Empress Unveiled
Jenna Morland
Copyright © JENNA MORLAND 2018
This edition published in 2018 by
OFTOMES PUBLISHING
UNITED KINGDOM
The right of JENNA MORLAND to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in a retrieval system, in any form or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real people, alive or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cover design by Eight Little Pages
Interior book design by Red Umbrella Graphic Designs.
For Evaley & Ellia
Dream.
Plan.
Do.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
I scribbled Swayzi on the frosted glass and peered through my name into the passing trees. The dusted yellow leaves were swaying in the breeze as the sunlight flitted through the empty spaces like tiny golden wings. It reminded me of how much time had passed since I’d last been outside.
My bare feet lay crossed on the dash. I wiggled my toes; the soft shade of lavender nail polish was still tacky from being painted only minutes before we left the hospital. Flashes from the setting sun illuminated the Tinkerbell tattoo on my ankle. With the news I had just received, her smile seemed out of place. I rolled down the window, and a cool breeze blew my blonde hair into my face, obscuring my view of the autumn colors. I didn’t mind. The fresh air was welcome.
Linda sang the wrong words to the song playing on the radio and drummed her fingers on the steering wheel as she drove too fast down the narrow road. As usual, her messy auburn hair was stuffed into a clip with strands of wavy curls falling over her eyes. The tangled bracelets adorning her wrist clattered when she brushed her bangs aside in habit before making the final turn. A brief smile touched my lips. For the first time since the beginning of summer, we were headed home—together.
I ran my fingers over the goosebumps on my arm. I had almost forgotten what the wind felt like, I missed the feeling of the elements touching my skin. My summer was lost to the sterile hallways of James Bay Regional Hospital—the only moments out spent travelling to the Children’s Hospital in Anchorage to visit specialists, only to be sent back to Rowan with fewer answers. Doctor Cooper described one of my many unidentified illnesses as expedited organ aging, which meant that even though I was only seventeen, my organs were that of a ninety-year-old.
“You’re a medical anomaly,” Doctor Cooper had stumbled on his words. He encouraged Linda to sign a form saying I was to be released against medical advice. Technically, they had no advice at all.
They sent me home to die.
To be honest, it was a relief. At least I could enjoy my last days in the comfort of my own home. Still, Doctor Cooper sent me off with a prescription for a new experimental drug from Switzerland called Formalthinaxin, a last-ditch effort to inject some life into my fading organs. Like all the rest, it would probably fail.
As Linda parked the Wagoneer in our gravel driveway, I could tell she was fighting back tears. She always tried to be strong for me, and that hurt more than the fire burning in my throat from the breathing tube that had been my life source for most of the summer.
I opened the passenger door, gripped it tightly to keep my balance, and stepped out, scrunching my face to fight off the pain.
The poplar trees towering over our porch rustled in the breeze, and I closed my eyes remembering the familiar sound. I wanted to stop time, an urge I felt all the more frequently. Listening to the leaves dancing allegro in the wind was a sound I had taken for granted my entire life.
The sun shone through the trees like a spotlight onto our canary yellow Victorian house. It was one of the oldest on our street, and one of the smallest, but with its white shutters framing the windows and its roof covered in fallen leaves, it was adorable, and it was home. I smiled at the old porch swing swaying lazily in the autumn breeze.
Linda carried my hospital bags up the wooden steps, the white paint flaking from the harsh Alaskan weather. I paused at the bottom of the staircase, my chest rising and falling with quick breaths. To any healthy person, the act of climbing stairs was simple—second nature. For me, I had to gauge how high I needed to raise my leg, and if I was capable of doing so. I needed to prepare myself for the pressure of my body weight relying on one leg of weak muscles, and the pain that came with it.
I took a deep breath, gripped the railing tightly and lifted my right leg. My muscles strained against the pressure, and I grunted from the pain that twisted through my body as I pulled myself up.
Linda dropped the bags at the sound of my struggle and came to help.
The heavy red door creaked open before we could reach it, and my best friend, Penelope, stepped out holding it for us. Her umber eyes were red from crying. She forced a smile, pushing up her plump cheeks, hiding the dark circles under her puffy eyes.
“Thank you,” I whispered to Linda, my voice weak and groggy as I stepped inside.
A freshly chopped pile of wood lay next to the fireplace ready for fall, giving the house a pleasant woodsy aroma. With Linda always at the café or the hospital, I grinned knowing exactly who had chopped and stacked the wood.
Linda’s homemade maxi skirt trailed behind her as she bounded up the stairs and dropped my bags in my bedroom. “I need to run to the café and prep for tomorrow morning,” she called, popping her head over the railing. “There’s a cruise ship docking first thing. You okay here tonight?”
