by Karin Biggs
I smiled. “I’ll audition too.”
“Really? Weren’t you two headed somewhere?” Heather asked, looking at Darden.
We all waited for Darden to respond, but he suddenly lost the ability to communicate.
“It can wait.” My words stabbed a pang of guilt in my gut because what I was really saying was ‘my mother can wait.’
But Heather looked at me with hopeful eyes.
I reached for Heather’s hand. “You’ll sound amazing compared to me and the maestro will be sure to pick you. I’ll just be there for moral support.” I turned to Darden. “You can go on to the Village without me.”
He hugged his chest. “I…um, I’m just going to head back to my room. Good luck with the audition, ladies.”
I blinked and Darden was gone.
Heather flung her arms around me and pulled me into a hug, then led me to the rehearsal room where the maestro conducted the auditions. She waved goodbye to Genevieve before we entered and sat on the risers.
Reese and Layla were by far the best new singers but there was still a spot open for a soprano solo in the auditorium show. It was open for any season but Heather heard a rumor that the maestro wanted a New Lady to showcase for the king.
I auditioned with no fear of the maestro, knowing that my presence was solely for someone else’s benefit.
Heather was the last to go. I wished her luck as she stepped up to the piano. Maestro signaled Francis to play, and Heather missed her intro.
“I’m sorry, can I start again?” she asked as she nervously wrung her hands.
Maestro nodded and Francis played her intro.
My heart fluttered with excitement when she made her entrance on time and gave a powerful performance up until the end when she took a breath in the middle of a sustained note.
Maestro nodded at the conclusion of her audition.
“You were great,” I whispered, as she sat down next to me.
She rubbed her temples. “I screwed up twice. Maestro hates that.”
I shook my head. “Not anything you can’t fix. And it’s such a tiny thing, nobody other than Maestro would notice it.”
She smiled and leaned into my shoulder.
We sat in silence with the other singers as we waited for Maestro to make his decision. After a few minutes, he posted the list to a board, then walked out of the room. I stood but didn’t approach the board with the rest of the group.
“Hey Layla, we’re scheduled to sing a duet at the New Year’s Eve Ball,” Reese said.
Layla scoffed and left the room.
“It’s a pleasure to sing with you, too!” he shouted at her. He slung his bag over his shoulder with a grunt and headed out.
Heather turned and picked up her bag with a sour expression. “I didn’t get it.”
I offered her a sympathetic look. “I’m so sorry, Heather. You sounded great. He’s probably just more familiar with the returning members’ voices.”
She shook her head as I followed her to the door. “He didn’t pick a returning member,” she said. “He picked you.”
I followed at Heather’s heels. “It had to be a mistake. Or one of his mind-games. We all know you’re a better singer, Heather. I don’t—”
“You don’t need to make me feel better, Paris. I’m okay.”
“Let me talk to him.”
“No. Please don’t. Thanks for auditioning with me, but I’m kind of tired now. I’ll see you later.” She headed into the Lounge and I considered following her, but comforting Heather wouldn’t change the fact that I was given the solo. Only one person could make the change, so I headed to his office.
When I arrived in the Administrative Wing of the Mansion, I followed the sound of piano chords punching out a repetitive rhythm. I peered into Maestro’s office and where a desk should have been, a baby grand piano sat in its place, taking up nearly the entire room. One of his hands sat on the keys while the other scribbled notes with a pen. The faint smell of something sweet and woody tickled my nose. The maestro didn’t flinch when I knocked on the door but moved his eyeballs in my direction.
“Why are you here?” he asked as he poured some brown liquid into an empty glass on the ledge of the piano.
“I wanted to—”
“I know why you’re here.” He spoke to his full glass.
My heart increased its tempo against my chest.
“You want something.” Maestro tilted his head back and the brown liquid disappeared from the glass. “I have one hundred miserable, empty kids who will perform to their highest caliber because they all want something—money, adoration, fame, fancy dresses, an education…what do you want?”
