《Roses, Thorns》


 One

    ¡°Alright, so now that you¡¯re in between the bars, you can put your hands on them. Remember to put your weight on your arms, like you do with the crutches. Good, careful. Can you take a step?¡± Jenny asks.


    I try. I¡¯m able to move my left leg like I would when I walk, but the movement in the right is uncomfortable. I lean forward, shifting my weight onto my left leg, and then drag my right in front of me.


    ¡°Good job Rhea, but you don¡¯t have to do it so fast. Let¡¯s do the whole thing twice more, and that¡¯s enough¡±, she says.


    I repeat the process with help from Jenny, and from the corner of my eye I see a doctor step into the room, one I don¡¯t recognize.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid we have an interviewer asking for RheaHale to do an interview... If that¡¯s all right¡±, he says.


    I look at Jenny. She says it¡¯s fine, as long as I agree. So I nod, and sit back down in my wheelchair. A year or so ago Jason told me it¡¯s better to deal with interviews immediately. They get more aggressive if you wait.


    The doctor pushes me through the door, down the hallway and through another. I notice how everyone in the hallway seems to leap out of our way, whispering as we pass. Some people give me sympathetic smiles. I keep my face blank. We enter a cosy office. There, a woman with blonde hair, maybe in her forties, waits at a table. I hear the door close and the woman uncaps a pen.


    ¡°Hello, Rhea, I¡¯m Ramona Stoker from the Hani Times.¡± She speaks quickly, like they do in Bayree.


    ¡°Hello¡±, I reply.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get right to the questions, shall we? We won¡¯t waste any time that way. First. How did you meet Jason?¡±


    So this was going to be a ¡°love story¡± interview.


    ¡°I think I¡¯ve said this before, we met at an art classwe both took¡±, I say. Ramona looks at me, waiting for me to say more. I close my eyes and lean back. After a few seconds, I her her pen write something down.


    ¡°Did you know immediately you would fall in love?¡± Ramona asks.


    I open my eyes again, trying to keep my face clear of any emotion. ¡°No. It was a few months in to the class, when he asked me out. I was very surprised... but I said yes.¡±


    Ramona writes something down, and I wonder why she chose real paper and a pen, rather than a recording device. Less expensive, I guess.


    ¡°Did you have any fights?¡± She asks.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    There¡¯s no way you can handle it. No.


    His voice echoes in my head, those words that made me break. I nod.


    ¡°We almost broke up¡±, I say, struggling to keep my voice straight. I squeeze my eyes shut for a few seconds, willing myself not to cry.


    A man enters the room.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but Ms. Hale¡¯s mother is here to pick her up. It¡¯s four o¡¯clock, you see¡±, he says.


    Ramona nods once, and begins gathering her stuff. I am wheeled out of the room. we take a right turn and go through the front doors. It¡¯s cold outside for a May afternoon. We come to a stop by a side wall and I am given crutches and a metal leg supporter. I wave goodbye to the doctor and turn the corner, whereI see my mom¡¯s car waiting.


    I sit in the passenger seat, shoving my crutches behind me into the back.


    ¡°Ow!¡± Someone says.


    I jump, not realizing who it was for a second. Brandon.


    ¡°Why is Branhere? Doesn¡¯t he have school or something?¡± I say, annoyed because Branseems to always make me mad.


    No one answers. I take out my computer and open Bubble, the messaging app installed on all devices, even netscreens.


    Kamilla¡¯ssent me a message.


    I¡¯m at Fili¡¯s, do you want to join me?


    I consider. I was looking forward to staying home the rest of the day, but I haven¡¯t seen Kamilla for days... I decide to go.


    ¡°Mom, can you just drop me off at Fili¡¯s? Kamillawants to meet me there¡±, I say, waiting to type back.


    ¡°What¡¯s Fili¡¯s?¡± Mom asks.


    I stare at her.¡°The place I go every few days? It¡¯s the Hot Chocolate and Cloud restaurant.¡±


    Mom nods. ¡°Okay, just tell me the address.¡±


    ¡°3AC¡±, I say automatically, and type back a message to Kamilla.


    Sure. I¡¯ll be there soon.


    ...:::...


    ¡°Thanks! I¡¯ll take the tube home¡±, I say before closing my door.


    I wave to the car, and Bransticks his tongue out at me. I ignore him and walk inside.


    It takes awhile for me to find Kamilla in the cozy cafe. Eventually I see her, standing by the self-serve hot chocolate machine. She beckons me to her.


    When I reach her, she takes two cups from the stack and gives one to me.


