“Is that the polite way of saying I'm crazy?” Jeremy's eyes flashed and he slipped back into his revelry. The end is near. Travel to the Haze. Jeremy pulled the nearest plate of pancakes across the table, brushing the plate across Wantoro's fingertips, and began heaping generous portions onto his plate.
"There goes our horse!" Mateo said weakly.
"I think I need to share something,” blurted Jeremy.
Ms. Fritz leaned forward across the table. “Forgive me, Vor Wantoro, if I speak out of place, but I dare say you are making a huge mistake. I'm sorry to say, but word of your son attending the school has already been leaked to the press. Your son needs to be seen interacting with peers his own age."
"Our Little Secret is coming out in the open here."
Vor Wantoro reclined in his seat and smirked. “That's a very bold statement to make, Ms. Fritz.”
"Giddyup!" Mateo let out a nervous laugh. “I think that what Ms. Fritz is saying is that–”
“I think Ms. Fritz can speak for herself, dear.” Gillian looked down at her lap and adjusted her napkin.
Ms. Fritz lifted her chin and continued. “Sending Jeremy to this boarding school is admitting that Jeremy isn't special. Let him appear in the public eye as a regular child. It will look like a step towards equality. The monarchy is being contested and Jeremy desperately needs to reshape his public image!”
“Excuse me?” Jeremy stood up and threw Maren's plate to the floor. It shattered by Maren's feet. “A regular child? I am a prophet!”
"Clean and Crazy far in front now!"
“Jeremy, sit down!” said Wantoro.
“I was told the end is near!”
“Who told you this?”
“Raaychila, don't give into it,” said Wantoro sternly.
“I was visited by an angel!”
"Clean and Crazy is galloping to the finish line!"
Wantoro stood up and pulled his son by the arm, dragging him across the booth. Maren rose from her seat and stood warily behind her parents.
Ms. Fritz called after Wantoro, “Send your son to Lejjone Panil! I will help him to adjust; he'll have the support of his peers!”
The Cajjez bucked and contorted madly as his father pulled him down the stairs and back out to a jeep. His father crammed him into the back seat. Jeremy yelled, “An angel visited me last night! An angel!” The jeep took off, escort vehicles on either side.
"And out of nowhere comes Big Bad Daddy, to win it by a nose!"
Jeremy's father had him sequestered on the third floor. Guards were posted at the exits. Jeremy paced the length of the hallway. He'd acted recklessly. People have to know! I'm not crazy, I know what I saw and what I felt. Jeremy placed his hand on his sternum. The air had been twitching because an angel wanted to communicate with him. Still, Jeremy had to admit that the angel's message was cryptic. “The end is near,” he said under his breath. “I sound like a doomsday nut living in a cave.”
Jeremy closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Someone had turned the corner and was heading down the hallway.
“Jeremy,” said Ms. Fritz, her arm outstretched in preparation for a handshake. It seemed unnecessary to initiate a handshake from such a distance.
“What do you want?” Jeremy rubbed his temples, deciding it best to occupy his hands and so avoid the pending handshake altogether.
“My apologies. I'm Gorda Fritz, Earth Scholar and newly appointed Galactic Minister of Education. I am to accompany you to Lejjone Panil.” Ms. Fritz now stood in front of the Cajjez, her hand awkwardly extended. Jeremy turned his back on her.
“You know,” he began “I really did see an angel.”
“I know,” said Ms. Fritz.
Jeremy spun around, almost losing his balance. “How do you know?”
“I know because I've been contacted by an angel myself. You must come with me.” Ms. Fritz slicked her hair down with her stocky hand. She adjusted her glasses and leaned forward.
Jeremy eyed her suspiciously. “Why you?”
“Because my purpose is to guide you. To... introduce you to a powerful friend of mine. I need to see you off this planet. You must come with me to Lejjone Panil.”
Jeremy looked up at the white marble ceiling. His eyes traced the swirls of gray and the effect was that of tempestuous clouds, as though a storm were gathering overhead. The angel had mentioned that he should leave and travel to the Haze. “Ms. Fritz,” said Jeremy. “I believe you. I will attend Lejjone Panil this year.”
Chapter 7
The Journey Begins
All of Jeremy's most prized possessions lay stacked before the elevator doorway. Castle staff carried heaps to the Nononias' spaceship parked on the castle's landing strip. It was midday and galanbirds flitted high above the trees, sending shadows through the large windows of the west wing. Raaychila followed Jeremy into his room.
