Identity

I got up fairly early the next morning, around eight, had a quick breakfast, then went out to shoot skeet. Somehow Alfred had found the time to straighten up the field, making the seven stations on the hemisphere and the eighth station on the base cord distinct and even. I was still using just one trap, but I was getting pretty good at it and I felt I was about ready to try the second trap, which was set at a different angle, get used to that one, then start to follow the shooting order mandated by the rules of the game. I didn't want to compete, I just wanted something to concentrate on and get good at. Once I figured out how much lead I needed, the shooting had gotten a lot easier, but I wanted to improve my muscle memory. I shot at all eight stations, two clays per station to warm up, and hit all sixteen targets. I went over and loaded the other trap and trudged to the first station; I'd put an extra target in to see where the trap would fling it. I missed the first one, but improved as I went along; the higher trajectory and the new direction took some getting used to. I was surprised when I reloaded the trap and walked back to the first station to notice my father standing well back. I grudgingly pulled off my hearing protection to go talk to him.

"I didn't know where you were," he said when I got about five feet away from him and stopped, shotgun broken open over my arm. "But Alfred was in the butler's pantry helping Alan put the china, crystal, and silver away and mentioned you might be out here. I didn't know we had a skeet shooting... thing."

"I ran across it earlier," I said briefly. "It's interesting. Geometry at work."

"Where did you find the gun?"

"Gun safe in the attic. There are two of them, Purdey over-under double-barrel shotguns, skeet chokes, number nine shot, twelve gauge. I got gun cleaning supplies to maintain them."

"Didn't know we had a gun safe, either," he muttered. "Look, Lys, I don't know--"

"If you say you don't know if you like the idea of me shooting a shotgun, I'm going to scream," I said flatly. "I'm still on the estate, I know how to handle the guns safely, and it gives me something to do. It's a past time and one that I seem to be pretty good at. I'm not hunting animals, and I'm careful. I pick up after myself, and the targets are designed to break down into limestone and some other harmless stuff after about a year of weathering. I pick up the shell casings and if you insist, I'll get a big old magnet and clean up the steel shot as much as I can."

"That won't be necessary," he said, rubbing his temple.

"Then what's the problem here? What do you want from me? 'Don't do this, I don't like you doing that,' what's left to me? Sitting up in my room all day? I'm tired of doing nothing, trapped in the house while everybody else gets to go about their daily activities."

"I get it, Lys, and I'm going to get in touch with Dick to find out how the case is progressing. If there's been no progress, we can talk about lightening up the restrictions."

"Removing the restrictions," I said. "I'm done with being stuck here."

"I'll talk to Dick," he repeated. "I'd appreciate it if you'd let us know where you're going to be, though."

"I'm on the estate. I have my communicator. If you want to know more, you can always call," I said, angry again. I pushed two shells into the barrels, pivoted, and walked back to the first station, putting on the hearing protection and activating the mike for the trap. I closed the gun with the reverence due to the fine craftsmanship, said "pull!" firmly and clearly, and went back to shooting.

I shot til around noon, then reluctantly went back to the house when I was just too cold to stay out longer. I cleaned the gun, locked it up, then went down to the kitchen, where I made myself a sandwich, put carrot sticks on the plate, and grabbed an apple. I took it all up to my room and ate sitting in the window seat. A cold front was coming in with what promised to be a good storm, so I finished my lunch quickly, vacuumed up the crumbs, and took the remains to the kitchen, putting the apple core for compost and the dishes in the dishwasher before heading out back. There was a decent wood pile in my room, but I wanted to be sure there would be enough for a fire all day and into the night. I took an armful of appropriately-sized logs and went inside, using the elevator since the wood was heavy. I put the wood on the end of the hearth, took a shower to chase the last chill from my bones and wash off the gunpowder residue, then put my hair in a French braid and lit the fire. My ankle ached whenever a storm came in, but keeping it warm helped a little. I was studying for the SATs when there was a knock on the door. I yelled and grinned, jumping up when Z and Dari came in.

"I didn't know you guys were going to be here," I said, giving and getting hugs. "Congratulations on your graduation from prep school, Z." I offered them the comfy chairs by the fireplace and swung my desk chair around as they settled in.

