that answer, even though he was right at the cusp of giving his usual response, she still wouldn't need to elaborate.

"Dunno why we even send you to school, then," he replied.

Maybe she was lucky. Maybe tonight would be easy. All she had to do was to go through the steak, and-

"Has Mr. Faust talked to you about your performance, yet?"

And there it came. The expected question. The simple answer. The doubt that her parents would project onto her, no matter what she said to them. This… was a recurring conversation — one that had happened for each day previous now — and no matter what she'd say, no matter the fact that she was speaking the truth, she'd always get the same response from them, every time.

Just another great thing about being in the Herbert household, she supposed.

"No," Anna replied. "He said that he'd hand them to us on Friday."

"Are you sure?" Her mother asked.

"Ye-" Anna stutted. "Yes. I'm sure."

Silence, for a moment.

"Well, um, my class got ours back today," her brother said. "I got a nineteen."

Both her parents turned their heads towards Anna. She didn't do likewise.

"Anna, are you sure you're telling the truth?"

She could feel his tone, like something cold touching, crawling up her arm. She wasn't sure why she was feeling it. She was telling the truth. All it would take was elaboration and then it would be fine. Dinner would resume. The feeling would go away.

"I- I am," she said. "He said he was going to wait until he'd finished marking the compositions before he handed everything back."

Silence. Uncomfortably long, for Anna.

Then:

"Alright, I'll believe you," her father said. "But if I find out you're lying…"

Another pause. Anna looked down.

"Well," her father continued on. "You'll know what'll happen to you."

Anna… didn't, actually, but that was beside the point. There was no point in trying him, asking for clarification when she was so close to being free of this place for the night. All she needed to do was finish her food, place her cutlery on the plate, and then:

"Alright, thank you for the lovely meal," she said, standing up. Admittedly, she would have said this regardless of whether she liked it or not — her parents were very particular that she said it, to the point that they could even get mad — but she supposed the sentiment wasn't too forced this time around. "I have to head over to work now, though."

Her mother nodded. Her father didn't reply. Her brother smiled, giving her a wave as she went to the door.

"Okay, um…"

She supposed, as she stepped out the door, that 'goodbye' wasn't really appropriate.

"See ya, everyone," she said, closing the door as her world came back. As she became Roxanne again. As she walked up the driveway, knowing that she had gotten her freedom for the night. The feeling was sorta odd, admittedly. Now that she was free, now that the night was hers, what could she do? What out of all the options she had would she pursue? She didn't know and to be honest the fact that she didn't was one of the greatest things in the world because that meant she could do anything she wanted. Anything she felt like. Now that she was out of there, now that night was about to fall, there was nothing holding her back. Nothing that would stop her from being her.

And even if it wasn't permanent, even if she would eventually have to go back home, it didn't matter.

Because she was her.

And she was free.

And the end of the driveway? The street in front of her? The clear blue sky? The wind on her back? This whole world around her?

It was all hers.

And nothing could take that away from her.

((Anna "Roxanne" Herbert, continued in Ferris Wheel on Fire))