by Karin Biggs
“Okay, fine—Maestro doesn’t have a secret lover.” Layla handed me a box of tissues.
I blew my nose into a tissue. “Can we just not talk about anything that has to do with lovers or kissing please?”
“Yes, I thought you’d never ask.” Layla hugged me, then headed to the dining hall to bring back breakfast to have together in our room before the auditorium show that afternoon.
When we finished our meal together, I threw my body across my bed. Layla wrote the note from the Harvest Ball. I exhaled, relieved it hadn’t been anyone else. But it still didn’t solve anything about my mother, and my birthday was quickly approaching. I told my sister I would be back in time for my match ceremony, but my mother still hadn’t arranged to meet me.
Was Maestro right? Was my mother truly dead? Had I followed a trail of false hope? I clenched my fists and blinked away a few more tears.
She had to be alive. If she wasn’t alive, I would have broken Ari’s heart for nothing. I took a deep breath and asked Chip to play my recorded evidence to settle my aching heart.
That afternoon, we performed our auditorium show and Maestro acted pleased with both my solo and the soprano section despite having nearly killed me over it the night before. After the close of the curtain, we changed for the Christmas Ball later that evening. I had been anxiously waiting to wear the bright red Christmas Ball gown for weeks. The strapless bodice sparkled with a starburst of crystals, and the flowing chiffon skirt danced with each movement. I couldn’t wait to see Ari’s reaction when he saw me wearing a gown in his favorite color, but after Layla zipped me up, I refused to look at myself in the mirror. The Christmas Ball was supposed to be one of the happiest occasions of the year but I felt like a stone throughout the whole event.
Having been swept away by the ballroom’s elegant decor just that morning, now I hated it—every light, strand of garland and Christmas tree, wishing it would all just disappear. Even worse, I had to put on a happy face with the guests and say things like “You’ll have to come back for a Mondarian snowfall, there’s nothing like it,” even though I had yet to see a single snowflake. And I danced with men under the same mistletoe where Ari and I had held each other in a tight, swaying embrace only hours prior.
I tried to stay focused on other things—like the fact the queen was absent due to a sudden illness, causing the king to leave the event before the dancing began. Or that Layla laughed with every dance partner and I assumed her joy revolved around the princes not returning to the Mansion until after the New Year. I made the mistake of staring at the back of a woman with blonde hair, only to see her spin around, dancing with the one boy I was trying not to look at the whole night.
Ari saw me and smiled with closed lips.
I wished he had looked at me like he hated me and wanted me to leave the Mansion. But his smile was kind, which was Ari to the core. Even after a girl rejected him, he was kind enough to offer her a smile and break her heart into a hundred more pieces, multiplying the already broken pieces by—
“May I have this dance?” Darden tapped my shoulder after I said goodbye to a guest.
“We’re not allowed to dance with each other, Darden.”
“But I have updates on a certain lost notebook. We’ll stay in the middle of the floor where we’ll be hidden.”
I stared at his red tie, hating the color staring back at me. “Make it quick.”
Darden pulled me to the center of the dance floor and led me in the Christmas Waltz. “After retracing my steps, I know for sure I had it in the dining hall before sectionals, so it had to go missing during sectionals.”
“You think another magician has your notebook?” I asked as Darden lifted his arm to twirl me.
“It’s possible. But I think it’s been lodged between something backstage or dropped under a seat and nobody has taken it.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because of the content, Miss Marigold. If a magician read the notebook and knew about a certain person on the court, they would have notified the guards immediately.”
“You didn’t notify the guard.”
“But I had an ulterior motive. And my ulterior motive led to an unexpected friendship,” he said with a smile.
But I only squinted. “So, nobody has the notebook because I would have been arrested or killed by now?”
“Yes! This is something to be happy about, Miss Marigold. Where’s your Christmas spirit?”
I sucked in a breath to keep the tears at bay. “It died this morning.”
“You need to find other dance partners. Now.” Agnes glared at us before switching her face back to jovial court lady.
