Crown and Anchor Series: Book 1-4

by Kerri Ann

  “Cut it deeper in the corner, Circe!” Meme yells out from the sideboards.

  It wasn’t tight enough for her, and I know I could have gone closer, but closer means I end up short on the other end of the landing. Ignoring her comment, I skate on. Last time she had me cut it deeper, I ended up in the boards with a sprained ankle and a week’s bed rest.

  Pushing harder and faster through the rest of the routine, pulling every bit of energy I have left, I see the prize. If I can land that quad, I’m going out tonight with friends, to a party. No, the party. Prom. Well, it’s not necessarily my prom, as I’m homeschooled, but my best friends, Shelby and Kiresa, who live next door, invited me to come along with them. I want it so bad it hurts. A social life. Boys. A kiss. Hell, a stolen illegally absconded drink would be an utterly euphoric experience. But if I want it, I need to focus on the task at hand.

  Tightening up my footwork and my speed before I venture into the middle of the rink, I hear Meme on the side shouting “Cut it. Cut it.” I’m not listening because this feels so good, the way I’m going. I can make it. I can do this.

  Prepping, I turn to see my visual landing. Releasing the coiled-up tension in my spin, I suck in a deep breath. As my foot hits the ice, I pull out my free leg and stick the landing perfectly. Skating off with a sense of freedom and joy in my accomplishment, I beam as I finish my routine.

  Finally, I did it! I honestly did it! Sure, I’ll have to prove it time and again before Regionals, or before she lets me prepare for the team, but I did it.

  Ending my routine as the music stops, I head over to Meme. Seeing her scowling is not what I’d expected. Here I was, thinking she’d be proud me. Christ on a cracker, she’s pissed. Without her blessing, I can’t go tonight.

  “I did it Meme Léon! I landed it clean.”

  “Oui, you completed it. Once, Circe. Do you understand that is not an accomplishment in success? Completing it multiple times is worth praise. Once is a fluke.”

  Well, that’s a quick way to burst a girl’s bubble. Thank. You. Meme.

  Hanging my head, staring at the patchy snow piled against the boards, there’s no more than a snowball’s chance in Hades she’ll allow me to celebrate anything tonight, or any other night. Dammit.

  For the next few moments she scolds me, reminding me of my failures, and that my single quad was not a measure of success. She then informs me the day is complete and I’m allowed to hit the shower. Tamping my blades on the hard floor, back to the changing area, I’m so upset at what a horrible day this has become. This is not a night of celebrating. No way will I be entertaining life as a regular teenager. I’ll most definitely not be having that experimental time with a boy.

  My life is controlled by others. When do I get a choice? My wants and needs are always overlooked, and it’s becoming difficult to live with.

  Cleaning up and clearing out of my private arena as quickly as possible, I find Meme Léon informing my highly strict and overprotective parents that I’m not deserving of a free night. Thanks for crushing my hopes.

  Of course, that was after Shelby texted me that she’d snuck into my room.

  S: It’s there.

  C: What is?

  S: THE dress.

  C: I can’t.

  S: See you at nine.

  C: I won’t be going. Have a great night.

  S: I’ll be there at NINE.

  Informing me that the dress she left suited me best, I tried my best to ignore her. With or without permission, they’d be there to grab me. Great, another person to disappoint. I want so badly to go, but going against Meme’s wishes will just cause me undue grief, further tightening of the leash, and a lack of free time with Shelby or Kiresa in the future.

  Will it be worth it? Hell yes.

  Will I do it? Probably not.

  Getting back to the house a little over an hour ago, my father requested my presence. In his very formal and concise way, he said no. If Meme said no, then his answer was no.

  Looking to my mother, sitting in her favorite wingback chair, legs crossed dutifully at the ankles, shoulders straight, and yet at ease, she’s extravagant grace.

  “No matter what I say, no matter how much I plead or beg, the answer will be no?”

  “Please, understand. We know you want to take on the world as a bright and normal teenager, but I will reiterate. You, my sweetheart, are not a normal heathen like the rest of the rabble that attend those functions.”

  I’m done for. My father won’t be swayed.

