Now, let's skip forward to where I am right here today. I'm eight months into fourteen, an age I find rather strange. Everybody pesters you about your responsibilities and how mature you should be, but letting you go out late is a huge no.
"Charlie kid!" The yell from outside of my house signals to me that Maxwell is coming. Everybody in the village knows when Maxwell is coming. Everything seems to buzz and his voice is so loud that it practically blows your ears off. Mine haven't yet but I assume they will sometime soon.
"Maxwell..." I try to think of a comparison to kid. Adult? Big person? They all sound stupid. Instead of making myself sound like an idiot, I stick my head out the window and wave. Today it is surprisingly cool, compared to the blaring hot summer we've had so far, and I let the cool breeze pat my cheeks.
Outside the landscape is somehow different. More daisies have popped up, the grass is coated with a fresh layer of glistening dew and the sky is such a beautiful azure. The cerise ground beneath Maxwell spits up dust as he walks, swirling round his worn trainers.
"Can you possibly go fetch a loaf of bread from inside?" he asks so I disappear into the kitchen. I like the feel of the cold tiles on my bare feet but I cannot stand here for long; Maxwell is waiting outside. Un-fortunately there is no bread, so I troop out again and find him sitting on the grass mound outside.
I cannot remember how the grass mound came to be, it never used to be there and then somehow appeared. My parents swear that was here forever, so I just agree. My memory is terrible after all.
Opening the front door, I go sit down next to Maxwell. Beside him is a small trailer, red with yellow wheels, and he clutches the handle as if he can't let go. I watch his eyes as he sees my hands are empty and sighs.
"There was no bread," I say and he laughs. I like it when Maxwell laughs. The tiny creases at the sides of his eyes show more and his grin is so wide it almost reaches the top of his cheeks.
"Charlie kid, I knew that. Which is why we're going to the bakery." He hops out, hand still clutching the trailer so I do the same. Fresh bread from the bakery is always the best, warm and tasty, the smell lingers around for days. Plus, Marlyn owns the place and he can half tell some tales. Maxwell loves it, especially when he brings up the Glass People.
"You just want to go see Marlyn!" I tease, elbowing him jokily. Maxwell gives me a little shove and shrugs calmly.
"Maybe I do, maybe I don't." We continue talking, about home, staying out late, and as we enter the bakery Maxwell picks up the subject of the Glass People. I laugh a little to myself but continue the conversation. After all, it makes Maxwell happy.
"Hello boys! Talking about the Glass People again? I have a tale about that, I'm sure you'd like to hear." We both nod eagerly and Marlyn leans on the account, elbow down, hand cupped on his chin.
"They say the Glass People used to be free. They could roam about, eat, laugh, do anything we do. Then, Lock came. You know all of it. How the Glass People were supposed to have magic, so to keep 'safe' Ebony and Ivory he trapped them in glass spheres. That way their magic could be contained.
So they are where they are now. Trapped, helpless, and over-powered by Lock. You know all that, it's what everyone says. But what they never say is about the girl."
"The girl?" Maxwell asks but Marlyn places a finger to his lips.
"Zoe. She's by far the prettiest of them all, just like all those cliché stories. Long blonde hair, straight, dazzling blue eyes and the clearest, softest skin. That is not important. What is important is her role.
Zoe is the keeper. The keeper of the Glass People, or should I say the rightful keeper of the Glass People. Her original job was to keep the Glass People's magic under wraps. Harmless magic is what they were supposed to use. She made the deal with Lock that nothing would ever happen to the two other parts and in return her people were left alone.
Lock being Lock decided not to trust her. He broke the deal and when he trapped them, he made the bubble that contained her the strongest of all. Only the Saviour can break the glass and save her." He lifts his arm off of the table and smiles. Maxwell's jaw is hanging open and so is mine. The Saviour? What Saviour?
"What do you mean by 'the Saviour?" I asked but Marlyn simply laughs.
"That is another tale boy. A whole other tale."