Eventually the torturous evening ended. As I closed my eyes for the night, I was thankful for only one thing that had nothing to do with Darden’s notebook—that Christmas was over.
My dreams over the next few days were all the same—a performance of myself sitting in the middle of the auditorium stage, crying. My brain forced me to live in my own sadness, even while I slept.
“You don’t look good.” Layla packed a small bag on her bed.
I was supposed to be packing too, but the only thing I thought to take was a book.
“You’re like a sad, pale flower. I just want to set you out in the sun and tell you jokes till you perk up. You need some cheering up.”
I plopped my butt on her bed. “I have plenty of cheer. I’m a court lady. I’m full of cheer.”
She looked at me through her eyelashes. “Clearly.”
Somebody knocked three quick taps on our door. Layla opened it and I heard Agnes’s voice. “Have you guys seen Little Bernie?”
Layla looked at me and I shook my head.
“Nope, no cat sightings here,” Layla said.
Agnes sighed. “Okay, well let me know if you see him. And call-time is in the Lounge in two minutes.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Layla said.
She closed the door, then zipped up her bag. “Ready for a road trip to perform for a super-rich dude?”
“Yes, ma’am!” I put on my biggest fake smile. “See that?” I pointed to my cheeks. “That’s cheer.”
“No, that’s disturbing. Don’t do that. Let’s go.”
The returning court members were assigned to one of the Mansion’s luxury busses - complete with leather seats, carpeted flooring and even a rumored snack bar and lounge area at the back of the bus. But the New Members were assigned to an older model, with tightly packed seats in clumps of three, discolored plastic walls and large windows that lacked any kind of shade or tint. My heart pounded when Eric announced that our seats on the New Members’ bus were assigned in alphabetical order by Season in sections of three, which meant Marigold, McCray and Novak would all be sitting together. My heart pounded even harder when I watched Ari pause before taking his seat on the window. “I don’t think I can handle the window seat. Darden, can I switch with you?”
Darden and Ari switched seats so when I sat down, I was right next to Ari. If my heart had been pounding before, then it switched to nearly breaking free of my rib cage. I pulled out my book and Ari skimmed through a Mondarian tourist magazine from the seat pouch while tapping his heels against the floor. The three of us were silent as the bus rolled forward, but when we hugged a curve on a mountain slope, Ari’s body went rigid. “That was too fast. This driver needs to slow down. Don’t you think he needs to slow down?”
His head swiveled from me to Darden, to the row of court members behind us, which didn’t make it clear who he intended to answer his question.
Ari clutched the armrests, hitting my arm. “Sorry,” he said as he wiped his palms on the top of his legs. He grumbled something about the bus driver, then leaned his head forward to look out Darden’s window. “Oh, wow. Oh, wow. Look at that. Clouds. We’re as high as the clouds.” Ari closed his eyes and leaned his head back.
I stared out Darden’s window, mesmerized by the snowcapped peaks and grey clouds the clung to them. The bus bumped over something and
a strong hand gripped mine.
“Sorry.” Ari tucked his hands under his armpits and shut his eyes.
I fought the urge to cry. Had we been on the bus before Christmas, Ari wouldn’t have removed his hand from mine like my skin was deadly to the touch.
But then I heard something unimaginable—the drummer began to sing.
“I’m a man of Mondaria, strong as can be…” Ari paused as the driver took another sharp turn, then continued with a louder voice. “No money or big fancy Mansion for me. Up in the branches, I’m as high as the king. Don’t tell the queen, I’m drunk in a tree! No don’t tell the queen, I’m drunk in a tree!” He opened an eye to look at me.
“Well done, Mr. Novak,” I said with a laugh.
Darden groaned. “I think it’s best to leave the singing to Miss Marigold, friend.”
Ari rubbed his forehead. “My dad sings that song when he’s in a good mood.” He turned his head. “So, have you told him yet?”
“Told who what?” I asked, unable to meet Ari’s eyes.
“Told Reese that you like him.”
