The Hypothesis of Giants- Book One: The Assumption

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The Hypothesis of Giants- Book One: The Assumption Page 13

by Melissa Kuch


  “Yeah, because I’m the fattest girl in this country,” she thought, putting on the black shoes that were too small for her feet. She knew that she would have huge welts on her feet after a night of dancing. That is, if she were even asked to dance. Memories of the high school spring formal came back to haunt her as she recalled going to the dance alone and wondering if she would dance with Jonathan. She had worn a floral print dress that her mother had picked out for her. The pattern made her look like a giant cabbage patch and was not becoming to her figure, but her mother insisted that since florals looked good on her, they would work for her daughter as well.

  As soon as she arrived, several of the students pointed out the large garden that had just popped up into the school gym. She was horrified and wished that she had someone she could sit with or talk to, but everyone was in their cliques, and Mary wouldn’t have been caught dead at a spring formal. The girls in her class didn’t even bother to speak to her, except to comment negatively on her dress. The other girls looked perfectly polished, so elegantly dressed, with their hair all styled and makeup professionally painted on their faces. She watched them dance with the boys in the center of the decorated gym as she sat in a corner. The band played slow songs and fast songs, and she was envious of all of them. Of course, Hattie looked beautiful in a blue silk dress that was just above her knee, revealing her long, thin legs. Jonathan was as handsome as ever in a white dress shirt, navy blue vest and tie, and his hair was free flowing, not in a ponytail like it normally was. She got up to get some punch and, as if it was synchronized, Jonathan also walked over to the table; their hands simultaneously touched the ladle for the punch, and she quickly removed her hand in a hurry. Jonathan smiled and poured a cup, handing it to Aurora.

  “You were here first,” he said, his pearly white teeth sparkling in the light. A slow song was playing and Aurora hoped he would ask her to dance. But Hattie was over before he had a chance to do anything but smile. She grabbed the cup out of Aurora’s hand, saying, “Oh, I think that’s for me.”

  She took a drink and then grabbed Jonathan’s hand. “Come on, Jonathan. This is our song.”

  “I poured that for Aurora,” he said, pulling his hand away from her.

  “I thought you were just watering the flowers. You probably didn’t realize there was a girl underneath that rosebush.”

  She then threw the rest of the punch into Aurora’s face. A crowd of people started to congregate around them.

  Aurora stood there, panicking, when all of a sudden a voice boomed over the loud speakers. It was Boreas, drunk and singing the song “Sweet Caroline.” Everyone started laughing as he ran up and down the stage away from the band leaders, who were trying to steal the microphone out of his hands. Hattie started laughing, and Jonathan raced up on stage and tackled his brother, knocking the microphone out of his hands. Jonathan punched him, but Aurora hadn’t waited to find out what else happened. The distraction was enough for her to race out of the gym before anyone else could say anything negative about her. She could only handle so much humiliation for one night. She ran all the way home, remembering how Jonathan had handed her the cup first. He had intended for it to be for her. Not for Hattie.

  Aurora smoothed the beautiful maroon dress, thinking how different it would have been if she had worn this dress and not the floral one to the spring formal. Jonathan might have even asked her to dance. Things would have been really different, but that world seemed so far away at the moment. She didn’t know if she would ever return to Candlewick High. She didn’t know where she would be tomorrow. She just knew that she had to get through this night and find out how they could find Pierre Gassendi’s heir, wherever he was.

  A knock came from the door, and she heard Boreas say from the other side, “Hey, you ladies decent in there?”

  Aurora smoothed out her dress one more time and sucked in her stomach. Mrs. Xiomy put a hand on her shoulder and smiled. “You look radiant, Aurora.”

  Boreas walked in looking so debonair that she couldn’t believe her eyes. His hair was gelled to the side, and he was wearing a tuxedo that brought out his hazel eyes. He was now clean shaven, and she could see the outline of his mouth that curved upward into a beautiful smile as he looked at her.

  “Hi, Aurora. You look…”

  “You don’t have to say anything,” Aurora said, turning back toward the mirror, and nervously fidgeting with her dress.

