I didn’t create these characters. A genius named Jim Butcher did. I’m just borrowing them for this writing exercise, and I don’t want to make money off of them. I don’t think I even begin to do them justice. I’m also not sure if I got the details right. I’m just hoping that I didn’t mangle this too much.
A Daddy’s Girl
My name is Margaret Angelica Mendoza, and I think I may have killed someone.
Not on purpose, naturally. I am not THAT kind of crazy. I do not think am. At least, I do not think I am right now.
All I know is that I really wanted Davey Rossum to fall off his tree house, because he yells mean things at me every day and Mr. Carpenter says I should not get into fights. Mr. Carpenter is very nice, but he also does not see how evil Davey Rossum is, and how much he deserves to be laughed at. One always has to stand up for personal honor. That is what my Papa used to say before he…before he went to heaven. Honor your honor. I cannot do that without at least wishing my enemies ill.
I wished so hard that he was knocked right onto the street, with a car almost running him over. Thankfully, all the cars that would have hit him broke down. But I still do not know if he’s alive.
I’m in my room right now, curled up against Mouse. Mr. and Mrs. Carpenter have been whispering to each other for hours. They would stop talking whenever they catch me trying to eavesdrop. All I can hear from the conversation are the words “matter of time”, “she’s ELEVEN”, and “father’s daughter”. I do not think that they actually knew my Papa, so I am assuming that they meant my REAL father. The one I was told about when they killed Papa and Mama and took me somewhere dark. I had always wondered about him, but do not want to ask questions. I am not sure I want the answers. All I know about him is that he has many scary enemies and that he does not want to be found.
Something moves in the corner of my eye. It’s not dangerous. Mouse would have tensed up if it were, and he did not – he just stood up and trotted to the window, tail wagging. I peer outside, to the backyard, where I see a young woman with short, pale-gold hair, dressed in a blue and white dress. She looks familiar. It takes me a moment to realize who she is.
She tilts her face up at me, and holds her fingers up to her lips. She wants me to be quiet. Then she gestures at me to come and join her.
Mouse follows right at my heels as I sneak out.
“Hey, kiddo,” the woman says, with a wry smile. “Heard some interesting stuff happened here.”
“You’re Molly,” I blurt out. “They talk about you a lot.”
Her smile starts to look slightly pained. “I know. How’s…how’s dad?”
Mouse starts to nuzzle her hand, and she kneels down to stroke his head. I look from him to her. “Mr. Carpenter is great. He…misses you. They all miss you.” I look down at my sweater and tug it closer. It’s suddenly very cold. “You…you should come in and see them.”
She stops petting the dog, refuses to look at me. “I…not yet. That’s not what I’m here for.” She takes a breath, forces her eyes towards me. “I’m here for YOUR dad.”
I freeze, feel even colder. I hear Mouse bark excitedly, as if he’s happy to hear such news. “Is…is he okay?”
“He’s fine,” Molly murmurs with a smile. “Although he won’t be when he realizes that you can do what you do. He’ll worry himself sick, but he’d be too chicken to talk to you himself. It’s the way he is.”
I grind my teeth, then stop. “That is wishy-washy bullshit.”
She starts to crack up. It sounds a little like the twinkling of icicles. “Oh, you have no idea. I’d tell you stories about him, but I’m not sure he’d want me to do that yet.”
It takes a few seconds for her to sober up. “You don’t know it yet, but you’re a daddy’s girl. You really are,” she says firmly. “And that’s going to get you into a whole lot of trouble if you’re not careful.”
I narrow my eyes. “What kind of trouble?”
“All kinds,” she responds. “It’s like a family trait with you guys. You can’t help it. That’s why you have to know what to expect.”
I take the idea into my mind, and roll it around for good measure. “And how do I get that?”
Her hand folds over mine.
Later on, the Carpenters tell me that Davey Rossum will be okay. They hold me close and tell me not to worry, that it is not my fault. I see their eyes and know they’re worrying for me. For the first time since I was placed with them, I understood why.
“She misses you, ” I say. “Your Molly.”
They do not ask how I know. They just smile at me. I smile back and do not tell them that their daughter has become my godmother.
And that one day, I too will break their hearts.