by Karin Biggs
Raya grinned and retrieved the bottle of brown liquid from under the table, then filled the wine glass to the top.
Blocking any attempts of further logic or reasoning from my mind, I lifted the glass to my lips and forced myself to chug the drink until it was gone. A variety of identifiable tastes washed over my tongue like orange, toothpaste, hot sauce, coffee, curry and chocolate. There were others that weren’t as recognizable—something berry-flavored, something that burned at the back of my throat and something that reminded me of the smell of the Mansion’s freshly cut grass. The liquid had a grainy texture and a few gooey lumps that were the hardest to swallow. I held the empty glass upside down over my head, sending a ripple of applause around the table, including Ari.
“Tastes like garbage, right?” Darden reappeared and handed me a glass of water.
“This is your fault,” I said, wiping droplets of water from my mouth. He shrugged and took a seat beside me.
Raya dealt out her final dare to Reese. “I dare you to give me three compliments.”
“That’s so unfair!” Heather said. “I had to say the word ‘foreskin’ in front of a guest!”
“This is my game, so we’ll play by my rules,” snapped Raya.
As our table listened to Reese rattle off three quick compliments about Raya, I stared at Ari, who rested his cheek on his palm as he tapped a spoon against the edge of the table. Even though half of his mouth was covered by his hand, I could tell he was smiling.
His joy irritated me. Of course, he was smiling—he wasn’t the one who had to drink a glass of vomit-flavored juice.
Raya told a story about a drunk guest who followed her around like a lost puppy until Agnes gave us the official dismissal. Court members said goodbye to their dates and then we all headed across the lawn back to the Lounge. Within minutes, music boomed to the top of the wooden rafters and bodies crowded a makeshift dance floor.
I said goodnight to Darden, then pushed through a group of people standing in front of the door to the Ladies’ Dorms when I stepped face-to-face with Ari.
“Good job standing up to Raya,” he said before taking a drink from his familiar blue water bottle.
I tilted my head and plastered a sarcastic grin. “Yeah, my ingestion of a foul liquid proved that I have the upper hand to an arrogant court member.”
“Ari! Come dance with me!” shouted Heather from the dance floor.
Ari raised a dismissive palm to Heather, but she grabbed his arm and pulled him away from me.
I squeezed the bridge of my nose. A headache threatened to take over and I couldn’t place if its cause was due to the long day or the mystery contents of the Brew. In need of water, I took a swig out of Ari’s abandoned water bottle just as Reese jumped out from behind me, shaking his hips. “You can’t not dance to this song, Paris!”
I laughed and let him lead me on to the dance floor. The beat of the music pulsed in my bones as I danced to the rhythm and threw my arms above my head, mimicking the other bodies around me. Reese took my hand and spun me around, causing giggles to bubble out of my chest.
I caught Ari’s eyes watching me dance with Reese and another giggle escaped, even louder. Reese’s hands knew when to find mine and where to lead me in a set of fluid dance moves. Our movements to the music sparked something inside me that urged me to pull him closer.
Reese was handsome by definition. If I was playing the role of a real Mondarian teenager, then it was about time I had my first kiss.
And it was my birthday.
He shouted something in my ear.
I laughed too loud, wrapping my hands around his neck.
Ari’s eyes found mine.
I pulled Reese’s head down and pressed my lips against his.
It was hard. Our teeth clinked. His tongue poked into my mouth, which I didn’t expect, so I pulled back. The surrounding court members around us let out whoops and howls. I smiled and let Reese spin me into a dramatic dip. I glanced over at Heather’s dance group to see that a black-haired drummer had taken notes from his magician-roommate and mastered his very own disappearing act.
Even though I slept in until just before the afternoon call-time for soloist rehearsals in the auditorium, my body dragged the day after Grape Stomp. Maestro only threw one dagger at me, telling me to look less constipated and more regular.