“Maestro, sir, I came here to talk to you about—”
“You said you were ‘attracted to joy’ at your audition and you feel most like yourself when you sing.” He nodded as he poured himself a second glass. “It was a good answer. You want to be happy, and singing does that for you. I get it. But what I can’t figure out is why living in this dump of a house would make you happy?” He clutched the glass and slammed his free hand on the surface of the piano. “WHAT DO YOU WANT?” The piano strings vibrated under the power of his hand and the roar of his voice.
Breathe. Focus. Breathe.
“Sir, I want to talk to you about the solo auditions.”
He shook his head. “That’s not what you really want, but…okay.” He crossed his legs and leaned forward. “Let’s talk.”
I sucked in a breath. “Why didn’t you pick Heather? She’s a better singer than me. She deserved it.”
His eyebrows formed two uneven mountain peaks at the base of his forehead. “First of all, nobody deserves anything. And this court isn’t always about who’s the most talented. I need people on that stage I can rely on and at this moment in time, I can’t rely on Miss Romaine.”
“But she has so much more experience and—”
“LA LA LA LA LA!” The maestro shoved two fingers in his ears. “STOP! PLEASE! My ears can’t handle the sound of whining! This is my court, not yours. End of story. Now go.” He turned and swallowed the last of his drink, slamming down the empty glass.
I clenched my trembling hands and tried to steady my breathing but anger took over. “And I was under the impression this was the King’s 100.”
The maestro’s hands hovered above the piano keys. “Miss Marigold, as far as I’m concerned, I am your king. And if you say one more word to me, I swear on the entire Royal Family that I will dismiss you and you’ll be in the first auto-taxi back to Green Heights. So, any final words? I’d love to hear them.” His menacing eyes held me like a snake hypnotizing its prey.
My jaw twitched, but I kept my mouth shut, knowing better than to poke the monster.
“That’s a good court lady. Now get out. Get out!” Maestro’s hands pounded all the piano keys under repetitive shout-singing of “GEEEEEEEEEEET OUT! Get ooooout! GET OOOOOOOOOOUT! GET OUT! GET! OUT!”
I hurried out of his office without a destination in mind—I just needed to get away from the crazed man. I desired a way to stand out from the other court members of the King’s 100 but I never wanted a solo. I was still getting used to the idea of singing, let alone singing by myself in front of an audience of thousands. My feet carried me back to the Lounge where Genevieve pounced on me.
“Paris! Come on, you’ll miss it!” She tugged my arm forward.
“Miss what?”
“You’ll see. I’ve been looking for Heather, but can’t find her anywhere.”
I didn’t have the heart to tell Genevieve that I caused her best friend’s disappearance.
Genevieve pulled me outside the back door of the Lounge, where a gaggle of girls and a couple boys sat on the grass. A few yards away, the drummers rehearsed their marches under the direction of their Fourth Season drum captain, Sanjay Dane. Only the boys were shirtless and the girls wore athletic undergarments beneath their snare harnesses.
“It’s the last outdoor rehearsal day of the s
eason,” Genevieve said. “I wouldn’t have wanted you to miss it, especially on your birthday,” she said with a playful smile.
“It’s not my birthday.”
“You can’t fool me, Paris! All our birthdays are listed on the court roster, remember?”
Of course. Paris Marigold’s birthday was listed on the roster, not Piper Parish’s real birthday. “Oh…you’re right. But, isn’t this kind of…weird?”
“No! Look around you! The returning members were the ones who told me about it. It must be a tradition—one that Robert doesn’t have to know about,” she said in a whisper.
Of the few drummers I had come to know, Staci Ringer glimmered under the hot sun, the normally pallid skin of Simon Zacher radiated a deep shade of red and then…I saw Ari. “Genevieve, I should go. I…need to rehearse.”
“No, stay with me! They’re almost done, anyway.” She looped her arm through mine, forcing me to watch the hypnotizing way Ari’s arm muscles tensed with each hit of his snare drum.
“Robert has nice arms but they’re not drummer’s arms,” Genevieve said softly in my ear.
