Free After the Ashes by Sara K. Joiner

wanted?
    Brigitta kept eyeing me, her head moving side to side like a house gecko. “Is something wrong, Brigitta?” I asked through clenched teeth, trying to maintain my composure.
    â€œYou look nice tonight,” she said in a too-sweet tone.
    â€œDank u,”
I mumbled, keeping myself on guard for a subtle insult.
    â€œIt makes a nice change.” She returned to her soup.
    I glared at her.
    â€œShe’s correct,” Vader said. “You do look nice tonight.”
    I pushed my spectacles up. Did Brigitta fool my own father? He should be smart enough to see past her false compliment. “
D-dank u
, Vader,” I stuttered.
    â€œAnd it does make a nice change,” Tante Greed added.
    My jaw dropped. How could my aunt shame me—again—in front of Brigitta?
    Vader chuckled.
    Even Mr. and Mrs. Burkart smiled. They were all teasing me. They were all insulting me. No one appreciated how hard I was trying to be polite.
    Brigitta sipped her soup, oblivious to the hatred I felt toward her. She was the perfect lady on the outside. But I knew her heart was rotten.
    Ignore her, ignore her, ignore her
.
    I couldn’t heed my own advice. “Even the most black-heartedamong us can be civilized at times,” I said, looking pointedly at Brigitta.
    Everyone stared at me again, and a roar filled my head like ocean waves pounding the shore. I knew I would suffer for this. I should have just ignored Brigitta, but she made me want to tear my hair out. Or pour my soup over her head.
    Tante Greet said something to my father. I saw her lips move. But the roar was still there, and I couldn’t hear a word she uttered. Sliding her gaze in my direction, she raised her eyebrows and indicated the salt cellar in front of me. I grabbed the small glass dish and set it in front of her with a thud.
    She opened her mouth—probably to say something about my behavior—but I turned away from her. I felt angry enough for my own eruption.

18 JUNE 1883
    My dear Oom Maarten,
    Our visit wasn’t that long ago, but it seems like months have passed. So much has happened here. I hope your time since we visited has been quieter. I know you must sleep for days after we leave because you’re always running like a crazed monkey when we’re there, keeping us entertained with parties, dinners, visits, walks in the park. Even Torben must be exhausted.
    How have you been? Have you chosen a wallpaper for your parlor yet? I liked the cream one with the vines. It reminded me of the jungle. If you choose that one, I could draw a few beetles climbing in the greenery. I know Torben would love that! He always barks at the geckos that climb the trees in the park.
    Tante Greet will probably tell you, too, but I caused quite the stir at dinner last week. Now I am only allowed into the jungle two times a week. This is an effort on Vader and Tante Greet’s part to stop my rude behavior.
    Vader tried to explain why my behavior was considered so awful, but I’m still not sure I understand. I haven’t done anything that terrible. I insulted Brigitta Burkart, but only after she provoked me first.
    In case you’ve forgotten, Brigitta Burkart is the worst person imaginable. She’s the girl who thinks I’m disgusting because I collect beetles. I hate her.
She’s
the one who’s offensive. But she’s sogood at pretending to be a lady when her parents are around that no one notices how mean she is.
    Since I haven’t been able to explore the jungle as much lately, I still haven’t finished my twenty-sixth case of stag beetles. I only found two beetles on my last walk.
    It’s dreadfully boring not being able to explore. Tante Greet makes me dust and sweep, and the time passes so slowly. I’m rereading
On the Origin of Species
again.
    Tante Greet is calling me. I suppose I had better go. Who knows what she’ll have me do if I’m slow to answer.
    All my