The Broken Peace

by Martha Adele

  I thank the woman and head home. On my way out, I find that the cabdriver is one of the ball fanatics. The entire way home, he speaks about how excited he is just to see who will come. When he finally drops me off at Mr. Gohaki’s house, I am relieved.

  I take my time on my two-mile walk back home and feel the beginning of spring blowing in the air. I can almost smell the warmth coming closer.

  As I come up on my house, I find there to be two first-responder vans outside, Carrol sobbing into Aspen’s arms beside the vans, and someone being rolled out of my house on a stretcher, covered by a white sheet.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Mavis

  I finish sliding the dress on and stand for a moment. The fabric feels just like how I pictured expensive clothes would feel.

  “Oh my. Mavis, you look lovely!” Ms. Page has me sit down and plays with my hair, fixing it into a fancy updo. “You’re going to be the best-looking person in the entire building.”

  I snort, “Yeah, okay.”

  She grins as she continues pinning my hair up into braids. Derek knocks on her bedroom door and enters hesitantly. “Hey.”

  I smile back. “Hey.”

  After a moment or two of silence between us, Ms. Page chimes in as well. “Hi.”

  Derek comes in and holds out the box that he brought in last week when Ms. Page first showed us the dress. “Here.” He hands me the small one and hands his mom a similar box. “These are for the ball.”

  I open the little box to see pheasant feather earrings. The feathers dangle from a clamp that is to attach to the top of my ears from a gold chain.

  “So I got these for you the other day because I know you like pheasant feathers.” Derek points at the decorative pheasant feather hair clips that Ms. Page pulls out of her box. “And I got those once I found out that you were going to the ball. The woman who sold them to me said that they are ‘one of the most popular fashion items there is.’”

  “These are lovely!” Ms. Page places the hairpins in my hair and takes the earrings from my hands. “I think you’re going to look amazing, Mavis.” She hooks the clamps onto my ear and takes a step back. “I am partially to blame for that.”

  Derek chuckles as I rise to my feet. “You do look great, Mavis.”

  I have the overwhelming urge to scratch my arm, fiddle with my fingers, or just leave, but I don’t. “I feel way too overdressed,” I tell them.

  I don’t think I want to go anymore.

  “What are you talking about?” Ms. Page places her hands on her hips and smiles. “This is the first chancellor of Frieden’s inauguration ball! If anything, you’re underdressed.”

  Derek elbows her. “Not helping.”

  I don’t feel like myself; I don’t want people to look at me. And the strapless dress forces my arms to be exposed, showing off the scars on my skin from my scratching, along with the marks from other incidents.

  The knocking at the front door stops me from speaking before I tell them I don’t want to go. Derek exits the bedroom immediately and moves to answer the door.

  He opens it up to reveal Logan wearing a perfectly fitted suit with some sort of armored chest plate underneath the jacket. It doesn’t seem to look as if it is for protection, but more fit to make him look stronger than usual.

  I step out as Derek and Logan look at each other.

  “Hi, you must be Derek.” Logan and Derek shake hands awkwardly. “I’m Logan.”

  “Logan!” Ms. Page rushes over and shakes his hand. “I’m Derek’s mother, as well as Mavis’s in my opinion. It’s so nice to finally meet you!”

  Logan chuckles. “It’s nice to finally meet you too. I have heard a lot about you both.” He looks past them and to me. “Mavis, you look great.”

  Looking at Logan’s attire, I suddenly feel underdressed. “Thank you. You do too,” I tell him.

  He smiles. “Um …” He points over his shoulder to the darkness. “Eric is in the car. We are riding with him, if that’s okay.”

  I nod. “Yeah.” He and I head out as Derek stares, and Ms. Page waves us goodbye.

  We walk through the woods, over the wooden bridge, and into the black van. When Logan opens the door for me, I see Eric sitting across from the opening, wearing a similar suit as Logan, but with a long thick red cape. The collar of the cape buttons up around his neck, seemingly keeping him warm like a jacket.

  I slide into the fancy cab and greet Eric. “Hello.”

  “Hi. It’s nice to see you again.”

  “You too,” I say as Logan slides in beside me. The driver promptly takes off, and we begin our trip to the ball. “So how much did it cost to rent this car?”

  “Oh, don’t worry about it,” Logan tells me. “John went all out for us. He paid for this car and bought us these clothes for the ball.”

  “Ah,” I say, “that makes sense.”

  “Yeah, you think I chose to wear this cape?” Eric takes part of his cape and pulls it over his lap. “I doubt this thing cost less than two hundred dollars. I wouldn’t spend that much on something I would only be wearing one night.”

  “I agree,” I tell them. “Derek’s mom made this for me when she heard that I was invited to come. Thanks again, Logan.” I nudge him in the arm.

  “No problem,” Logan answers.

  “So, Eric,” I say, “how are you doing? Logan said that you’ve gotten a prosthetic limb.”

  “Yeah.” He pulls up his pants leg to show his fake calf. “I’ve almost mastered the art of walking with the new leg. But”—he lifts up a wooden cane from beside him—“I brought this in case I would be needing it at any point tonight.”