  “I meant to say you look good.”

  Aurora watched his reflection through the mirror. “Thanks. You do too.”

  His eyes danced, as he leaned to one side against the doorway. “Umm, that guy Charlton said I had to escort someone into the gala…so since we’re all dressed up and everything…umm…can I escort you? Or do I need to fight a hundred other guys for the honor?”

  She laughed at the playfulness of his eyes. “You just have to fight about fifty, but that should be a piece of cake for you.”

  She followed him out of the room and there stood Otus looking so shy and sublime. He was also dressed in a tuxedo, and Babs had gotten the proportions exactly right, despite the anguish of having to measure him. He had his hair cut slightly so that his bangs were now out of his eyes, and he wore black dress shoes.

  “Otus, you look so handsome,” Aurora beamed.

  “I hoped you would say that.” He smiled back at her, blushing. He then held out his hand toward Mrs. Xiomy. “You look ravishing, and I,” he paused, trying to remember the words, “would love to have the honor of escorting you to the gala.”

  “Well, this is definitely a first,” Mrs. Xiomy gushed. “To be escorted by a giant is definitely a new one for me. But I would be delighted.”

  They headed down the hall following the Great Secretary, who was looking as frazzled as ever, still dressed in his long brown robe. He had a microphone in his ear and walked at an irregular pace, suggesting that they were running behind schedule. Aurora cursed her shoes that were already scraping against the sides of her feet. She noticed a slight hole in the back of Boreas’s jacket and laughed, thinking Babs got her revenge on him for stealing her measuring tape.

  “Are you ready?” he asked, clutching onto her arm with more ferocity.

  “Well, it will hopefully be better than the spring formal,” she said softly, feeling her face already starting to perspire as they approached the bronze double doors that she’d heard Mrs. Xiomy say were from St. Patrick’s Cathedral in New York City.

  Boreas looked at her and smiled, “Yeah, hopefully I won’t have to get in a fight for you tonight.”

  Startled, she inquired, “What do you mean you got in a fight for me?”

  Boreas stuttered, ‘What? Nothing. Forget it.”

  Aurora’s mind rewound to the spring formal.

  “Do you mean the microphone incident? The fight you had with Jonathan?”

  He shook his head at her, wanting her to drop it but she wouldn’t stop. “You got in that fight for me? But why? Why would you do that for me?”

  “I don’t know!” He faced her, taking both of her hands in his and held them tight. “Maybe because I know what it’s like to have everyone against you.”

  The double doors opened wide and both Aurora and Boreas jumped back as a huge rush of applause erupted from the Great Hall. Fireworks were set off as they entered, and the room was flooded with an assortment of people standing in their best attire and waving to the visitors. Aurora waved back with her free hand awkwardly and followed the Great Secretary to the center of the ballroom.

  Fawn was sitting on a high podium like a queen. She was wearing a long golden robe that resembled a college doctorate’s hood, and the seashell headdress was still placed like a crown over her black hair, except now her long tresses were pulled up in an elegant updo. She smiled down at the visitors and raised her hand, and there immediately was silence.

  “We have been blessed with four visitors into our home this evening: Otus the Giant, Mrs. Rana Xiomy, Aurora Alvarez, and Boreas Stockington.�
��

  The crowd cheered again, and Aurora felt Boreas tense up as his mother pronounced his name.

  “We have not had visitors into our country, Plymouth Tartarus, in many years, and they are here as peace givers and to tell us of the outside world and of the evil we still need to face in the days and years ahead. The Common Good has grown, and the escapades of the rebellion are nearly forgotten by the youth. Only they can continue this fight for us, and we pray to whichever god or gods that we believe in for hope and for strength.”

  She raised her goblet to the four in the epicenter of the room.

  “This song is in honor of all of you.”

  The band started singing, and Boreas turned to Aurora timidly and held out his hand to her.

  “I think they want us to dance.”

  She nodded, fearful, as he put his hand on her waist, and with the other he clutched her shaking hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. He turned to look up at Otus who looked even more petrified. Boreas mouthed for him to take Mrs. Xiomy’s hands, which he did, and Mrs. Xiomy shrieked slightly as he held onto her hands a little too tight.