“And you'll make friends! Just don't tell them about the angel. You can write to me about the angel.”
“Don't encourage him!” said Wantoro from outside the bedroom. He was standing in front of the elevator and staring with disdain at the growing pile of books, clothing trunks, and Lyrna gear.
Raaychila surveyed Jeremy's bedroom. “Did you pack your medicine? You have to take it three times a day.”
“Yep,” Jeremy lied.
“If you experience something while you're away that frightens you, anything, I want to be the first person you tell. We're in this together. It'll be an inside joke! I'll send you cookies shaped as angels.”
“Really Mother!” Jeremy shook his head.
Raaychila wrung her dress in her hands. “I only meant that, if you make something funny, it has no power over you, so you won't be frightened.”
“Gee, thanks.” Jeremy emptied his arms of cosmetics – lotions, powders, scented oils.
Wantoro observed the pile's contents. “No, no. Don't bring any of that stuff. When you're out of this castle, you're to seem... less frilly.”
“Oh, Wantoro, you can't expect him to make the transition cold! He's used to being pampered.” Raaychila wrapped her arms around Jeremy and kissed the top of his head. She caught a whiff of lavender. “Okay, maybe you should leave the scented oils behind.” She grabbed the lavender and put it in her purse.
“It's calming, you might need it.” Jeremy laughed and grabbed at a pile of jewelry.
“I really think it would be best if you focus on making some friends at school,” continued Raaychila. “Try to make yourself a little more approachable. I’m not saying don’t be yourself, it’s just that, er…”
Jeremy waved her off. “Sure, sure.”
Jeremy boarded the spaceship with Maren after hugging his parents goodbye. The school Lejjone Panil was close to the planet Olg and so he would travel with the Nononias. Ms. Fritz also boarded the spaceship. She promised Wantoro and Raaychila that she'd keep an eye on Jeremy and help him with his studies. A top-rate therapist's services, she lied, would also be enlisted.
The interior of the spaceship was plush. A regal pattern of emerald on soft gold decorated the walls. Jeremy sat in the corner and rested his head on a yellow needlepoint pillow. Lyrna meowed from her carrier, a silver crate adorned with precious stones.
Ms. Fritz crossed the length of the room and took her seat next to Lyrna's cage. She tapped it with her walking stick and Lyrna growled.
“She's a sentient being so don't tap her carrier like she's some rodent.” Jeremy leaned back on the sofa and crossed his arms. Ms. Fritz might be an ally, but he still regarded her as subordinate. “Ms. Fritz,” said Jeremy. “Release Lyrna from her cage.”
“Absolutely not. It's unsanitary–we're about to eat.”
Lyrna growled. “Bad lady.”
“Watch how you talk about my fizdruft, Gorda.” Jeremy walked to Lyrna's cage and released her. As he was about to take his seat, Ms. Fritz hobbled up from behind him and grabbed Lyrna by the scruff of the neck. Maren gasped.
It was too late. Lyrna twisted
her body around and bared her teeth, each roughly the size of Ms. Fritz's thumb. She sank her claws into Ms. Fritz's neck and Ms. Fritz screamed, throwing Lyrna to the floor. Blood splattered onto the carpet and Lyrna ran under Jeremy's sofa.
“You're lucky,” said Jeremy sharply.
Mateo, Maren, and two spaceship personnel ran to look for medical supplies while Jeremy picked Lyrna up by the ear tuft, scooped up her bottom, and trotted to the kitchen.
When Ms. Fritz's wounds were bandaged and the carpets and upholstery cleaned, Maren excused herself to find Jeremy.
The lights were dim. The kitchen was notably silent, too, the cooks and wait staff having snuck back to their quarters to gossip. Maren approached the back of a wide, cushioned chair and saw the slight bobbing of golden brown, wavy hair. She moved cautiously towards him, anticipating the end of yet another failed exchange.
“Hello Maren,” he said, calm, centered. Maren approached his side. His hand reached across the glass countertop, tugging on bits of fruit, nuts, and cheese. Lyrna stood beside the plate, nibbling at a separate, smaller pile.
“Hi.” Maren tucked her hair behind her ears. “I can't believe Ms. Fritz did that. Doesn't she know about fizdrufts?”
“I guess not. Some scholar, eh? Have a seat.” Jeremy gestured. Startled, Maren looked around her. There was no additional seating at that end of the counter.
