A splitting headache woke me, and I reached for my forehead as my vision returned. Noma rushed to my side as I started to sit up from the nurse’s bed, way too fast, groaning in discomfort. The events that had happened hours prior seemed like a dream, and once I started to remember them, my face turned red. I had lost in the most embarrassing way known to man. "You didn’t see what happened, did you?" I grumbled, rubbing my right eye, which was still adjusting to the light.
"Of course, I did, Dingus." Noma scoffed sarcastically, but then began to smile. "And don’t make that face, it wasn’t that bad." She had clearly seen my face of disgust.
“Yeah, but it was still bad.” I could finally see Noma standing next to me. She had an entirely different outfit than she had the last time I was conscious. “What time is it?” I swung my head around, trying to find some sort of timekeeping device, but it was dismal.
“Stop doing that; you could have a concussion, you know. What happened to you was not minor.” She seemed angry about something, and I could guess what it was.
“It wasn’t his fault; I’m the one who didn’t give up even though it was clearly my loss.” I could still feel the intense heat that had been in my veins, and it gave me chills. “And you still haven’t answered my question.” I swung my legs to the left, startling Noma.
“Ashlem. You are in no shape to be going anywhere.” Noma’s dipped in concern. I glared at her. “Fine, fine. It’s five in the afternoon. There. Happy now? Now sit back down.” Noma placed her hand on my chest and tried to push me back down. Emphasis on the "tried." I pushed her hand off of me and got on my feet. The blood left my feet and fingers and went up to my brain, which made me extremely dizzy. I had to lean on Noma for a second, who was just shaking their head the entire time. “We should at least wait for the nurse to come back.” Noma pleaded, more level-headed than she had been in a very long time, and this made me hesitate. I looked out the window, which showed the dreary landscape the past two weeks had devolved into. Fall was coming, and fast.
I blocked the shards of doubt in my mind; I had to talk to my mother about that dream I had. “No, I can’t. Go and fetch my normal clothes; I’m not so sure I look very good in these clothes.” I was wearing what was clearly an outfit Noma had picked out for me from the bottom of the lost and found bin.
“What do you mean? I thought that a hot pink cat sweater and purple sweat pants fit you very well.” She had an evil look on her face. “I wanted to make you wear a fedora, but I thought that would be a little too obviously ridiculous.” Noma giggled. She swung out of the door through the white-trimmed doorway.
“It’s already pretty obvious!” I yelled after her, but I doubt that she actually heard me. Ow. The yelling put a little too much pressure on my temples.
I had to think of a plan on how to tackle the dream debacle. Maybe I should just ask her right out? Or, maybe I should ease into it? I couldn't come up with anything definitive. “Eh, I’ll just wing it.” I compromised as I folded my still slightly damp uniform into a neat pile. I have never been very good at formulating plans. Footsteps entered the room, and I answered without turning, expecting Noma. “That was fast.” But it wasn’t Noma when I turned around; it was Marcos and his father. My look of surprise was apparently a good one since I noticed Marcos’ father looking smug. He was a very boastful man. “I was not expecting you.” I placed my clothes on the bed, a little worried that they would soak into the bed, but I couldn’t worry for too long. I couldn't bear the thought of wearing those obnoxious clothes in front of Chris Harrington. The skin on my face tightened from my mortification.
"Yeah, I could tell.” Marcos chuckled and looked at me up and down. His father nudged him; they had clearly come here for a reason. “Oh, yeah. I am very sorry for doing that to you. Me, as a Rank B, shouldn’t have done that to a Rank E, and I feel deeply sorry.” Marcos kept looking at his father for some sort of encouragement. The apology was obviously scripted and, somehow, belittling. But I suppressed the urge to punch him. One day, one day. I took the clothes from the bed and tucked them between my arm and side.
“You know what? It’s fine; no hard feelings. Frankly, I don’t care. So, nice meeting you, Mr. Harrington. Good day, Marcos. Sir.” I tipped my head, excusing myself. I joined up with Noma as she was walking back to my room.
“What happened? You look annoyed.” She concerned. Noma was holding a moderately normal-looking pair of clothes.
“Where were these the last time you looked? Hmm?” I grinned and took them from her, adding the items to my existing pile.
“On the top.” Noma chortled.