  We continue to chat for about thirty minutes or so. As we near the capitol building, we notice that the streets are packed. Our windows are tinted so that we can see out of them, but the outside can’t see in.

  “Wow,” Logan scoffs. “It is crazy how many people show up just to watch and see who enters the capitol building.”

  We continue through the crowds, through the traffic, and down the road. The driver shows one of the gate guards our tickets, and we drive into the high posted fence. We go down the driveway, and he stops in the roundabout. The three of us exit, and a photographer snaps our photo. Once we get out of the car, the driver takes off, and we walk farther down the path, past large and luscious gardens, fountains that are being lit up by lights, and speakers that are sounding the music from what I assume is the live band inside.

  We pass what feels like hundreds of people, most of whom are wearing some sort of decorative armor. Almost every person we pass holds a small dish in one hand along with a colorful drink in another hand.

  When we finally make it down the gorgeous pathway and up a few stairs, guards at the door scan our wrists and take out tickets. We enter the building, and I look around to see people chatting in their gorgeous clothing that look too expensive to even breathe on, beautiful paintings hanging on the walls, and servers walking around the building, offering people whatever is on their trays.

  “Rollen Crou?” a server asks us, holding the tray in front of our faces. He smiles at each one of us. “It is truly delicious and absolutely my favorite food being served here tonight.”

  Eric gives a small smirk and takes a piece of the small blue bread-looking food. “Thank you.”

  “Do you know where exactly we are supposed to go?” Logan asks the server. “We just got here.”

  “The ballroom is down the hall and to the left,” he tells us.

  Eric swipes another piece of the food and begins walking. “Thank you again.”

  We follow Eric and head down the decorative carpets and follow the sound of the music and laughter to find an even larger room. On one end, two sets of stairs lead up to where the band plays, and directly underneath the band is the bar, where many people have settled. On the other side of the room, ther
e is a step from the hardwood dance floor up to tables of desserts and other goodies. The ledge that the band is on circles around the entire ballroom, allowing people to make their way to a raised glass room on the other side of the walkway. This glass room seems to be for the most important people of the night and the most important people only.

  I look around to find that almost all the people here are wearing some sort of metal armor that looks to be purely for decoration. One woman is wearing a dress, similar to mine, but with a decorative bronze vest under her chest and on her stomach that fits much like a corset. The woman she is speaking with wears a blue and flowing gown with nothing on it, but wears some sort of silver-studded gauntlet that only covers the top part of her hand and arm up to her elbow, along with a silver-armored shoulder pad on that arm. Many of the men have some sort of armored boots, armored gauntlets much like the woman’s, or armored shoulder pads as well.

  As I walk through the crowd with Logan and Eric, I feel eyes being cast upon me as they judge. Suddenly, I am very aware of my hair being tied up and a lot of my skin showing. Without the armor that everyone seems to possess, I somehow feel naked.

  The three of us stop once we take a step off the dance floor. We stand around, being passed by dozens of servers, when one of them stops by us and holds out his tray. He pronounces a word that I can’t even understand, and each of us take one. The waiter nods to us and scurries off, feeding the rest of the guests. Logan gives the small pink piece of fluff a smirk before taking a bite.

  “Wow, this is actually really good.” He pops the rest of the small dish into his mouth and chews. Eric and I follow his lead and enjoy the sugary softness that was the random snack.

  “You know,” I say to them as I swallow the last bite of the fluff, “if this is what it is going to be like in Frieden, I can’t wait.”

  “You mean servers everywhere you look?” Eric looks around sarcastically. “I doubt this will be outside of the capitol building.”

  “No, I mean, just having food. Back in Bloot, there was barely any food to go around. So far, under Bergland and now Frieden’s reign, I haven’t been forced to go a day without food.”

  Logan and Eric look at each other. They give an awkward smile as they nod.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bum you guys out.”

  “No.” Logan chuckles. “No, you didn’t bum us out, it’s just—”

  Everyone in the room cheers and claps, causing our attention to shift to the raised stage where the band is. A man that I don’t recognize, but is obviously important, walks over to the microphone, silencing the band.

  “All right, all right.” He motions his hands to get everyone to simmer down. “Thank you, thank you. Before we get started, let’s give it up for the band!”

  Everyone in the room, including us three, claps. The string players, along with the trumpet and trombone players, give the room a real jazzy feeling, even when they aren’t playing.

  “Okay, so I’d like to thank you all for joining us this evening to celebrate the coming of a new age. A new time of prosperity and hope for the future. Please help me in welcoming tonight’s star and Frieden’s first ever chancellor, Thomas Ronan Oswald.”

  The entire room goes crazy. Everyone claps, but some take their liberty to scream and shout for him. When he finally gets up there, flashing his fancy armored epaulets and cape, he has this smile on that you can tell he can’t hold back. It’s one of appreciation, and yet embarrassment.

