Hollow Hearts (The Harkwright Trilogy)

“No, of course not. I never usually leave things this long, I really am sorry ma’am.”

“It is Ms, not ma’am. Also you are either very laxadaisical when it comes to punctuality or forgetful. Personally, neither of those are attributes that I will be willing to put forth for the next stage. So, what is your reasoning Luna or should I put a strike through your name like I have already done in my mind?”

“Please don’t, I would have called sooner. It’s just, I didn’t open the letter until today,” I can feel her indignation all the way from here, my words may not be able to win this lady over. “I never thought I’d get accepted, I was nervous and I let my nerves get the better of me. Please, give me one more chance,” I hate that I’m pleading with her, I’m definitely going to jump in the shower and wash myself clean of this conversation when I get back.

“Look, I’m going to be honest with you here. There is nothing about this conversation that makes me want to bring you in for the interview stage, I can’t see you being Harkwright material. That being said, your application and adjoining photo was selected by a higher up so I can’t just dismiss you. So this is what I am going to do, I will give you an appointment to come in and see me tomorrow. This will be your official interview and it will be followed up by a visit with a physician as soon as we are done. Only, I also want you to write me an essay of why you want to come to Harkwright, and no excuses Luna, I’ll see right through it.”

“Okay Ms, I can do that,” I can’t do that.

“Tomorrow, 9am. Harkwright Offices in the town of Harkwright and you will find us

down Hark street, you really cannot miss our building. Do not be late and I will suggest that arriving early may be in your best interest, see you tomorrow Miss Carter,” the dial tone is ringing loudly in my ear, I can't believe this. I am so royally screwed.

I guess I’d better get home and start writing. I can’t say it’s my strong suit and my handwriting tends to get messier the more I write. I wish we had a computer but I feel selfish even thinking that. I want a computer to write an essay to give up my free will for three years. I know I’m exaggerating but it’s hard not to take the rumors seriously when the academy is surrounded by nothing but secrecy.

I can feel eyes drilling into me again, maybe I'm imagining it but either way I can’t even fathom the strength to let it bother me, my mind is in a tailspin over what I’m supposed to write. She did say not to bullshit her but just how transparent should I be? The whole truth or just enough?

Getting to the front door and turning the handle and my heart is pounding within my chest, I can’t believe I didn’t lock the front door. My mom is going to kill me! Everyone knows we’re burglar central here, no extra security and windows that anyone with a crowbar could prie open. Sweat is pooling on my brow as I push it open slowly, ready for someone in a ski mask to jump out at me, brandishing whatever is his weapon of choice.

Tears fill my eyes when I see my mom pass the kitchen doorway, I didn’t realize relief could be so palpable. Only, it isn’t only relief that’s coursing it’s way through me. I can’t stop myself from shifting from foot to foot and playing with my hair. I can’t believe mom is already home, I should have gotten back sooner, she shouldn’t be making dinner. If anything she should be catching up on her sleep and leaving the house to me, I kind of need it to function.

“Where have you been? I was worried when I got home and you weren’t here,” she’s speaking to me. The first time in two weeks where she’s strung more than a three-word sentence together.

“I was just taking a walk, I regret it now though. Sit down and I’ll take care of dinner, also do you think I have an active imagination?” Where did that come from?

“No Lu I wouldn’t use that word to describe you. Kind, considerate, quiet and a great kid but not that,” her eyes are soft and there’s a hint of a smile gracing her lips. Her bags are still deep and as dark as the night sky but she seems… happier?

“Maybe I’m just a drama queen then, I don’t know,” her eyebrows are rising and I can’t help but spill my guts to her. “I swear people stare at me, no matter where I go and I know it's because I’m pale everywhere. I am way too skinny and my breasts look huge in comparison to the rest of me, but sometimes I wonder if I’m imagining it because part of me wants to be noticed.” A deep sigh pours out of me as my hands move fast against the cutting board and pulverize the onions and mushrooms that I’m preparing for the pan. “Which makes me feel even worse and I very nearly fooled myself into believing that this amazing guy was flirting with me. It’s so embarrassing,” my hair falls to cover my face and I love the shield it’s offering me.

“Luna, you are a beautiful young lady and I hate that I can’t afford to feed you the amount you need. I know I’m really low on the ‘good mom’ scale but I’m trying, I don’t want to lose the closeness we’ve always had and I’m sorry for how I’ve been reacting. I’m supposed to be the parent and yet, I’ve acted like the child. I don’t know if I can support you in this and I won’t pretend that I hope you do not get picked but I can’t control you. Just know that you have a mom and sister who love the bones off of you and if you think a guy was flirting with you, chances are he probably was. You are amazing and any guy would be lucky to be with you. Completely biased opinion, but still true,” she brushes my hair behind my ears and pulls my head until our foreheads are resting on each other.