“On the... floor?” Her pulse quickened. Lyrna looked up from her snack.
“No? Well, I would hope not. Sit here, with me.” Jeremy slid to the right, allowing just enough space for Maren to squeeze beside him.
It appeared Jeremy was inviting her to be his confidant. Maren's curiosity about his diary had reached new heights after his alleged angel sighting and she was eager to hear more, even if it were the ramblings of a disturbed prince. She couldn't help but blush.
Jeremy looked up at Maren. “Sit.”
Maren squeezed onto the chair. It was roomier than expected.
“I'm sorry we haven't had a chance to talk,” said Jeremy, his eyes wandering over her body.
“Oh, it's okay.” Maren trembled under his gaze. She regretted sitting so close to him. “I can tell you about Lejjone Panil, if you'd like?” She looked at her lap.
“Maren, you've gotten so much taller.”
“I know, I feel like my body's kind of awkward. You wouldn't believe how clumsy I've gotten.”
“I believe it. I did see you dance.”
Maren's cheeks reddened. “Was I that bad?”
“Not as good as me, I'm afraid, but who is?” Jeremy smiled and lowered a cluster of grapes into his mouth.
So smug, thought Maren. This always happens, I get pulled in and rediscover he's a jerk. Maren tried to focus on his unattractive qualities. He's shorter then me. He's mean. “Jeremy, is it true that you abuse your servants?” she asked, suddenly emboldened. “I mean, I can't imagine you doing that, but it's been reported in the news so many times, I was wondering how you feel about the accusations.” She bit her lip.
Jeremy set the stem of grapes on the table. “Oh,” he said, frowning. “Servant abuse charges, right. Well I'll be honest with you.” He turned to her and Maren had to move her head to prevent them from brushing lips. “I have a whip in my bedroom closet. I use it sometimes for discipline purposes.”
“No!” said Maren in mock horror.
“I do. I use it on female servants, I think they like it.”
“You're disgusting.” Maren rose from the seat but Jeremy pulled her back down. “Ah, now you come out. Hello, Maren. Cautious, prude Maren."
“So you lied.”
“I told the truth.” Jeremy pressed her hand in his and brought it to his lips. "But I'd never whip you. You could whip me, if you like.”
“Don't,” said Maren.
He softly kissed her hand and released it.
She stared at him, mouth agape.
Jeremy steadied his index finger and gave Maren a pronounced flick on the forehead. She started backwards, pressing against the arm of the chair.
“Oh, what a charmer!” Maren struggled to get out of the chair. She pushed up with her legs and grabbed at the counter, but Jeremy held her down.
"Don't go, I need you!"
Lyrna puffed and hissed. Maren screamed.
“Relax, relax! I was only playing!” Jeremy laughed.
Maren sprang up, strands of hair sticking to her mouth.
“Bad,” said Lyrna. “Bad play.”
“So what about the angel act?” demanded Maren.
“It's no act. I did see an angel, and it spoke to me.” Jeremy's face lost the glow of laughter and a dark mood spread over his features. “It said the end is near, sevenfold, and that I have to travel to the Haze.”
“That doesn't make any sense.”
“I know.” Jeremy and Maren locked eyes. Lyrna mewed sadly and jumped to the floor. She tugged at Jeremy's pant leg.
“Tired,” said Lyrna, her ears back. “Tired, want sleep.”
“Okay.” Jeremy got up. “Come on, Lyrna. Goodnight Maren.” Jeremy hesitated. "Look, I'm sorry I'm kind of weird. We're still friends, right?"
"Of course, Jeremy."
Jeremy left the kitchen with Lyrna at his heels.
Chapter 8
Ms. Fritz's Plan
Six days passed on the spaceship, and already it seemed Mateo gained a couple of pounds in meats, cakes, and fine cheeses, and Gillian's stock of cocktail umbrellas had all but disappeared. Jeremy had taken over the reading room of the spaceship, and while the spaceship was technically the Nononia's, Jeremy's antisocial behavior so scared Gillian that she preferred to let him have his way, insisting that his reformation take place entirely at Panil Lejjone.
Ms. Fritz meandered across the spaceship's central gardens. It was quiet. Her heel slipped through a crack in the cobblestone walkway. She paused, fussing for a moment over her ankle, and then continued her walk towards the sleek black fence posts that squared off the perimeter. Wafts of lemon grass and rasputis flower tickled her nose. She sneezed. Ms. Fritz veered off the cobblestone walkway and sat at a bench. She bent forward and slipped her shoes off, her free hand massaging flat arches; the other hand felt at the bandage around her neck. Today was the day.