During hair and make-up in the dressing room, I was happy to listen to Layla describe the guests she met at Grape Stomp to avoid thinking about my oral impulsivity on the dance floor the night before or my impending first solo in front of thousands of people.
“How was your night?” asked Layla with a hairpin clenched between her teeth.
I twisted my hair back for a third time, finally settling on the look by shoving in a hairpin. “It was okay. Tell me more about that guest with the goatee. Did anyone ever tell him he had a shrimp tail stuck in it?”
Genevieve popped her head up on my other side. “Just okay? I saw you make-out with Reese in front of everybody on the dance floor!”
Layla’s arched brows shot me a glance through the dressing-table mirror.
I sucked in my bottom lip. “Oh…yeah.”
Genevieve leaned her elbows on my dedicated portion of the table. “Is he a good kisser? Are you guys a couple now?”
I inserted another hairpin. “I wouldn’t know if he was a good kisser because it was my first kiss. And no, we’re definitely not a couple.”
Layla huffed. “You would know if he was good. Doesn’t surprise me he’s a lousy kisser.”
“Okay, I’m confused,” Genevieve said. “You kiss the hottest New Man and shut down any chance of being a couple?”
I checked the seat on the other side of Genevieve to make sure Heather wasn’t around, then explained the whole Truth or Dare game to both Layla and Genevieve.
“So, you do have a thing for Reese. Otherwise you wouldn’t have kissed him after drinking that gross stuff.” Genevieve returned her focus to own mirror and finished applying her lipstick.
I shrugged. I didn’t have a solid reason for why I did it.
“Oh, Paris.” Genevieve capped her lipstick.
“What?” I looked at her reflection in her mirror.
She turned, meeting my eyes face-to-face. “You did it to make another boy jealous, didn’t you?”
Remembering that I still needed eyeliner, I turned around and searched through my emptied makeup bag contents splayed across my portion of the table. “No, why would I do that? In front of all those people, that’s crazy.”
“Hey Genevieve, instead of creating idiotic drama for you and your herd of sheep to giggle over, how about you take care of that lipstick on your teeth?”
“Yeah right, I don’t have,” she looked in the mirror, “Oh no.” Genevieve sprang from her chair and headed to the bathroom.
Layla sighed. “Man, I can’t stand that girl. She is right, though. You’re not into Reese, otherwise you would be bouncing off the walls all twinkle-eyed like these other weirdos.”
I nodded. “Exactly.”
“You’ve got a thing for Ari.”
My mouth opened, unable to produce sound for a beat. “No, that’s—”
“And you’re in a tizzy because making Ari jealous doesn’t feel as good as you hoped it would.”
“No, there was something in the Brew that toyed with my judgment and I’m just upset because I embarrassed myself in front of half the court.” I slammed down my compact. “Where is my damn eyeliner?”
“Fine, you don’t like Ari.” Layla held up my missing eyeliner. “He has a girlfriend, anyway.”
I grabbed the black stick out of her hand. “I know. We’re just friends.”
“And Maestro is an angel.”
I stepped into my auditorium performance dress—a long, form-fitted black dress covered in sequins and capped sleeves. According to Maestro, the aesthetic for auditorium shows represented the kingdom’s bird with court members serving as its black beating wings and Maestro a
s its red body. According to Raya, Maestro wanted every eye in the auditorium on him so he wore a bright red tuxedo jacket for every show.
My heart pounded from Layla’s stubbornness, causing my fingers to slip on the dress’s zipper. Ari was my friend and nothing more. Why did everything with Mondarian girls have to center on their romantic interests? Why did they have to assume that every relationship was built on attraction?
Backstage of the auditorium, I had a whisper-conversation with Reese before the singers took the stage for our set. “Hey Reese, I’m sorry I kind of attacked you last night.”
“I didn’t completely mind it,” he said with a smile. “I was surprised since you already drank the Brew.”