"I got your card," she said in her lovely musical voice. "It was great, and I appreciated the thought, especially with things so unsettled here."

"It's not too late to decide to be a butler, Z," Dari said, poking his sister, who swatted his hand away. "Listen to yourself, 'things so unsettled here.' Typical butlerian understatement." I laughed and asked him how the Sorbonne was. "Interesting, but I found quickly that classroom conversation is one thing, using a foreign language day in and day out is another. I had to record my lectures to be sure I understood everything the professors were saying."

"And what are you going to do, Z?"

"I'll be going to Cambridge, Fitzwilliam College. A guaranteed single room, in lovely gardens, with a lot of activities." she said with pleasure. "I can't wait to start."

"What are you majoring in?"

"Mathematics or history," she said in satisfaction. I groaned, and they laughed.

"Exactly," Dari agreed.

"Good maths teachers are always in demand," she said. "And frankly, it would be easy enough to change fields if I got bored in the classroom. Very versatile subject. But history is so interesting."

"I used to think you were ok," I said, and she chuckled.

"At least it's focused,' she said, jabbing at her brother. "That one is studying something called a multidisciplinary course."

"It's a good solid degree that gives me exposure to a lot of different subjects," he argued. "Dad wants to be sure he's got a replacement here when he retires, and for that you definitely need to know a lot about a lot of different things. What about you, Lys? What are you looking at?"

"Photography. I really like it and I'm good at it."

"Yes," Z agreed. "I loved the copies you sent us of your work last summer, even if they were of John. " I laughed; they'd requested the photographs I'd given to their parents. "What else have you done?" So I brought out my portfolio and had a small chance to brag a little. They exclaimed over my work and that felt good, especially when they asked for prints. I made notes of which ones they wanted, but printing them would have to wait until school started again.

"So what's up with John?" Dari asked. "Things were going well at Eton, I understand why he punched the boy out and why he was expelled, and frankly I think it's good for him to be back with our parents. I didn't like him on his own; at least Z and I were in the same city and with family, but he wanted to be someplace different. Competitive little brat. What I don't understand is why you're not in each other's pockets again. Well, things have changed, you've both got your own interests and all, but still."

"We had a disagreement about my captivity," I said. "Neither of us wanted a fight, but that created distance."

"John would be in a straightjacket if Dad cooped him up," Z said critically. "He's such a boy. He remembers you as a dainty girl, and nobody thinks how strong dancers have to be. He and Miles are pals, you think he'd know better."

"Hey," Dari objected. "Not all boys are idiots." I smiled. "And Lys used to be a lot more compliant. But Dad said Mr Bucky was satisfied with your self-defense, so it's puzzling that you're being treated like you're helpless."

"Perhaps it's understandable, however," Z said slowly. "Lys had her leg crushed. I bet Mr Daniel and Ms Diana wish to keep her from that kind of hurt again. And it could have been worse if the kidnapping succeeded."

"All it does is make me angry," I said. "They can't keep me here forever, though."

"No, but that explains a lot. John is at a loss; he probably thinks that too much time has passed for an apology and he doesn't know how to approach it," Dari said. "Dumbass."

"You weren't always gifted with wisdom either," Z protested, although she was laughing. "I'd argue that you still aren't." And that brought on a spat of bickering that made me smile; it reminded me a lot of Deri and me.

"We saw Iris and Miles' apartments," Z said, changing the subject. "I'm surprised you don't want to do interior design. You're really good at that too."

"I liked it, but at the same time, you have to listen to the clients," I said. "They insist on having opinions, and I want to do what I want to do." They burst out laughing. "It was easier with Iris, she specified the colors, took my advice. Miles had colors he wanted, but the style of furniture he likes is way too ornate and heavy for the small place he's got. It would have been awful if he'd gotten his own way on everything. I'd help somebody out again, no problem, but I don't want that to be my life. When I'm behind the shutter, I'm the boss. I capture the images that I choose. Uncle Steve is giving me backstage access and a place on the runway to shoot his collection at Fashion Week in February, and I provided some images for a model's portfolio," I explained. "People actually paid me. So it's not just wishful thinking that I could make a go of a career in photography."