  “Just sway back and forth,” Mrs. Xiomy instructed, and he nodded, thankful that she was taking the lead.

  Boreas smiled at Aurora as the music started to play, and she followed him as they twirled around the beautiful marble dance floor. The chandelier illuminated a spotlight on the four of them. She felt light and free as he twirled her around the floor, not believing that she was dancing—and with a boy—in front of all these people as a guest of honor. She felt her dress floating magically with her body, in sync with the man whose body was close against her own. She felt his heart beating in rhythm with hers as they danced across the floor. She wanted to steal a glance over at Otus and Mrs. Xiomy, but her eyes were entranced, gazing deeply into Boreas’s, afraid that if she lost eye contact with him, the dance would fall apart and the music would end.

  The last note of the melodic song finally played, and Boreas dipped her in his arms so that his face was inches away from hers. Breathless, she leaned back, staring at his lips that were so close to her own. She felt paralyzed in his grasp, but he then lifted her back up to her feet. More applause resounded around them, and she remembered that they were not the only ones in the room. She turned and bowed to the onlookers and then to Mrs. Xiomy, who was still in one piece, with Otus having not stepped on her feet or crushed her beneath his weight. She appeared extremely relieved that the song was over and they all were ushered to their table where the feast began. Aurora quickly found a seat beside Mrs. Xiomy and Otus, not wanting to be so close to Boreas until her heart had resumed its natural beating.

  Trumpets sounded as children of all ages stepped forth, carrying trays of food that they began serving to the tables. The scent of fresh fish flooded the air and everyone was talking gaily as the food was served. Everyone was enamored with Otus; every person in the room wanted a chance to speak to him or say hello. They surrounded the table and though some were a little timid at first, began to gain courage as Otus smiled down at each of the people.

  “You give me and my family hope,” one elderly woman said, grasping at Otus’s hand. “May God bless you and your friends.”

  A man came up to them and shook Aurora’s hand madly. He was dashing, and it appeared a smile was plastered to his face. He sat down beside Aurora and asked about the world above.

  “It’s been too long since I’ve seen it. Please tell me what it’s like. I am from New Jersey. Have you been there?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve lived in Candlewick all my life. This is the farthest I’ve ever travelled from there.”

  He nodded. “Candlewick. Is that what was Long Island?”

  “Yes. Plymouth Tartarus is directly below the Candlewick Park.”

  “A park.” The word registered, and his face lit up in remembrance. “I used to go to parks when I was a kid. Playgrounds and such. Loads of fun. And what do you believe in?”

  She turned to Mrs. Xiomy, not sure how to respond. “Believe? What do you mean?”

  He laughed. “Sorry, been down here too long. You don’t believe in anything, do you?”

  Boreas stood up and asked the man to leave.

  “I didn’t mean any harm. I forgot who I was talking to. It’s not good to not believe in anything.”

  Aurora told Boreas to sit down. “I don’t need your help.”

  He shrugged and poured another glass of wine. “Fine. I’ll let all crazy religious fanatics try to convert you.”

  She was instantly distracted by the sight of Babs and Eileen walking arm in arm to their table. Babs was dressed in a short ivory dress, and her auburn hair was in a long braid that cascaded down her back. Eileen’s red hair stuck out like a sore thumb, and it was in gentle waves over her bare shoulders, but her cross still dangled over the black mermaid styled gown. Eileen ran to Aurora’s side and gushed, “You danced so beautifully. I wish I could do that. I have two left feet. That’s what Babs always says.”

  “You did dance very well, though sorry about your choice of partner.” Babs glared at Boreas, who was still sipping on his glass of wine.

  “Thank you.” Aurora smiled, offering them a seat across from them. “Babs, is your fiancé here?”

  “Yeah, he’s floating around here somewhere.”

  Eileen pointed out a young man in his early twenties who was with a group of boys near the band. They appeared to be rehearsing.

  “Is he in the band?”

