by K. Manna
I scrambled to my feet and followed behind Eugene, rushing across the freshly mown grass, passing gardens and statues. Blood dribbled down my hand as I held it tightly with my other hand, still trying to heal the pain away. Finally, we reached a part of the castle that I had never been to. Eugene guided me up escalators, down long hallways, and past many doors. I could have sworn that I had seen Zyness Rozalind walking with that weird man who ignored me in the art room. And then from out of nowhere, the Zyon himself rushed toward me with concern etched on his face at the sight of my bloody hand.
This is so frickin’ embarrassing. I don’t want him seeing me like this, a bloody mess who can’t heal her own wound. Oh, but he is so dang cute.
“Oh my goodness, Margo. Are you all right? What can I do for you?” the Zyon asked, gently resting his hand on my arm.
“I, uh.”
The Zyon sounded concerned about me.
Me!
While I was trying to think of a response, Eugene answered for me. “Margo is having a little complication at the moment. We are just on our way to see Sonya, Zyon Leon. I hope she is in her rooms.”
The Zyon nodded his head. “Yes, yes, she is. Come this way, now. I will walk with you.”
I felt like such a dork with everyone concerned and rushing me toward this Sonya lady, but at the same time I felt important. My anxiety had seemed to vanish with the Zyon’s very touch.
We came upon two large cherry-wood doors, and Eugene pressed a doorbell.
“Thank you for your concern, Zyon Leon. We all know that Sonya will heal Margo in no time. You may continue on with your day,” Eugene said.
The Zyon nodded. “Yes, Sonya will take great care of you, Margo. Sorry for your discomfort. Good day.” The Zyon smiled, gave my arm a squeeze, and left.
No, I don’t want you to let go of me. Come back!
Then the red-headed woman who was at the Zyon’s coming out answered the door. “Hello, Eugene. What a surprise to see you here. May I help you?”
Eugene turned and brought me forward. “Yes, Margo needs your healing expertise, Sonya. I am unable to heal her myself. The glass that we are practicing with is causing her much pain in her hand. She cannot move her …”
Sonya cut in. “Oh, I hate when that happens. Come in, honey.”
Wow, this place is awesome.
In Sonya’s gigantic room were large flat stones stacked along the wall. Incense filled the room with a relaxing, earthy scent. The walls were painted a brown color with a golden design decorating the upper walls and the entire ceiling. Smaller stones were attached to the wall in designs that looked symbolic. Large rugs covered much of the wooden floor, giving the room a warm feel. And a giant candelabra stood atop a tall table, surrounded by a mound of dried wax drippings that looked like a melting sculpture.
That is so cool. I so gotta do that.
Sonya rushed me toward an elegant golden-velvet chair with Eugene close on our heels. I sat down and couldn’t stop looking at all of Sonya’s jewelry. Her fingers were covered in rings. Some of them twisted up around her fingers and some were made of engraved silver and stones. My eyes traveled to her wrists that were surrounded by bracelets, jingling together with every motion. Many necklaces hung from her neck, all different lengths. The longest one had a white stone wrapped in twisting wire and fell just above her waist. I wanted to touch it. I wanted to touch all of it.
Oh, isn’t that kitty cat cute.
A blue-gray-colored cat stretched out beside a bamboo plant to my left, reminding me of Juicy Lucy.
“That’s Thistle. She’s a lazy one,” Sonya said, watching me stare at the cat. Then she knelt in front of me, gently parting my hands. “All right, hon, let me see what we’re working with here.”
Blood smeared across my hands when she did this, and in the bloody center of it all sat a small piece of glass poking out from my skin. The glass was more visible now, and there was less pain.
I’m such a dork. I probably could have healed it myself instead of coming all the way up here and bothering Sonya.
“Oh, look at that. Are you sure you don’t want to heal the rest?” Sonya asked.
I shook my head. Since I was here, I wanted to see her work her magic.
Sonya rubbed her hands together, blew on her palms, set both of her hands above mine, and said, “Okay, then.”