I caught Darden’s raised eyebrows behind Ari’s head.
“Oh. Um, no. Not yet.”
Ari shifted in his seat. “Maybe tonight’s the night. After our show. You can tell him at Sugar High.”
“What’s Sugar High?” I asked.
“The place we’re all going after our show for the Earl. It’s a nightclub with a trapeze,” Ari said.
“Oh.” I nodded like I knew what a trapeze was as the bus driver stopped for clearance at our destination’s security gate.
Ari let out an exhale. “We didn’t die.”
Darden slapped his friend on the back. “And what better way to celebrate conquering death than performing for the Earl of Moon Valley?”
The performance for the Earl and his family was shorter than our bus ride to the northernmost point of Mondaria. We weren’t even invited to stay for dinner and ate boxed meals on a bus as we traveled from the Earl’s estate to Sugar High.
We entered an old aviation hangar that had been transformed into a nightclub with a trapeze. Darden explained the trapeze to me, but I couldn’t grasp the concept until I watched the flying people inside the club. Three long nets formed a ceiling above our heads as people occasionally fell into them in a roar of laughter.
“What I love about this club, is that all the guys have to wear tight pants and no shirts if they want to do the trapeze,” shouted Raya over the loud music.
“And they have a room dedicated to making-out!” Jasmine pointed to a room with a blue neon sign above the door that said SUGAR CRASH. She and Raya handed some money to a server with a tray of small glasses, then downed the liquid and headed to the dance floor.
“Why would Maestro allow us to come here?” I shouted at Darden.
“Look behind you.”
I turned to see clouded glass doors with a neon sign above them that glowed the words SUGAR RUSH.
“They have a one-of-a-kind liquor here made with their high-intensity sugar.”
“So that’s what’s in those drinks?” I nodded to the server with the tray.
“Yeah, but it’s just the sugar mixed with water, no alcohol. The theory is that the sugar is so concentrated, it makes you brave.”
“That ridiculous. If anything, the sugar is absorbed through the bloodstream as—”
I watched in shock as Darden handed the server money and downed a glass of sugar water. “What are you doing?”
“Living.” He headed to the clothes-changing station for the trapeze which sat under the largest neon sign that read SUGAR HIGH.
Layla had somehow already made it to the top of the trapeze ladder in her nude bodysuit and waved down to me. I waved back, then grabbed a glass of plain water without sugar and lingered by the DJ’s table.
“Just as a reminder for everyone joining us, we haven’t had any takers for the Sky Dive Challenge! If you think you can do a catch without a net, then you’ll win your very own ‘I cheated death at Sugar High’ t-shirt and coupons for a free appetizer! Not to mention, bragging rights!” The DJ switched off his mic. “Are you part of the King’s 100?” he shouted to me.
I nodded. “Why would anyone ever do the Sky Dive?”
“For the t-shirt and coupons! And…because it’s not actually that life-threatening.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I work here a lot so I watch people swinging back and forth all the time. The ones who fall into the net either do it on purpose or they’re not communicating with their own partner. But the ones who use the instructors as partners get it almost every time.”
The DJ shouted something into the microphone as I ran some math in my head and observed the activity of trapeze lines above me. My observations and quick calculations matched the DJ’s hypothesis. I was about to shout another question to him when I spotted Heather and Ari on the dance floor. Something was off about Ari and I hadn’t noticed it before on the bus, but Ari wore a plain black collared shirt.
It had to be one of the shirts Heather gave him for Christmas.
Because of the loud music, Heather’s mouth nearly touched Ari’s ear as she spoke to him.
I saw Reese nearby and marched straight to him. He danced with me for a couple minutes, then asked if I wanted to go to the Sugar Crash Room with him. I nodded and clung to his arm as he led me away from the dance floor.
This is good. I’m selling my crush on Reese to Ari.
The Sugar Crash Room was lined with white couches and chairs tucked between sectioned walls under dim lighting. And like Jasmine and Raya had said, there were couples kissing on nearly every couch. Unlike the chest-pounding music of the trapeze area, the Sugar Crash room remained quiet with soft music playing in the background.