  “He’s a singer. He’ll sing a few tunes near the end of the night. Quite boring, actually. The same two songs at every party. It’s like a tradition, but I wish they would learn another song or two.”

  “We don’t have music except classical where we are,” Aurora said quietly. “I wish we did. I heard that once everyone used to sing and that they used to play music on the radio.”

  Mrs. Xiomy put her fork down and said, “Yes, they used to have a genre per station. It was quite wonderful, fitting everyone’s taste. They even had hip-hop, which my husband loved. Poetry with a beat.”

  Eileen nodded. “There are some people here who can do that. It’s quite extraordinary, but I don’t think they’re performing tonight. Maybe at the next party.”

  Boreas was watching Babs curiously. He said, “Thanks for the hole in my jacket. You actually made it something I would wear.”

  She laughed. “Glad you noticed. Would have made it larger but didn’t want people to think it was due to my lack of handiwork. I would never get another job down here.”

  “If they ask, I’ll say that I wanted it that way. That’s the style from us land folks.”

  Aurora and Eileen watched them flirting, and Aurora felt a twang of jealousy in her chest. Eileen tugged at her and said hurriedly, “I want to introduce you to someone. He’s so cute and has been asking about you.”

  Aurora felt uneasy about leaving Boreas and Babs together but couldn’t deny Eileen this. It was like having a friend again, like having Mary again. She followed Eileen across the dance floor, hand in hand toward a table parallel from them. She turned just in time to see Babs steal her seat and whisper something in Boreas’s ear. She didn’t know why she was getting this sick reaction and quickly drove it from her mind as they approached a young man of about sixteen who was sitting at the table.

  “Roland, this is my friend Aurora.”

  He rose and was around the same height as Aurora. He was dressed in elegant attire with a red bowtie, and he kissed her hand.

  “You are very beautiful. May I have this dance?”

  She turned to Eileen who looked so excited and urged her on with her hand. Aurora gave her assent, and as he led her to the dance floor, she admired his defined arm muscles. He looked like he could pick her up and not worry that she had eaten a full dinner and extra rolls. The song started, and he put his arms around her waist, touching his face against her own. He smelled like garlic and rose petals, and she tried not to cough as they started to dance. S
he ended up stepping on his toes more than once, but he pretended not to notice as they continued to dance around the room.

  “So how do you like it down here?” he asked to make conversation.

  “It’s really beautiful,” she said truthfully. “I have never seen or heard of anything like it.”

  “My father helped design it along with the High Magistrate. Quite remarkable infrastructure, similar to a submarine with plexiglas windows and depressurized compartments. They use an oxygen generator, where through the electrolysis of water, the water is converted into oxygen. The carbon dioxide that we exhume is released back into the ocean. And they have dehumidifiers spaced throughout the rooms to prevent moisture from condensing on our walls. This process keeps us all able to breathe like normal. Quite remarkable.”

  “And the elevator idea?”

  “Ingenious. Of course you’ve ridden in it. A man helped design it from the land above. He was asked to live down here but refused. Said he needed to disappear.”

  “Do you know his name?”

  “Professor Gassendi.”

  She stomped on his foot in shock and quickly jumped off it. “Professor Gassendi. The Gassendi heir! Do you know where he is?”

  “No.” Roland winced, rubbing his foot trying to disguise the anguish in his voice. “No, but the High Magistrate does.”

  He whirled her around, and her eyes haphazardly fell over to her table where she noticed two empty seats, and she felt bitter saltiness as she tried to swallow. So Boreas fell for engaged women. Why would that surprise her? She turned to the orchestra, where Babs’s fiancé was warming up his vocals to prepare for his song, unaware that his soon-to-be wife was off gallivanting with Boreas. She wondered what this man would do about it.

  “How is marriage down here?” she asked, and Roland nearly tripped over his feet at the question.

  “Why, it is the same as up there, except we do religious ceremonies, of course. But the main purpose to the marriage is to procreate to keep this colony strong. Most young women from sixteen to eighteen have arranged marriages. My parents are still arranging mine, and you are of eligible age.”

 

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