did this funky squinty thing as he tried to think of what the right word was. For someone who wrote stories, his memory of hearing them sucked. He never could quite get the stories right at night, mixing Goldilocks and the Three Bears with The Three Little Pigs.
“I don’t understand. The quill never fails,” Danielle’s hushed voice pierced the quiet air through the partially opened door. My eyes flew open.
“Are you sure the quill touched her?” a woman whispered back. “There’s no proof.” Lifting the sleeve of my white blouse, I stared at my forearm. A clean canvas. Untouched. Yet the pain still lingered.
“Letters scribbled up and down but didn’t form any words, and then it disappeared.” Fear crippled Danielle’s usual confidence.
I leaned forward in the bed and poked my head past the curtain to the left where Danielle, Madrina, and two others—a man and woman—stood.
“You don’t think... You don’t think she’s her do you?” the woman asked, her hair the colors of strawberry shortcake, and skin chalk pale. From the pants suit to her chunky heels, everything she had on was pink. Color overload. “We’ve never had an Unknown before.”
“This is quite the travesty. The council had their suspicions when they received word of her arrival. Now this?” The man tapped the end of his black cane on the ground. His back faced me, so I saw nothing but his short, round body. He, too, was in a black suit. “This will not please them. Not. One. Bit. I, for one, do not want to be in the way of Queen Nyssah’s wrath when she learns of the girl.”
A breath caught in my throat and I ducked back, my heart hammering in my chest so hard, I wondered if I’d pass out again. There was a queen? Not that I should have been surprised.
“It’s too early to tell who she is. We needn’t worry Queen Nyssah till then. Agreed?” Madrina cleared her throat and they muttered yes.
“And the other one, the sister. What is she to all this?” The pink woman asked.
Danielle let out a low chuckle. “She is nothing I can’t handle.”
Madrina glared at Danielle, as if she should have kept her mouth shut. “The sister is not a problem. Now, if you’ll be on your way. This is neither the time nor place to discuss this further.”
Chunky heels beat against the floor and somewhere nearby a door slammed shut. Danielle cursed and Madrina assured her everything would be fine. But the part of my brain that wasn’t foggy told me it wouldn’t be. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. In a world of fairy tale characters, I couldn’t be labeled. Worse than that, I had a sinking feeling no one would accept that truth.
The eraser tip of my pencil beat against the table as Professor Peach paraded in front of the class in her gown the shade of an orange creamsicle. I hadn’t heard a word she’d said all period, then again, a class titled, “The Art of Perfection” hardly held my attention to begin with.
“How can she not have an identity?” Jen whispered to Danielle.
Despite my refusal to believe this storybook mumbo-jumbo, the thought of being a nobody haunted me. Not that labels were my thing—jocks, cheerleaders, theatre freaks, band nerds, etc—but people always had one. It was their identity, what put them with people of similar interests. I guess I was always one of those people who thought everyone should be one family, minus the label. Who’s to say that jocks and theatre peeps couldn’t have similar interests? I mean, I watched Glee. They intermingled. Granted, there were slushies involved but still. It could happen. But there was a difference now. I didn’t fit anywhere.
For a moment, I wondered if that’s what April felt like all the time. An unknown. Unwanted. What a miserable feeling to have every day.
After the nurse released me yesterday, I skipped the rest of my classes and went to sleep, waking up this morning to Danielle ripping the covers off and insisting I get up. I almost hit her.
“I don’t understand. The quill never fails,” Danielle’s hushed voice pierced the quiet air through the partially opened door. My eyes flew open.
“Are you sure the quill touched her?” a woman whispered back. “There’s no proof.” Lifting the sleeve of my white blouse, I stared at my forearm. A clean canvas. Untouched. Yet the pain still lingered.
“Letters scribbled up and down but didn’t form any words, and then it disappeared.” Fear crippled Danielle’s usual confidence.
I leaned forward in the bed and poked my head past the curtain to the left where Danielle, Madrina, and two others—a man and woman—stood.
“You don’t think... You don’t think she’s her do you?” the woman asked, her hair the colors of strawberry shortcake, and skin chalk pale. From the pants suit to her chunky heels, everything she had on was pink. Color overload. “We’ve never had an Unknown before.”
“This is quite the travesty. The council had their suspicions when they received word of her arrival. Now this?” The man tapped the end of his black cane on the ground. His back faced me, so I saw nothing but his short, round body. He, too, was in a black suit. “This will not please them. Not. One. Bit. I, for one, do not want to be in the way of Queen Nyssah’s wrath when she learns of the girl.”
A breath caught in my throat and I ducked back, my heart hammering in my chest so hard, I wondered if I’d pass out again. There was a queen? Not that I should have been surprised.
“It’s too early to tell who she is. We needn’t worry Queen Nyssah till then. Agreed?” Madrina cleared her throat and they muttered yes.
“And the other one, the sister. What is she to all this?” The pink woman asked.
Danielle let out a low chuckle. “She is nothing I can’t handle.”
Madrina glared at Danielle, as if she should have kept her mouth shut. “The sister is not a problem. Now, if you’ll be on your way. This is neither the time nor place to discuss this further.”
Chunky heels beat against the floor and somewhere nearby a door slammed shut. Danielle cursed and Madrina assured her everything would be fine. But the part of my brain that wasn’t foggy told me it wouldn’t be. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. In a world of fairy tale characters, I couldn’t be labeled. Worse than that, I had a sinking feeling no one would accept that truth.
The eraser tip of my pencil beat against the table as Professor Peach paraded in front of the class in her gown the shade of an orange creamsicle. I hadn’t heard a word she’d said all period, then again, a class titled, “The Art of Perfection” hardly held my attention to begin with.
“How can she not have an identity?” Jen whispered to Danielle.
Despite my refusal to believe this storybook mumbo-jumbo, the thought of being a nobody haunted me. Not that labels were my thing—jocks, cheerleaders, theatre freaks, band nerds, etc—but people always had one. It was their identity, what put them with people of similar interests. I guess I was always one of those people who thought everyone should be one family, minus the label. Who’s to say that jocks and theatre peeps couldn’t have similar interests? I mean, I watched Glee. They intermingled. Granted, there were slushies involved but still. It could happen. But there was a difference now. I didn’t fit anywhere.
For a moment, I wondered if that’s what April felt like all the time. An unknown. Unwanted. What a miserable feeling to have every day.
After the nurse released me yesterday, I skipped the rest of my classes and went to sleep, waking up this morning to Danielle ripping the covers off and insisting I get up. I almost hit her.
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