  He stands at the microphone and gestures for everyone to calm down, but the ball reminds me of a rowdy classroom in the way that there are a select few who won’t stay quiet. “Thank you. Thank you. I really appreciate the love, but it’s just too much for me. Now, if you want to spread it around to all the faculty and the workers, then please do so because I would be nothing without them.” He raises his hands and claps, gesturing at his administration, his advisors, and the heads of departments. “Thank you so very much for all you do, and I know that with your dedication, we will make the best society we can. Now, I am not saying we will be a utopia. I know that claiming so would be unrealistic, but let me tell you all something. We will try.” A few of the people begin to clap. “We will try our best and work our hardest to achieve that goal of prosperity.” Everyone in the room begins to clap, so I join in too.

  Oswald waits until everyone dies down again to pick up. He continues speaking of his goals and how it will not only be his doings, but also of his entire staff. He makes sure that we understand he is not the sole owner of the power that many assume he is, but that we all know he is thankful nonetheless for being allowed to govern in that position. As he continues his speech, a server walks between Eric, Logan, and me, throwing me into Logan.

  His hand falls into mine, just as mine does his. Once the server passes, neither one of us look at the other, nor do we pull our hands apart. We stand rather awkwardly, I might add, and wait until Oswald’s speech comes to an end to separate and clap.

  The band starts back up with its music, and the entire room returns to life with excited chatter, wonderful laughter, and drunken jokes.

  “Well, well,” John Young comes over to the three of us and looks me up and down. “Ms. Wamsley, you look stunning.” He turns to Logan and gives a little smirk. “You, on the other hand, could use a bit of cleanup.” Logan and Eric exchange a look. Just before Logan says anything, John gives a little chuckle to go with his smirk. “Kidding. It was just a joke.” He turns back to Eric. “You three really look wonderful.”

  Eric nods. “Thank you very much for everything, John.”

  “Well”—he looks at me then to Logan—“it was my pleasure. I had to make sure that my two best soldiers looked their best, right?”

  “Young!” a voice calls out from behind us.

  The four of us look back over to the dance floor to find a small group of people with Oswald in a huddle formation. General Wilson is looking over the group and waving John over to join.

  John nods to Wilson and looks at me. “Mavis, may I borrow these two for just a moment?”

  I look at the three of them and give a nervous shrug. “I guess so.” If I were to say no, what would happen? Would they miss getting to meet Oswald? I don’t want to be left alone, but I can’t hold them back.

  “Thank you.” John takes my hand and brings it up to his face, as if he was going to kiss it, but my facial expression changed his mind. The three Taai members walk off to the group and join in. Immediately, I see Oswald turn to them and welcome them with open arms.

  I look around the room and try to brush off the feeling that everyone is looking at the unarmored girl with ridiculous feathers in her hair. Even though many people here have some sort of hair decoration with feathers, metal, or some sort of pin, I still feel as if I don’t belong. I feel like they think I am a cheap knockoff of their style.

  As I continue to look around the room for someone I may know, a drunk woman stumbles over to me and hooks her arm into mine. “How are you doing, doll face?”

  I look at her to see an older woman with a full head of silver hair, pinned into an updo similar to mine. Her dress is a little blue one that is tight around her waist, and the bottom of it is short in the front but long in the back. Her silver hair is the only thing close to a decorative metal that she wears, leaving me to think she didn’t get the memo either.

  “I’m okay, I guess. How about you?” I say to her.

  “Fabulous actually.” She takes another sip of her colorful drink. “There is an open bar.”

  “Yeah? Do they taste good?”

  She gives the drink an odd look and shrugs. “I don’t know. I haven’t been able to taste in years.”

  I can’t help but chuckle. Her drink does looks appetizing, but I decide to brush off the desire to find out what it tastes like. “So you haven’t had any of those desserts over there?” I point to the dessert table a f
ew yards away from us. “I was thinking of getting some, but I didn’t know what to try.”

  “What?” She pulls her head back from me and gives me a look. “You can get them?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Really?” She continues to look me over. “Where is your armor?”

  I follow her gaze down to my attire. “Armor? I’m not wearing any.”

  “Is there a reason for that?” Licking her lips, she gives me a curious look.

  “What do you mean?”

  She turns us around to the dessert table and points at a couple with the armor on as they have their codes scanned. “Look. Only certain fancy people can have the desserts at the table. Everyone else can have what the servers are serving”—she takes another sip— “but unless you are someone important, no desserts for you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yup. I found out the hard way.” She takes a large swig of the rest of her drink. “The Taai and all military who are currently employed are only supposed to eat health food and certain other things while the delicacies are only for the highest of high people.” She looks at me and smiles. “And you know what, I’m okay with that because you know why? A moment on the lips, a decade on the hips.” She sets her empty glass down on one of the server’s trays as he walks by and picks up another drink. She takes a sip of the pink liquid and smiles at me. “I’m just happy that the drinks are free.”

  I smile back at her. “Did you come with someone, or are you on your own?”

  “Are you kidding? Me? On my own?” She takes a step back and gestures to her body. “Do you see any armor? No, you don’t. You just see the perfect body of a goddess in disguise.”

  I chuckle again. “What is with the armor anyway? Why are certain people wearing it and other people aren’t?”

  “Well, the thing is, if you are part of the administration or high-ranking military members, you are to wear the armor to show your ‘superiority’ to others.” She continues to sip at her drink and look around. “I don’t really know why. I’m just telling you what my boyfriend told me.”