UnTwisted

by Elise Allen

  Flissa wheeled back to Loriah, who was smiling and nodding, her face so red it tinged her blond ponytail.

  “Shut up,” Loriah said when the rose had poofed away in another round of flute notes, and she stood with Flissa on the sidelines. She tried to sound stern, but she couldn’t pull it off when she was still blushing and grinning.

  “I’m just surprised,” Flissa said. “I thought you didn’t even talk to anyone except me, Galric, Sara, and the team.”

  “I barely talk to anyone else,” Loriah said. “Marianna’s in my Magic Lab class. She’s tolerable.”

  Flissa smiled, and she wasn’t surprised when Loriah played even harder the second half of the game, as if she knew someone was watching.

  The team won easily, and afterward everyone streamed down from the stands, including her parents, Rouen, Katya, and Primka. Sara and Galric were with them, and seeing her sister there to support her at the game made Flissa’s heart ache. She met Sara’s eyes, and she could tell her twin felt the same way, but before she could say anything, their father picked Flissa up and spun her around, which he hadn’t done in years.

  “You are a hoodle genius!” he boomed, his mustache pointing giddily upward.

  “I haven’t gone to a hoodle game since before your father and I were married,” her mother said. “It was fantastic!”

  “Plus you won me a bet,” her father said. “If you’d lost, I’d have owed the king of Winterglen ten bushels of plobquats. Now we get ten cases of their finest mulled quintberry cider.”

  “Shame on you for betting on the children’s game,” Katya said.

  “And for not wagering more,” Rouen added. “I’d have gotten us thirty cases. No way was this team going to lose.”

  While the adults argued about the merits of betting on a school hoodle match, Flissa stepped aside to talk to Sara and Galric. “I’m really glad you came,” she told her sister.

  “Wouldn’t have missed it,” Sara said.

  “And Katya would have killed us if we’d tried,” Galric added. “Wouldn’t have missed it anyway, but…just saying.”

  “The ball-posal in the middle was pretty great, right?” Flissa said.

  “Sure,” Sara said. “If you forget that the whole Kaloonification Ball is a major lie Amala only created to cover up her true evil motives, then yeah, it was pretty great.”

  Flissa felt her face get hot. “Can’t you let that go for one second? We just won our first game. It’s a big deal.”

  “And someone trying to destroy the kingdom isn’t a big deal?”

  “Hey,” Galric said, “remember that hoop you scored right at the end of the first half? That blocker was coming right at you, but then you did that gotcha zigzag….”

  He shifted his body left and right to imitate Flissa, but she wasn’t paying attention. She was too annoyed with Sara, who was still staring at her with a smug look on her face, like she knew something Flissa was just too naïve to understand.

  Flissa couldn’t deal. She turned back to their parents, but then she saw Zinka walking down the field. She had her head down, and her knuckles were pressed against her teeth. Flissa was only a little surprised she didn’t look happier; the hoodle team had elected her captain and she took the job very seriously. Flissa knew that even after a win she’d be playing the game back in her head, looking for things they could have done better.

  “Zinka!” Flissa called. “Come here—I want you to meet my family.”

  Zinka wasn’t far away, but she kept walking and didn’t even look in Flissa’s direction. Maybe she didn’t hear her. Flissa tried again. “Zinka!”

  Zinka wheeled to Flissa, her face a dark grimace. “Not now, okay?” she snapped, then continued stalking away.

  “Gee, that’s weird,” Sara said, her voice making it clear that it wasn’t weird at all. “I wonder why someone would avoid meeting the king and queen and members of the General Council.”

  “Just stop, okay?” Flissa said. She jumped into her parents’ conversation to hug them all goodbye and tell them she’d meet them at home later, then ran to the girls’ dorm to find Zinka. She hadn’t wanted to give Sara the satisfaction of saying so, but it was weird that Zinka wouldn’t want to meet Flissa’s family, and Flissa was afraid something was really wrong. She knew Zinka had her plate full with hoodle, her classes, and working so hard to help plan the Kaloonification Ball. All the Ambassadors had thrown themselves into the planning, but Zinka seemed more involved than any of them—she was constantly pulling together ideas for the decorations, the music, the menu…it was a lot, and Flissa could see the pressure taking its toll on her. Most of the time she was herself, but sometimes she’d snap like she just did on the field, and Flissa knew Zinka was extra-stressed because she’d started wearing bandages over her ragged fingernails, and the circles under her eyes had only gotten darker.

