Prince of Gulbrania

by Lauren M. Flauding

  “Are these yours?” He asked.

  “Yeah,” I said reluctantly, not really wanting to talk about my illness with some stranger.

  “My nephew takes these,” Mack said, turning the bottle in his hands.

  “Really?” I said with genuine surprise. “It’s a very rare disease.”

  “Yeah, you’re lucky to be alive.” He gave me a meaningful look, then smiled and ripped the paper off of his clipboard. “Here are all the numbers,” he said, handing me the paper. “My contact information is at the bottom if you decide you’d like to have the windows replaced.” Then he walked briskly down the stairs and out the door without another word. I went down to the living room, looking at the paper he had given me. It was mostly illegible, except for a large number which I assumed was the estimate. I peered out the front window, but Mack was nowhere in sight. The only person I saw was Zane, the eleven year old kid who lived next door, who was out on the sidewalk trying to fly some kind of droid. That kid was almost as nosy as he was annoying, always coming over to our house and asking me random questions. My mom was nice to him, so maybe that’s why he hung around so much. I turned and went back into the front room.

  Milo looked at me as I walked in. “Is he gone already?” He asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “That guy was weird,” Milo said, picking up the remote and switching to a crime show.

  I nodded and sat down on the couch, putting the paper on a side table. I made a mental note to tell my mom about it when she got back.

  Chapter Five

  Kayla

  “And remember, homecoming is only two weeks away! Make sure to get in your votes for homecoming royalty!”

  Our student body president, James Huckston, finished his announcements and then motioned for me to help him remove the platform and the microphone from the football field. I jumped up from my seat on the first row of bleachers and grabbed the other side of the platform.

  “Thanks, Kayla,” James said as we hefted the wooden structure off to the storage shed. “I figured I’d let you have a taste of this because you’ll probably be student body president next year.”

  I smiled. “That’d be cool,” I replied, attempting nonchalance. In reality, I had been planning to run for student body president since I was a freshman.

  “Hey, have you solidified the schedule for the pep rally?”

  “Pretty much. I confirmed everything with all the speakers and groups, and I just need to get the music approved for the dance team.”

  James nodded in approval. “Awesome. I don’t know what this school would do without you.”

  We stored the platform in the shed and I returned to my seat on the bleachers and waited for the football game to begin. The players were all on the field doing warm-ups, and I had no trouble spotting Wyatt. He waved at me and I couldn’t help but smile as I waved back.

  I saw Miranda break from the other cheerleaders and head my way.

  “Hey Kayla!” She exclaimed as she ran up to me in her skimpy uniform. “Will you vote for me for homecoming princess? I’ve been asking as many people as I can.”

  “Of course,” I responded, still watching Wyatt out of the corner of my eye.

  “Thanks! And spread the word, I know you have a lot of influence.”

  I frowned as she made her way back to her position and started cheering. We had been best friends since middle school, but lately I’d noticed a shift in our relationship. She seemed more concerned with popularity and boys than anything else, which was understandable, I had plenty of those feelings and distractions as well, but more often she was making me feel like a stepping stone rather than a partner in crime.

  A whistle blew, signaling the start of the game. We were playing some small school who had an underdeveloped football program, so it really wasn’t much of a contest, but I still loved the atmosphere and the energy of it all. I also didn’t mind watching Wyatt out there, who was pretty talented as a tight end. The night air was cool and crisp and hinted at the beginning of fall, which was a season that always excited me.

  A sudden commotion drew my attention to the far end of the bleachers, and I felt a sinking feeling when I saw what it was. Frog was filling his janitorial duties and was sweeping up trash in the bleachers, but people were purposely throwing popcorn and other debris at him.

  “You missed a wrapper, Frog!” One girl taunted.

  “Make sure you get that hot dog,” another boy yelled.

  Frog didn’t react. He just kept his head down and systematically swept up the trash as everyone laughed at his expense. I felt a twinge of guilt. Nobody should be treated like that, especially after he had saved us all from disaster in chemistry lab yesterday. And yet, I couldn’t bring myself to interfere. Maybe deep down Miranda and I were more alike than I thought.

  *****

  “This is their language?” Frog asked, peering closer at the squiggly script. “It looks like noodles. Just the shape of it is making me hungry.”

  I held back a laugh and continued reading. “Yes. They have their own writing system, which dates back to as early at 405 AD.”

  We were sitting in world cultures class, reading through articles about Armenia on my laptop, and it had been surprisingly enjoyable. Not only did I love learning new things about the small country, but Frog kept making funny comments. I never would have guessed that he could be so entertaining.

  “What else does it say?” Frog said, angling himself so he could get a better look at the screen.

  “Let’s see,” I said, scrolling down. “Their traditional bread is called lavash,” I said, pointing to a picture of a large piece of flat bread.

  “Hm. It looks like a tortilla, except that it’s big enough for me to sleep in.”

  I snickered and went to the next bullet point. “They are known for their music - an instrument called the duduk is native to the country, and the pomegranate is their national symbol of fertility.”

  Frog raised an eyebrow. “They have a fertility symbol? Well, I guess that’s one way to encourage population growth.”