  “Even if I promised more time on the ice, you’ll still say no?” Attempting to look defeated and broken, I give my final attempt at changing their minds. Mustering all the sad pictures of hurt children, puppies, and washed up whales I can think of, I attempt tears. I’ve gotten pretty good at it over the years, and to be perfectly honest, I should be getting an Oscar for this next season. I’m that good.

  “So that’s it?” I say, hitching my breathing, allowing moisture to well in my eyes. “Nothing will change your minds on the matter?”

  Looking at each other wordlessly, they shake their heads. The facade cracks slightly on my mother’s perfectly demure face, but my father’s stoic and stern gaze is still in place.

  “No. I’m sorry. Olympic dreams come before a silly dance.”

  “Fine. I’ll be in my room if you need me at all this evening.” Turning heel to walk away, I add, “Actually, don’t bother visiting. My door will be locked. I’ll be unavailable. Have a good night.” Smiling weakly, I kiss each of them on their outstretched cheeks before sauntering off to my room in the opposite wing from their sitting area.

  Our house is so large and expansive, that for me to even speak to my parents face-to-face takes a good ten minutes from my side of the house to theirs. Really, I don’t mind, as we have nothing in common. So many times, I’ve wondered if I was adopted, or the daughter of a long lost relative they took pity on. Then I look at them and myself. I see the uncanny resemblances reflected back, like in a mirror. The sharp cheekbones, the tight tiny freckles that are concentric. They’re perfectly smattered all over the face of both myself and my father, as if we’re carbon copies of each other.

  My hair coloring and eyes are all my mother. Green like the sea foam that sprays up the coast near our beachfront, and coppery red strands, with soft strawberry highlights that neither of us have to pay for. Never mind the rail thin bodies we all have in common. Or the pianist fingers that hang like tree branches down our svelte forms. I lucked out on the metabolism of a house fly, with the appetite of a growing gorilla that keeps the kitchen hopping day and night.

  When I finally make it back to my room, it’s midday. The sun is crashing against the backdrop of the ocean outside my window, making me wistful. Despondently so. “Why are they so constricting? Why not allow me a bit of space so that I would feel freedom? Why make me feel like a prisoner to the sport I love?” Tossing off my sweater, I walk in and see the present from Shelby. “Fuck.” Picking it up, turning it around and inspecting it in all its perfection, I’m more conflicted than before.

  There’s no way I’d stop skating just to gain the freedom I so desperately desire. I’ve invested too much of my childhood. The flip side to that coin is that I know I would give anything to be given the freedoms that other teenagers in my position are granted.

  It’s unfair that I have anything I could want or need, but the true price of freedom is immeasurable to me.

  Whether I had permission or not, Shelby and Kiresa would be coming at nine. They’ll push me into it whether I like it or not. The beautiful dress eggs me on to defy my parents, and if I have any chance at keeping the only friends I hold dear, I’ll find a way to escape, undetected.

  Smelling like a sweaty gym room after a team of boys have returned, another shower is key. My hair is in shambles—ratty and tangled from all the exertion, even after a shower at the rink. And if I want to look presentable in that dress, I better shave. Stinky girls with wisps under their arms most def
initely don’t get a kiss from the prince.

  A few hours later, pacing the room has done nothing to help me make a definitive decision. I tried a list of pros and cons, a coin toss. I even put the dress on and stood in front of the mirror, imagining myself dancing with a hot guy named Jackson, Kendrick or even a Phillip. It fit like silk. Dealing with my parents and Meme…will it be worth the pain and anguish they’ll impart for defying them? Mostly. But if I don’t try to be a rebellious teenager that would put myself out there and do as I pleased without permission, then have I really lived?

  “Shit. How much of a wuss am I?” I’m a straight A student. I do all the tasks set forth, and I’m prepping for my first year at college without stepping foot outside our mansion. I need to do this for my own sanity.

  Shelby and Kiresa have texted me nonstop since two thirty.

  Kiresa: Are you?

  Shelby: Did they?

  And the occasional So??? from both.

  Pinging back and forth between us, my phone is running out of juice. Finally breaking free, I answered their hundredth question.

