When I pulled away, I headed back to the table only to see that Becca and Jill had been watching me the entire time. Taylor and Todd had slipped away sometime while I was dancing. Becca was beaming like a proud parent. Jill, on the other hand, wore a very different smile that put a different light to her eyes, and it was a look that only girls could spot easily. It was jealousy and anger.
She liked Devon.
That was when I realized I was already getting into rocky territory with my new friends.
* *** *
I did not dance again, though Devon continuously asked. I turned him down, saying that I had had enough for one night and ‘maybe next time.’ I suggested that Devon dance with Jill, which he did several times, taking Jill’s attention away from me.
I decided that a boy was not worth losing one of the friends who would help me survive my new school.
I remained at the table for the rest of the evening, bobbing my head to the music. Taylor and Todd eventually returned, noticeably having committed some intimate act elsewhere.
Eventually, the club began to empty. Announcements came over the speakers several times, stating that the first bus would be leaving at nine-forty followed by the second bus at nine-fifty. The final bus would leave at ten.
Deciding we were ready, we all caught the first bus, finding a seat in the back and waiting for the bus to fill as everyone talked excitedly, ears still ringing. Becca turned to me.
“What did you think?”
“Well…” I started slowly. “It was an experience.”
“That’s the spirit!” Todd laughed.
“Where’s Clark?” I asked.
“He’ll catch a later bus,” Devon answered. “He always does.”
“You looked like you had fun,” Taylor noted.
“You did,” Jill agreed. “You can keep the top, by the way,” she assured with a wink.
“Oh, no,” I said. “I’ll give it back on Monday.”
“No, I won’t wear it,” she insisted. “It doesn’t look as good on me as it does on you. Seriously, keep it.”
“And you can keep the pants, too,” Becca added.
“I can’t wear this every week.”
“We’ll go shopping next weekend,” Taylor declared. “We can get you some makeup, and hair stuff, and clothes. Trust me, you’ll be able to pull off just about everything.”
“I don’t know about that…”
The bus jolted into motion, taking the kids to the various stops that had been designated on the route back from the club. My stop was one of the last, so I had to say goodnight to my friends first. I felt a little nervous about saying goodbye to Devon, worried that it would look like I was flirting and cause tension with Jill. But, I was lucky, and Jill’s stop was closer than his, so she was gone before I told him goodnight.
“Thanks, again,” I said as he stood.
“I’ll dance with you whenever you want to loosen up,” he assured with a gentle smile. He walked off the bus with several other students as Becca turned to me.
“You two looked pretty good on the dance floor,” she leered.
Becca got off the bus two stops before me, making my stop the last in my group of friends. I navigated my way home and used the secret key under the mailbox to open the door.
“Lily, is that you?” my father’s voice called.
“Yeah, it’s me.” I walked into the kitchen where my father sat at the table in the breakfast nook. He smiled when he saw me, though his eyes did go wide.
“Well…you look…”
“I know,” I groaned. “I was a science project for my friends.”
My father laughed and motioned me closer. I leaned down, hugging him tightly, thrilled to be back in my quiet home.
“I was going to say that you look beautiful,” he said. “Did you have fun?”
“Eh.” I shrugged, breaking our hug. “I don’t know…it was a bit overwhelming.”
“Yeah, I remember being your age.” He grinned. “It may have been long ago, but I remember getting out on the dance floor, too.”
“You?”
“Your old man was pretty wild, back in the day,” he chuckled. His eyes softened. “I’m glad you had an alright time, at least.”
“I did.”
“Meet any boys?” he asked with an expectant eyebrow.
“No, Dad. No boys.”
“Good, because boys are nothing but trouble.”
“You used to be one.”
“How do you think I know so well?” He patted me on the arm and nodded. “Go on, now. You must be tired.”
“I am…” I affirmed. “Where’s Mom?”
“She went to bed,” he said. “Oh, right, she told me to tell you to wash the makeup off your face, wash your hair, and soak your feet in warm water before you go to bed.”
I laughed, rolling my eyes.
“Alright.”
“I’m just relaying the message.” He raised his hands peacefully. “I don’t know anything about this girl stuff.”
“You know as much as I do.” I kissed him on the cheek before walking away. “Love you, Dad. Don’t stay up too late.”
“Love you, too, honey.”
I left my father to his work, walking wearily to my room. When the door was closed behind me, I took off my shoes, suddenly realizing the extent of my exhaustion. I carelessly threw them to the side before walking to my bathroom, tenderly running my fingers over Dex, who was sleeping at the foot of my bed, waiting for me to come home.
I stepped into the shower, lazily leaving my clothes all over the bathroom floor. I tried to wash myself as quickly as possible, knowing there was a good chance of the heat of the water would cause me to fall asleep. I stepped out and wiped down a mirror only to see that the makeup around my eyes had smudged rather than come off. I washed my face vigorously, though it seemed impossible to remove all traces of black eyeliner.
My first task the following day would be to go to the store for makeup remover—my old makeup remover wipes had dried up.