My heart started to beat wildly. Did Reese want to kiss me? Was Layla right? Could I solve all of our problems by kissing Reese?
Reese leaned into me and lifted an arm, so I leaned into him too and puckered my lips.
“Woah, what are you doing?” Reese looked at me with raised brows as he held a cup of water in his hand.
I looked behind me to see a small table with a water pitcher and cups.
“I thought you knew I liked Layla?” he asked.
“Yeah, I know that,” I said, suddenly wanting to disappear into the white cushions of our couch.
“Then…why did you try to kiss me?” asked Reese with a confused look.
“Um…I don’t know…I think I had too many sugar waters.”
“Yeah, that stuff is nasty. It’s definitely not helping my stomach.” Reese swallowed some water and upon closer observation, I spotted beads of sweat at Reese’s temples. He shivered and his face was pale even under the dim lighting.
“You’re sick!” I said a little too loudly, proud of my conclusion. “That’s why you wanted me to talk to you in the Sugar Crash Room.”
Reese winced. “Let’s hope not. I have my duet with Layla tomorrow. And apparently you and I now have a kiss together,” he said with a pained smiled.
“I’m sorry about Layla, Reese. She’s just…being stubborn.”
“No, I get it. I just wish I knew what guy did this to her.”
“Why?”
“To see why he’s so hard to get over. Maybe punch him in the face, too.”
I didn’t have the heart to tell Reese that punching Layla’s ex would mean punching his kingdom’s own prince, landing him in jail and on all the media channels in The Lands. “I hope you feel better, Reese. And I’m sorry for acting crazy.”
Reese smiled through heavy eyelids. “It’s okay. Like I said, I have that effect on—” Reese clutched his stomach and tore away from our couch. I stood to follow him but he entered the men’s bathroom. I lingered on the couch for a few minutes, then headed back out to the trapeze area.
Laughter turned my head to see Ari shirtless and Heather in one of the skin-tight nude bodysuits. Ari had two handprints on his chest where Heather
marked her hands in yellow paint that glowed under the luminescence of the UV lighting. Heather pulled them closer and closer together and then she whispered something in his ear. She laced her fingers in his and led him toward the Sugar Crash Room.
I sprinted to the DJ’s table and shouted my request.
“Attention Sugar High party people! We have our first Sky Diver for the night! I have—”
The DJ held the mic to my mouth. “Paris?”
“Paris from the King’s 100 is going to Sky Dive!” The DJ played some ominous music, and the club erupted in cheers. The DJ told me to head to the clothes-changing station where a young girl handed me my outfit. I changed and waited at the ladder for my instructor when a rough voice sounded behind me.
“Paris, what are you doing?”
I turned to see Ari’s angry face.
I found it to be a satisfying reaction to my newfound bravery. “I’m letting go, remember?” I dipped my finger in some orange paint and drew long, curvy lines down each arm.
“I didn’t mean kill yourself! You don’t have to do this.”
“I know I don’t have to. I want to.”
“But people have died doing this!” Ari grabbed my wrist before I could dip my finger in a bowl of pink paint.
I yanked free of his hold. “Then it was nice knowing you, Ari Novak.”
A muscular man met me at the ladder. “Okay, Sky Diver. I’m ready for you.”
I followed my instructor up the tall ladder and refused to look down at the diminishing floor or angry black-haired boy below me.
“Paris!” Layla waved to me once I reached the top of the ladder from the next platform over. “You’re actually doing the Sky Dive? You’re crazy! Don’t die! I love you!” Then she leapt from her platform and swung back and forth a couple times on the trapeze bar before letting go and falling into the net below in a fit of giggles.
My instructor, Karl, walked me through the steps of the catch—holding on to the fly bar on the swing forward, hooking my knees on the swing back, then reaching for him on the release on his cue of ‘hup.’ “Are you sure you’re ready to do this?” he asked. “Most people try it a couple times over the net first.”