“Yes, of course,” I reassured her. Linda made her way back down the stairs, and she studied my face like it could be the last time she ever saw it. “Penelope and I will have a night in—maybe watch Dirty Dancing?” I grinned at Penelope.
Penelope rolled her eyes playfully. Our VHS copy was almost completely worn out, but Linda refused to get the classic movie on DVD, arguing it tainted the authenticity of the original.
I had always wondered why Linda named me Swayzi, but when I was twelve, and she finally let me hear Patrick Swayze say “Nobody puts Baby in a corner,” I never questioned her again.
“We’ll have to save Dirty Dancing viewing five-hundred-and-two for another night. We have plans.” Penelope’s perfect eyebrows bounced with mischief.
“Plans?” Linda asked on my behalf.
“Tyler will be by later tonight. We’re all going to Mellie’s end-of-summer party.”
Did she say Mellie? I shivered.
I looked at Linda, waiting for her objection. Instead, I got a sly smile. They were in on this together.
With my prognosis, Linda and I had come to the conclusion that I should forgo my senior year. Part of me was relieved my torture of public school had come to an early end. The reason why was daunting though, and it fille
d me with a heavy sadness that was almost unbearable. I was going to miss prom, graduation and everything else that came with it.
Mellie hosted the end of summer party every year. A chance for our entire class to let loose one last time before school started the next day. It had become a tradition for everyone but me. In the past I had told myself, I’ll go next year when I’m healthy. But it seemed that that day would never come.
I literally had nothing to lose.
“Fine,” I sighed.
“Yes!” Penelope shouted. “Come. We need to find you something to wear,” she said, pulling on my hand.
“Already? I haven’t even eaten dinner. And anyways, I’ll save you some time. I’m going to wear my overalls.”
Linda was doing circles around us as she gathered her things.
“Please,” Penelope said, rolling her eyes. “Just this once, let me dress you. What are best friends for?”
I groaned, shifting my weight in discomfort. “Alright, just this once.”
Penelope smiled, her eyes glowing in excitement.
“I’ll see you soon.” Linda kissed my forehead. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Mom.”
“Mom? Ick. You make me sound so old,” she scoffed.
I couldn’t remember a time I called her anything other than Linda, but every once and a while I would slip “mom” in there as a reminder to both of us. Linda was eighteen and six months pregnant with me when both of her parents died in a plane crash. She once told me that she didn’t know how to be a mom, so she did the one thing she knew she was good at—being my friend.
I rolled my eyes. “I love you too, Linda,” I corrected. “But, just to be clear, you are allowing your very sick teenage daughter to go to a party where there will most definitely be underage drinking, one-night stands with no protection, and illicit drugs.”
“Please,” Linda teased, “I’m willing to bet that the drugs you’re on right now are better than anything at that party.”
“Goodbye, Linda.” I pushed her out the door.
I found myself looking in the mirror, once again feeling like a complete fool. I was wearing way too much makeup. The contrast of the thick black liner and smoky eyeshadow made my blue eyes look unnaturally large. The foundation Penelope applied covered my freckles and the hollow dips of purple below my tired eyes. I was almost unrecognizable. The pale pink lipstick stung my chapped lips, although it did make my lips look plumper.
Penelope curled my long hair, giving my natural icy blonde waves some uncharacteristic structure. She insisted I show my figure for once. I put on tight high-waisted skinny jeans and a cropped white lace shirt that fell loosely off my shoulders—both embarrassingly coming from Linda’s closet. She never passed down the cool gene to me, and I paid for that relentlessly at school.
I took another painkiller, willed myself to ignore my persistent agony shooting up the left side of my back and sighed. “We don’t have to stay long, do we?”
Penelope ignored my question while she put the finishing touches on her own makeup. A girl could only dream of having confidence like Penelope’s. She always wore the right amount of makeup, and she knew how to rock her tight skinny jeans, small leather jacket and high-heeled boots with ease. Thankfully, she didn’t make me wear those heels.
“Chin up.” Penelope eyed me through the mirror. “You look beautiful.”
For a moment, I believed her.
I met Penelope a few years ago when she applied for a job at Linda’s café. I had just finished another round of chemo, and I had been sitting in the corner of the café reading a book, alone, trying to distract myself from the crippling pain of poison travelling through my body.
Two girls a couple tables over from me made fun of my shaved head, and I pretended not to hear them. Penelope marched right up to the girls and said, “Hey, I may be new here, but where I’m from, girls like you get their asses kicked by girls like me.” The girls jumped up scared and flustered, both of them tripping over nothing and falling to the floor tangled together. I’ll never forget the pure terror that played in their eyes as they ran out of the café.
