by Ivy Ruthven
Chapter 13
During Monday’s English class, I sat alone in the last row. Ryan was not coming to school that day. He’d texted me earlier that morning to tell me but there had been no explanation. It was difficult to not feel worried for him. I hoped he didn’t fall sick.
He told me how much his father’s men were pressuring him to return to Islantia. Having seen my father deal with aristocrats and bureaucrats all his life, I knew how stressful it could be to have them around all the time. They had their own agenda and they would do all they can to take Ryan away.
Without Ryan’s presence, I could not keep focus during the class. When the bell rang for second period, I met up with Stacie. We’d barely gone a few paces when Mr. Varner came hurrying towards us.
“I have an announcement to make. Please come into my office,” he said. “You too, Jenny,” he said, looking past us.
Jenny walked with us as we followed Mr. Varner back to his office. The small room was already congested with Peter and the other members of our music team gathered there.
“I guess everyone is here,” said Mr. Varner, entering the room and taking his place behind the desk. “Michael Hawthorne from St. Paul’s Academy has sent invitations to the Hawthorne Christmas Ball on the evening of the twenty third. It’s a black tie event, so please dress appropriately.” He produced a stack of envelopes from within a drawer.
“Whoa!” said Jenny. “He invited us to the ball?”
Mr. Varner nodded. “You guys are lucky he’s going out of his way to show his appreciation towards our students.”
“That’s amazing! Thank you!” cried Jenny, jumping beside me. I glanced at Stacie. Her eyes were shining with excitement while her hands squeezed my arm painfully.
“You are allowed to take a partner with you. It could be a date or a friend but please, remember your manners!” said Mr. Varner through the excited murmurs. “There’ll be some important people present there, so do nothing that’d embarrass the school. Do you understand?”
“Of course, we won’t, Mr. Varner,” said Jenny at once. “I’ll keep an eye on everyone.”
“Good. Here you go,” he said, reading the names on the envelopes and handing them to each of us.
The envelopes were of premium cream paper. They were addressed in an elegant handwriting. Opening it, I read the same invitation that Mr. Varner had narrated earlier.
“I have nothing to wear to this event,” I said, turning to Stacie. “Do you?”
When there was no reply, I looked up from my invitation. Stacie’s lip was quivering. There was no envelope in her hand.
“What’s wrong, Stacie?” I asked.
“She didn’t get one,” said Jenny. “These are only reserved for the participants. They can’t invite any riffraff to the ball.”
“I’m sorry, Stacie,” said Mr. Varner. “Would you like me to ask for an extra invite?”
“No,” she said in a low voice. Without another word, she ran out of the room.
“She has a lot of growing up to do,” said Jenny with a frown.
“Please excuse me, Mr. Varner,” I said before hurrying out of the room.
I remembered Stacie telling me how much she’d always wanted to go the Hawthorne Ball. It was really terrible to be cut off from this after she worked so hard to set things up for the competition. She rarely asked for any acknowledgments but this time, it had been something that she’d desired all her life.
After searching the library and the cafeteria, I found her in the girl’s bathroom on the second floor. She was crying by herself in front of the mirrors.
“Why are you here?” she asked. “Why aren’t you with the others discussing what you’re going to wear?”
“Don’t be silly. I don’t care for the ball. Take my invitation.” I thrust the envelope in her hand.
She looked at it for a moment. “It has your name on it.”
“Then pretend to be me. Just go, all right? Take anyone you want.”
Anger flashed in her usually soft eyes. “I don’t want it! Why can’t I have one with my name on it? Why do I always get ignored?” She put the envelope back into my hand.
“I’m sorry, Stacie. Michael probably just copied the names from a list or something. He doesn’t have any idea what you do for the team and the school.”
“I’m so pathetic,” she said with a hollow laugh. “Jenny will never let me hear the end of it.”
“Don’t worry about her. I’ll always support you.”
A sad look replaced her anger. “Thanks, Olivia. I guess I was just looking for some relevance among you talented folks. This is just a reminder I don’t belong in the limelight.” She wiped her face hastily with her hands and walked past me.
I turned towards my reflection in the mirror. My mouth had a downward turn and my eyes looked pained.
Taking a deep breath, I walked out of the bathroom.
Instead of going to the third floor to attend a History lesson, my feet took me to the school’s main gate. The area around it was deserted and there were no guards nearby. After scanning the place one more time, I opened the gate and slipped through it.
I had been planning to visit Michael Hawthorne that week anyway. There was still the thousand-dollar check to return to him. The last time I saw him, I was in too much of a shock to remember about it.
Clutching my bag, I walked to the bus stop. I would return the check to him and request another invitation for Stacie. After that, she could do what she wanted with it but I was determined to show her that I valued her.
Once in a while, everyone deserved to feel that someone cared for them. She’d been by my side all through these months when I was not interested in being friends with anyone. It was my turn to support her now.
To my luck, no one saw me boarding the bus to St. Paul’s Academy. The place had been empty that hour of the morning. Even the bus was not crowded. After paying at the front, I picked a seat and relaxed.
