6:59

by Nonye Acholonu

  “—stand on my right and Dave, you stand on my left. I want to be in the middle,” Tanya was saying to Hudson, flipping her hair out for the sixtieth time today. She wore a clingy blue dress — way too small for a school performance — and you could tell that she’d just sprayed on a bottle and a half of Orange Glow Tan. She looked like a little goldfish bursting out of a tiny blue dress.

  Dave held onto her from behind, burying his equally orange face into her hair. They’d color-coordinated like we were supposed to; he was wearing black, dressy pants and a matching blue shirt. And let’s not forget the matching spray tan.

  Hudson shrugged, adjusting her stunning, royal purple dress. It went with her dark skin tone so perfectly, I felt bland in my borrowed white one. Compared to her, I looked like a lost Amish girl trapped in a pale, skinny body.

  “Where are my drum sticks?” Armando called, sifting through his backpack. When Hudson found them in her bag, he smiled at her and said, “My savior,” with a heart-melting wink of a pale amber eye. He wore all black today with shiny shoes that matched the color of Hudson’s dress. His belt, also purple, separated his long, cut torso with his long, muscled legs. His tan skin — not fake like Dave and Tanya’s — was a gift from God himself.

  Armando looked over at me, smiling wide. “Ready?” he asked, placing a large, firm hand on my shoulder.

  I nodded even though I was far from ready. But I wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. They’d nominated me for a reason, so I was going to put on the show for them.

  As I looked around, I noticed that Cameron wasn’t talking to anyone. He was leaning on a far wall, peeking through the huge, red curtain that would rise any minute now. His mouth was pursed into a straight line, and he clutched the sheet music with a grip tighter than that of an anaconda’s. He was nervous, too.

  I walked over to him, laughing quietly. “Wow,” I said “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

  Cameron smiled shyly, letting out the air that must’ve been trapped in his lungs. “I’m crazy nervous right now,” he whispered, tugging on his silver collar. The two of us had color-coordinated; him in a white suit and silver shirt, me in a white dress with silver trim. Even though we matched, he looked a zillion times better than I did — better than anyone.

  I punched his shoulder, happy I’d finally made contact with him. Also happy that my fist had connected with pure muscle. “Don’t be,” I said. “Even though hundreds of eyes are going to be on you, at least you’ll know you’ll have all of their attention.”

  “That makes me feel a lot better,” Cameron said sarcastically. He looked outside of the curtain again, his breath catching when he’d seen the crowd. Then he glanced back and suddenly grabbed my arms. “My dad and Mila are here!” he cried.

  It took me a while to respond, what with his hands making my body feel all tingly and melty inside. Finally I blurted, “And they’ve seen you play. They should be your biggest help out there.”

  Cameron nodded, letting go of my arms (unfortunately). He adjusted his collar again and then stared down at me. “Are you nervous?” he asked, biting his soft, pink lip. That gesture alone made me want to jump his bones.

  I shook my head even though I knew I was more nervous than he was. “I’ll be alright. It’ll be done before you know it.” Yeah, after a whole century. When I saw him wince and clutch his stomach as if holding in the butterflies, I touched his arm. “Hey, just imagine us in the music room all those days. It was no problem then so it should be no problem now, okay?” Great advice. Why couldn’t I take it?

  Cameron nodded his head, gazing at the floor as he clutched his stomach. “Okay, I guess I can do it,” he said, looking back up at me. “I’ll just stare at you the whole time and picture us in the music room.” Then he smiled and walked away.

  Then I was alone, eyes wide, realization hitting me like a ton of bricks. Not only would I have the audience staring at me, but now I had Cameron staring. I was so stupid sometimes!

  Chapter Forty

  Anjolie

  We’d ended up playing five songs; one with the whole group at the beginning, three paired-off performances, and then a final group performance. It had gone like this:

  Song, number one. All of us performed an ancient song from the seventeen hundreds, Cameron on piano, Armando on drums, me on harp, and the rest singing. It had gone pretty well and no one messed up, which was a plus.