  Me: I’m going.

  Parents and Meme be damned. I want out of this house. I’ll enjoy an evening without the restraint of being a modest and obedient person. I’m almost eighteen. I think I’m old enough to decide if I want something more than being a prisoner to their choices. Yet I’m still young enough to be scared shitless of their reprimands.

  With the dress on, hair done, makeup pristinely applied with a touch of harlot,

  I’m ready to break free.

  CIRCE - THE PAST

  Receiving a text from Kiresa that they were on the way over, I was anxious, nervous, and excitedly prepared to say the least. Moving to the sundeck of my room where the door opens up to the grounds, I gather my clutch, phone, and a lip gloss, in case I need to repair my look throughout the evening. As I’m stepping out, my phone rings. It’s my mother.

  “Hello?” I don’t know if she can hear my trepidation or fear, but I hope to hell I don’t garner any attention. I don’t want her to feel she needs to visit my side of the house.

  “Darling. Your father and I have talked again about the circumstances from today…” She pauses. As she paces back and forth, I can hear her heels clicking on the Italian tiles in her room. “I’m sorry you feel we aren’t giving you a fair shot at living your teenage life. Your studies and lessons must come first if you are to receive any Olympic invitations.”

  She’s probably had an in-depth conversation with my father about allowing me to go, and his answer never changed. She’s the softer of the two. I can usually count on her siding with me, and I’d really hoped she would. Unfortunately, I think she agreed wholeheartedly with him.

  “I get it, Mom. If I want to be the best, I need to give the best I have. It just sucks I have to give up being independent and adventurous at the same time.” I slowly close the doors of my patio, exiting into the moonlit night. “Don’t worry about me. I have to get up extra early anyway. Meme wants me at the rink at five am. I probably won’t see you until after lessons.”

  She’s stopped moving, probably sitting in her favorite lounger off her en suite. “I love you, Circe. I just want the best for you. Taking the high road instead of arguing the point further shows your character. I’m proud of you.”

  Fuck. Way to make me feel worse about what I’m doing. “I know, Mom. I’m gonna go, okay?” Closing the door, it clicks silently.

  “Night, Circe. I love you.”

  “I love you too.” Hanging up the line, placing my phone in my clutch, I feel like a horrible daughter.

  Moving down the side of the house and hopping into the waiting car, Kiresa is first to pipe up. “Your parents said no. And you, Circe, are still doing it?”

  “I really need you to start the car before security notices something.”

  “Circe, you never defy your parents,” Shelby says over her shoulder as we drive down the long winding road toward the city.

  “I defy them. I just do it in my own way.”

  “You kill them with kindness? Or is it that silence is golden?” Kiresa’s smirk is gleeful.

  “You know it’s going to cost you, right?” Shelby pipes in, bringing the car to a stop at the light. Turning on her blinker, we wait for the red light to change. Turning, she glares at me with that knowing smirk, the one that tells me not only will I pay for this from them, but also because I defied my parents. She now knows she can make me do it on a whim with a wink, a nudge, and a pretty dress.

  “Yes. I know you’re going to use this as ammo for the next time you get me to break the rules.” Picturing the next insane act of defiance that she’ll think up, I shake my head and smile. Bungee jumping? Sky diving? Maybe racing. Or she’ll have me speed dating with older men. This could be dangerous.

  “Shel, light’s green.” We head down the freeway toward the hotel.

  “I can’t be out past twelve or I’ll be a wreck for tomorrow’s training. If I can’t land that quad again, I won’t be off the ice until I’m an old hag.” As they both laugh, giving me no answer about the curfew, I know this will be a dangerous night. I’m not entirely sure if it’s because they doubt I’ll be on time, or if they think it’s funny I’m setting us one. Either way, I hope they take me seriously.

  There’s a ton of traffic tonight on the freeway as we hop on the express toward Venice Beach. One of the girls, Joanie so-and-so, her parents own this massive hotel. They gave her the run of the high-end palace for the weekend, and I can see danger looming in the near future for many. Probably a police officer or two as well.

  “BTW, Circe. I did tell you that dress was vintage, right?” Kiresa informs me.