“I love you mom.”

“I love you more Luna bean, never forget it.”

She drops a kiss on my forehead and my chest hurts a little less and my anxiety is even lessening, the power of mother’s. They really are amazing. I finish sautéing the vegetables before adding the diced chicken and noodles. This stir fry already smells amazing, and it’s making me so hungry. Two heaping portions is what I’m imagining but I can’t, it will go into six if it kills me.

My head is all over the place as I start to wonder if Dr. Stevenson was flirting with me, but I can’t imagine it. He’s Poppy’s doctor and I doubt many people find love in a psychiatric hospital. No, he was just being nice to the lonely, quiet girl who has no one in her life outside of her mother and sister.

I throw on my jacket over my slacks and white dress shirt, I wish I could look smarter but I’m not going to pretend I come from money when I don’t. I can’t stop myself from wringing my hands as I walk down to the subway and I avoid any gazes that seem to fall on me. My satchel bag won’t stop hitting my hip and I can’t stop thinking about my essay, maybe I should read it one more time but what can I do on a train? I didn’t even know who to address it to, so I didn’t. What if that was the wrong decision? She's already against me, I really don’t think I’ve done myself any favors.

I slide my money across the counter with a mumbled, “thank you,” the cashier gives me a cursory look before looking to the person behind me and indicating for them to step forward. I snatch my ticket up and my shoulders hunch forward as I hurry to my platform and wait for my ride to take me to a place that could possibly change, not just my life, but also Poppy’s.

I board the train car as soon as it turns up and sink down into a seat and I hope that no one sits beside me. I don’t want to have to deal with someone who may be chatty, a shiver passes through me at that very thought.

I pull my essay out, even though I know I shouldn’t and trepidation fills my very being and my eyes devour my own words. I wrote it so it’s not as though I don’t know what it says, but I still can’t stop myself from quaking at the way I’ve bared myself on paper for a woman I don’t even know.

It’s hard to say why I want the chance to join the Academy, I won’t pretend that I think I deserve it, because why would I? I also won’t waste time on prettying this up, it would ruin what I am trying to say and will undoubtedly confuse the point I am trying to make entirely. So, I want to join for two reasons. One is rather selfish in my opinion and I am not proud of that, but every now and then all of us want something just for ourselves and this is mine. I want the opportunity to better myself, ever since I was a naive little girl I have dreamed of being able to open my own bakery and to have people come from far and wide just to try my food. I need money and the right education to make that happen and I’m not sure what else I can do to achieve it. I don’t have a lot of opportunities in my life and I am willing to do a lot of things to have my dream realized.

So that is my utterly selfish reason, but it’s also the secondary one. I would give it up entirely and spend the rest of my life as a waitress if it meant that my sister was awarded the treatment she needs. My sister is twenty-five years old and has spent the last year and a half in a psychiatric hospital. She is suffering from Catatonia and they have yet to discover the reason as to why this has happened. My Mother is working herself into an early grave to afford the hospital fees but we’ve more or less been told that she’s only barely covering the costs. Because of this, my sister isn’t classed as a priority and the staff are really only making sure she remains clean, clothed and fed. I need the money that my mother will be awarded to help my sister and I need the money I would earn by staying to make sure she finally gets the care she deserves. I just want my sister back and for my mom to be able to worry a little less and only have to work one job.

These are the reasons why I want to join Harkwright’s but you can gloss over the bakery one for all I care. My sister is all that matters and unlike my dream bakery, there is absolutely nothing I wouldn’t do for her. She deserves the world and I will stop at nothing to give it to her.

Luna Carter

I slip the essay back in my bag and notice a pair of feet in front of my own, my heart is thumping wildly at the fact that I hadn’t even noticed someone had joined me. My eyes stare at his leather shoes and work their way up his black slacks, staring at his thick thighs a little too long before lining up with his stomach. He’s wearing a black dress shirt, and it's pulled tightly against his abdomen and there isn’t an ounce to be seen upon him, by the time my eyes make it up to his neck I can see the hint of a smirk gracing his lips and it pisses me off.

I wish I was the type of person who could actually say something to the smug ass, but that’s more Poppy’s territory. I’m more likely to blush profusely and dart my eyes to an imaginary spot on the ground.