Memories of a Monster: A Precocious Pair

  --- Booker H. Freeman ---

  He bit into his apple as he watched the manor, or more specifically the handful of men watching the workers from atop their horses for far easier pay than the folk actually working the fields. This had long since become an easy habit for him but every once in a while they would change things up enough to put this whole thing at risk. And given what he was doing that risk was a lot worse than a simple beating like the other kids occasionally gave him.

  Which is why he made sure that he knew where everyone was before climbing down from the tree he was perched on and making his way through the fields. Careful to avoid the men that would happily stomp him under their horses if they thought he was a ‘worker’ slacking. (And grandad would do far worse if I ever even considered working for these folk.)

  Eventually though he was able to make his way to an open window near the west wing of the manor, where he held an ear up listening for any sign that he’d have to cancel today’s plans. Namely a song being played on violin to signal that he wasn’t the only one listening in.

  When all he heard was a soft silence instead of that beautiful consolation prize, he risked actually peering through the window and spotted a young blonde girl in a sundress sitting in the middle of a library full of books of all sorts as she read a book, tea at her side while she waited for her academic accomplice.

  Slipping on his best smile like his mama taught him, he gripped the edge of the window -gave the space around him one last look for any guards- and climbed into the library as quietly as he could. Footsteps silent enough to catch a rabbit off guard he made his way towards the blonde girl and dropped into a seat across from her, making a sudden burst of noise to make it appear as if he’d materialized from the very air itself.

  Blue eyes turned to him with a surprised blink, before softening as a (beautiful) smile form beneath them. “Booker!”

  “Emilia!” He greeted with a smile of his own, always pleased to see his best friend. “How are you this fantastic afternoon?”

  “About as well as I can be I suppose.” Emilia confessed. “Brother and Father are still out on their business trip, so it’s just me and mother still. The tea is quite good today, and I managed to talk the chef into giving me some extra sweets today.”

  “Ooh, much obliged!” He grinned, spotting the plate full of sweets before swiping one for himself and tossing it in his mouth more than aware that (you need to eat while you can.)

  Emilia let out an amused huff as she called him a, “Ruffian.”

  “In the presence of someone as refined as you, can I be anything else by comparison?” He wondered, trying very hard not to think about the sheer difference in their stations. Something he’d found harder and harder to ignore over the years.

  It was probably why he tried so hard to speak with the edict and maturity of her class rather than his own…

  “No, I suppose you can’t.” Emilia admitted with a put upon sigh. “But I suppose that is why it’s my duty to make sure you’re at least somewhat presentable to polite society.”

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  (A society that will never welcome someone with skin as dark as yours.)

  He promptly pushed that dark thought away instead focusing on the young maiden across from him. “Noblesse Oblige is a dreadful burden I’m sure, but it’s not as if I don’t bring my own goods to this trade?”

  With a dramatic flair that he could not resist when around Emilia he reached into his coat and pulled out a small bag full of trinkets and goodies that her family would usually consider too ‘unrefined’ for the young girl to indulge in. At least without being baked into some sort of goodie that took away from the novelty of their natural state.

  “Trading food and trading knowledge are two very different things.” Emilia reminded him despite already tossing a dewberry into her mouth and clearly savoring the sweetness with a delighted hum.

  “Perhaps, but teaching things reinforces what you already know!” He reminded her. “Besides we both know I’m a far better academic peer than the children your mother would invite over.”

  Emilia let out another huff, this one as much frustration as amusement. “I’m more than aware. Sometimes it feels like I’m the only one of us who prefers reading to simply gossipping about everything or going on about pretty dresses and make ups.”

  “The price of precociousness.” He offered. The word one he’d only recently learned from the thesaurus she’d given him, stashed away where his mother and grandad would never be able to ask him any uncomfortable questions about it.

  “Precociousness?” Emilia blinked with a faint (but adorable) frown.

  “To present mental maturity and intelligence at a far earlier age than expected.” He explained, happy to teach her something for once.

  “Precociousness.” She repeated once more this time seeming to savor the word. “That fits both of us doesn’t it.”

  “You more than me.” He had to admit to the young girl almost three years his younger and yet so much smarter than him.

  “Please, Booker. You’re even smarter than my brother who is older than both of us, and that’s without having years worth of tutors teaching you. I mean you’ve been able to read for maybe two years and yet you’ve probably read twice as many books as he has in ten!” Emilia berated him as she poured another cup of tea. “Take some pride in yourself!”

  It was his turn to let out an amused huff this time. “I’m only literate because you took the time to teach me.”

  “Well as your teacher I declare that you are just as precocious as I am!” Emilia told him with an unamused glare.

  Despite himself he couldn’t resist the smile that came to his face. “I suppose as the more precocious of us, that means I shouldn’t argue with you.”

  “You shouldn’t.” Emilia nodded sternly as he picked up the glass she’d poured him.

  “Well then teacher why don’t you tell me what lesson you have for this precocious pair of us?” He asked.

  Emilia continued to glare at him for another moment before finally telling him that, “We’ve a new issue of the American Journal of Science. What have you?”

  He reached into his coat for the other bag he’d brought with him. “Well, given how spring is upon us I have taken the liberty of collecting all sorts of new herbs and wildflowers for you to examine.”

  An exchange of information, that would normally be restricted by the nature of their births and upbringings, this was the core aspect of their friendship. The breaking of boundaries, and the exploration of new things their peers would never know nor understand. A relationship wholly unique to them he liked to believe.

  (We really do make a precocious pair.) He couldn’t help but smile softly as he watched his companion examine the flowers he’d brought her.

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