Once I had given up on the black smudges around my eyes, I brushed my teeth, then my hair, finally pulling on my pajamas and crawling into bed with my eyes mostly-closed.
My intention had been to stay up after I got home from Club Archangel to do some homework but I could not bring myself to stay awake. I was unsure what had made me so tired. Maybe it had been all the loud music and flashing lights, or maybe it had been the large crowd of people, or just the overwhelming feeling I had about the entire ordeal. Either way, my homework would have to wait.
Chapter Eight
I was in a daze for the rest of the weekend. My senses had been overloaded, leaving me exhausted from the experience at Archangel. Because of my fatigue, it took me a lot longer to read the assigned chapter of An Angel Without Wings than it normally would have.
Therefore, the dinner I had forgotten about with one of my father’s new colleagues seemed like a harrowing task.
I managed to complete my homework late Saturday and doodle Sunday away until my mother hurriedly reminded me we were having a politician over for dinner and I needed to look my best.
The man we were having dinner with was Benjamin Lloyd, the Chair of Regions in Leader Simon’s administration, which meant he was very important and my father’s most influential superior in the Chamber of Regions. The whole family needed to appear perfect and be on our best behavior for our guest.
My father often entertained others in the government back home, but never those as high as the administration of Leader Simon. Therefore, everyone was a little nervous about meeting with Mr. Lloyd, desperate to make a good impression.
I dressed myself in a white blouse and black, knee-length skirt, pulling my hair back and trying to look modest, but not old-for-my-age. I was used to society parties and high-standing officials, but now that I was in Central and the person we were entertaining was of such high status, I felt that I was learning everything all over again, which caused me to fuss over my appearance for far l
onger than was necessary.
My father came home around seven and rushed upstairs to change suits and clean up, blurting a quick “I’m home! I’ll be down in a minute!” as he leapt the stairs two at a time.
At seven-thirty the doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of our guest and causing my mother and me to share a nervous look.
I was not sure what I had been expecting of Mr. Lloyd, but I had not been expecting the small, thin man who appeared at our door. He was balding and his eyes were surrounded by wrinkles, though the lines in his face were hidden by glasses. He did not immediately strike me as a man with enough ambition to become Chair of Regions, and it was startling to see his thin frame.
“Hello, I am Benjamin Lloyd.”
“Yes, it is a pleasure to meet you,” I greeted, having been the one to answer the door. “I am Lily, Thomas’ daughter. Won’t you please come in?”
I stepped aside, feeling more relaxed now that I saw the man we were entertaining was not of overwhelming stature. Even his obviously-expensive and well-tailored suit did not make his shoulders look any broader.
“Thank you,” he said. “I saw a picture of you on Thomas’ desk. It doesn’t do you justice.”
“Thank you very much, sir,” I said graciously. “Mom?” I called gently. “Mr. Lloyd is here.”
“Oh, Mr. Lloyd,” my mother greeted, walking into the foyer from the kitchen and extending her hand. “It’s very nice to meet you. I am Karen.”
“It is wonderful to finally meet you, Karen,” Mr. Lloyd said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. “I have heard so many wonderful things about you from Thomas. I was anxious to meet such an incredible woman.”
“Oh, you are far too kind,” my mother giggled demurely.
I always hated such dinner meetings. Everything was so flighty, consisting of denying compliments and skirting any real conversation for at least half of the evening. I especially hated how all of the forced smiling made my cheeks hurt, but I dared not scowl or roll my eyes at the obligatory pleasantries meant to cover the awkwardness of introductions.
“My husband will be down in just a moment. I do apologize, but dinner is not quite ready. It will still be about ten minutes.”
“That is perfectly alright, Mrs. Sandover,” Mr. Lloyd assured with a light chuckle. “It smells fantastic! What are you making?”
“Steak with steamed vegetables, mashed potatoes, salad, and an apple pie for dessert,” my mom answered with a beaming grin.
“Absolutely wonderful!”
“I hope it is to your liking,” she said, moving back into the kitchen. My father came down the stairs as my mother retreated to the kitchen, dressed in a new suit and tie and looking like a savior swooping in to keep me from having to make small talk with Mr. Lloyd.
“Mr. Lloyd,” he greeted.
“Come, now, Thomas, we’ve discussed this,” Mr. Lloyd chuckled warmly, taking my father’s hand. “None of his ‘Mr. Lloyd’ business. It’s Ben.”
“Ben, thank you for joining us for dinner.”
“Absolutely. I always prefer to conduct meetings over food rather than in a stuffy office.”
It took all my willpower to keep the disappointment off my face at having to sit through the whole dinner meeting when I did not care about politics and had no idea what my father was working on that would merit the meeting. I wished it had been a weeknight so I could have slipped away to ‘do homework’ and avoid the boring evening.
“I see you’ve met my daughter.”
“I have,” Mr. Lloyd affirmed. “She seems like a wonderful young lady, Thomas. You must be very proud.”
“I am.”
We moved to the table where I asked Mr. Lloyd and my father what they would like to drink. While we waited for dinner to be ready, Mr. Lloyd and my father talked lightly, discussing their homes and how our family liked living in Central. They did not talk about politics, or the purpose for the meeting, which I knew would be the conversation occurring nearing the end of the evening.