When the drummers finished their rehearsal, the other kids in our group let out loud calls and whistles. Genevieve stuck two fingers in her mouth and blew a whistle so loud it could have turned the heads of every citizen in Mondaria. And to my horror, it garnered the attention of one of Mondaria’s black-haired citizens, who turned and waved at me.
“Bye, Genevieve,” I said, peeling myself away from her.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
And then there were heavier, quicker footsteps behind me. “Paris, hold up!”
I paused and closed my eyes, refusing to turn around.
“How did it go?” asked Ari.
I felt him brush past me and I forced my eyes to open. I focused on the sweat above his brows, but against my will, my eyes traveled down to his steadily rising chest and glistening toned abdomen. “It was great!” I said with too much enthusiasm, unable to control the volume of my voice. “Wait, how did what go exactly?”
“Solo auditions. Darden said you were going to audition.”
“Right, the solo auditions,” I said with a nod. “Maestro gave me the open soprano solo for the auditorium show.”
“Wow, that’s great! Congrats, Paris.” Ari held up a wide palm. “Hey, don’t leave me hanging.” He grabbed my wrist and hit my palm against his—a ‘high-five.’
I felt like an idiot, having seen the action done multiple times in the Lounge, only to forget what to do in front of a half-naked Ari.
He dropped my hand and wiped his brow. “So, I’ll see you tonight at Grape Stomp?”
“Yes, sir! I mean, yeah.” I felt uncomfortably twitchy. “And I look forward to meeting your girlfriend.” I said the word ‘girlfriend’ as if I was verbally reminding myself of the important fact.
Ari put his hands on his hips. “She’s actually not coming.”
His new hand placement drew my eyes to the visible iliac crests of his hip bone. “That’s too bad,” I said, surprised by the upbeat tone to my voice.
“But Heather said she’d go with me in her place. Maybe we can all sit together—you, Darden, me and Heather?”
I had the sudden urge to know if he asked Heather to Grape Stomp or if Heather offered to go with him. And if he had known Tasha wasn’t able to make it, why hadn’t he mentioned it to me before? “Yeah, I think that’s a great idea,” I said, deciding the best thing for me was to exit the conversation. And before Ari could respond, follow me with his scent or naked torso, I darted away with a short “Bye!”
Genevieve caught up beside me and looped her arm through mine. She talked about how excited she was to see Robert when my mind ran away with the thought of Ari and Heather together at Grape Stomp.
Why had the thought of them together bothered me when I already knew Ari had a girlfriend? Ari and Heather were friends, just how Darden and I were friends. Well, friends based on an agreement to impress his queen of hearts.
I stopped in my tracks.
If Heather was Darden’s queen of hearts, then I could tell Ari. I promised Darden I wouldn’t tell anyone, but I trusted Ari to not say anything. We could make something up. Say that Maestro told us to change up our dates for whatever reason. And then Darden could enjoy his evening with Heather, tell her he had feelings for her, and I wouldn’t have to help him finish his complicated illusion.
Genevieve tapped the side of my head. “Paris, hello? What’s going on in there?”
“What card did Heather get from Darden’s hearts trick?”
“I don’t remember.”
I pulled Genevieve forward as I picked up our pace to the dormitories. Heather had to be the queen of hearts.
Genevieve giggled as she quickened her steps to keep up with me. “I still maintain that you were in on his numbers trick.”
I huffed and reached for the Lounge door, but Genevieve’s following words froze my muscles.
“And if it matters to you,” she said, “I got the queen of hearts.”
Genevieve appeared at our door as Layla and I were on our way out to meet the rest of the King’s 100 for the Grape Stomp call-time. “Happy Birthday, Paris!” she shouted, as she extended a paper-wrapped item.
“Today’s your birthday?” asked Layla.
I shrugged, taking the gift from Genevieve.
“Damn, I suck.”
I shook my head. “Really, Layla, it’s okay. I don’t—”
“Yes, you do suck,” Genevieve said.
