Chapter 9 Charlotte Ugh, why did she always have to be so stubborn? The few times I had met my half-sister, she had always been different, stubborn, not quite right. Maybe it was how she was raised, or maybe it was just her. When I was 22, we ran into each other—or should I say, she ran into me. I was coming home from seeing Sam at work when all of a sudden, someone ran into me. It was a girl, no older than 14, with messy hair and a scared look, like someone was chasing her. "Are you okay?" I said, putting my hand on her shoulders and pushing her back a bit. She was shaking; she looked petrified. "They’re after me," she said, her eyes haunted, as if whoever was after her wasn’t playing tag. "Come with me," I said, grabbing her hand and taking her home. Dad had died the year before, so I had the place to myself. We walked inside, and closed the door. "Sit," I said, gesturing to the couch. The girl sat down. "What’s your name?" I asked, sitting down across from her. She paused for a bit before answering "Calypso," she said. She was filthy—her sleeves were covered in mud, and her skirt was ripped. "Well, Calypso, I’m Charlotte," I said, reaching out to shake her hand. But instead of shaking my hand, she hugged me. I wrapped my arms around her as she started to cry. "Hey, it’s okay," I said softly. Her arms wrapped around me tighter. "Thank you, Charlotte," she said through her tears. She whispered something else into my shoulder, but I didn’t hear her. I wanted to tell her that it would be okay, but I couldn’t. I didn’t even know who she was running from. "Look, I need you to tell me who was chasing you," I said once she let go of me and sat back down. "The guard," she said, fidgeting with her wrist, almost as if it hurt. "The guard?" I said, shocked. Why would the guard chase a girl? What could she have possibly done that would make them want to hang her? "Yes, they’re trying to hang me," she said, and she looked deadly serious. "For what?" I asked. "Piracy. They want to hang me for piracy," she said, showing me her wrist. It looked awful, like a wound that someone had put salt in, even if it was just a burn. "Oh dear," I said, holding her wrist. "Does it hurt?" I asked, though that was a stupid question—of course it hurt. "Not as much as when they did it," she said. Poor thing. I mean, what idiot thought this poor dear could be a pirate? "Wait, how did you escape?" I asked, genuinely curious. If she could do it, actual pirates could, too. "I broke away from them when they were walking me up to the platform," she said, pulling her sleeve down. "See, exactly. If you could do that, think what a real pirate could do. They need to be more careful," I said. Just then, there was a knock at the door. I stood up to open it. "Wait," Calypso said. "I hope you know, despite what they’ll say about me, I want you to know that I love you," she said, hugging me. I was a bit confused by that but said nothing and opened the door. It was a guardsman. "Hello, miss. Have you happened to see this individual?" he said, unfolding a wanted poster and showing me. What was I looking at? It was Calypso... but it wasn’t. No, it couldn’t be. The girl in the poster was clearly a pirate from head to toe. One look would tell anyone this was a pirate—and at that, a captain. The name read Captain Jacqueline Wellermen Thorn, and above that, in big letters, it said WANTED DEAD. No, this could not have been the sweet Calypso I had just talked to. Because if it was, that meant I had brought a pirate into my house—my half-sister, no less. "No sir, I have not," I said. What was I going to do, say, Yes, sir, she was just in my house ? Um, no. Then I would have been hanged with her. "Okay, miss. If you do, you can find me down the block," the man said, walking away. I closed the door and looked around. She was gone. She must have snuck out the back. Good. I didn’t want to see her face ever again.
QOTD ) should the sisters make up ?