  Flissa ran up to the third floor and into Zinka’s room. “Zinka?”

  The room looked empty. Flissa was about to climb the ladder to see if Zinka was up in the loft bed, but then she heard a high-pitched squeak coming from the closet.

  “Zinka?”

  Flissa edged to the door and pulled it open. Zinka was huddled on the floor, Teddy curled in her lap. Tears rolled down her face as she stared at her ruined fingernails. Without the bandages, they looked even worse than Flissa had realized. They were shredded, split down the middle, and weeping blood. Zinka didn’t try to hide them; she looked up at Flissa helplessly. “I can’t get them to stop bleeding,” she sobbed. “No matter what I do, they won’t stop.”

  “I am the worst sister in the world,” Sara said. She and Galric were in a carriage on the way back to the palace. They’d stayed on campus after the game to meet up with Krystal so they could compare the latest notes from their investigation.

  Grand sum of what they’d learned? Nothing. They’d spent the last week and a half talking to almost all the Ambassadors, and each of them had only the most glowing things to say about both Amala and their Kaloonification meetings. The Ambassadors also raved about Zinka. They all said she was the most amazing person in the world, who could juggle a million things and succeed at all of them. Even Jentrie, whom Sara had expected to spill all kinds of dirt, totally admired Zinka and said getting to know her had made her think differently about the Untwisteds.

  Sara should have been happy. It seemed like everything she’d been worried about was a false alarm. Kaloon wasn’t in danger. Amala wasn’t scheming against the kingdom. The ball was just a ball, and from what Jentrie, Anastasia, Nikkolas, and Skeed told them about it, it was going to be an incredible night.

  Sara wasn’t happy, though; she was miserable.

  “You’re not the worst sister in the world,” Galric said. “I bet somewhere there’s a person who did something really horrible to their sister. Like…I don’t know. What’s something really bad a person could do to her sister?”

  “Attack one of her best friends and bring her down every time she’s happy by talking about a conspiracy that doesn’t exist?” Sara suggested.

  Galric nodded. “Nice. I see what you did there. That’s what you did to Flissa. But no. Guaranteed there’s way worse.”

  Sara sighed. She let her head slump against the window and watched the kingdom stream by.

  “Maybe Flissa was right,” Sara said, keeping her gaze out the window. “Maybe I was only stuck on Zinka scheming with Amala because I was jealous.”

  Sara wouldn’t look at Galric, but she could hear the confused scrunch of his brow when he spoke. “Why would you be jealous?”

  “Because,” Sara said. “She’s…I don’t know…popular. She’s got a whole group of new friends, she’s on the hoodle team, she’s totally involved in planning the ball, plus you know she has to have the best grades in the school. She doesn’t even flip her coin anymore—did you notice? Which is good, I know, but it’s like she’s a whole new person. She’s just…winning. At life.”

  Now she did turn to Galric. The scrunch
was there, just like she’d known it would be. “Okay,” he said, “but that makes it sound like you’re…losing at life. Which you’re not.”

  “Aren’t I?” Sara asked. “I haven’t made one new friend since we got to school. And I know you’re about to say Krystal, but we’re only friends through you. And I’m only friends with her friends because of her and you. And I’m only friends with Jentrie because we knew each other before Kaloonification, and I went out of my way to talk to her to get dirt on Amala and Zinka.”

  “You literally just listed an entire group of new friends,” Galric said.

  “Well, sure, but—”

  Galric raised an eyebrow, and Sara realized he was right. She hadn’t felt truly alone since those first couple of days. Ever since then she’d always been with people. Sara and Skeed had made their peace once Skeed had embraced his role as Ambassador, so she always ate lunch with that crowd; and she’d actually enjoyed going over to Jentrie’s house when they met up after school. Even she and Krystal turned out to have a lot in common. They were both artists, and Krystal had invited Sara to her house so they could make bowls on her pottery wheel.