  At this, I burst out laughing, drawing the attention of half of the class, but I couldn’t help it. Across the room, Miranda gave me a nasty glare, but I ignored her. Incredibly, Mr. Jacobs didn’t scold me, he just glanced over at us and smirked.

  I pulled myself together and looked back at Frog. “You’re funny,” I told him. He ducked his head in embarrassment and I dipped my head to meet his eyes. “Really, you are. You should do stand up comedy or something.”

  He gave me a tentative smile, and I was surprised at how straight his teeth were.

  “Maybe I should,” he mused. “Although usually I don’t have to do much for people to laugh at me.” He had said it lightly, but I detected a sadness in his tone.

  I thought about what had happened at the football game the night before and chose my words carefully. “Does it bother you? All the stuff people do to you?”

  He swallowed and took a deep breath. “Nah. I consider it community service. If I’m always getting picked on, that means everyone else is spared.”

  I smiled. “That’s a very diplomatic answer. That will come in handy if you ever decide to go into politics.”

  He looked at me with an expression that was unreadable. I couldn’t help but notice that his hazel eyes, even though they were too big for his face, were really quite beautiful.

  “Well, how are we going to present this?” Frog asked, gesturing to the laptop. I could tell he wanted to change the subject.

  “Mr. Jacobs wants us to be creative,” I responded, looking to the front of the classroom where our teacher was drawing intricate patterns on the chalkboard. “I think it’d be cool to do a video, but I don’t know how to do any editing.”

  Frog shifted in his seat. “I do.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. A couple years ago me and my friend Milo tried making a bunch of stunt videos. The stunts didn’t go very well, but I learned a lot of stuff about e
diting the clips so that we didn’t look so stupid.”

  I chuckled. “I’d love to see those videos.”

  “Not a chance.”

  I closed my laptop. “Okay, let’s make a video, if that’s okay with you?”

  “Sure. But we’ll probably have to spend some time on it outside of class.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “Alright. Do you want to come over to my house next Wednesday?”

  I hesitated. Going to his house came with a new set of implications. What would people think? Stop it, Kayla, I thought. It’s just a project. Plus, Frog was turning out to be a rather pleasant person.

  “Sure,” I said finally. That’d be great.”

  The bell rang, signaling the end of class, and everyone started to leave.

  “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Frog said awkwardly before heading for the door.

  “See you.” I gathered my things, amazed at how my perspective of Frog had changed so much in just one hour.

  Chapter Six

  Frog

  I mopped the floors of the hallways after school, but it didn’t even feel like work. I was still elated over the exchange I had had with Kayla earlier in world cultures class. I don’t know why I had been so comfortable talking with her. Maybe it was because I knew I had nowhere to go but up. Just the memory of her laughing at the things I said and actually complimenting me made me feel like I could conquer a small country. I heard people talking as I neared the student government room, and when I heard my name, I stopped outside the door. I didn’t want to listen, but when someone’s talking about you, it’s almost like an invisible force keeps you from walking away.

  “I can’t believe how you were acting with Frog today.”

  “What are you talking about?” Responded the unmistakable voice of Kayla Morrison. I felt my pulse quicken.

  “You were laughing, and smiling, and being nice to him... it was so embarrassing!”

  “Miranda, he’s got a really great sense of humor! Why shouldn’t I be nice to him?”

  “Because you fraternizing with him is going to bring us both down.”

  Kayla snorted. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes! We’re best friends, and everything you do reflects back on me! I don’t want people thinking we associate with him!”

  There was a pause before Kayla responded. “I don’t want to talk about this right now. We have work to do.”

  “Just promise me you won’t become friends with him.”

  “I can’t promise that.”

  Miranda huffed. “Well, at least promise me you won’t kiss him.”

  “Wow, Miranda, you are being ridiculous.”

  “Well, you never know...”

  “Can we get back to work? I need to reserve the theater for the talent show, and we need to post a sign up sheet in the hall before we leave. Could you print one out?”

  “Okay, fine,” Miranda said glumly.

  I quietly retreated down the hall as they talked about plans for the talent show, shaking my head at their odd conversation. One thing was for sure, I didn’t like that Miranda girl very much, but I was glad that Kayla had sort of defended me. I was pretty bummed that the thought of kissing me was ‘ridiculous’ to her, but I couldn’t blame her.

  I ducked into a classroom when I saw the two girls come out and tape a paper on the wall, and I stayed out of sight until they had walked down the hall and disappeared around the corner. I walked over and read the paper, which was a sign up for the talent show that was happening the next week. I’d actually always wanted to perform in something like that, but the thought of getting up in front of everyone made my tongue go dry. If only I could perform anonymously, I thought. Suddenly, an idea formed in my head, and before I knew it, I was writing on the first line of the paper. I don’t know why I was feeling so courageous. Maybe it had something to do with hormones.

  *****

  I was practicing my guitar when my mom got home. She came in the door with her suitcase and an expression that looked a lot more strained than usual. I stood up to greet her and give her a hug. I might have been a moody teenager, but I wasn’t past giving my mom hugs. She traveled so much that deep down there was a part of me that worried she’d be involved in a plane crash or something.