Very slowly, she raised her hands away from my own, and the glass slowly began to creep out toward her hands, like a magnet. When it completely freed itself, the small shard tumbled down into my left hand.
I looked up at Sonya. “You’re amazing. I want to be just like you.”
Sonya slipped a small ring from her pinky finger and set it in my blood-smeared hands. “Don’t want, honey. Just be.” She smiled.
Clear crystals mounted in the ring that Sonya had given me glittered against the sunlight that filtered in through our bedroom window. I sat at the end of my bed twirling the ring around my finger. The ring fit perfectly on my pointer finger. I wore the shimmery, teal dress that I had selected that first night at the palace, the one that was my birthday present from the royal family. Both Lottie and I wore our sister bracelets on our upper arms, too. The royal family had planned an elegant dinner party for all of us to mark the halfway point to the Royals Rise.
“It’s almost seven. Come on, we gotta go,” Lottie pressed.
I walked toward the door. “I’m all ready. I was waiting for your slow booty.”
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”
I was excited to see the Zyon. I could no longer deny that I had grown an itsy-bitsy crush on him. The thought of Eli wasn’t as thrilling these last couple days, but I still missed him.
Does he miss me?
Shivers ran down my spine as Lottie and I walked down the long hallway leading to the royal family’s dining room. Ahead of us, Gage and Anton disappeared through the closed doors leading to the dinner party.
The teal dress that I wore hung above the knee. I’d hoped that wasn’t showing too much leg for the Zyla. She seemed very old-fashioned and uptight. I suddenly grew self-conscious.
I stopped in the middle of the hallway. “Do you think I should go change into my other dress?”
“No, why would you ask that?”
I shrugged and started to walk again. “Oh, I don’t know. I don’t want the Zyla to think anything.”
“Like what?” Lottie looked at me funny.
“Like, I’m trying to impress someone.”
Lottie smiled. “Why, are you?”
I rolled my eyes. “No, of course not.”
Little white lie.
We were almost to the door when Lottie mumbled, “Uh-huh.”
“What do you mean ‘uh-huh’?” I asked.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Lottie said teasingly, opening the door.
What a little brat!
I snuck in a little pinch to her butt, causing her to jump with surprise. I wanted to whisper “that’s what you get,” but I didn’t.
The dining room seats were half full by that time, and the room seemed more regal than what we were used to. It wasn’t just how everyone was dressed either. The first thing that I noticed was that we were dining by candlelight. Classical music played quietly overhead. The table was decorated with fine linen and hand-painted dinnerware. And beautiful white orchids stood in crystalline vases.
My favorite flower and Mom’s. I wish I could bring her one.
At the far end of the table sat the royal family, minus the Zylo, with an open seat still waiting for him. Sitting next to the open seat were the Zyon and the Zyla. The Zyon gave me a cute smile that made me shyly smile back. An open seat sat on his other side.
I should go and sit there. Oh, but where would Lottie sit then?
Sonya sat to the left of the Zyla. Next to her sat Zyness Josephine, and
on Zyness Josephine’s other side sat Zyness Rozalind. My eyes met Zyness Rozalind’s as she began to wave for us to come and sit by her. Lottie followed behind me while I made my way toward her.
“Good evening, Zyness Rozalind,” I said, trying my best to sound proper in front of the royal family.
Zyness Rozalind gave a little wave with her hand. “Oh, stop. Please call me Roz. Ya know, I didn’t catch your name the last time we spoke.”
I sat in the open chair, while Lottie sat in the chair next to me. “It’s Margo, but most people call me Go-Go.”
Roz smiled. “I like it.”
“Thank you. You know, I think I saw you earlier walking with the man that is always in the art room,” I said.
Roz nodded. “Oh, that’s my father’s cousin, Truman. He is a great painter. I asked him to paint the ceiling in my room. So far it’s looking pretty amazing. One side of the ceiling will be a glorious sunlit sky, and it will fade to star-filled night across the ceiling. I saw something similar in a magazine.”
