by Jes Drew
Mary-Ann cocks her head at me. “I like the dress. It looks pretty on you. Don’t know why you don’t wear dresses more often.”
Because they draw attention. “It’s one of those great mysteries.”
“Like Bigfoot?”
“Yeah, like Bigfoot.” Rubbing my pearl ring, I step outside.
Madame Monique, Grandmother, and Chase are standing outside. Chase takes one look at my dress, shrugs, and walks away.
“You look lovely,” Madame Monique gushes.
“Quite exquisite,” Grandmother agrees.
“Where are the boys?” I ask.
Madame Monique gasps. “They can’t see you in your dress before the party.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Okay, but I thought that was just for wedding dresses.”
Madame Monique eyes my dress. “Close enough.”
“Well, I’ll just go change back.”
Grandmother nods. “You do that. In fact, change into your pajamas. You’ll need to get your rest.”
More convenient wedding advice. Maybe I'll get lucky and it's foreshadowing. A wedding would be a much nicer thing to look forward to then infiltrating the bad guy's lair.
Sighing, I change into my pajamas and crawl into bed. Maybe if I get a head start, I’ll eventually fall asleep. Here's hoping.
Hoping I don't have another episode if I do fall asleep...
Chapter Twelve
I wake up rather late again because of my hard- though uneventful- night, but at least I’m not as late as yesterday.
Ata’s still in the room, reading a dictionary.
Which reminds me…
Pulling out my phone, I look up Christopher's nickname for me. And find what I feared staring up at me. “My sardine? Really?”
“Did you say something?”
Blinking, I put my phone down and swing my feet over the side of my bed before nodding toward the book. “Isn’t that just a bit dull?”
“It’s fascinating to learn about other societies,” she answers without looking up.
I run a brush through my hair. “Well, you have a point there. What was life like on the Island?”
Ata finally looks up studies me for a moment before answering, “Well, we villagers were all pretty close since it’s easier to work in the fields with friends.”
“So everyone worked in the fields?”
“During planting times and harvesting times, yes. Though only half of us continue working in the fields all year long. The others, like Oto and myself, had specialized jobs.”
I nod, remembering. “Oto was a forager. What were you?”
“I was to be a forager, like our father was, but when I took the Test, it was decided that my true calling was being a seamstress.”
“There’s a test?”
Ata calmly turns a page in the dictionary- she's far past the A section I long ago abandoned. “It was a new addition to our society. The mother of the current Masters was a teacher before she married their father, Charlemagne Masters. She convinced him to break away from the system of simply passing jobs down from parent to child to a more talent-based system. She was also the one who convinced him to allow us to get educated.”
I awkwardly play with the brush bristles. How strange to be talking to this girl about her former slavery. “How did she manage that?”
“She convinced him that our mental abilities could be just as valuable as our physical talents. My mother was one of the first to be educated. She became one of the village nurses and a friend to Mrs. Charlemagne Masters.”
I nod and pull pull one of my two outfits from out of the plastic bag I use to keep my satchel from being so stuffed before making my way to the bathroom. Suddenly, a horrible thought hits me I and I whirl around. “Wait a moment- how were marriages arranged?”
“Before Mrs. Charlemagne Masters, they were arranged by the pairing of the most robust individuals to get the most robust offspring.”
“That’s horrible!”
Ata says nothing for a moment as she turns another page. “Now, though, we’re allowed to marry whomever we wish as long as we choose before we turn twenty-one.”
I chew my lip. “Well, I guess that’s better, I suppose... I guess Mrs. Charlemagne Masters was a blessing of sorts.”
“Yes, but she wasn’t the one who convinced him to change the marriage laws.”
I release my lip. “What happened then?”
“He changed them himself because he loved his wife and hoped everyone could be as happy as he.”
“That’s sweet... in a twisted sort of way.”
Ata shrugs. “There was never a need to execute the capital punishment during her lifetime... Though, the day she died, Charlemagne Masters ‘broke his streak,’ as Oto would say. That’s how my mother died. She lost her life because wasn't able to save Mrs. Charlemagne Masters’.”
My heart freezes over and I shudder. “Oh. I’m so, so sorry.”
“It’s all right… After that, there were no more capital punishments. Officially.”
“Officially?”
Ata ignores me. “Charlemagne Masters died soon after his wife, and his sons were much more merciful than their predecessors- probably because of their mother.”
“So there were no more official capital punishments until Oto?”
Ata nods. “Until Oto.”
There's nothing else either of us can think to say, so I step into the bathroom and shut the door behind me.
~~~
I spend the day helping Madame Monique, amusing my cousins, and pacing. And scheming.
“Madame Monique?” I begin.
She looks up from the sitting room she's re-arranging to get better lighting. “Yes, mon chéri?”
“What's a good, insulting- from an English viewpoint- endearment for men?”
Her entire face lights up at this, and then her eyes spark with mischief before she leans forward and whispers something into my ear.
I feel a grin spread across my face.
Then, I put on my game face before going upstairs to take a quick shower and dry my hair. Then I carefully pin it up before applying my makeup. What a strange thing to watch my freckles disappear. It kind of makes me miss them… Nah.