  Song, number two. Dave and Tanya sang a capella with pure harmonies. It was cute the way they sang at each other, but you could tell that both were trying to out-sing the other. I couldn’t be happier when it was over.

  Song, number three. This was a performance with Armando and Hudson. They’d performed a tribal song, Armando slamming on the drum set with his thick drumsticks, Hudson belting her heart out in a different language. It was a very poignant performance with a lot of soul and tons of heart.

  Song, number four. Cameron and me. There were no vocals in our performance, just plain old instruments. It sounded pretty good to me. The melodies were harmonious and fluid like waves in an ocean and both of our fingers were flying. Cameron had apparently memorized the song because his eyes were on me the whole time. I’d messed up once because of that. It was a tiny flub but to me it sounded like I’d ruined the whole song. But finally it was over.

  Then we finished off with song number five, playing a piano medley I kept forgetting the name of.

  After we’d finished, the crowd swam out of the auditorium like fish, excited to receive the ballots and vote. The rest of us were free to skip last period and go on home.

  “You did an amazing job,” Cameron said, catching my elbow when I’d walked by. He’d ditched the suit jacket and unbuttoned the first few buttons on his silver shirt. He looked like a supermodel.

  I shrugged nonchalantly even though I was ecstatic. “It’s over,” I said, turning and facing him. “You did an awesome job, too. You memorized the whole thing?” I asked.

  He nodded. “It’s easier that way. Sometimes if I stare at the sheet music too long, it all blurs up. Better to memorize, you know.” He pointed to his forehead for emphasis.

  “I don’t disagree,” I said, folding my arms. “I memorize my stuff too.”

  “Exactly,” he said.

  We stood there for a few moments, looking around awkwardly, not knowing what else to say. I was angry at myself for not finding a good conversation topic. When the silence became too crippling, I said, “Silver looks great on you,” without even realizing it.

  Cameron’s head jerked back, surprised at the compliment. He smiled, too, hiding a blush. “Silver looks great on me, too? And all this time I thought you were the only one who could pull it off,” he said, slyly.

  I shrugged. “What can I say, silver is my thing,” I replied with an arrogant smile.

  Cameron laughed, nodding his head. Then I saw his eyes move upward and look over my head with a smile. I swiveled around and saw Mr. Sloane and Mila, his maid, making their way over to us. Mr. Sloane held Mila around the waist, which was odd, considering she was the family maid and all. But I didn’t dwell on it too much.

  “Yeesh, kid, you were great out there!” Mr. Sloane said, grabbing Cameron by the shoulder and pulling him into a hug. “Your fingers were like lightning, I kid you not.” When they pulled apart, Mr. Sloane’s eyes landed on mine. “And you, my dear, are stunning, both on the harp and in person.”

  I blushed a little, grateful for the compliment. “Thanks, Mr. Sloane. I really appreciate that.”

  “Wasn’t she great, Mila?” Mr. Sloane asked, smiling widely at me.

  Mila stared at me with her eyes narrowed. “She was great,” she said curtly with a hesitant smile. I could tell that by the look in her eyes she was trying to figure me out. I adjusted my dress neckline, just in case.

  “You are beautiful, do you know that?” Mr. Sloane asked, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Like borderline angelic, sweetheart.”

  “Dad,” Cameron sai
d, looking uneasy about his dad’s compliments.

  But Mr. Sloane continued talking. “You should model,” he said, pointing at me with narrowed eyes. “In fact, I've got an opening for you. Have you heard of Midnight Models?”

  I nodded my head. Who hasn’t heard of Midnight Models? That agency had the skinniest, prettiest, handsomest, sexiest models in all of California. It was an honor to be a part of that agency.

  “I want you in my agency,” Mr. Sloane said, pulling out his phone and typing in some information. “Can you do it?” He didn’t wait for my response. “Great. I’ll have one of the managers contact you. We photograph every day, but Wednesday nights are usually the biggies. I’d love to see you there, cupcake.” He didn’t wait for my thank you. He’d already focused on Cameron. “Anyway, Cameron, Mila and I are heading to her sister’s wedding up in Croatia. I’m her date.” He smiled at her. “Her previous date flaked — what a loser — so I’m dutifully taking his place. We’ll be gone until Sunday night, so don’t do anything stupid!”