We chatted for a couple hours until they had to leave to get ready; their parents were taking the whole family out to dinner and the symphony. I spent the evening reading in the window seat, watching the snow fall and enjoying the fire.

Mercifully, I had a full shift the next day, and I made the most of it, happy to be around a lot of people, helping and being useful. We'd gotten a shipment in that I was pleased to help check in and put out. I also defied orders and went down to the deli to pick up some lunch. Jinx wasn't working that day or we'd have eaten together, so I just took it back to the break room.

When I got home, everybody was out; Mom had gone in to work to make up for the time she'd spent away on League business and Dad had taken Van and Deri to a movie, sitting a few rows behind them for safety. It made me laugh, it was a movie aimed at young teen girls with a plot that was light and frivolous, a funny look at a day at school where everything possible went completely perfect, and how weird that would be. Served him right.

All in all, I was in a decent mood; I'd picked up a couple new issues of sewing magazines at work that previewed spring clothes, which meant that in a month we'd start getting the new fabrics. I couldn't wait; I wanted to make some bright, cheerful dresses for spring. I asked Deri how she liked the movie and she was enthusiastic about the main actress, a starlet on the rise who was noted for her sense of humor. This got us through to dinner, where Mom said that she'd heard from Uncle Richard, who had talked to Captain Gordon about the progression of the Joker case. They were downgrading the investigation because there wasn't a shred of evidence beyond Ivy's communications to Jinx and later, her interview, that supported the return of the notorious crime boss. "It can't be completely be ruled out," she said, buttering a roll. "But there seems to be no need for all of the restrictions on you girls. We expect that you'll continue to be careful, but there's no reason why you can't pick up all your activities. You can go back to tennis and doing things with your friends, Lys." Deri and I high-fived and whooped, ignoring Dad, who looked vexed. Apparently there hadn't been communication between the parents on this bit of news.

"That's excellent news," I said, relieved beyond measure. "I can't wait to get back on the court. I'm thinking about trying out for the tennis team this spring and I need a lot more practice."

"That would look good on your college applications," Dad said thoughtfully. Diversion successful; with luck, he'd think again before trying to walk back from Mom's permission. But it wasn't a lie, I really had been considering it. Dessert and coffee was a lot more lively. Deri asked about how work had been and I told her about the magazines.

"If you'd like, you could pick an easy pattern for a dress, and when the spring fabrics start to come in, you could get some fabric and we could make it," I offered, and she beamed. I was in a great mood now and wanted to spread it around.

"I'm surprised that you want to try out for the tennis team," Dad said neutrally. "It's not something you've mentioned." I sharply bit back a response about how until about an hour ago I wouldn't have been allowed.

"Turns out that I've got the Wayne killer instinct after all," I said flippantly. "I like going out onto the court and trying to crush my opponent." Both parents looked startled. Deri grinned. "It's not like ballet or rowing, where you're trying to perfect your movement or push yourself to beat a time. With tennis, you're looking at your opponent and not only trying to beat her, you're trying to get her to make mistakes, get in her head, throw her off her game. I like it." It was the most socially approved way to get rid of aggressions that I had.

"I thought you liked the social aspect," Dad said.

"I do," I said cheerily. "I love shaking my opponent's hand over the net after a good game, and it's even better when you've made plans to socialize after the match and I've beaten the stuffing out of them. The last match I played was against Jilly St Honore" a chief tormentor back at prep school " and it was extremely satisfying to beat her fast in straight sets." She'd been pissed, too, that I'd stomped her. It added to the sweetness of my victory. Turns out that I learn really fast when properly motivated. A lot of times there wasn't anybody to play against at the club because I went at off hours, apparently, so I spent a lot of time with a teacher and a ball machine, learning from the first and using the second to build muscle memory to help with shot placement. I'd spent a lot of the funds I'd gotten from Deri's room on court fees and lessons. Well, not exclusively tennis, I'd paid for help at the rowing club too.

After coffee and victory cookies, I went upstairs, notified my friends about the change of status in a mass text, and asked what we were doing for New Years Eve.