"Oh, I see. Too difficult to find." I began to laugh in short huffs, trying not to bother some of the people who opted to use the school dormitories.
We began to laugh loudly as soon as we made it outside. At the end of the fit, Noma was on a bench we had found walking through the maze-like outdoor walkways of the campus. I was wheezing and clutching my knees, desperately trying to catch my breath. We had eventually forgotten what was so funny.
Noma and I strolled along the path to Noma’s house. “You should probably go see your mother, Ash. She was really worried.” The sun was almost set, and the air was cool.
“I know, good thing this path also goes to my house.” I grinned and tried to lighten up the mood. Noma just looked at me like I was a sick puppy—concerned and sullen. But I didn’t want to face my mother quite yet.
“At some point, Ash, you have to speak with her. Actually, I don’t even know why you’re so adamant about avoiding her.” Noma huffed. She stopped walking, crossed her arms, and glared me down. I walked past her, but backwards so I could face her.
“That’s a long story, long enough that we don’t have time for it.” I brushed off her question.
“You’re going in the wrong direction.” Noma grumbled. She ran to catch up with me, and we started to walk with each other again. “This way is the way to my house.” I paused for a moment, stopped walking, and tightly closed my eyes. I knew she was right.
“God, why do you always have to be right? Fine, I’ll go talk with her, but not because of you. It was my decision.” Noma could tell I was serious and decided to be content with my answer. I waved goodbye as she traveled across the Savanna Bridge. You could just see Sempal Castle through the trees and over the hills. I looked up, and a handful of blinking stars looked back.
It was like I was walking down memory lane as I walked through the usually bustling, but now desolate, town of Cerara alone. I recall going shopping with my mother for the first time. I was a little scared of Henry, Cerara’s potato and other tuber vegetable merchant, who was a large and burly man but could never hurt a fly. Cindre was nice enough, but he was Raecan—he was scaly, and his eyes were yellow with slivers of pupil—and at the wise age of five years old, that was a little frightening. In the end, Cindre won me over with his sweet berries.
As I continued walking past all the stores and townhomes in Cerara, I recalled that rueful day—the day we were evicted.
I was almost seven at the time, and I had just gotten home from school to find my mother boxing up all of our stuff. I ran inside, utterly perplexed. “Mom! What are you doing?” I shouted as I ran into my room, where I had found my mother folding my blanket, if it could be called that. It was more like a rag. “That’s mine!” I yanked it out of my mother’s hands.
“I’m sorry, honey, but we have to move out now. Could you please give that back to me?” My mother was exhausted, and it made me pause for moment
“—Mother, what’s happened?” I asked, giving back the now slightly less neatly folded scrap of fabric. “You’re scaring me.” I could feel my eyes welling up.
“Oh, baby, I didn’t want to scare you.” She laid the cloth on my bed and crouched in front of me, taking my hands in hers. “There are just some adult things that I have to deal with.” She wiped away my tears with her thumb and moved a strand that had fallen out of my rich auburn mop of hair. A knock at the door startled both of us, and my mother got up to check who it was, leaving me alone in my room. One of the only things I could think of at the time was, "How did I let this happen?” Like it was my fault. “I need to protect mom from now on.” Like a six-year-old could do anything to protect their mother from poverty, something that, oh, so many people were struggling with at the time.
I realized that I should probably also go and look who it was—you know, to protect her. I ran out of my room hurriedly to see if the monster that I had conjured was about to eat my mother, or was about to. But all I found was a woman who was taller than my mother, had smooth, darkly tanned skin, black hair that went down to her waist, and bright blue eyes that I felt could outshine any star in the sky. And the large bump on her stomach indicated that she had been pregnant for at least eight months.
“Oh, Margarey, come in.” My mother escorted the woman to the table that my mother had built years before. “I wasn’t expecting you. Sorry about the mess, we're... moving.” The woman sat down; my mother was still standing by the door. It had started to rain heavily since I had come home.
“Don’t try and act in front of me. I have a lot of contacts in Cerara, most of whom know that we are friends.” The woman then looked in my direction, and I quickly ducked behind the wall that separated the hallway to the rooms and bathroom from the kitchen and dining room. It was dark in the hallway, and I hoped that she wouldn’t see me.