  Cameron nodded his head, giving him the thumbs up. “Won’t do anything stupid,” he said.

  “Good boy,” Mila said, giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. She slapped her hands on his cheeks. “You are a dream child, you know that?”

  Cameron grinned underneath her hands. “I try,” he said.

  Mr. Sloane smiled and motioned for Mila to follow him, but she just focused her gaze on me. “I want to speak to Anjolie, sir,” she said, nodding at me. “I just have a few questions. That’s all.”

  She wanted to speak to me? For what? Was this about the time where I’d made dinner for Cameron and his friends? Did I end up leaving something there? Did she not approve of me or something? Thousands of thoughts ran through my head as she led me to a secluded area backstage.

  “You played lovely tonight, Anjolie,” she said, squeezing my arm warmly. “And you are indeed stunning. The thing is, that has me wondering…”

  “Wondering what?” I asked nervously as I watched her rub her chin pensively.

  “We had a great time making that dinner for Cameron and his friends, yes?” she said, smiling happily at me. “Honey, I thought we’d bonded. But now, as I look at you, I’m glad we didn’t.” Her voice took a cold turn.

  “W-what do you mean?” I asked, startled at her new tone.

  “You’re one of the Gray Eyes,” she said, glaring at me with her piercing eyes. She pursed her red-lipsticked lips, frowning at me as though my being a Gray Eyes was a shameful thing.

  “I—I don’t… I mean, yeah, I’m a Gray Eyes,” I said, wondering how she’d known. I mean, to me, she was just a house maid — nothing special. She sure wasn’t a Gray Eyes either, and she definitely didn’t belong to the royal family. So how was it possible that she knew about me? About the Gray Eyes?

  Mila sucked in her breath, shaking her head. “I should have known,” she said. “You see, I’ve been studying Gray Eyes for a long time now, ever since my first boyfriend of two years told me he was one.” She fiddled with the ring on her middle finger. “He’d told me he was a Gray Eyes right before he robbed me and hospitalized my own father. He’d told me he’d had to do it. It was his mission, or whatever. Ever since then, I was on the lookout for any and all Gray Eyes.”

  I tried to gulp down my fear, hoping this wasn’t going to turn into a preamble for my fatal death.

  She went on. “My ex-boyfriend had told me the signs,” she explained. “He said that the Gray Eyes had, well, gray eyes. He also said they look magical — angelic — when the time comes to do missions.” She snorted. “That explained why he’d suddenly transformed from a scrawny, pale boy to a strapping, beautiful man.

  “Then he told me that he had to leave and that I shouldn’t find him. I thought it was romantic — that he didn’t want to put me in danger. But no, no, no. He actually betrayed my family and left my father for dead.” She glared deeper at me. “My father would have died, you know. If it hadn’t been for me. I called the policija — meaning the police, in Croatian — and then, next thing you know it, they arrested my ex-boyfriend. He was murdered in a jail fight ten years later.”

  Murdered in jail? How come that suddenly sounded so familiar to me? Where had I heard about this occurrence?

  “His death was four years ago. About the time when you were a freshman, right?” Mila asked, stepping closer to me as if our conversation could be overheard by the walls and props.

  I nodded my head, unable to open my dry mouth. Suddenly, everything was making sense. I didn’t want to listen to this anymore.

  But she continued on, seeming to be unaware of my discomfort. “Did you know who he was, Anjolie?” she asked, her voice piercing.

  I didn’t respond. She was going to tell me anyway, I already knew that.

  “He was the previous boss — before you.” She pointed at me for emphasis. “He’d been in charge for all of his life and I’d gone and gotten him killed. But what was I supposed to do? He’d almost killed my father! I wanted justice!” She sighed, shaking her head and staring at the floor. “You know, I probably should hate him. He’d gone and ruined my life. I’m a maid because of him! But… but I don’t hate him. I loved him way too much to hate him.” She suddenly looked back up at me. “And, surprisingly enough, I don’t hate you. I hate Cam — but I don’t hate you. Do you wanna know why?”

