“Right, eight…” She nodded her head. “Which means that you are old enough to be told the truth. Although if you are old enough for such things, I expect you to be just as mature in your reaction to them.” She raised an eyebrow at him.
“I can be!” He puffed his chest out with importance. “I can be mature.”
“I know it.” She wrapped an arm around her brother and pulled him into a tight hug. “Do you remember what we’ve always spoken about?” she began as she held him close. “Running away from here. A new life for both of us.”
“I do.”
“Well… I’ve been thinking, what’s say that we run away tonight? Why put off for tomorrow what we can do right now?” Octavia pulled away and held Henry by the arms as she looked at him, doing her best to appear excited rather than terrified.
“Right now…” Henry looked confused. “But how? You said we needed money. You said… You said that… that we might not be able to for years yet.”
“Let me worry about that.”
“But –”
“Henry, do you trust me?” she cut him off. A raised eyebrow, again in an effort to appear far more confident than how she felt.
“You know I do, Octavia.”
“Then trust me,” she said softly. “What I need is for you to pack our things. And quickly. Everything we own, forget nothing.”
He snorted. “That won’t be hard.”
“I’m going to step out for an hour. No more, I promise. When I come back, you'd best be ready, because our new life awaits.”
“Go where?” he asked, panic coloring his tone. “Where are you –”
“You said we needed money, yes? When I come back, we will have more than enough to leave this place behind and never look back.”
Henry did not look at all convinced, and for that she did not blame him. But Octavia had been looking after her brother now for close to four years; he trusted her completely, so when she gave him an order, he did not question it. She was his rock, just as he was hers.
Octavia jumped up from the bed and hurried to the wardrobe. There, she opened it and crouched down to the bottom drawer. Inside were mostly old rags and a few items of clothing, but tucked away was the single most important thing that Octavia owned.
It was wrapped up in a pair of socks, and when she pulled those socks out, she held them to her chest. Inside was their ticket to a new life, and while the idea of parting with it brought her tremendous sadness beyond which she could bear, it also brought hope.
I know I promised never to part with this, Mother, but you must know that I have no choice. I deserve a better life than this, andHenry deserves a better life. I just pray that you can forgive me…
“And where did you say that you got this from?” Mr. Tibit narrowed his eyes at Octavia, the accusation behind them clear. His eyes were beady, his thin lips were pressed together in judgment, and Octavia saw in him a man who would need a lot of convincing.
“It is a family heirloom,” she said without blinking.
“A family heirloom?” Mr. Tibit kept his eyes narrowed. “And whose family exactly?”
“I do not like what you are implying.”
“As I do not like being sold stolen goods.”
“Stolen!” Octavia cried. “I did not steal this. It belonged to my mother, and if you do not want it, I am sure that there are a dozen other pawn shops that I can take it to, where they won’t question its origins. Just as they won’t insult my character.”
Mr. Tibit was the owner of a pawn shop where Octavia often sold various bits and pieces that she had come across and was able to sell for quick coin. Over the years, she had parted with dozens of pieces of jewelry left to her by her mother and her father, always painful for her to part with, but always necessary.
In fact, the only reason that Octavia and Henry had survived for as long as they had done, was thanks to such sales that she had made. Her parents might not have left her much, but the little she’d managed to take kept her head above water.
In those four years, there was but one thing that Octavia had refused to sell. It was her most prized possession, she knew its worth, and more than once she had considered pawning it, only to remember how much her mother had prized it – she had always made Octavia promise to hold onto it forever as if the world depended on such things.
Promises I made when I had other options. Promises that I could make when there was a roof over my head and food in my belly.
“I am not accusing you,” Mr. Tidbit clicked his tongue. “And there is no need to become so agitated.”