  Plus she’d always had Galric.

  Sara buried her face in her hands. “I am the worst sister in the world, and I’m an idiot.”

  “Stop,” Galric said. He shifted benches so he sat next to her and gently pulled her hands off her face. “You’re not. And maybe it’s not so much that you’re jealous of Flissa. Maybe you just miss her.”

  The words hit home. She knew Galric was right. She didn’t hate it that Flissa had other friends, she just missed the two of them together. They used to share everything, and now they didn’t. She had thought living without all the rules of Princess Flissara would be heaven; instead it felt like she was missing a limb.

  By the time they got back to the palace, Sara was determined to make things up to Flissa. She had dinner with her parents and talked about the hoodle game, then ran upstairs and spun in circles, scanning the room for something nice she could do for her twin.

  “I’ll clean!” she said out loud.

  Flissa loved a clean room; her half was totally pristine. There was a clear dividing line down the center of the floor between carpet and trash heap. Sara set to work, determined to mirror Flissa’s own tidiness with her own.

  Five minutes later, she realized cleaning was exhausting. She shoved as much of her stuff as possible under her bed, in her drawers, and in her closet. The effect wasn’t perfect, but it would do. She sprawled onto her not-entirely-disgusting bed and whipped out her charcoals and sketch pad. She wanted to make Flissa a portrait—something showing her in action on the hoodle field.

  Sara lost track of time when she drew, so she had no idea how late it was when their door opened and Flissa came in. She looked exhausted, but Sara knew she’d perk up when she realized Sara had cleaned, and she’d go nuts when she saw the portrait.

  “Flissa!”

  Sara jumped out of bed but got tangled on the one remaining pile of laundry mixed in with her covers and tumbled to the floor.

  “I can’t, Sara,” Flissa said wearily. “Not tonight.”

  She waved her hand and the cream-colored wall appeared between them, locking Flissa away.

  “No!” Sara yelled, banging on the wall. “You don’t understand! It’s not what you think! Flissa, I cleaned!”

  It didn’t help. Sara knew it wouldn’t; she’d already discovered the magic wall was soundproof. She wished she could just turn back everything and start the school year over again. She couldn’t, but she’d do her best to start everything over in the morning. Tomorrow was a weekend day, but if Flissa was still upset she’d wake up early and head to campus, so Sara promised herself she’d wake up even earlier. And just in case she overslept, she tacked her charcoal drawing of Flissa to the door. Even if Flissa woke up super early and tried to slip out, she’d see the picture and know Sara wanted to apologize. Only then did she crawl under the covers and close her eyes.

  The next thing she knew, tiny needles were digging into her cheek.

  “Ow…” she muttered. “Cut it out…Flissa!”

  “MEOW!”

  Sara sat straight up in bed. The needles on her cheek weren’t from Flissa at all. It was Nitpick. He’d been kneading Sara’s cheek with his little paws, and when Sara bolted upright, she’d sent him tumbling into her comforter. He popped his head up and mewled again.

  “Nitpick, I’m so sorry!”

  She picked up the kitten and cuddled him, then looked around the room. The cream-colored wall was gone, but so was Flissa.

  “Blast! I overslept!”

  She looked at the door. Her charcoal drawing was no longer there. For a second she thrilled, imagining Flissa taking it down and keeping it with her…but then she saw Flissa had placed it on Sara’s own desk.

  She flopped back down, holding the kitten above her face. “She is so mad at me, Nitpick. What do I do?”

  Nitpick didn’t answer exactly, but he meowed and struggled in Sara’s hands until she put him down, then he jumped off the bed and ran to and from the door, back and forth, meowing with every lap.

  “You want me to follow you?” Sara asked.

  Nitpick meowed louder.

  Sara blinked the sleepy cobwebs from her head. Nitpick usually only came to her room when Galric was in the palace. And if the kitten wanted her to follow him…

  “Is it Galric? Is he okay?”

  Another meow from Nitpick, and this time he ran to the door and scratched at it.

