[advocatus diaboli]
One.
There was no District 13, and that made little Vanessa very, very sad. To her, the number 13 was no more of a bother than, say the number 4. She couldn't understand why it was such an underrated number. There was no 13th floor for hotels, and rare was the home address proudly proclaiming that they were the 13th house on the street. The subdivision was pleasant enough with its' sidewalks and tall trees - but there was no District 13. It was a long way from Ireland, but it was as close to a village as it would get and that was what mattered. If the District had been named a Community, she wouldn't have gone willingly. Community was a bigger word than District, and unfriendly in her 8 year-old mind.
"Where will we live?"
"District 12," her sister replied, hugging a stuffed rabbit close to her chest. "don't you remember? You loved playing here." The family car had already passed Districts 4 to 9 and each District looked exactly the same, furnished studio apartments with sidewalks, tall trees around every corner dotted with playgrounds and swimming pools. In the driver's seat, Madeline Voltaire steered carefully, pausing every now and then to let a wayward cat or dog cross. "We're almost at your father's house, girls." As soon as she saw the two blonde heads nod, Madeline pointed her eyes towards the road.
"Titalia, you know I suck at remembering stuff." Titalia nodded and looked at her sister. They were twins, but Vanessa had always insisted that they were different. The older twin often wondered if Vanessa jumped out of that swing and hit her head on purpose just to prove how different they really were. "Yeah."
The car stopped in front of District 12, house number 14. "Twenty-six." Vanessa murmured under her breath as she removed her seat belt. The twins got out of the car and their things were quickly unloaded from the trunk. A multiple of 13. Maybe things were going to get better, after all. Their mother rang the doorbell and used the brass knocker, which was in the shape of a raven. The twins could hear the impatient click of their mother's high heels. "That man...eight years of marriage and he still can't be bothered..." She rang the doorbell again and again, her manicured index finger digging into the button each time.
When the door opened, a tall, thin man greeted them. Their father had eyes the color of wood, nut-brown hair and alcohol clung to his clothes like cologne. This man had hair as black as ebony and wore a scarf over his mouth, even if the weather was unusually warm this time of year. His eyes were unusually shiny, and he was clad in a fine suit. "Fancy seeing you here, Madeline." His voice was muffled through the scarf and had a strong Japanese accent. "Ned never told me he had children."
"Oh, Ryuji." Their mother's voice had grown high and her eyelashes fluttered. "I...see. Girls, this is Ryuji Keita - an old friend of ours. Your father was classmates with him in college. Ryuji - my daughters. The one on the left is Vanessa and the one on the right, Titalia." Out of habit, the twins curtsied as their mother had taught them, many years ago. "Pleased to meet you."
"As I you, young ladies...your father's in his library." With a nod to all three of them, Ryuji walked away. "He seems...nice." Titalia said. "He is...the only man I know who could give your father a run for his money when it came to writing...well, let's get going. And Titalia, remember..."
"Yes, mother. Take care of Vanessa...and call if Dad forgets we're alive. I know." They entered the house and followed the sound of a keyboard clacking away - their father was writing up a storm. "Dad! Dad!" Vanessa's boots echoed through the wooden floor and she dropped her stroller, which elicited a shout from her mother. "Vanessa!"
In her excitement, Vanessa forgot her mother even existed. She followed the sound of the keyboard until she saw him - head bowed and shoulders slumped over, typing away on his computer. The letters formed a line of ants on the screen. Ned Voltaire stopped what he was doing and smiled.
"Hello, darling...where's your mother? And Titalia?"
"Still slow...bringing in the bags..."
Ned Voltaire gave his youngest daughter a hug and carried her in his arms. "Sounds like they need our help, then."
A mug of sweet tea, three peanut-butter cups and four hours later the twins' bags were unpacked, beds claimed and goodbyes were said. Titalia couldn't help noticing how final it all seemed as their mother's car backed up from the driveway and sped down the road.