While we crossed the streets, I wondered how angry Ryan would be if he knew that I’d gone to St. Paul’s Academy to meet Michael Hawthorne alone. Perhaps, it was stupid of me to trust him but deep within I knew something had changed inside Michael. If he really wanted to hurt me, I’d be in a hospital getting my bones mended.
After a half an hour ride, the bus dropped me at the gates of St. Paul’s Academy. One guard came towards me and asked me what I wanted.
“I don’t have an appointment,” I said. “But I’d like to request a meeting with Michael Hawthorne. Please tell him Olivia Buchannan wants to see him.”
The guard took in my appearance, thought for a moment before nodding. “Please wait there. I’ll be right back.”
The man returned within a minute. “You may go in. He’s waiting for you in the Chancellor’s Reading Room.” He slid the heavy gate and allowed me to step inside.
“Thank you. I know the way.”
I set off down the familiar path to the school’s main building. Students walked through the corridors as it was a regular Monday morning. Since I was not in uniform, I attracted a lot of attention from them. Ignoring them, I continued on my way to the Chancellor’s room.
Pushing the heavy carved mahogany door, I went inside. Michael stood up as soon as he heard me coming in.
“This is a surprise,” he said. “A pleasant one, I might add.”
“I’m sorry to come without an appointment. You could have been in a class.”
“I’m not. Take a seat and tell me if you’d like to drink something.”
The incident when he’d offered me a drink last time came up in my mind. Suppressing a shudder, I shook my head. “Could we just talk?”
“Sure,” he said, gesturing towards one of the plush sofas.
I sat down and looked up at his curious face. “I have a favor to ask actually.”
“Go on.”
“My friend, Stacie, is a big part of the music team. She arranges the things in the auditorium, keeps things on track and we owe her so
much. I was wondering if you could give an invitation to the Christmas Ball. If there are limited places, I understand. I can give back my invitation.” I took the envelope from my bag and put it on the low table that stood between us.
He brought the tips of his fingers together and stared at me. “You’re here to ask a favor for a friend. Not for yourself.”
“If you extend an invite to my friend, I’d consider it as a favor towards me.”
His pale gray eyes were wary as they stared at me. My heart thumped but I kept my gaze steady.
He sighed. “Fine.” Standing up, he went to a desk in the corner and took out a wad of envelopes. Pulling one out, he turned towards me. “What’s her name?”
“Stacie Abbott.”
He took a pen from his breast pocket and wrote on the envelope. Placing it back in his pocket, he said, “Here, you go.”
I took it and waited.
“What?” he asked.
“That’s it? You won’t ask me for a sacrifice?”
His face cracked into a fang-toothed grin. “I see you have a sense of humor about you.”
I shrugged. “When I’m not being attacked, I can be nice.”
“Good to know. However, I’ll insist strongly that you come to the ball. I’ll be hurt if you don’t.”
“I’ll do my best to come,” I said. It all depended on whether I could fit into one of Sarah’s old prom dresses. “There’s one other thing though.” My hands dug into my bag and brought out the check. “Please take this back.”
He looked surprised. “I meant to give that you.”
“Why?”
“I know you work hard at the café. Why you do that escapes me but I decided you were into charity and that sort of thing and raising money for the poor. People do that sort of thing all the time.”
“You’re giving me way too much credit. I work to pay for school stuff.”
“Again. Why?”
I hesitated. It was one thing to tell Ryan about what happened with my uncle but Ryan was still very much a stranger even though he was suddenly making effort to friendly.
“I can’t explain that right now. I’m sorry. Please, take it back.” I placed the check on the table.
“You are still as intriguing and intriguing as the first day I laid my eyes on you,” said Michael. “Are you sure you still like that boyfriend of yours? You could give it a try with me.” His smug grin was back.
My cheeks heated while my mind whirred to come with an appropriate reply. I couldn’t really be rude after he’d just done me a favor.
“I still like him very much,” I said quickly. “Thank you, though.”
Michael chuckled. “You’re so cute.”
I blushed harder. Standing up, I forced myself to look at him. “Thank you so much for today. I really appreciate it. Bye.”
“Good bye.”
Once I was outside the school, I took my phone and called Stacie.
“History just got over,” she said in a hushed tone. “Where are you?”
“I am coming back to school now. Meet me near the cafeteria gates before lunch. Don’t go in without me.”
“Okay but where are you?”
“I’ll tell you all about it when I get back. Bye!”
I cut the call and nearly jumped from the excitement coursing through me. There was no reason for Stacie to refuse now. The ball might just turn out to be fun.
All I wanted now was for Ryan to be free from the pressures of his father.
Chapter 14
My stunt of visiting Michael Hawthorne definitely brought back Stacie’s cheer. On the other hand, Ryan became very upset with me.
He remained moody at school, refused to speak at all when others were around and even stopped going to the teashop in the afternoons. The only time we talked properly was at night when he’d call me. From what I could gather, his father remained persistent. He would not take Ryan’s refusal to go back to England.
“I don’t want to go,” Ryan would say each time we talked but as the days passed by, his stubbornness was gradually turning to desperation.