  My mouth cracked open. “Why?” I asked, my voice a mere whisper.

  Mila stared at me for a while, her strong gaze melting into softness. She sighed long and slowly before surprising me with a full-frontal hug, pressing me close to her body. “Because I think he was your father,” she whispered.

  Tears touched my eyes, an anomaly when it came to me. I’d already known that the previous boss was my father. I mean, think about it. This man couldn’t have a family — it was the rules. I was forced to become adopted even though the king had made it clear that my father was still alive. And wasn’t it ironic that after his death, I — an orphan from South Dakota — would suddenly become the boss? It was all just too strange for me.

  Mila patted my back and released me. “I can’t believe I didn’t realize this sooner,” she said, tears flooding her eyes. “You have a stunning resemblance. You’re so beautiful.”

  I nodded, smudging away my tears with the back of my hand. “Thank you,” I said, not knowing what else to say. She continued to stare at me, brushing away the hair on my face in a motherly-like fashion. I avoided her eyes.

  “I hate all Gray Eyes, you know,” she admitted with a chuckle. “But you… you seem like a good girl. I could never hate you. But I can’t help hating Cam.”

  “By all means, hate him,” I said with a smile.

  She laughed and hugged me again. Then she pulled away and took my hand. “Now, let’s go reunite with our men, shall we?” she said as she dragged me back towards them.

  Our men?

  Chapter Forty One

  Anjolie

  “So, you’re home all alone for three whole days, Cameron,” I said after strapping myself into the passenger seat.

  Cameron shrugged his shoulders and started the car. “Not much I can do by myself in the morning. It’s Cam who’s going to go to town on our house. I’m just hoping he doesn’t trash it too much.” Cameron pulled out of the parking lot and began driving on the main road. He looked oddly uneasy about the whole being-home-alone thing. I would be, too, if I knew my house was going to get trashed and I couldn’t stop it. Or could I?

  “Why don’t you just write Cam a note, you know, telling him he should go easy on the house?” I suggested, turning to face him. I examined his boxy jaw as he flexed it.

  “I mean, I guess I could ask him,” he said finally. “I’d asked him to dress a certain way before he blacked out and he’s been doing that for a couple days now. Maybe he’ll listen to me now?” He glanced at me with hope in his blue eyes.

  “It’s worth a try,” I said.

  ****

  After Camero
n had dropped me off at home, I sat in my room and reveled in the silence. This was the only time in our house when it was purely quiet — when everyone was out. Now, because I’d gotten out of school early, I had an hour left to breathe.

  Immediately I went for my harp. I played and played and played myself out, happy that I was never interrupted or told to shut up. I was able to play in peace.

  Then, I lay on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. A feeling of emptiness poured over me, which wasn’t a strange feeling. I’d always felt this way, ever since I found out what the word “emptiness” meant. I’d been isolated my whole life, yet surrounded by people for even longer. Despite having people around me, I’d always been alone. No one understood me. No one ever will.

  But what’s there to understand? I’m a teenaged girl going to high school like everyone else. So, I was adopted even though my father was still alive. So, I was a Gray Eyes, forced to complete missions. So, I was the boss, constantly in danger and never, ever safe. So, I was always going to be alone with no one to love me.

  Nobody picks his life. This life wasn’t my choice, but I had to live with it. I wasn’t going to whine about it.

  I sighed and closed my eyes, stretching my limbs around me. At least my bed was big. That way I could feel a little less like I was trapped. With my eyes closed, I could let my imagination run wild. I could think about what my family would have been if my dad hadn’t died in jail or my mother hadn’t died on a mission.

  I could picture all of us together — Dad with his curly blond hair and long legs, my mother with her long, red locks and high cheekbones. In the picture, that’s how they’d looked. They were sitting around my mother’s hospital bed, with me in hand. I was a newborn. They weren’t even married. My father had stayed with us for two years. My mother had died on a mission a year later. I was orphaned at three years old. If Mila’s story matched up correctly, then my father had left my mother to be with Mila. She’d said they’d stayed together for two years.