After that, I pin my wig on and style my new blonde hair into an up-do like Grandmother often does to her hair. Then I carefully pull my dress over my head and accessorize with my pearl ring.
Slipping my feet into a pair of dainty, silver heels, I glance at my reflection. The up-do isn’t doing it. I take my hair back down and then slip on my new (blech) glasses before stepping outside my room where the ladies of the household are waiting.
I pause awkwardly. “Well?”
“I hardly recognize you,” Grandmother assures.
“Yeah!” Mary-Ann agrees. “You look like a princess!”
Thanks.
“Too bad this a costume party,” Madame Monique says. “You looked even lovelier without the wig.”
“The boys are waiting,” Ata adds, leaning on a cane Madame Monique had found for her. “This way.”
I follow her to the hall where Oto and Chase are talking to Joseph and Christopher. They’re both in their tuxes and Christopher is wearing a wig while Joseph is wearing glasses.
“So, those are your prescribed glasses, Joseph?” Chase asks.
Joseph shrugs. “I usually wear contacts, so this is disguise enough. Especially in this monkey suit.” He looks down at himself with distaste.
“I rather like it,” Ata says.
“Oh, uh, so do I,” Joseph adds quickly. “Monkey is a term of endearment.”
Ata smiles sweetly. “Okay, you monkey.”
Shaking my head, I turn towards Christopher. And try not to drool even as his own eyes widen at seeing me.
But I have no time to think about that as I take in the view of Christopher, looking perfectly comfortable in his tux, and more like himself than Joseph even with the black wig. How could I have ever thought otherwise? Christopher�
��s eyes are blue, not black like Joseph’s, and his chin is much more chiseled. His shoulders are definitely broader, with his suit stretched over his shoulders...
“Emily?” Christopher asks in the manner of someone who’s been asking for a while. “Are you ready?”
I blush. How long have I been zoned out and focused on him? “Oh, yes- of course.”
“Be careful,” Grandmother orders.
“Please,” Mary-Ann adds.
“Yeah,” Chase agrees. “We kind of need you.”
I hug them both. “I’ll be careful.”
Madame Monique frowns. “They’re just going to a party.”
Oto ignores her and turns to me. “Watch yourself. Holly will be there and she knows you’ll be there.”
“Got it.”
“Well, your limo is waiting outside,” Madame Monique announces.
“Limo?” I ask.
Madame Monique nods. “Charles and I go way back, and if you’re going to a party, you had better do it in style.”
“Thank you,” Christopher says. Then he opens the door for me. “After you.”
I take a deep breath and step outside.
~~~
“Let’s just go over the plan one more time,” Christopher says as we ride through the city of lights in style.
“You get me to a private room, I hack their systems from the inside, and then you get me out.” Joseph shrugs. “It’s as simple as that.”
I glance up from fiddling with my skirt. “So you don’t need to be in any specific area?”
“No. As long as I’m inside the building, I’m good.”
I shrug. Him being good with simplicity is quite simply good with me. “Got it.”
The limo comes to a stop and Charles, our chauffeur for the night, opens the door for us.
I step outside and look up at the building that we broke into earlier this week. It looks different at night, at least this night, all lit up and social looking. Everywhere I look, limos are pulling up and elegantly dressed individuals are meandering towards the building.
Christopher, Joseph, and I adopt their pace and follow the others to the entrance, my heart increasing its tempo all the while. What if the first guard recognizes us?
All too soon, we come to the end of the line. There, a uniformed man stubs are tickets and sends us in without a word.
I release a breath of relief before inhaling deeply again when I see the room. The room we’ve been led into is large and several refreshments tables are against one wall. Several doorways are in the opposite wall. A stage is set up against the far wall where a band. Groups of conversationalists and dancing couples enjoying the music and each others' arms fill the center floor. The entire room is illuminated by a single giant orb of light connected to the center of the ceiling.
“What do we do now?” I whisper.
“Lay low,” Christopher whispers back. “Joseph?”
“I’m getting some punch,” Joseph answers, walking towards one of the refreshments table.
“Joseph.”
“What? My genius needs to be fueled. You two go dance or something. We need to melt into the crowd first before doing this effectively.”
Christopher shakes his head and then turns to me with an outstretched hand.
“Might as well,” I agree, blushing as I put my hand in his.
Christopher and I get into position and begin dancing. Christopher obviously has had some practice with the art- unlike me. Even so, the dance feels totally awkward. Christopher doesn’t say a word and neither do I.
I feel the warmth of his body on mine, but none of the warmth of his personality. This dance should be a dream come true. Instead, it’s cold, hard reality.
Finally, Joseph rejoins us. “Okay, you lovebirds, let’s go find me a private room- you too if you want one.”
I decide to ignore that comment. And Christopher decides to glower at Joseph. Then we weave through the crowd and slip into one of the doorways, which leads to a deserted hallway.
“Quickly,” Christopher whispers.
We hurry down the hallway until we find an open janitor closet that can fit one person tops.
