“Help me carry this,” Whitaker Scarlett said, shoving the bag into Elizabeth’s arms. Tears streamed down her mother’s face.
“Scarlett, how can you just leave? What about when your father comes back…?”
Elizabeth couldn’t understand how things had reached this point. Although her daughter wasn’t being physically abused, being forced to live alone was akin to being cast out. How was a teenage girl supposed to survive after being driven from her home? She wanted Scarlett to apologize but was too afraid of upsetting her further.
“You’ll come with me,” Scarlett declared. “We’ll figure it out when Dad gets back. I can’t cook—I’d starve to death on my own!”
Scarlett had no intention of leaving Elizabeth behind. If she did, the Whitaker family would surely take out their frustrations on her mother in her absence. Scarlett also knew that Elizabeth’s soft heart wouldn’t allow her to refuse. Her firm attitude left no room for argument: Elizabeth had to come with her.
The rest of the Whitaker family didn’t try to stop Elizabeth from leaving. They were likely waiting for Whitaker Chris to return and deal with the troublesome mother-daughter pair. The men in the family were away helping to repair a nearby river embankment after heavy rains, as the county feared flooding could collapse it and destroy the neighboring villages.
Elizabeth, always indecisive, hugged the bag of sweet potatoes and followed her daughter in a daze.
Just as Scarlett stepped out, she turned back to grab the enamel mug containing the steamed egg. The youngest grandson of the Whitaker family, who had been eyeing the egg hungrily, began wailing when Scarlett took it.
The house erupted into chaos, with people yelling at Scarlett, comforting the crying child, and adding to the commotion.
Once outside, Scarlett breathed in the fresh air, and it hit her like a revelation.
No smog, no pollution—the clear, untainted air was something only someone from 30 years in the future could truly appreciate. Scarlett immediately felt invigorated.
However, the ruckus inside had drawn attention. Many households nearby were clearly eavesdropping, their curiosity piqued by the drama.
When Scarlett and Elizabeth stepped out, the onlookers made no effort to hide their interest. Instead, they openly pointed at them, whispering loudly enough for Scarlett to hear.
“Thrown out of the house, huh?”
“Serves her right! Even went after her brother-in-law!”
“Rolling around naked with that delinquent from the next village in the haystack—what a disgrace to the Whitaker name!”
“Both girls are Whitakers, but look at her cousin—off at university while she’s out here acting loose.”
“When Whitaker Chris gets back, he’ll beat her half to death for sure.”
“He’s beaten her before, and they’ve scolded her plenty, but she never changes. Look at her walk—swaying her hips like that!”
Scarlett clenched her fists, resisting the urge to give these gossiping women a piece of her mind. Swaying her hips? She wasn’t trying to be seductive—she was just too weak from hunger to walk steadily!
These gossipy busybodies ruined the good mood the fresh air had brought her. Scarlett took in her surroundings. The pastoral scenery might have been idyllic to outsiders, but it was far from comforting to her.
Most homes were made of mud, with only a few red-brick houses scattered around. The low, squat buildings had mud-brick walls whitewashed with lime, some still bearing faded red slogans painted a decade ago.
This was a remote village in the United Colonies of America, untouched by the winds of reform and modernization. Education was the only way out.
Her cousin Whitaker Rosalie had chosen the right path. Rosalie, the first university student in Larkspur Village since the national college entrance exam had been reinstated, had carved a way out for herself.
If Scarlett hadn’t been “replaced,” her life would have diverged drastically from Rosalie’s the moment Rosalie had entered college. The gap between them would have grown into an unbridgeable chasm.
Even if Rosalie had wronged her, what could Scarlett do about it?