“I know. There was something in that drink, and I just got carried away with the music. I don’t feel any sort of…I mean, you’re my friend, so—”
“It’s okay, you don’t have to explain,” Reese said. “And if I remember correctly, I might have attacked you back. Raya slipped me some drinks throughout Grape Stomp, so at the end of the night, I was a little buzzed. But if you really want to make it up to me…” Reese lifted his brows with a suggestive smirk.
I punched him in the arm.
“Ow! I was going to say ‘sing with me.’”
The music and lighting changed—our cue to take our positions. Even though I sang to an auditorium full of two thousand people, I worried about the one girl who stood beside me on the risers. I hated that I was the one to step up to the mic to sing a solo and receive a verbal “good job” from the man in the pit donning a bright red jacket.
It should have been Heather.
But Heather lied to Ari.
I allowed myself to enjoy the applause and the way the light danced across the sequins on my dress, making me feel like a glittering star. The show concluded with the entire court of the King’s 100 filling the auditorium with our powerful finale. The audience stood with a cheering ovation and I found myself intoxicated with the thrill of such exuberant adulation.
When we returned to the dressing room, I pulled out my chair to find a lavender rose with a note tied to it.
Your solo was beautiful, just like the woman you are…
I tucked the rose under the table and into my new court-issued bag, so nobody would see it. I struggled to breathe.
Layla touched my arm. “Paris, are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I mean…no. I’m not feeling well. I’m going back to the room.”
“Okay, well Staci and I were going to the Village, so I’ll be back late.”
I felt Layla’s eyes upon me as I changed out of my performance dress.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked. “Do you need me to hold your hair back or something?”
I pulled the bag strap over my shoulder. “No, I just need to rest.”
When I entered my room, I did nothing but stare at the card for the hours that Layla was gone. I traced the handwriting, smelled the paper and read the message hundreds of times. “Chip, do you have any copies of my mother’s handwriting?”
“No, Princess. I only have archived audio files. Would you like to hear them?”
“No.” I didn’t want to hear my mother’s voice until I saw her for myself. I smelled her at the Harvest Ball and she sent me a note for my first auditorium show. She was in Mondaria.
But even better, she knew I was in Mondaria. And aside from the excitement of another sign that my mother was alive, I felt relief in knowing my mother would be the one to take over the planning for our reunion. I no longer had to focus on plotting to find her.
She was alive.
The Queen of Capalon would take back her title.
She had a plan.
I just had to wait.
At breakfast the following morning, I unrolled my silverware from its napkin to find yet another handwritten note:
MEET ME IN THE MAGICIAN’S REHEARSAL STUDIO AFTER BREAKFAST
Rather than eat anything at all, I left Genevieve and Heather as soon as I finished reading my message. I passed Ari at his table of drummers on the way out. He turned his head as soon as I passed, like he hadn’t noticed me.
I held my breath as I opened the door to the rehearsal studio, only to find Darden tossing a coin in the air. I groaned. “Did you really need to surprise me with a note in my silverware? I thought our deal was off.”
“It is. I just need intel.” The coin disappeared from one hand, then reappeared in the other.
“What kind of intel?”
“Tell me what she likes. Does she have an affinity for a certain flower? Dessert? Bird?”
I leaned against a bookcase. “I’m really not in the mood for this right now.”
The coin reappeared across Darden’s knuckles. “I just don’t think a three-dimensional video of me doing magic will be tailored enough to her. I want her to be swept away to a place in her heart that is truly magical.”
I let out a groan. “Fine. Paris.”
Darden squinted through his frames. “Is…your name?”
“She has this obsession with the ancient city of Paris. Goes along with the whole culinary interest I guess.”
Darden nodded and reached for his notebook. “Paris…city of love.”
“City that no longer exists.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Darden closed his notebook. “So why are you still here?”
“We’re done? Okay, good, I can go eat my breakfast.”
“No, I mean why are you still in Mondaria? I thought you said you located your target.”