“That sounds awesome. Can I see it when it’s finished?”
Roz looked over in the direction of the Zyla and the empty seat beside her before turning back to me and whispering, “Yes, but nobody can find out. I am not supposed to have any guests in my bedroom.”
A little surprised, I replied, “Oh.” I changed the subject. “Where is Truman? Is he not coming to dinner?”
“No, he gets too nervous around groups of people. He usually keeps to himself. Actually, I am one of the few people with whom he feels really comfortable,” Roz explained.
Lottie elbowed me, pointing to Bree on the other side of the table. “Look. Since she doesn’t have her mirror, she is using a butter knife instead.”
I shook my head.
Bree can be such a dweeb sometimes, a hair dweeb. Ha-ha.
“Whoa, and you think your dress is short,” Lottie whispered.
When I looked over, I saw Onnika making an entrance, wearing a dress much shorter than mine. I’m pretty sure everyone was staring at her as she made her way toward …
Ugh, the Zyon! Dammit, I should have sat there.
Yup, she walked in her short, stupid dress toward the open seat right between the Zyon and Gage. Gage told her that Anton was sitting there, and she responded, “Oh, he won’t mind if I sit here. Do you?” Onnika asked, ever so nicely with a smile.
Gage shook his head, pulling the chair out for her to take a seat.
The Zyla’s eyes were probably popping out of her head at that very moment, but I couldn’t see her face clearly from where I sat.
Where in the heck did she get such a short dress? And Gage, you stupid dink, why are you being nice to her?
Elise must have read my thoughts—and surely every other female’s in the room—about Onnika’s dress because she whispered, “When I went with her to the Goodies Galore room today, she picked out that cute dress for tonight. And when we got back to the room, she told the servant to bring her a sewing machine. I didn’t know she could sew so well or so fast.”
Surprise, surprise. Onnika is so annoying.
Then Onnika’s eyes shifted toward us. She had a big smirk on her face.
She heard Elise talking about her and she likes it. Ugh, she craves the attention. See, that’s the difference between us. Unlike me, Onnika loves being talked about.
Keendra and Bridgeet brought out fancy finger foods and elegantly decorated salads for starters. Then came the second round with huge platters of food lined perfectly down the center of the long table for everyone to choose from: lobster and buttered shrimp, steak and golden garlic potatoes, even a beautiful swan with its feathers and head in place (they said it was fully cooked inside and then redecorated, kinda strange), glazed duck mustard aioli and cabbage, and stuffed chicken breasts alongside seasoned vegetables over sweet rice. Many of the dishes were decorated with colorful sauces and syrups drizzled into designs. There were also fruits, veggies, and even flowers that I was told were edible.
Stop looking at them!
My eyes kept traveling toward the Zyon and Onnika even when I tried my hardest not to. I caught them whispering to each other and smiling. Her annoying laugh kept rattling my ears.
What, is she playing footsie under the table with him, too? Or maybe she’s rubbing her bare leg against him. Ugh.
When the Zyon would look away from Onnika to talk with his family, she would turn to Gage and the whole scene would play out again.
What the hell is Gage thinking? Why is he talking with her? Everyone is so flippin’ irritating.
Trying my best to play it cool, I chatted with Roz, Lottie, and the others seated close by. The food tasted so good that I kept snatching little tastes here and there, even after I had eaten enough to feel like a balloon that was ready to pop.
Who cares if I end up like Munchin’ Martha? Not me.
At this point, I was doing anything to distract myself from looking in the direction of the Zyon and Onnika. Across the table, Sasha ate a slippery oyster covered in sauce as a dare. Goo hung over her lower lip when she pulled the shell away. She slurped it right up, making me almost gag. Sasha definitely won that dare. She couldn’t stop eating those oysters once she got started.
Dinner lasted a couple of hours, and when it came close to ending, the girls wanted to go to the theater and watch a funny romance flick. I lied and told them that I felt too tired to stay awake for an entire movie. Faking a yawn, I covered my mouth with my hand.