"God, Marg, it’s all gone to bits. I mean, I even scared Ashlem today.” My mother huffed, slumping in the chair across from the woman. A pang of guilt shot through me—sorry mom. “I don’t know what to do.” A tea kettle—one that I hadn’t noticed my mother put on—whistled, scaring me and causing me to make a little sound. This was enough to alert people to my hiding spot. "Ashlem, what are you doing over there? Come here and meet Margarey.” I shuffled out with my head hung low. I walked straight up to my mother.
“I’m sorry, mother.” Embarrassed tears streamed down my face.
“Oh, your fine honey. Come up here.” My mother patted her lap, and I climbed onto her. I wiped away my tears and snot. Sniffling, I got myself ready to introduce myself to Margarey.
“Hello…my name is…nm…Ashlem Piere..Beckett.” I looked at Margarey with wide, swollen eyes.
“Why hello there, Ashlem Piere Beckett. You know, you are about the same age as my own children, and I feel like you guys would get along really well. What do you think?” She leaned forward as she asked, awaiting my answer.
“I think so too.” I replied innocently. I looked up to see my mother’s reaction, and her eyes were wide.
“Ash, go play with some of the toys I haven't packed yet in your room.” My mother took me off of her without breaking eye contact with Margarey. I waddled back to the hallway, but I didn’t return to my room like my mother had asked me to. I returned to my original hiding spot, and this time I was ready for any jump scares that could arise. “You’re not saying what I think you’re saying. Right?”
“If you think I’m telling you to come and live with me, then you would be correct.” Margarey sipped on her tea; I hadn’t even realized she had gotten any.
“Margarey, I don’t appreciate pity, and you know that. And won’t people talk?” My mother wilted. “Like, ‘oh, the queen is consorting with the commoners again. Oh no, she’s a horrible queen.’” My mother mocked.
Margarey waited until my mother was done grumbling and listing off any and every single thing she could think of as to why this was a bad idea. “And you should know that I do not pity people. I just think that this would be very fun. Wouldn’t it be just like old times? Remember when I was pregnant with the twins, and you took care of me?” Margarey gleamed. My mother rolled her eyes, but I could tell she was being moved—little by little. “Fiona, wouldn’t it be nice?” Margarey pleaded.
"Yes, it would, Margarey. Yes, it would.”
We lived in the castle for about six months after this, until my mother found and bought us a new house on the outskirts of town. But those six months built vivid and joyful memories.
Looking back on it, I realized that this single event had led me to meet Noma and then, eventually, Nixie. I even had a decent relationship with Nathan at first—it just turned sour as we got older. I also realized that it all started with my mother. If my mother hadn’t worked in Sempal Castle and become close with the queen, then Margarey wouldn’t have come to the house that day, and then I wouldn’t have met Noma. Even the thought broke my heart.
But, in the moment, I was standing in front of my house, getting ready to bring up so many memories that I so desperately wished to bury—the ones with my father leaving, and then my mother lying and saying that he had died. All I could feel for my mother was anger and sorrow. I couldn’t be thankful; I didn’t have room to be.
I trudged up the steps to our front door and fumbled with the keys. It had already turned dark, and it was hard to see—and maybe I just wanted to live in my world of bliss for just one more second. I finally opened the door; it was pitch black, and the only light was from a dim candle burning in the living room and the Ashbark projection TV and its chromatics. I walked in to see my mother reading a romance, as she usually does in the evenings. I flicked the light switch on, and the overhead mana lights buzzed to life with a blue tint. “Mother.” I greeted her, and she peered past her novel, which read, “The Mystery and Love of Arabella Dixie”. She placed her book on the coffee table and jumped up as soon as she saw me. She viewed me from head to toe, checking for any serious injuries. “Mom, I’m fine.”
“That’s good to hear.” She stopped patting me down and placed her hands on my elbows, looking up at my face. “Come sit. I just put some tea on.” She scurried into the kitchen as I sat down in a deep-seated wingback chair. “This has cinnamon in it, so it should help with your scuffs.” She placed the saucer that held two tea cups and a teapot onto the coffee table, pouring a cup for me and one for herself. I picked up one of the cups with my right hand, which was now shaking. I stilled my jittering with my left hand, hoping that my mother wouldn’t notice my nervousness. “What’s wrong, Ash?” My mother asked and placed down her tea.
-Go to #2 of Chapter 4-
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