I fidgeted with a box with several latching sides. “Well…it’s more complicated than that. I think I’ve done what I need to do on my end. I’m just waiting for that person to make their next move.”
Darden nodded. “Well, I hope you’re here long enough for me to complete the trick. If it works, you’ll get some satisfaction from her reaction, too, since you were involved.”
I nodded, but I suddenly felt a strange mix of emotions. I should have secretly disagreed with Darden’s comment. I should have thought that I didn’t want to stay long enough to see his trick because I wanted my mother to take us back to Capalon as soon as possible.
But aside from my mother, there was something else I didn’t feel ready to leave—something that felt too…unresolved.
I spent the following weeks prowling the Mansion halls at late hours and revisiting the Records Room, only to come up short with information and signs of my mother. I convinced myself I would receive another message from her, but it never came. The pain of waiting for another note was matched with the pain of not having spoken to Ari since Grape Stomp.
We had been purposefully avoiding each other at breakfast and our busy schedule of rehearsals and shows didn’t exactly encourage time to talk. And even if I mustered the courage to speak with him, I didn’t feel well-versed enough in the realm of friendships and resolving conflicts to initiate a conversation.
It helped that Layla forced me to take trips with her to the Village on our down time, so I wouldn’t be tempted to linger in the Lounge and stare at the back of Ari’s head, wishing I knew the Mondarian way to fix what I’d damaged. And even though my deal was off with Darden, I continued to see Reese for our singing sessions and the occasional late-night solo work with Maestro. I kept busy interacting with people—just not the people who were on my mind the most.
I suggested a trip to the Village with Layla one day after Sanjay announced to the dining hall that it was Ari’s birthday. He forced Ari to stand on a chair while the whole room sang ‘happy birthday.’ Heather mentioned that the drummers planned to throw a birthday party for him in the Lounge that afternoon but I assumed Ari preferred I didn’t attend.
Layla loved going in and out of every shop in the Village, forcing me to smell scented candles that stung my nostrils or watch her try on articles of clothing she couldn’t afford. After eating hot ham and cheese sandwiches at a cafe called Melty Mountain, we passed a woman on the street standing as sti
ll as a statue next to a mailbox. She wore a casual brown jacket with sunglasses, blending in with the fall attire of the other shoppers, but there was something about her that felt familiar.
Layla watched me pause and look over my shoulder.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Nothing.” And then it hit me—the woman was one of our Compound’s patrol officers back in Capalon. I hurried forward toward the auto-taxi stop.
“Slow down, Paris. Did you see like an old ex or something?”
“Something like that. Just…don’t turn around, okay?” I didn’t slow my pace till we reached an available auto-taxi.
Layla leaned her head back as she caught her breath in the auto-taxi. “You know…some people—like you—try to avoid their exes. I get it. But…my strategy is to be right up in their faces so they can see the huge mistake they’ve made.”
I declined any further invitations to go to the Village after that incident. If my sister had Capalon Patrol officers in the Village, it would only take one look at my face for them to sweep me away back to Capalon. And I wouldn’t be able to cause a scene for risk of exposing myself, the Patrol officer and the whole reason why I was there in the first place. I would disappear from the court and leave my mother without being able to say hello or goodbye.
One day after another rose-less auditorium show, Layla begged me to go to the Village with her to start some early Christmas shopping. I stepped into the blue jeans from Genevieve and Heather after getting out of my performance dress. “I’m just going to stay at the Mansion today. I need some down time.”
“Suit yourself,” Layla said as she wiped her lipstick off with a solution-soaked cotton ball. “I heard Heather say she and Ari are going.”
I looked at her through the dressing-table mirror.
She smirked. “You sure do perk up when you hear your friend is hanging around another girl.”
Rather than spending time alone in my room, I felt the need to do something with my hands, so I headed to an open rehearsal studio with a piano. Between Chip and a few music books I took from the Lounge, I learned all the notes in C and D Major. I even managed to play a few basic tunes by reading notes in both the treble and bass clef.