by K. Manna
I can’t stand this chick. She is unbelievable and ruthless.
Looking Onnika straight in the eye, I said, “Onnika, what goes around comes around. You are no better than anyone else. If Lottie doesn’t beat you, then Anton surely will. Now get your evil, no-good self outta here.”
“Oh, Margo, that really hurts; really, it does,” Onnika said sarcastically.
Lottie took my arm and pulled me. “Let’s get out of here, Go-Go. She’s not worth it.”
Onnika just stood there grinning smugly as we walked past her.
I resisted the urge to vent until we were safely out of earshot. “Besides my brother, I have never wanted to actually fight anyone before, but honestly, I want to poke her evil eyes out and drag her across the ground by her hair.”
Lottie laughed. “I totally know what you mean.”
“I heard that!” Onnika yelled from behind us.
“Who cares?” Lottie and I yelled back.
Damn, that Onnika chick really knew how to get on people’s nerves. Lottie and I couldn’t help but make eyes at each other whenever we heard Onnika’s annoying voice. We could feel her staring at us, too. All that drama only added to such a long and very disappointing day. Seeing Lottie’s growth only made me more frustrated with myself. Practicing with my energy ball did not go well at all. I just wanted to be alone and feel sorry for myself.
Later that night, Lottie asked if I wanted to go to the theater with Bree, Sasha, and her, but I declined because I was more in the mood to visit the arts and crafts room. After such a long day, I needed to relax. Nothing could calm my mind better than painting could.
Entering through the door to the art room, I could see that the room was empty.
Good. Alone at last.
A stack of canvases in the back of the room had already been prepared for painting. I chose a medium-sized canvas, rectangular in shape. Then I prepared my paint palette, filled a glass with water, and chose a couple of different-size paintbrushes. I stood tapping the paintbrush against my chin, staring out the window at the orange-and-pink-streaked sky.
Hmm, what should I paint: the colorful sky, the palace, a fantasy scene, more fairies?
Then an image from a dream that I had a few nights before flashed in my mind.
Perfect. The willow tree with the stairs engraved in the trunk, glowing cocoons, flying butterflies, and—of course—Eli.
The door creaked suddenly, startling me. I turned to see who had interrupted my peaceful alone time.
Oh, it’s that guy I saw in here yesterday.
The man stood about a head taller than me and had orangish hair that was slightly graying at the temple. Noticing me standing in front of my easel, he gave a slight smile and a quick nod of his head before going to the back of the room and sitting in the same spot as he had the day before.
I wonder who he is? Probably a relation to the royal family or something. Or maybe he’s the royal family’s artist, a live-in artist. Wouldn’t that be the life, living in the palace and creating art for a living? That’s my kind of job.
No longer staring at the man, I touched my paintbrush to the canvas and began to paint. I started with the most difficult part: the spiral stairs that encircled the trunk of the massive willow tree. I knew it would be difficult to paint because I wanted it to look just like it did in my dream—like real, carved wooden stairs that were not perfect, but were slanted and uneven. I lost myself in the task.
By the time I was able to tear my attention away, the sky outside the window had become jet black. I glanced around the room and noticed the orange-headed man still silently working in the back corner. He was painting something large and colorful, but from where I stood, I couldn’t make out exactly what it was.
“Sir, what are you painting?” I asked.
He didn’t reply.
Didn’t I say it loud enough?
“Sir, what is it that you’re painting?” I asked again, but more loudly.
Still, there was no answer.
He is intentionally ignoring me. That’s weird. Why would he do that? Now I feel weird. I guess I will finish my painting later.
I quickly cleaned up my supplies and set my unfinished painting on a rack in the corner of the room. Feeling a little strange, I looked at the man one more time before I walked out the door to head up to my room. His eyes were focused only on the painting in front of him.
“Um, good-night,” I said with a little hesitation.
He didn’t respond or even look up at me.
Okay. Weirdness.
I quickly changed into a clean pair of shorts and a T-shirt for bed, my outfit during the day and during the night. For some reason, I felt like I was being watched by someone. The image of a camera or a hole in the wall where someone could peek in came to mind. I could feel the goose bumps appearing on my skin, and the hair on the back of my neck standing on end.
I’m probably just feeling weird because of that guy in the art room. Quit thinking, and go to bed. Where are Yuni and my stone, my bedtime besties?
I pulled the covers up to my neck and kicked my legs against the sheets to create warmth. A feeling of guilt passed over me.
I hadn’t practiced with my energy for as long as I should have this afternoon. Oh, but who cares? Only magical people can heal, and nothing about me is magical.
Turning over, I held the jade stone underneath the pillow. The stone felt a tad warm, as usual. Holding it tightly, I closed my eyes and tried relaxing my mind and body like Eugene had told me to do.
Focus. Focus on the energy inside of me. Focus on this healing ability that they told me I have.
I focused until purple and green swirls swam in the darkness.
CHAPTER FIVE
HOPELESS HANDS
I opened my eyes only to be blinded by a glaring, white light. Even after letting my eyes adjust, I still couldn’t tell where the light was coming from. The light reflected brightly off of the glass that surrounded me. I stood up and rested my hands against the cold, smooth glass.