“Come on. Come with us, Go-Go. You can’t pass up a funny movie with the girls and a room full of comfy pillows to lounge on,” Lottie tried persuading me.
I pretended to yawn again. “Naw, I don’t want to have to walk all the way back to the room half-asleep.”
“Fine, be that way,” Lottie pouted.
I gave her a fake smile. “Okay, I will.”
Why am I so frickin’ bothered? And why am I letting things bug me to the point that I would pass up movie night with the girls and lie about being tired? Suddenly, everything is annoying … even me.
Rushing into the closet, I ripped off my dress and pulled on my PJs. The teal dress lay in a crumpled pile on the floor, shoes kicked in whatever direction they happened to land in. I plopped in bed, curling up into a ball.
“Just fall asleep. You will feel better in the morning,” I whispered to myself.
My legs kicked at Yuni under the sheets as I twisted and turned trying to get comfortable, but without any luck. The sheets heated up quickly from all of the friction I created. For some reason an urge came over me: an urge to kick, hit, or throw something, anything, as long as I could be violent and vent. I kicked Yuni off the bed and took the opal earring from my ear, twiddling it between my fingers.
Ah, what the heck.
I jammed the pointy back of the earring into the side of my nose as firmly as possible.
“Take that, nose!” I raised my voice in the darkness, but no one was there to hear my frustration.
Who knows how long it took for me to finally fall asleep. In my mind, all I could remember was tossing, turning, and a painful but quick jab to my nose. Purple and green swirls eventually made their way into my darkness, moving like purple and green finger paint being smeared across a glass window, smearing everything until there was nothing.
CHAPTER TEN
ANOTHER DAY, ANOTHER INJURY
Chipped white paint covered the stalls in the girls bathroom at school. The mirror was cracked in one corner, and as usual, the hot water wasn’t working. I shoved my hands under the ice-cold water and felt the sting, an ache that ran up through my veins, stiffening every nerve. I stared at myself in the mirror.
I look as bad as the crappy-old paint on the stalls behind me.
I had purplish-blue bags under my eyes from lack of sleep and bawling my eyes out. Not even the most expensive makeup
would hide those bad boys.
I look—and feel—like shit. Why? Because that jerk dumped me. Creep.
Lowering my voice, I mocked my ex-boyfriend’s words. “Margo, I don’t like you that way anymore. It’s over. We’re over.”
Tears began to well up in my eyes as I spit at the mirror.
He makes me sick!
I bent down and pulled a black pen from my backpack. I tapped the pen against the stall door impatiently. A little voice inside of my head whispered, “Don’t do it, Margo. He’s a waste of your time. He isn’t worth it.”
Ah, what the heck. Who cares what I do? He sure as hell doesn’t.
I didn’t listen to myself. I opened the stall door and inside wrote exactly what I was thinking.
Taking a step back, I studied my scribbles. The little voice in my head whispered again. “Why did you write that? Don’t give into the game. You’re better than that, Margo. Do you hear me? You’re better than that.”
Now, I felt upset with myself. I clenched my fist and began rubbing furiously at the words I’d written. The ink wouldn’t erase. I pressed my fist even harder, wiping faster until my arm began to hurt. Still nothing. Like a crazy woman, I licked my fist and rubbed it against the door. My hand began to burn from the friction.
Why won’t you erase? What is … what is this? What’s going on?
The chalky-white paint covering the stall suddenly began to liquefy, moving in the same direction as my hand. My words swam along the rippled paint, stretching wider and then becoming narrow again, like oil moving on top of water. White paint ran down the door and dripped on the floor, but the words I had written still floated in place.
Just go away, will you? Leave. Disappear. Be gone!
I scrubbed at the writing with my fists again. White paint smeared all over my hands.
“Why? Why won’t you disappear?” I whimpered, sliding to the ground, fists pounding against the door. “I hate you. I hate everything.” A tear spilled down my cheek and ran down my quivering lip.