Post by Weetzie O'Keeffe H7 on Aug 12, 2007 4:58:49 GMT
“Weetzie Leisel O’Keeffe, you do not walk out on your mother! Do you hear me?!” Weetzie spun on her heel and looked at her mother who was standing with her hands on her hips in the doorway to their cottage. Her brown hair was up in chopsticks again and she was wearing overalls with paint smattered on them. Weetzie had never felt so different from her mother up until that night, “No, Mum, I don’t walk out on my mother. I’m walking away. I have every intention of returning. I mean, as long as you’ll take me back. After all, you wouldn’t let my dad back would you?” Maire looked livid as she advanced down the front steps toward her daughter in the walk way that led to the front door, “You have no idea what you’re talking about, Weetzie.” She crossed her arms over her chest and for a moment it was a mother daughter show down. They stood the same height, the same fierce eyes and bone structure, face to face with their arms both crossed. A dark angel and a heavenly descendent. “I know more than you think I might, Mum.” Maire shook her head, “No, Baby Doll, you don’t. You think you do, but you really don’t. You don’t know the whole story, and Steph sho-…” “Shouldn’t have told me some of my history? I’ve always asked about it, Mum, always and for once someone gave me answers. Is that so wrong?” Maire looked sympathetic and reached out to pull her daughter into her arms but Weetzie shook her head vehemently and stepped back, “I’m going into town, Mum. I need time alone to think all this through, I’m sorry.”
She turned back and walked out of their tiny yard with flowers and the white picket fence. She headed toward the shopping district of Hogsmeade, her head down and her heart heavy. She didn’t need this right now. Weetzie was having trouble as it was adjusting to her cousin’s death and adjusting to this new change in her. She didn’t want to have to deal with the fact that her father had tried to make things right with her mother and her mother had turned him away. Weetzie tucked her hair, which was straight today, behind her ear and pulled her leather jacket tighter around her as she entered the town. The sun was setting against the shops and lights were being turned on by magic. Weetzie loved Hogsmeade at night. She loved being able to walk the street alone and not be bothered by some first year looking for Honeydukes or whatever. Sometimes there was the random witch or wizard asking her some dumb question like when the best time to view the shrieking shack was, but most times at night Hogsmeade was rather dead and Weetzie liked it that way. Of course, Hogsmeade at night also meant most of the shops were closed down and she had no way of getting a warm bottle of butterbeer unless she banged on Rosmerta’s door, which she would never do. Still, Weetzie preferred Hogsmeade at night. As she made her way toward her usual bench that she sat on during the night, Rosmerta was locking up the Three Broomsticks, “Heya Weetzie, out for a late night stroll?” She asked as she dropped the keys into her pocket, turning to look at the teenager.
“Something like that,” Weetzie replied as she slouched low in her seat and rested her head on the back of the bench, Rosmerta smiled softly, “I’ll see you around then, darling.” “Yeah, see you…” Weetzie looked up at the night sky before getting a sudden idea, “Rosmerta?” The witch turned and looked at Weetzie with a small smile, “What do you know about my father?” Rosmerta shook her head, “Sorry, sweet cheeks, there’s nothing to know. Your father was… a very secretive man. He liked his secrets. When he and your mother got married, they became a very secret family. Then one day, your mother made her appearance in town with a big belly. The next week you were born and when we asked where your father was, she gave us all a grave look and said he wouldn’t be here for you two. No one really wanted to ask much more, your mother was a very fragile woman at the time, love.” Weetzie had been hanging on Rosmerta’s every word and now as the witch bid her goodnight, Weetzie felt the world return to her and she let out a groan. She hated not knowing anything about her father. She looked up at the night sky for awhile, trying to muddle through her thoughts. She didn’t like feeling so confused. She didn’t like feeling like she was lost in her own life. After awhile, Weetzie realized she wasn’t alone and she looked up in front of her.
She stared at the person, a boy who was in Bryce’s year. Christopher Crawford. Everyone knew who Chris Crawford was. Either by his bad reputation or by his arrogance. Without skipping a beat, Weetzie continued to stare at him and then spoke; “You annoy me.”
She turned back and walked out of their tiny yard with flowers and the white picket fence. She headed toward the shopping district of Hogsmeade, her head down and her heart heavy. She didn’t need this right now. Weetzie was having trouble as it was adjusting to her cousin’s death and adjusting to this new change in her. She didn’t want to have to deal with the fact that her father had tried to make things right with her mother and her mother had turned him away. Weetzie tucked her hair, which was straight today, behind her ear and pulled her leather jacket tighter around her as she entered the town. The sun was setting against the shops and lights were being turned on by magic. Weetzie loved Hogsmeade at night. She loved being able to walk the street alone and not be bothered by some first year looking for Honeydukes or whatever. Sometimes there was the random witch or wizard asking her some dumb question like when the best time to view the shrieking shack was, but most times at night Hogsmeade was rather dead and Weetzie liked it that way. Of course, Hogsmeade at night also meant most of the shops were closed down and she had no way of getting a warm bottle of butterbeer unless she banged on Rosmerta’s door, which she would never do. Still, Weetzie preferred Hogsmeade at night. As she made her way toward her usual bench that she sat on during the night, Rosmerta was locking up the Three Broomsticks, “Heya Weetzie, out for a late night stroll?” She asked as she dropped the keys into her pocket, turning to look at the teenager.
“Something like that,” Weetzie replied as she slouched low in her seat and rested her head on the back of the bench, Rosmerta smiled softly, “I’ll see you around then, darling.” “Yeah, see you…” Weetzie looked up at the night sky before getting a sudden idea, “Rosmerta?” The witch turned and looked at Weetzie with a small smile, “What do you know about my father?” Rosmerta shook her head, “Sorry, sweet cheeks, there’s nothing to know. Your father was… a very secretive man. He liked his secrets. When he and your mother got married, they became a very secret family. Then one day, your mother made her appearance in town with a big belly. The next week you were born and when we asked where your father was, she gave us all a grave look and said he wouldn’t be here for you two. No one really wanted to ask much more, your mother was a very fragile woman at the time, love.” Weetzie had been hanging on Rosmerta’s every word and now as the witch bid her goodnight, Weetzie felt the world return to her and she let out a groan. She hated not knowing anything about her father. She looked up at the night sky for awhile, trying to muddle through her thoughts. She didn’t like feeling so confused. She didn’t like feeling like she was lost in her own life. After awhile, Weetzie realized she wasn’t alone and she looked up in front of her.
She stared at the person, a boy who was in Bryce’s year. Christopher Crawford. Everyone knew who Chris Crawford was. Either by his bad reputation or by his arrogance. Without skipping a beat, Weetzie continued to stare at him and then spoke; “You annoy me.”