How did I get in this … in this … bottle?
The bottle stood tall, much taller than I am, and had a small, circular opening at the very top.
There is no way I will ever get out of here. Even if I could climb a glass wall, that hole is way too high. Maybe, if I can find a way to tip the bottle over, then I could crawl out.
I started to kick and push my body against the glass wall, but it didn’t budge, not even a hair. A run-jump-kick didn’t even work.
I looked around for something I could use to escape, but there was nothing in the bottle but me. All that I could see through the glass was an endless void of white. I yelled, “Can anybody hear me? Please, someone, anyone!”
No answer.
The only sound was my own voice echoing back at me. I scratched my nails against the glass in frustration. I began to punch and kick the glass.
Ow!
Shooting pain sped through my knuckles, each already red and beginning to turn purplish-blue from the force. Black boots protected my feet, so I kicked against the glass harder and harder until my feet began to ache, too. Now sweaty, tired, and in pain, I stopped acting crazy and slid down against the hard glass. Tears stung my eyes from this horrible, hopeless feeling.
A quiet buzzing sound caught my attention. My eyes darted all around searching for the source of the sound. Above, by the bottle opening, something moved through the air.
Is that a flippin’ bee?
My eyes focused on the object as it came closer. And sure enough, it was, in fact, a bee, and a large one. But instead of a little stinger on its behind …
“What the heck? Is that a needle? It is!” I screamed.
The buzzing grew louder as I intently watched the bee fly from one side of the bottle to the other. It landed on the glass and walked upward out of a
rm’s reach.
If only I had wings or could walk up these glass walls, you stupid bee.
As if it heard me, the bee flew at me and landed on my swollen knuckle.
“Please don’t sting me with that needle, little guy,” I whispered.
Suddenly, a cold, white liquid began to pour down from the opening high above my head. The bee flew off my hand and into the air. White liquid splashed everywhere, covering my feet. It rose higher and higher until it started to take me up with it. The liquid pressure swarmed around me with such force, taking so much of my strength to stay above the surface. I struggled futilely to keep my head above the white liquid, but it was impossible. I went under, choking on a lungful of the mysterious liquid.
My head came back up gasping for air.
Milk! I’m drowning in milk!
The large bee with the pointy needle for a stinger floated in front of me, dead.
Ew! Get away from me!
Splashing at the dead bee to keep it away, the milk took me under again. I struggled to reach air over and over again as the milk took me higher and higher …
I woke up gasping for air. All of the blankets had been kicked off, and the sheets were damp with sweat.
“It really felt like I was drowning,” I muttered in between labored breaths.
Lottie sat down beside me. “You must have had a bad dream.” With concern in her eyes, she asked, “Are you okay?”
I sat up in bed and tightened my ponytail. “Yeah, I’m fine. I dreamt that I was drowning in a bottle of milk. Seriously, it felt so real. Sounds crazy, huh?”
“Weird, but not crazy. Dreams really are amazing if you think about them; such random things can happen in them. Actually, anything can happen. Some people believe that dreams have meanings. I know my mom did,” Lottie explained.
I yawned. “Why do you say she did? Doesn’t she still?”
Lottie looked down at her lap. “Well, I’m sure she still does, but I haven’t seen her in years. One day she never came home from work. I could tell something was wrong because a lot of her things weren’t there. My dad said she had left, and he wasn’t sure if she would be coming back.”
“I’m so sorry. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” I said, feeling completely stupid for asking about her nonexistent mom.
“No, really, it’s fine. Actually, I should probably talk about it more. My sister always told me that I bottle my feelings up too much, and that one day I would explode. You know, I remember the night before she left like it happened just yesterday. She came into my room and told me that she loved me. See this locket that I wear?” Lottie pulled at the chain hanging around her neck. “She gave this to me that same night. It holds her baby picture on one side and mine on the other. She gave one to my sister, too. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t wonder where my mom is and why she left. My dad never talks about it. Part of me feels angry, but most of me feels this—this sadness.”
Lottie stopped talking for a minute, sighed, and then continued, “My dad didn’t know what to do with himself, let alone with my sister and me, after Mom left. He changed. He barely pays any attention to us and has been lost ever since, totally in his own sad and lonely world. I try not to blame him for it, though. My sister turned eighteen last month and moved out of the house because she couldn’t stand to live like that anymore. I feel so lonely without her. Coming here has been a dream come true, really it has. If I win and get to stay here, I know everything will be all right. And not only for me, but it will be easier on my dad, too.”
Grabbing her hand and giving it a tight squeeze, I told her, “Lottie, no matter what happens, everything will be okay. And you’re not alone. How awesome would it be if we both won the Royals Rise? We would live here together, just hanging out all day, and with no worries.” I actually tried being positive for the both of us.
Lottie smiled at that thought. “I know, right? Just chill all day and night and do whatever the heck we want. That would be totally awesome.” She stood and walked over to the table. “Ooh, look at all these treats that they brought for us. I am so hungry. Yummy. I’m gonna have one of these fancy chocolates.”