  Sara’s heart thudded. Nitpick was never this insistent. Something must be wrong.

  “Okay, I’m coming. One second.”

  She didn’t even bother to wash up or fix her hair. She threw a robe over her nightgown, yanked on her slippers, and followed Nitpick through the palace. The kitten led her down the stairs, through the halls, then ran to the front door.

  “Really?” Sara asked. “We’re going outside?”

  Nitpick’s meow was so loud this time it was almost a roar.

  “Okay, I got it, we’re going outside!”

  They pushed through the door and Nitpick zoomed ahead. It was impossible to go fast enough to follow him in her slippers, so she kicked them off and carried them in her hand. She slipped twice, and the morning dew left ugly wet splotches on her robe, but she kept running. When she finally caught up with Nitpick, he had settled on a spot of grass not far from the stables, and was twisted like a pretzel licking himself clean.

  “Really?” Sara asked. “It’s bathtime?”

  Nitpick untwisted himself and stretched long and leisurely. Then he padded away a few steps, and Sara saw a glint of something on the grass. She picked it up.

  It was a small silver square of metal, no bigger than her hand. The words etched into it wavered, like they were cut by an unpracticed hand, but they were clear enough to read.

  The Exact Spot.

  Sara’s blood rushed in her ears.

  “Galric?”

  “I made a plaque,” he said.

  His voice came from behind her. She spun around and he was right there—almost too close. He flushed and she thought he might have felt the same way, but it would have been more awkward to move back.

  Sara met his eyes; for a second she couldn’t breathe.

  “I know you had one commissioned and all,” he said, “but I didn’t know how long that would take, so I figured I’d just give it a try.”

  “It’s good,” Sara said. She looked away from Galric and down at the plaque, hoping her blood wouldn’t whoosh so loudly in her ears. “Better than the one I commissioned, for sure.”

  “I doubt it,” Galric said. He ran his hand through his hair, then took a deep breath. “Um…so the ball…”

  Shivers danced down Sara’s arms, and she met his eyes again. “Yeah?”

  “It’s happening, and…I mean, of course it’s happening, but I, um…I kinda wondered if maybe you wanted to go with me. Together. I mean, you kno
w, of course we’d go together, we’ll both be coming from the palace, but what I’m saying is…”

  Sara felt warm all over; she thought maybe the sun had come out from behind a cloud, but she wasn’t sure. “I’d love to go with you.”

  “That’s great,” Galric said. “Really great.”

  They smiled at each other for a really long time—long enough that Sara thought maybe it should feel weird…but it didn’t feel weird. Then she wondered—was that weird?

  “Princess Sara!” Primka’s voice echoed over the field. Galric and Sara jumped away from each other so quickly that Sara dropped her slippers, and Galric stumbled and plopped down on his rear end.

  “Ugh,” he groaned. “Dew on the grass. Wet butt. Very bad.”

  Primka soared between them and fluttered around their heads. “What is wrong with the two of you? It’s a weekend morning, your mother’s looking for you and your sister, and Flissa’s run off to the academy while you’re running around the fields in your robe and bare feet! And you on the ground,” she added to Galric. “What do you think Katya would say if I told her the state you’re in?”

  Sara blushed. Katya was much more perceptive than Primka; she could only imagine what Katya would say.

  “Sorry,” Sara said. “I’ll go back and see what Mom wants.”

  “Not looking like that you won’t!” Primka said. “Your robe’s smeared with grass stains. Back to your room and make yourself presentable. And, Galric…you’re not my responsibility. Do what you want, but best to get cleaned up before Katya and Rouen see you.”

  “I’ll do that, Primka,” Galric said. He snuck a look at Sara and smiled. “Thanks.”

  “See you later, Galric,” Sara said, returning the smile. “And thanks, Nitpick.”

  “Thanks, Nitpick?” Primka crowed as she followed Sara back to the castle. “The kitten did nothing. How about thanks, Primka, for coming to get you so your mother didn’t have to send bubblegrams all over creation?”

  Sara didn’t listen to Primka. She squeezed Galric’s plaque in her hand and grinned all the way back to the castle, then washed up and got changed before she went down to her mom’s study.