Friday Writing Response for May 29, 2009

When I first started this prompt, this is not what I expected would come out of it. This snippet follows an idea for a sci-fi story I had back in high school, and trying to work with it now, I can see why I never actually wrote anything for it. It goes back to Tim's "exploit what you invent" mantra: I had a great idea, but very little concept of who these characters are, what motivates them, and how the events of the plot would affect them. It also doesn't help that this piece takes place in the middle of my preconceived storyline.

There are lines that I like in this, and at least I got to play with an old idea a little bit. Who knows? Maybe I'll go back to it and fix it up someday. The prompt I used was, "She said, 'Let's change our luck,'" from We the Kings.


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I stood by the window, looking out over the quiet shore than had become our home. No, not my home: Anitra’s home. Anitra’s parents’ home. The Lambazzias had lied to me for years, calling me their son when they knew I was anything but. Anitra was on the bed, twisting her hands together, head down, so I could see the dark roots in her neon red hair.

“How long have you known?” I asked, the wind carrying my whispered words to her.

“Years.” She lifted her head to look at me, and I watched her reflection in the window pane. “I don’t – I don’t remember when they found you. But I always knew you weren’t my brother. That you were something more, closer than that.”

“You could have told me.”

Anitra took off her gloves, revealing the tattoo on her right hand, between her thumb and index finger. It was the mark of a Healer, a vow I’d seen Anitra break in the last few days. “How? I didn’t have any proof, and Dad always treated you as his favorite – his heir. He trained you to lead us if something happened to him.”

She was right. There were some things Wakka Lambazzia had ingrained in me – hatred of the Cansolee Empire, a desire to see justice enacted. We had been raised as children of the rebellion, and I would fight with every last breath in me. It was the same reason why Anitra now carried a gun on her hip; none of us could afford not to. “My father,” I said, voice soft now, “my real father – he was a soldier for those bastards. A murderer. And he was proud of it.”

“Andros.” Getting off the bed, Anitra came up behind me, her forehead resting on my back. “That’s not who you are. You are a warrior, a fighter of the Light. No matter who your birth parents are, they can never take that away from you. No one can.”

Her touch was feather-light, reminding me of Anitra’s support, her loyalty. On every one of our family’s raids against the Empire, we were always paired together, healer and warrior. She always had my back – even in that moment when I learned my entire life had been a lie, she never flinched. Anitra had always been the closest of my “siblings,” and I knew she could never abandon me while my birth family had. She’d become more than a sister, than a best friend, but I couldn’t quite put a name to what our relationship was now.

Finally, when I found my voice, there was a hard edge to it that I hadn’t expected to be there. “Andros Lambazzia is dead.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth. He died in the fire pits, like you thought for so long.” I turned to face her, tucking her hair behind her ears. It was short enough that the strands wouldn’t stay in place after I’d touched them. “I’m not the same kid who left you. I was naïve then – I know better now.”

Anitra shook her head, the moonlight shimmering off the tears welled in her eyes. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“I can’t stay here. With them.” I jerked my head towards the closed door separating us from the rest of the house. On the other side, down the hall, Wakka and Rosaria Lambazzia were discussing the family’s next move. If I listened hard enough, I could just make out what they were saying. “I can’t pretend anymore. They’re no more my parents than you are my sister. I’m not going to fight just because they tell me I should. Not alongside him.”

“Then what are you going to do?” Panic flashed through Anitra’s eyes, just for a second, and I wondered if she realized I could never leave her side again. “This war waits for no one. There is no hiding, there is no peace – not unless we fight for it. And I know you, you’ll never run. You took the mark of a warrior, Andros, and you know that vow is one you can never walk away from.”

Even hearing her say my name felt wrong, like it wasn’t mine to use anymore. “I won’t be his foot soldier.”

“Then don’t. We’ll find another way to fight. We’ll start over. Change our luck, as it were.”

I half-expected to hear desperation in Anitra’s voice; the girl I grew up with would be scared out of her mind. But now she was only calm, accepting, as if none of the evening’s events surprised her. “What are you suggesting?”

Squaring her shoulders, Anitra sat up a little straighter. “For years, Dad has talked about collaborating a massive strike against the Empire – something to end them once and for all. He’s in no position to do that now. We’ve spent the last year in exile, without resources, without support. But I believe we can still win this war.” Her brown eyes met mine. “And there’s nothing that says we have to be at Wakka Lambazzia’s side when we do it.”

I let out a puff of air. “You think we should leave?”

“Didn’t you just suggest the same thing?” She raised an eyebrow, waiting for me to contradict her, and I couldn’t. At the very least, I knew I couldn’t stay under the Lambazzias’ roof, not when I knew how they’d lied to me, how they never planned to tell me the truth. “Andros, we’re not going to win while we’re sitting here, away from the battles. And if that means leaving…” Her voice trailed off, and she looked down at her hands, brushing her fingers over her Healer’s mark. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

I took her hands in both of mine. “We’re two people against an Empire,” I reminded her. “The road will be difficult.”

“We were trained to deal with worse.” She squeezed my hands; I was unused to feeling a warrior’s roughness in her deft fingers. “The longer we stay, the harder it will be to get away.”

“How soon can you be ready?”

We didn’t waste much time. Growing up as part of the rebellion, both of us knew how to pack light, essentials only. There was no such thing as luxury items, just clothes and whatever weapons we could carry; we’d pick up rations along the way. I decided against leaving a note – based on my last conversation with Wakka, he knew how furious I was. He knew I would leave, and he knew Anitra would follow.

The front door wasn’t an option; Wakka slept light, we all did, and the door creaked whenever it was touched. I was tossing our bags out the window when Anitra paused, kissed her palm and pressed it against the closed door between us and what had been my family. “Anitra,” I whispered.

She followed me out the window, landing lightly in the grass outside it. It was, I realized, the only goodbye she could make. “I know.”

Taking her hand, each with a bag slung over our shoulders, we darted into the night.