Vicious Royals

by Margo Ryerkerk

  The banner. For the very uncreative Fall Dance. We'd just be drawing leaves and pumpkins. When there was a freaking messenger in the school.

  "You want to work on the banner?" Carmen asked. "We should take a vote. Who wants to do that?"

  Randy, of course, thrust his hand up and nodded. "What is the deal? It's just a guy." He spread his arms again, holding both sides of the door frame.

  "Now what?" I asked.

  Carmen eyed the other girls, a gleam in her eye. Her gaze shifted over to the display of peacock feathers Mrs. Piero kept on her desk.

  "Girls," she said. "We know what to do."

  Uh, oh.

  "You're not serious," Randy said as everyone except me ran over to the display, ripped out the feathers, and commenced a tickle attack. "Hey! Cut it out! I swear!"

  But it worked. Randy stepped over to me as the other girls dropped their feathers and bolted into the hall, exchanging hushed whispers. My feet tingled and I peeled them from the floor to follow, but Randy blocked the way.

  "Giselle. I can't believe you."

  I stopped. It was just us in the art room now. Don't tell me he's jealous.

  "Come on. This is a once in a lifetime thing. Don't you want to see who the chosen is?"

  But Randy gripped my upper arm, gentle at first, and then he slowly tightened his grasp.

  “Let go,” I said.

  “You don't need to be spying on that weirdo out there,” he said. "You're a lot more level than Carmen."

  I considered grabbing one of those feathers but all were out of my reach. So I went to blabbing instead. “Look, if you're worried someone will get sent to Cursed Academy, just say it. But you'd be contradicting yourself. So what's the deal?"

  “That white tunic is an Olympian Academy getup. Most of them are god descendants. We don't want to cross them." His serious gaze bore into me.

  “Some are descended from nymphs or other creatures.” I pulled against Randy, but he held my arm up over my head, shaking his.

  I'd had enough. My limbs tensed and my pulse quickened. Why was he treating me like his child?

  Randy scanned the room, which remained empty. Silence dragged out.

  “Giselle, we've been friends for a long time and maybe more. I never got the chance to say this before. I'm always so busy mowing lawns that we never had the chance to be, you know, together.”

  "We have?" Randy and I hung out sometimes, but usually with the group, and with the exception of those two not-so-serious dances--the kiss was a new years eve experiment--we hadn't gone beyond that. Now wasn't the time to have this super awkward conversation. Especially since he was holding me here.

  “We went out like, twice, but.” I paused there, trying to find the right words. “Stop distracting me. Let go of my hand. There's this thing called consent.” I yanked, but he maintained his grasp.

  “You go a little crazy sometimes, Giselle,” he said.

  I tried to say something, anything, but my throat locked up. Really? This wasn't real. We stood there, facing each other. Fear pooled in my chest, making my heart race. This wasn't Randy. The one I knew wrote stupid stories in that orange spiral notebook. He drew comics about our horrible teachers. And he laughed with us.

  “Randy,” I tried, but my voice came out muffled.

  “What do you say?” He lowered his voice to a purr as if this could turn me on. Then he pulled me close to his body, uncomfortably close, and rocked his hips against mine.

  Something dark and angry burst to life in my chest, pushing aside all the fear. A roar from deepest pits of time filled my ears and a dark strength flowed into my limbs, electrified and icy. I gasped as I pulled my free hand back. What was happening?

  A sucking sound followed. Randy's hair blew to the side. Then his gaze turned and his pupils widened. Loosening his grasp, he backpedaled into the art table and left me alone.

  And then I saw why.

  A rip had opened across the room, hanging in thin air like an opening to pure darkness, a space outside the universe. Five feet from tip to tip, the jagged opening held a swirling space darker than black. With a loud, horrific whine, it sucked in air, peacock feathers, and a few papers. As each object struck the surface, it flashed purple before snapping out of existence.

  "What is happening?" Randy shouted, gripping the table with both arms. He leaned over it, fighting the wind that tried to pull him into the maw.

  "What?" The whole room fluttered around me as I stood there. Pencils rolled towards the deadly opening. A bin of markers tipped off a shelf, sending its contents into violet annihilation.

  But the wind did not push me.

  In fact, I couldn't feel it.

  I held my breath as sheer terror coursed through me and panic won, paralyzing me.

  Randy.

  He slipped further and further off the table, fingers grasping the surface, shirt whipping against his skin.

  "No!" I shouted as my terror shoved away the icy darkness within. "I don't know what's--"

  "Help!" Randy glared at me, digging grass-stained fingernails into the table's edge.

  I begged myself to move, to grab him before the darkness consumed him. The cold, dark sensation vanished. I leapt at Randy, seizing his wrist.

  And then the portal snapped shut. The whining and the wind died. Randy let out a breath as a few rogue markers rolled across the floor, settling in a floor crack.

  "Giselle, what did you do?" Randy asked, lifting his head off the table. The deadly seriousness in his eyes made him look like he'd been joking a few minutes ago.

  "I..." I managed. "I didn't do anything."

  His jaw dropped and the reality hit me like a brick. The darkness that filled me...

  Magical things only happened to god descendants.

  Or the descendants of monsters.

  The messenger was here for me.

  And whatever I had just done wasn't a good omen.

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