  “Vintage, huh? I didn’t know that.” I smile weakly.

  Shelby merges into the next lane like a boss, making it look so easy. I envy her. I haven’t even had a chance to drive. Skating has taken up too much time to allow me any moments behind the wheel.

  “Circe, can you pass me my lip gloss? It’s in my bag on the seat beside you.” Deciding when I got in to sit in the middle, I reach into her clutch and pull out the gloss. The last thing I wanted to do was wrinkle the dress with the chest seatbelt. Leaning forward to be within their conversations, I hand up the small tube.

  That’s when there’s an ear-splitting shriek and a peeling noise, like metal being pulled apart. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever heard before. As the sky falls, the ground comes up to greet me. My head bounces off the seat where my friends are. I feel like a pinball. It’s jolting and jarring as my teeth rattle against each other, causing me to nip my cheeks numerous times before I pass out.

  Coming to, I find it hard to comprehend the carnage. Shelby’s head sits at an unnatural angle against the dash, lying by the radio. A song pipes through the speakers still, wailing about a party. Blood slicks the screen and debris surrounds us. Kiresa is leaning against the bare ground. Her window is shattered into a thousand pieces as blood pools around her tangled and dirty platinum hair. Seeing her body hung up in the window frame as we lay sideways in Shelby’s mangled Mercedes, I know this isn’t good.

  I move. I need to make sure my friends are alive.

  “Shelby, can you hear me? Kiresa?” Neither answer. Not a moan, not a groan. Nothing.

  I try to remove my seatbelt, but it won’t budge. It’s stuck. With my face pushed up against the seat tightly, I lean in to reach Kiresa. Hanging sideways, pulling myself forward on her seat, she’s far enough away I can only just reach her. Feeling for a pulse, I expect movement on her skin, but there’s none.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  There’s no chance Shelby’s alive, not with her head at that angle, but I feel for her pulse anyway. She’s like loose rubber, bendy and soft. Touching her neck gently, near the spine, it’s crunchy feeling. Both of them are dead, I know it.

  “Hello? Are you okay in there?” I hear someone call out. They’re not right beside the car, but they’re close.

  “In here!” Yell
ing back, my voice cracks as I begin to cry.

  There’s scrambling against the underside of the car, like someone’s trying to scale their way to my door. A man, about twenty years old or so, peers through the top of the smashed window.

  With a smile, he looks down at the girls. “How are you? How are your friends?” he asks as he tries to hold onto the door and open it at the same time, breathing heavily.

  Sighing, I can’t say it yet. If I answer that they’re dead, then it becomes true. “My ears are ringing and my head hurts.” I yank on the edge of my strap. “And my belt’s stuck.”

  “Hold still,” he says. “Let me get the door open.” Jerking hard, he yanks on the door until it swings free, upward and away.

  “Let me see if I can get you out, then we’ll get your friends.”

  Leaning in, so that his body hangs upside down inside, he’s suspended by his torso. “I’m Jack. And you are?” A wicked grin paints his features.

  “Circe.” I’m trying to work the buckle, but it won’t budge.

  “Well, Circe. Let’s see if we can’t get you free. Move your hand away from the side. I’m going to cut the strap.” Scooching my butt over a bit, gravity pulls my body away from the seat belt strap. Pulling out a tool, Jack runs it along the belt a few times until I hear a pop, and feel a lack of tension.

  “Can you move, Circe? I’d hate to see you stuck after all this work.” He winks. Like, actually winks, then smiles once more. It’s an electric grin.

  “Are you hitting on me while trying to play the hero, Jack?”

  “Nope.” Again with that smile. “I’m just trying to occupy your mind. You need to keep calm, and if a smile does it, I’ll keep doing it,” he grunts. “Hold on a second, okay? I’m just turning around.”

  Jack disappears, and as I feel the car shift, his feet appear. Dangling close to where my face is, perching himself, he holds onto the edge of the driver’s seat for support. “Okay, Circe. When I say I need you to let go of the seat, wiggle your legs. We’ll get you out of here so we can look after your friends, all right?” Nodding, I reach for his hands, one at a time.