I stood up and smacked her hand away from the chocolates. “Oh, no you don’t. Remember, we have to drink Enertion before having anything else. Don’t mess with the rules, young lady,” I teased.
Lottie made a pouty face. “Ugh, fine. Be that way. What’s all this for, anyway?”
I noticed a little note beside the goody tray and picked it up. “This note says that it’s for all of our hard work and to keep it up.”
“Nice. They should give treats like that in school. Just think how much harder everyone would work.” Lottie smiled. “I know I would.”
I laughed. “We should tell the Zylo that so he can make it a school rule.”
“True that, girlfriend. We should.” Lottie laughed along with me.
Once again, I choked down the nasty morning drink. Unlike the previous morning, however, my tummy grumbled from hunger. Paging through the menu, I noticed a ton of cereal selections, like, every cereal ever made.
Hmm, cereal sounds good. Oh look, they even have my favorite kind: Cocoa Cannonballs. They are the awesomest! I haven’t had them in years, so I am eatin’ me some today, and I don’t care what happens.
Keendra came to my side. “And what would you like to order on this splendid morning?”
“May I please have a large bowl of the Cocoa Cannonballs cereal?”
“You sure can. I will bring it out shortly,” Keendra said, marking my order on her touchscreen then putting the device into the pocket of her apron.
“Thank you,” I added.
As soon as she walked away, Gage looked at me and shook his head from across the table. “Really, Go-Go? Why would you order those? You know what’s gonna happen, and you know you’re gonna be late for practice now.”
I shrugged and said, “Who cares if I am a little late? It’s not like these magic hands are doing what they should be, anyway.”
“Well, eating those aren’t gonna help any, and you know exactly why,” Gage pointed out.
Not wanting the entire table to hear about my odd issues, I ignored Gage and turned to Lottie.
Lottie looked at me. “What is he talking about?”
Good one, Gage. You are so annoying to bring up my issues in front of everyone like it’s no big deal. Should I tell everyone that you wet the bed until just a few years ago? I should, but I won’t because I’m not that mean.
I shook my head and replied, “It’s nothing, just a little issue I have. But hey, we all have them, right?”
Lottie could tell I didn’t want to explain myself, so she played it off like it was no big deal, and the convo didn’t go any further.
Thank goodness. I’m not here to explain my life story. I can’t help that I need to have a certain number of cereal pebbles on my spoon with every bite. Ugh, it’s just the way that I am. I’m an obsessive freak sometimes, okay? And it was Mom’s decision to stop buying my favorite cereal because my little game takes forever and often made me late for school. I have been deprived of my cereal, and I’m gonna eat it now if I want to. So there!
Keendra returned carrying a silver serving tray and carefully placed it in front of me. After she removed the lid, I could hardly contain my astonishment. Keendra had brought me the largest bowl of cereal that I had ever seen.
Holy crapola! This bowl is like extra, extra large. But watch, I will eat all of it. So, what should my lucky number be today? Hmm, let’s do six pebbles at a time. And please, please end on the same number. I need to win my game. I need this to be my sign that I can, and will, heal.
And so I scooped cannonballs into my mouth over and over again, six at a time, in hopes that I would finish with an even six. If this didn’t happen—which most times it didn’t—I would
turn agitated and crabby. This little ritual of mine was more than just a game; I had to do it. And this was exactly why I really shouldn’t have ordered the Cannonballs.
Six, six, six, six, six …
As I ate, I kept noticing a guy named Alex glancing my way.
Is he watching me? Is he onto me and my little game? He probably thinks I’m weird, but whatever with him. Actually, whatever with everyone.
Scoop after scoop of soggy cereal pebbles went into my mouth as I tried not to look at him on purpose, but it was hard not to, and every now and then our eyes would meet. I started to feel a little self-conscious. Many of the others had already finished their breakfasts and left for practice. Even those who had ordered seconds were getting up to leave, but my game wasn’t quite finished yet.
I looked down at my bowl now filled with chocolate milk instead of white milk. Only a handful of pebbles were left.
Six, six, five. Dammit! Ugh, why? Why couldn’t I have won? Great, really freakin’ great.
I felt like an insecure little kid again. I couldn’t control my obsession. Looking up in frustration, I noticed that only Alex and I were still sitting at the table.
Shoot, we made eye contact again.
“So,” Alex began suddenly, “I noticed that you are eating six pieces of cereal at a time. Why do you do that?”
I wondered how he could count the Cannonballs from where he sat, so I asked, “How the heck can you see that from way over there?”
“I’m here because of my sight.”
I nodded my head. “Oh yeah. So the tests must be going pretty good for you then?”
“I’d have to say that I’m doing pretty well. So, why do you eat in numbers?” Alex asked again, wiping his mouth with a napkin.
Awkwardly, I replied, “Um, I don’t know. It’s just something that I feel the need to do but only with cereal for some reason. I know it’s weird, but it’s like a little game that I play with myself. Most of the time I lose, though, and it really bothers me.”