#when im in a suffering more than jesus competition and my opponent is a macgregor

[blueshistorysims]

June 12th, 1943,  Henford-on-Bagley, England

Early on the morning of Amalia’s thirteenth birthday, she and Miranda snuck out to swim in the river. It was freezing, but the thrill of sneaking out and not getting caught was addicting, and watching the sunrise was beautiful. The elder girl loved how free Amalia looked, and how happy she was when they were together. She’d do anything for her. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t have a party last year,” Amalia said as she put her earrings on.

Miranda shrugged. “I’m not a social fiend like you are. I don’t mind being a wallflower.”

“Well, I’m excited about my party, especially after how depressing Lydia’s was. You’d think she’d be happier about turning 18. I know I would be.”

“Lydia turned 18 without her parents or family, and her brother died a year and a half ago. I’d be pretty depressed too. Plus, at Bramblewood, some girls can be so nasty, and it feels like she constantly has to declare she’s from Hong Kong. I think they’re also jealous of how pretty she is.”

Amalia turned her head. “You think she’s pretty?”

“You don’t? She looks like Anna May Wong.”

“You’re right, she is pretty. She’s so good at doing her hair, I’m jealous.”

“Well, you have curly hair, and she doesn’t.”

She sighed before smirking. “Do you think Simon-Elliot and Lydia are secretly dating?”

Miranda nodded. “I’ve suspected for over a year now, but I think they’ve been dating longer.”

“I like Lydia, but he’s the heir to a dukedom. He can’t marry her.”

“Your father married Ms. Gardenhouse. And your mum isn’t exactly the epitome of white Britain.”

“Well, Ms. Gardenhouse and Mama are both from very wealthy and influential families. You know white people will excuse most things if people like us are incredibly rich. Lydia is not rich and her family isn’t even influential in her home country.”

“Well, I think people should marry for love.”

Amalia giggled. “What, do you have a crush on someone? Tell me.”

Miranda felt her face turn hot. “I do not. You’re projecting.”

“Well, you know all my crushes. Humphrey Bogart, Jimmy Stewart, Cary Grant, Gary Cooper.”

“Well, I’m not interested in anyone right now.” Truthfully, she thought Ingrid Bergman and Marlene Dietrich were two of the most beautiful women she’d ever seen, but she had yet to tell Amalia her feelings on women. 

“What time does the party start?” Miranda asked after some time, purposely switching subjects as she stood up. 

“At noon.” Amalia stared at herself in the mirror. “Do you I look alright?”

“You look wonderful. You always do.” Miranda meant it. “Actually… before the party started, I want to give you my birthday present.”

“You got me a present?”

“Of course I did, you’re my best friend.”

Carefully, Miranda walked behind Amalia, fishing the jewelry out of her dress pocket. “Close your eyes,” she said to the birthday girl. “I want it to be a surprise.”

“Alright.”

She took the locket from her pocket and gently put it on Amalia’s neck. The other girl flinched from the sudden touch of cold metal on her skin and she let out a slight gasp. Miranda almost dropped the necklace, and all she could hear were the sounds of their breathing.

Amalia’s neck was long and dainty, and Miranda wondered if she had ever touched it before. Her fingertips brushed against her curly dark brown hair, done up in an elegant bun, as she tightened the clasp. Her heart pounded loudly, overwhelming her senses as she watched and listened to Amalia breathe, her chest rising and sinking. She could smell the perfume she was wearing, one of Eleora’s that she’d borrowed. 

Miranda’s finger trembled, her whole body shaking as the simple realization hit her. Why else had she always listened to Amalia? Why else wasn’t she bothered when Amalia was controlling or stole her ideas? Why else did she spend so much time thinking about her? God, she was in love with her. Miranda was in love with her best friend. 

“Can I open my eyes now?” Amalia asked, interrupting Miranda’s rather worrying self-discovery.

She stepped back, sniffling as she tried not to break into tears. “Yes.”

The birthday girl gasped in delight. “Oh, Miranda, it’s beautiful! I love it.”

“The inside has a picture of the two of us. Be-because we’re be-best friends,” she tried to explain, hoping Amalia didn’t notice her voice crack. 

“You’re the best friend a girl could ask for. I feel like I could tell you anything. Oh! That reminds me of this movie I saw the other day with Gary Cooper. He is so handsome…”

Amalia continued droning on about her crush on the actor, absolutely oblivious to the state of despair Miranda was in.

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