Hurrying back to Gillian and Mateo's living quarters, Ms. Fritz nearly toppled the tea table. “Hello, sorry!” she panted as she stabilized the teetering cups. “It struck me as absurd that Jeremy and I should have our little standoff. He's haughty and ill-tempered but I should have known about the dangers of improperly handling a fizdruft. I was thinking we should stop today at one of Failrun's moons to refuel. We'd have to refuel soon anyway, right? And also I was thinking of treating Cajjez Jeremy to a meal at Bexin's Restaurant on Findle. Excellent cuisine.” Ms. Fritz's hands trembled as she placed them behind her back.
Gillian exchanged glances with Mateo, who grumbled and busied himself with his eggs. Gillian took a sip from her tea cup and examined Gorda Fritz. Ms. Fritz still wore her curling cap and her head kept wobbling back and forth. “Coffee, Ms. Fritz?” said Gillian, more as a comment on Gorda's frazzled state than as a genuine offer. Ms. Fritz quickly accepted, wanting nothing more than to appear regular. Gillian lifted her eyebrows and called a member of the waitstaff to revive Ms. Fritz with fresh coffee.
Ms. Fritz pressed her case. “So shall I tell Jeremy? It's been weighing on me these past couple of days, it would be best I do this today. Really.” She sipped at her coffee to fill the dead air.
Gillian frowned. “We don't have a pressing need to stop. Our supplies are more than enough. Take this up with Jeremy.”
Jeremy sat cross-legged on the hardwood floor of the spaceship's reading room, his hands resting on his lap. A flame flickered before him, dancing atop a gold candle set in a silver dish. Jeremy concentrated on his breath, opening one eye and then the other, alternating with the fluctuations of the candle's heat. The wall paper in front of him peeled at the top corner. Foreground. Background
. Eye open. Switch. It was one way of exploring the place behind the air. Jeremy found that he could will the air to tremble. Once or twice, he dared to put his hand behind it. The door creaked open.
“Hello Jeremy,” said Ms. Fritz.
Jeremy's body shook, his two worlds fused. “I was meditating. I dislike interruptions.” Jeremy swished his hand in dismissal. He closed his eyes, intent on beginning the process over again.
“Cajjez, I am sorry about our–”
“Really! Do you not see that I'm meditating!” Jeremy leaned forward and extinguished the flame with one breath. “There. Now everything's cold!” Jeremy went on at great length about heat escaping his body, the cold of the place, how she had brought the cold, or else she had brought him back to the cold, and so on. Ms. Fritz hadn't the slightest clue what he was talking about, but continued, resolute.
“Cajjez, do you know what they call Earth's interior?”
“I have no intention of becoming an Earth Studies scholar.”
“Most of Earth's mass is in the mantel.”
“Fascinating.” Jeremy rolled his eyes.
“Yes, Mantel. Jeremy, have you ever thought that maybe there could be a third entity vying for power over the souls of man? God, Satan, and then –”
“What exactly do you want?”
Ms. Fritz adjusted her glasses and moved towards Jeremy. The room was small and Jeremy immediately felt violated. He turned to her, but was put off by her appearance. It was not her distressed demeanor, but rather her plastic, pink cap that distracted the Cajjez.
“Is that a shower cap? What is that on your head?” This new detail quickly consumed him, the shallow trance dissipating.
“Oh! I'm just setting my curls. Never mind it. Anyway, we had a most unfortunate encounter earlier.” Ms. Fritz pointed to the bandage on her neck. “I want to start over again. I've arranged–”
Jeremy jumped to his feet. “How long does it take? Ms. Nononia should have a kelkin that you could borrow – it's an instant curl-setter – don't they have that where we're going? I haven't brought mine!” Jeremy was walking in circles now. “I refuse, REFUSE to show myself around Lejjone Panil wearing such a hat! It's hideous and cheap looking. Do they have caps in different fabrics? Could I get one patterned? Nothing tacky, of course. Maybe I'll have mine fitted so it doesn't... poof out so much.” Jeremy looked at Ms. Fritz's head and cringed. He weighed things delicately over in his mind, nudging the silver candle dish over with his toe. At last, he said, “Fine. I'll just do without.”
Jeremy Chikalto and the Hazy Souls Page 3
