Mathieu (White Flame Trilogy) - By Paula Flumerfelt Page 0,7

ever wanted, though. To have the ability to disappear and not stand out for his white hair or his purple eyes, to become just a part of the crowd; he didn’t want to be a freak anymore.

“Ahh! This was a stupid idea!” He thudded back in the grass, looking up at the sky. The grass felt nice and cool under him and his hands twisted a few blades. The tree above him shaded his eyes from the glaring double suns and allowed him to see up to the clouds, which he wateched slid across the sky for a time before he stretched and finally rolled back to his feet. Mathieu was not one to be an idle body. Being out in the open, walking along the road on his own made him feel very alive, very free, even if the choice that had gotten him here was very stupid. And he could admit when he’d made a stupid decision, like storming out of the only place that legally had to take him in because he was having a bad day. Oh, and stealing from a witch descendant. Apparently that was pretty frowned upon, too. But today was a first. He was dependant only on himself and here there were no judgments, just him and the trees.

The weather was perfect, not too hot yet, as it would undoubtedly become. A stream was running to his right and up ahead, he could see a town. He dug around in his bag and retrieved his map, unfolding it with careful motions. The thing was old and liable to rip. The town ahead was very small and labeled “Tuckern”. Mathieu had been there before with Rebekah once. At least he thought he had. If he remembered the place correctly, it was a nothing town with a few businesses and picturesque little houses. Not a place he wanted to spend much time.

He smiled to himself, somewhat proud that he had made it all the way to another town on his own. It wasn’t long until he was upon said town. He made to enter, but he found that he couldn’t; something was bothering him. For so long, he’d been the outcast, the one who was teased. But no more. He was going to find the strength within himself to not cower before others anymore because he was different. That wasn’t to say he wanted to make a spectacle of himself and stand out, but there was no way he was going to be pushed around.

Mathieu swallowed the lump in his throat and straightened up. With his head held high, he walked into the town as a confident man, not a cowardly child. The few people that were out on the street nodded at him. Some stared at first, but not in the sense of disgust. It was curiosity. He strutted past them all and entered a diner.

The inside was shiny and clean, the new smell of fresh paint still permeating the place. It was done in a tasteful cherry red and had accents of white here and there. The floor was a collection of shiny tiles. He took a seat at the glass counter, rimmed in chrome, and put his bag on the tall stool next to him. Tucking his ankles one behind the other, he hooked his foot around the leg of the stool.

“Just a moment,” called a deep voice from the back.

“Mhm.” Mathieu hummed to himself, looking at the pictures on the wall. There was a father and a son in the pictures doing various activities: fishing, playing in snow, napping.

It was cute, but made his chest ache. It wasn’t a secret to himself that he’d wished he’d had a father in his life to do things with. But he couldn’t win them all.

A slender blond man came out from the back, smiling. “Good morning. Well, actually I guess it’s the afternoon.”

Chuckling, Mathieu leaned on the counter, balancing his chin on his hands. The guy wasn’t overly tall and he only had to look up slightly. “It’s all relative to if you have plans.”

“True. As long as it isn’t closing time, it’s a mote point. So, what can I get you?” The blond’s name tag identified him as a Geoff.

“Hm…” Mathieu considered the menu under the glass countertop, tapping his fingers against arm. “Something fruity. And maybe sweet…”

“If I may be so bold, the waffles are pretty good. They come with sugar and fruit on top.” Geoff pointed to the ‘Breakfast’ portion of