Layla stuck her tongue out and left me alone with Genevieve, who clapped her hands. “Go ahead and open it!”
I unwrapped the pink paper to find a pair of brand-new blue jeans. “Oh, you didn’t have to do that, Genevieve.”
“You’re the only person I know who doesn’t own a pair of jeans. And…they’re actually from me and Heather, but Heather’s…she’s just not feeling well right now.”
Guilt coursed through me at the reminder of Maestro’s flawed decision. I set the blue jeans on my bed, then gave Genevieve a hug—the appropriate gesture when receiving a gift from a Mondarian. “That was nice of you two. Thank you.”
She bounced on the soles of her feet. “Let’s go! I can’t wait for you to meet Robert!”
I followed Genevieve through the back door of the Lounge and over to the Mansion Lawn. Our attire for the evening included knee-length black knit skirts with purple collared shirts and the men wore black shorts with purple shirts. Guests were invited to wear casual attire but to keep their bottoms above the knee for the grape stomping.
Genevieve leapt into the arms of a husky boy with brown curly hair. After receiving a slew of Genevieve’s kisses, Robert scanned the event as if he had stepped into a dream—a feeling the two of us shared. Rows of white draped tables covered the typically empty green lawn under a huge canopy of twinkling string lights. A black and white dance floor sat at the entrance of the event with a band playing lively, upbeat music. Large wooden barrels filled with grapes framed the tables, mixing the tart scent of berries with pine needles. The sun cast a deep orange hue against the backdrop of the mountains and a breeze caressed my arms with its final breaths of autumn air.
I spotted Darden and headed his way, exhaling a sigh of relief that I wasn’t required to play the role of table host for the evening. Grape Stomp was once a day of labor for everyone at the Mansion, including the King’s 100. Court members were instructed to bring friends for more manpower to assist with the stomping, but over time, it became a traditional day of celebration rather than work.
But my relief was short-lived when I remembered I would sit at the same table with a girl who managed to go from loving to hating me over the span of a day.
Darden waved his hands in the air and presented a small bouquet of yellow flowers. “Marigolds for Miss Marigold. Happy birthday.”
“Today’s your birthday?” asked Ari.
Heather turned her head as if the sight of me made
her feel ill.
I nodded. “Yeah.”
Ari smiled. “Happy birthday. Sorry I didn’t know.”
“It’s okay. I—”
“Paris, today is your birthday?” asked Raya, a Second Season singer.
I nodded as Reese took a seat beside her as her date.
“I’ll make sure to do an extra special challenge for you,” Raya said.
Darden pulled out my chair.
“Challenge?” I asked as I sat down.
But Raya struck up a conversation with the girl on the other side of her—a Second Season magician named Jasmine. Jasmine’s date, Eli was the only outsider date at our table. His expression was like Robert’s—as if he had just discovered a hidden treasure. He complimented Jasmine at every opportunity and couldn’t stop looking around, as if the king’s Mansion would disappear if he didn’t monitor every detail.
Jasmine left the table to speak with Agnes, leaving Eli alone for a minute. “So, Jasmine says you guys practice every day?”
“We don’t practice, we rehearse,” Darden said. “Our maestro likes to remind us that ‘practice is for drooling toddlers and—’”
“Rehearsing is for professionals!” Ari and I both jumped in at the same time to finish Darden’s sentence.
“Which one is your maestro?” he asked.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” Jasmine said as she slid back into her seat.
Raya tapped her glass and cleared her throat. “To make tonight more interesting, we’ll play a little game of Truth or Dare.” Raya flashed a wicked smirk. “And you must follow through. If you don’t, you’ll have to face your punishment.”
“What’s the punishment?” I asked.
“You have to take a drink from our Witch’s Brew! It’s a concoction of mystery liquids.” She pulled a glass bottle with a stopper from under the table, filled to the top with a liquid the color of mud. Raya revealed a wine glass with her other hand. “I’ll fill up the wine glass to the top and you have to chug the whole thing.”