After that day, Penelope became one of my people. Tyler didn’t take to her as easily, but he at least admired her loyalty. For him, that was enough.
When Tyler arrived shortly after nine, I managed to stiffly make my way down the hallway wearing the uncomfortably tight jeans Penelope had chosen for me. Tyler was waiting at the bottom of the stairs leaning against the front door with his phone in his hand, his cowboy boot tapping on the floor impatiently.
Next to him, on the trim of the door, were notches in permanent marker where Tyler and I had marked our growth over the years. He was almost a foot taller than he had been on the last mark—when we were fourteen.
His shirt was wrinkled and carelessly buttoned like he had just woken from a nap. His tousled dark brown hair fell into his eyes as he looked down at his phone—he needed a haircut.
The steps creaked as I adjusted my clothes once more. Tyler looked up from his phone and did a double take when he saw me. His lips parted in shock. “Sway, you look…” He couldn’t find the words.
“Completely ridiculous,” I offered, rolling my eyes.
“Different,” he corrected with a small smile.
I missed that smile.
Penelope galloped gracefully down the stairs after me. She paused midway, looking from me to Tyler. “Oh, weird vibe,” she said before continuing down.
“Let’s just get this over with.” I hoped we could all ignore her observation. As I passed Tyler, I squeezed his arm. “Thanks for chopping wood for Linda.”
“You bet.” He nodded, holding the door open for us with a half-smile.
Before we owned cell phones, Tyler and I would yell to each other from our bedroom windows when we had woken up in the morning. Especially on the weekends. Saturday morning, he would come over for cartoons, and on Sundays, I would eat breakfast at his place. Our lives were so much simpler back then. The last few years of my illness had put a strain on our lives, dealing with unimaginable consequences to things beyond our control forced us to grow up before we should have.
The well-worn path between our homes was covered in fallen leaves. The sound of our shoes crunching the leaves beneath us became the score as we walked in silence to his house. I thought about turning around several times. I knew why they wanted to take me to Mellie’s party, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible would happen.
Penelope and I waited by his black 1985 Chevy pickup while Tyler leaned over from the driver’s side to open the passenger door for us. The rip in the cloth seat pinched the palm of my hand as I slid into the middle seat of the single cab.
Penelope rested her head on my shoulder. The touch of her warm cheek against my cold shoulder was comforting. She twirled a piece of pink bubblegum on her perfectly manicured fingernail. The stereo was still broken, offering no reprieve from the noticeable silence between us. My legs straddled the stick shift, my thigh brushing the side of Tyler’s with each bump.
I pulled the hair from my eyes and glanced at him. His perfectly unkempt hair wavered slightly with the autumn wind breaching the cab of his truck. For someone always so at ease, Tyler was understandably on edge. This summer had been hard on him. His wrinkled flannel shirt was rolled up to his elbows, revealing the tension in his forearms, his hands tightly gripping the steering wheel, turning his knuckles white. His jaw was tense like he was trying not to say something.
What do you say to your best friend who is dying?
My lips parted slightly, but only ragged breaths escaped me, knowing there was nothing either of us could say that would reflect what we were feeling.
I cleared my throat. “When do your parents get back?”
“Two weeks.”
“Where are they again?”
“The Bahamas for the next week, then Vegas for a few days and then home.” He shifted gears again, his arm practically resting on
my thigh, his eyes never leaving the road.
“And you didn’t want to go?”
Tyler shifted gears and glanced at me. “You know I don’t like to travel.”
I nodded, thinking of all the trips he had missed.
Tyler’s dad had been a pilot for a major airline operating out of Anchorage. Even though he was retired, part of his pension was free travel with the airline. I ended up in the hospital once when Tyler went away on one of their trips. Ever since, he refused to join them on their excursions. He told me it was because he was missing too much school and swim practice, but I knew better.
“How long will they be home?”
Tyler shifted into reverse and glanced over his shoulder. “Two weeks, then they’re off to Hawaii,” he answered while turning the wheel to back into a parking spot close to Mellie’s.
“I wish they would adopt me and take me with them,” Penelope sighed hopefully while unbuckling her seatbelt.
The painkillers had kicked in, but we still walked at a pace I knew was painfully slow for them until we arrived at the party. The sun had set, and the music was loud. I was certain the cops would be called soon. There wasn’t a single person on the porch, but I could hear their muffled voices behind the thick wooden door. Tyler didn’t hesitate before opening it, and Penelope followed. I stood for a moment on the threshold contemplating making a run for it. Then I realized I couldn’t remember the last time I was actually capable of running and sighed.
“You coming?” Tyler waited, holding the door.
I stepped over the threshold and into my own personal hell.
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