“This’ll do,” Joseph announces. He pulls a laptop out from under his vest and walks inside. Then he stops and hands us two earpieces from his pocket. “Here. Keep watch, will you?” He shuts the door on us.
I place my earpiece in its place and rub my arms awkwardly. I feel so exposed standing in this hallway (not to mention wearing an all-but sleeveless dress).
A few minutes of awkward tenseness later, a door opens not too far away.
I tense even more.
“Joseph, are you done yet?” Christopher whispers into his comms.
“I only just infiltrated their system,” Joseph answers via comms. “Have some patience- it's a virtue, you know.”
Footsteps draw nearer.
“And something we can't afford right now,” Christopher mutters before turning to me. “Quick, pretend that we’re in the middle of a passionate exchange.”
A mental list of things I never expected to here come from Christopher’s mouth:
(1) That;
(2) Swear words;
(3) Vulgar words;
(4) ‘I love you;’
(5) ‘I hate you;’
(6) ‘Oto’s my new best friend;’
(7) ‘I hate pasta;’
“What?”
“Just trust me,” he answers, his voice getting lower and huskier each word.
Awkwardly, I wrap my arms around Christopher’s neck. He positions one of his hands at my waist and uses the other to tuck a strand of my wig behind my ear,
“Have I ever told you that your eyes remind me of the sea?” he asks in a low sultry voice that I didn't even know he possessed (if I did I might have just fallen in love with him sooner- that is, has he used that tone on other girls before?).
But the voice doesn't conceal the illusion to water, and water has trapped me before; I bristle. “That’s not a compliment.
“Just play along, ma Puce.”
“Only if you tell me what that means, mon gros.”
He raises an eyebrow at me, amused.
And I purse my lips. Then, closing my eyes so that I don't chicken out, I stand on my tiptoes and peck Christopher on the cheek. But because my eyes are closed, I miss slightly and get the corner of his lips instead. I know they're his lips because they're twitching slightly.
Before I can blush, someone behind us says something in French.
Christopher pulls away from me, but he keeps his hand at my waist as he answers the man in French.
Since I'm pretty sure I can guess at the gist of the conversation, I give a completely unforced nervous giggle and hope that's all the talking I need to do.
The man- a security guard?- looks unimpressed and gestures back down the hallway before adding more stern French.
“Come along, my flea,” Christopher says, pulling me back to the party. Into his comms, he adds, “Sorry, Joseph, we had to return to the party.”
“I’ll be fine. Just be ready if I need you.”
“Come on then ma colombe,” Christopher says. “If I am to be your fat one, let’s dance.”
We get into position and begin to dance. It starts off just like the last one.
And I can’t take it anymore. There comes a time when no matter how shy a girl is, the being close to a boy she wants to want her is enough incentive to clue him in no matter the consequences.
I didn't think that could be, but here in Christopher's arms yet at arm's length- I feel that time coming.
Sighing, I pull back. “Christopher, what’s wrong?”
He keeps us both in rhythm to the slow song as he stares beyond me. “Besides our families being in the Masters’ custody? Nothing.”
I crane my neck and try to catch his eyes. “There’s something else. What is it?”
“Nothing. It’s just that Oto should be dancing with you, not me.”
I blink. I should add that to my list of things I didn't expect to come out of his mouth. “What? Why?”
Christopher raises an eyebrow and finally looks down at me. “You of all people should know that.”
I raise my eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“You, uh.” He clears his throat. “Like him.”
I gape at him, too stunned to feel anything but indignation. “Huh, I must have missed the memo. So good of you to tell me.”
He gapes back at me. “Wait, what do you mean?”
“Would you like me to spell it out for you? I see Oto as a brother.” The moment I say those words I know without a shadow of a doubt that they're true.
“But Joseph said-”
“Yeah, I meant to tell you this earlier,” Joseph says suddenly into our ears. “You see- and it does happen every now and then- but I might have been wrong.”
“Joseph,” Christopher and I say in unison.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “I better get back to work.”
I turn to Christopher. “Now that you know the truth, does it change anything?” Please say yes. Please say yes. Please, please, please...
Christopher stops dancing and runs his hand through his wig. Before abruptly dropping it. “We don’t have time for this kind of nonsense. We’re here for a reason.”
“You’re right,” I agree, pulling away. “I’m going to the restroom to check my wig. I think it might be crooked.”
I hurry away to the restroom before he can stop me. I have to get away from him. I need a moment to recover.
I need an eternity to recover.
So that's why shy girls aren't bold more often. Because they might just be rebuffed.
Yet I'm strangely tearless and unblushing as I walk across the bathroom to the furthest mirror from the door. It needed to be done. The ball needed to be swung back into his court.
And if he chooses not to play anymore, well, that's his choice and not mine.
Sighing, I run my hand through my wig just in case it might actually be crooked. Christopher's right; we need to focus on rescuing our families.
The one other girl at the sink, a brunette, smiles at me. “Your wig giving you trouble too?”
My jaw drops.
The brunette winks at me- her eyes a startling blue just like someone else I know- before leaving the restroom.