  “How was your trip, mom?”

  “Oh, fine,” she responded, looking distracted. “This company was a little... unyielding.”

  She set her suitcase by the couch and took off her jacket, crossing to the closet to hang it up. She always managed to look elegant, whether she was dressed up for a work meeting or at home in her pajamas. It was a trait I had apparently not inherited.

  “I made dinner,” I said. “Grilled chicken.”

  She turned and smiled at me. “That was a very noble thing to do,” she commented, inspecting her plate on the table.

  I shook my head. Sometimes my mom had a weird way of saying things. I sat down across from her and noticed an odd pin on her shirt.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  She looked down and almost seemed alarmed for a moment, then straightened and looked back at me. “It’s just a brooch your father gave me back in Gulbrania. I wear it every now and then,” she said casually, as if she hadn’t just mentioned the two things she rarely talked about.

  My memories of Gulbrania were hazy at best. There was a lot of food, and a lot of adults, and a lot of cold weather. I spent most of my time playing alone in large, sterile rooms, and I hardly ever got to go outside. I knew my parents were kind of important because there were always fancy people coming to see them. My grandfather lived there too, but I only saw him a couple times. He always seemed to be in a hurry. My grandmother had died before I was born.

  We left Gulbrania when my grandfather died and moved to the United States just before I turned four. Those first few years in Indiana were some of the best of my life. Our family was really close, my father spent a lot of time with me, and I had friends. Those were the years I used to play almost every day with Kayla, who had lived just a few houses down the street. Then, when I turned seven, everything changed. My dad got in an accident and hurt his shoulder pretty bad. He recovered from it quickly, but I guess it affected him more than he let on. My parents started fighting, having hushed conversations in their bedroom that would turn into shouting matches. About this time, Kayla moved to a different house, and I hardly saw her. Then one night my father left with no explanation and never came back. By the time I was eight, I was diagnosed with liver disease and had to start taking those awful pills.

  “Is everything okay, honey?”

  My mom’s question brought me out of my memories. “Yeah, I was just thinking about my homework,” I lied.

  “Did anything happen while I was gone?” She asked.

  I mentally reviewed the last few days. The chemistry lab almost blew up, people threw trash at me at the football game, I had an amazing conversation with Kayla, and I’d signed up for the talent show.

  “Nope. Everything’s been pretty normal,” I replied.

  She narrowed her eyes at me, knowing that I wasn’t being honest, but for some reason, this time, she let it go. I guess work was really stressing her out more than usual.

  Chapter Seven

  Kayla

  “Drill team, you’re up next,” I called out to the crowd of people waiting in the hallway.

  We were halfway through the pep rally, and it was going really well. The performances and contests had been great, and the students were engaged and having a good time. I slipped back into the gymnasium to watch the marching band play their last song, and then I ushered in the drill team. I was full of adrenaline. This was the kind of thing I loved. Being busy, watching everything come together. I was about to go into the hallway again when Sadie Garrett, my junior class vice president, walked up to me.

  “Hey Kayla, the talent show sign up is full,” she said, handing me the paper. “It looks pretty good, but I’m not sure about the first sign up.”
>
  I read what was written on the first line. “The Shadowed Singer.” I frowned. It sounded sketchy. It could be some idiot determined to ruin the show. “Well, they put their contact information there, so let’s just be sure to figure out who it is and what they’re planning before we let them perform,” I said.

  “Sounds good, I’ll get on that.” Sadie responded. “How are you doing right now? Do you need any help?”

  “Yeah. Could you let the football team know they’re going to have a couple extra minutes for their presentation? We’re a little ahead of schedule.”

  “Absolutely.” Sadie disappeared into the hallway and I turned my attention back to the drill team. I noticed some liquid had been spilled on the floor in front of the bleachers. The cheerleaders were on next, and I knew that a couple of them would be tumbling in that spot. If they slipped, it could be devastating. I looked around for a janitor, but I couldn’t find one. I glanced down at my clothes. I was wearing a cardigan over a tank top. It was a warm day and I really didn’t need the extra layer, plus it could be easily washed.

  When the drill team finished, I rushed over to the spill, whipped off my cardigan and quickly mopped it up. I heard some cheers and whistles as I finished, and I blushed and gave a small wave before heading back to my post by the hallway. I couldn’t help but think about Frog and how he had been treated as he cleaned up at the football game, how his experience had been so different from mine. I guess a little popularity made a difference after all.

  The cheerleaders ran out and got everyone pumped up with their high energy routine and gymnastics. I noted with some satisfaction that one of the girls did in fact do a back handspring in the spot that I had just cleaned up. I watched Miranda and smiled. It seemed like she had enough energy for the whole team. They finished to loud cheering, and then the football team came in, making the students go wild. I let myself gaze at Wyatt for a few minutes before I went over to the sound board to prepare the music for the end of the rally. As the football team ended their presentation, James Huckston walked to the front to announce the homecoming royalty. I was mainly tuning it out until I heard my name.