I rarely joined the chatting as dinner commenced. My mother and father talked genially to Mr. Lloyd, asking him how long he had been in Central and if he had any children—all the normal questions one asked of a first-time guest. My mother asked about Leader Simon and inquired if he was a nice boss, which Mr. Lloyd replied by saying that he was a kind and gentle man who was very easy to have as a boss.
For some reason, I had never pictured the leader of a country as powerful as America to be “gentle.”
I only joined the conversation when I was asked if I liked Central and was adjusting well to my new school.
When the time was appropriate, my father started the meeting part of dinner.
“So, Ben, what did you think of my proposal for the seventh route into the North Midwest Region?” my father asked after we had wrapped up a story about traveling to the North-East Region. Ben nodded, finishing the bite of steak he had in his mouth before turning to face my father fully.
“I thought it was brilliant,” he said. “Did you work with Samantha on this?”
“I did,” my father affirmed. “Mrs. Davis was the one who gave me the idea, actually.” I blinked, recognizing the name of Becca’s mother, who was the Official Regulator for the region they were discussing. “She told me that the northern most road was frozen for over six months of the year, and the transportation of goods becomes very difficult. Reconstruction of the northern roads has been severely lacking.”
“It is a problem we have been facing for several years, ever since the closing of routes twelve and seventeen after the reformation. And that northern border is particularly dangerous.” Mr. Lloyd nodded slowly. I was completely lost and was trying to decide if I wanted to listen and learn what my father was suggesting, or if I wanted to tune it out. “However, your thought of redirecting the seventh route is genius!”
“Do you really think so?” my father asked, his eyes alight with pride.
“Absolutely!” Mr. Lloyd said strongly. “In fact, one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you is because I want to submit this proposition to Leader Simon and the Commission of the People to see if we can get it approved as soon as possible.”
At this, all of our eyes went wide. While I did not really understand the technicalities of their discussion, I understood the significance of the words and what they meant for my father. It took him several minutes to speak.
“You really think…we should submit it already? There are still so many details to work out, like funding, and time—”
“The sooner we get this submitted, the more resources we’ll have to figure out the details,” Mr. Lloyd explained with a smile, seeing our shocked faces. He leaned over and playfully hit my father in the shoulder. “It was about time you showed up in Central, Thomas. Time for us to crack the whip and get everyone back into shape.”
The rest of dinner and dessert was spent discussing how the procedure would work and the revisions that my father would have to make before it was submitted to the eyes of Leader Simon and the Commission of the People. I was shocked that my father’s first major proposal in Central would create such a stir, particularly as we had only been in Central for such a short time.
Mr. Lloyd went home late in the night. We bid him goodbye at the door as he thanked us for hosting him. He complimented my mother’s cooking and told my father, once again, that he had been very lucky with his family. He told me to keep having as much fun as possible, but not to let my grades slip. As he stepped over the threshold onto the front steps, he turned to my father one last time.
“I’ll see you in my office on Monday, Thomas,” he said. “And, just so you know, this kind of innovative thinking is the kind that gets noticed quickly. I wouldn’t be surprised if you got your invitation into the Commission of the People for this.”
My heart stopped and plummeted to the floor.
I knew what an immense honor it was to become a part of the Commission of the People—it was like being invited to the most
exclusive club in the country. However, the entire family was brought into the Commission, and I saw the way the “Commish Kids” were treated and how they acted around everyone else, and it was a group I was desperate to avoid. My feelings were twisting around the food inside my belly, causing my body to lock up in confusion and terror. I knew my father wanted to do great things in Central, and being in the Commission was obviously something he wanted, but it would be the final nail in the coffin of my future outside of Central.
We bid Mr. Lloyd goodnight yet again and, when the door closed, my mother squealed, throwing her arms around my father’s neck.
“I knew you would do great…” she whispered.
Chapter Nine
Becca asked the following Monday if I had recovered from my experience at Archangel, and even though I said I had, I was sure my ears were still ringing. Jill became tense when Devon was mentioned, particularly when anyone said that he and I had looked good dancing together. I was not sure if the other girls noticed they were pushing her buttons or if they were purposely testing boundaries before the issue was finally discussed.
Classes started before Jill had a chance to say anything about her feelings for Devon.
I was happy class gave me a reason to be away from Jill, but I knew it was only a matter of time before the issue of Devon would turn into a fight. I wanted to tell her that I had no interest in Devon—even though that was not entirely true. However, I did not want to cause unnecessary drama by approaching her about him, and decided I would wait for her to say something first.
I purposely lingered outside of Lit class, worried about Jill and waiting until the last possible moment to slip across the classroom and take my seat.
“Hello, everyone, how was the party?” Mr. McDermott asked once the chime rang for class to start. The chorus of answers from the students took several moments to quiet as Mr. McDermott smiled and nodded, telling us that he was glad we all had fun. He did not allow the class long to talk about the part, holding up a book with an expectant eyebrow.
“Did you all read the first chapter?”
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