I hated listening to the pain and anxiety in his voice. He’d always been so cool and collected in every situation but now, it felt like he was being trapped and he had nowhere to go.
“It’s the last day of school tomorrow before the holidays,” I said. “It will be better than being cooped up in the house with Mr. Blackmoore and all the men your father is sending to talk to you.”
A loud sigh escaped me. “I will try. Lately, they want me to stop going to school. They’re even talking about erasing my records.”
“No,” I gasped as dread settled into my stomach. “It’s like they don’t even care about what you want anymore.”
“They don’t. Listen, there’s no point talking about this any longer. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Good night,” I mumbled, switching off the call. I wanted to say I loved him but didn’t want to say it the first time over a phone call. With everything going on, I never even got a chance to tell him how I felt.
Punching my pillows to bring them into a more comfortable position, I lay back. Even though I was tired after school and a full shift at the teashop, sleep didn’t come to me. Frustration and worry consumed me.
Giving up, I sat up and put on my robes. The house was quiet, so I took care not to make a lot of noise as I headed to the kitchen to make myself a cup of hot chocolate.
As I stirred the contents of a small steel pot, something occurred to me. In all this time, I hadn’t bothered to find out much about Islantia. My knowledge about the neighboring kingdom was mostly factual and limited to knowing who the king was, that the weather wasn’t too different from Britain and that they rivaled Scotland and Ireland in terms of whiskey making.
After pouring the hot chocolate in a large mug, I went back to my room and turned on the computer. I opened my favorite search engine and typed out “Latest news in Islantia.”
A number of articles came up on the screen. Most of them were noting whether the monarchy would continue without any announced heir to the throne. Noble families were at each others’ throats hoping to claim the position for themselves but the king was still maintaining silence over the issue.
I scrolled through the articles and more issues came up. The country’s economy was also jeopardized because of the atmosphere of uncertainty. Businesses were afraid to invest in the market and poverty levels were on the rise over the last ten years.
Photographs of poor children in the streets and people rioting in front of the royal palace were all over the newspaper articles. From everything I read, the situation could be controlled if the King would only reassure the people that there was going to be a successor after him.
And for that he needs Ryan.
The thought came up on its own. My hand holding the mug shook while I sobbed with my head on my hands. No matter how much either of us denied reality, he was more than a regular American teenager. He was the rightful heir to the throne of England and an entire country was waiting for him to step up. To not accept his role was …selfish and almost treason.
I burst out in tears. Ryan would have to go back to Islantia. Even though I knew it would be difficult to live with the same people who’d mistreated both him and his mother, he’d have to go.
That night, I cried myself to sleep.
“Are you sick, Oli?” asked James when I sat down at the kitchen table next morning. “You look terrible.”
Making a face at him, I poured juice into a glass.
“You do look tired, honey,” said Sarah.
“I’m fine, Mother,” I muttered. “Just didn’t get enough sleep last night.”
“I heard you talking to Ryan late at night. Don’t you guys enough time at the school?” asked James.
The grip on my glass tightened as I tried to stop my lips from trembling. He didn’t know about Ryan’s real identity and I couldn’t say it to either him or Sarah.
“I’m sorry I
need to go,” I said quickly and stood up abruptly. Before my mother could stop me, I picked up my coat and bag, and jogged towards the front door.
I breathed better in the cold, chilled air outside. Pulling on my coat and gloves, I walked towards school. Even without breakfast, I didn’t feel hungry that morning.
Ryan was outside the school gates. His tall frame was easily noticeable among the gathering crowd there. Even from a distance, I caught his blue gaze.
My breath got caught in my throat, stopping me in my steps. What I was about to do could make him hate me forever. Fear made my heart beat a fast tempo.
With a confused look, Ryan began walking towards me. My sudden halt must have seemed odd to him.
His smile disappeared as soon as he stepped closer to me. “What’s wrong, Olivia?” he asked, his brows creasing as he stared down at me.
“Let’s skip school today.”
“What?”
“It’s the last day anyway. Even the teachers won’t care much. Come on,” I said, taking hold of his hand and leading him away from the gates.
“Wait!”
Ignoring him, I continued to pull him along with me. When we’d left the school behind, I stopped and sat down on a wooden bench under a cluster of trees. Ryan took a seat beside me.
“You must go back,” I blurted out.
He stared at me with those blue eyes, studying me. A few moments passed and then he asked, “Who threatened you? Was it Campbell?”
“No.” Taking a deep breath to stop the sobs rising to my throat, I said, “I want you to go back and take up your responsibilities. People need you to do that. Your people.”
“You’re lying, Olivia. I’ve heard of this non-sense from my father’s advisors. Why are you suddenly repeating their words to me? Tell me who came to you. Now!”
His face burned with a cold rage. He scared me but I swallowed my fears and took my phone out. I tapped the search words onto the mobile web browser and showed him the results.
“I don’t want to read them,” he said, leaning away from the phone.
“You must, Ryan. This is not some made-up reports filled with lies. Things are really bad in England right now. There’s a way to bring peace…to stop all this.”