    We walk to the end of the line, which isn¡¯t long, and start chatting.


    ¡°So, Rhea, have you seen Nebula yet?¡± She asks.


    I blink, wondering who she¡¯s talking about. I shake my head quickly, suddenly understanding.


    ¡°Oh, you mean the school. Yeah, I have. Right now it¡¯s first on my list-¡°


    ¡°Mine too!¡±


    ¡°- At least in Hani. There¡¯s one in Darka I want to look at and one in Avera, Bayree. I¡¯ll see that one when I visit my grandma next week¡±, I explain.


    It¡¯s our turn in line. I fill my cup with creamy, light brown hot chocolate while Kamilla fills hers with dark. We move to the Cloud buckets.


    ¡°Wow! You don¡¯t mean Primrose School, do you?!¡± Kamilla says while scooping a Mint Cloud into her cup.


    I can¡¯t contain my smile as I nod. ¡°They said they¡¯d take me!¡±


    I put one more scoop in my cup and we walk towards the back door.


    Kamilla raises her eyebrows, smiling. We take a table on the patio, farthest from the door.


    And that¡¯s when the speakers turn on.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Thanks for reading the first chapter! I really like getting feedback and any is welcome! I might add on to this chapter later to make it longer.

 Two

    I arrive at the art class early. It¡¯s held in the city center, somewhere on Porcelain street. The Taxi stops in front of a one story, brick building. Not sure what to do, I thank the Taxi and wait by the door. I don¡¯t have to wait alone. Almost immediately a sleek, blue car pulls up and a girl around my age gets out. My eyes immediately go to her multicolored hair, which is tied up in a loose bun. She checks something on a piece of paper in her hand, probably the address, and gives a thumbs up to the car. She turns to face me.


    ¡°Hi, are you going to the art class?¡± She asks as the car drives away.


    ¡°Yes, this is the right place, isn¡¯t it?¡± I wonder.


    ¡°I think so. Last year it was somewhere else. I¡¯m Tay Conner.¡± She holds out her hand. I shake it.


    ¡°Rhea Hale¡±, I reply.


    We talk for a little while as more people arrive, and I come to see that Tay is very friendly and happy to be the one talking 90 percent of the time. From the corner of my eye, I see two shapes moving toward us.


    ¡°You know, I heard that someone famous lives there¡±, a giggly voice says. I turn and see two girls, one with silver hair and black clothes, the other in jeans and a Xale Ballet hoodie. They stand near us, but they don¡¯t talk to us. They continue their giggly conversation.


    ¡°Hey, that¡¯s Bel and Catharin! They were here last year too¡±, Tay says.


    ¡°Oh. I wasn¡¯t here last year. We only moved to Hani a few months ago¡±, I say.


    ¡°Cool, where did you live before that?¡± She asks, but I don¡¯t have time to answer.


    The door opens and a middle aged, brown haired woman greets us.


    ¡°You¡¯re early! Here, come in, you can wait inside for the rest of the people. I¡¯m Honey, your teacher¡±, she says, a smile on her face. We all come shuffling in. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    The classroom has twelve wooden desks, each with a chair on either side. On the desks are papers, some sort of worksheet and oh-so-many supplies. I even see a pile of laptops in the corner.


    I sit at a desk in the corner near the window, hoping that Tay sits with me. Instead, she greets a boy walking in, and they sit at the front together. I don¡¯t let my disappointment show when she glances my way.


    Soon more people arrive. They either sit with a friend, or alone. No one sits by me, which I understand. I¡¯ve never looked the friendliest, with my downturned lips and sharp eyes.


    Almost all the desks are filled and one more person walks in. I¡¯m sure I¡¯ve seen him before. His eyes dart around the room before landing on me.


    ¡°Can I sit at your desk?¡± He asks me.


    I hesitate for a moment and nod quickly.


    ¡°My name¡¯s Rhea, by the way¡±, I say as he sits on the other side of the desk.


    ¡°Jason¡±, he says quickly, in a voice that suggests he was confirming what I already knew.


    It¡¯s then I remember him. I¡¯d seen him once before in real life, as well as on the netscreens. Jason Bennet. Born to celebrity parents. A Gifted. A Seer. An Orphan. He¡¯s the kind of person you don¡¯t forget.


    The door closes. Honey starts talking.


    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s get started!¡± She says.


    ...:::...


    To my surprise, it¡¯s Jason that begins the conversation.


    ¡°Have you taken any art classes before this?¡± He asks, not looking up from his self-portrait.


    ¡°No, not outside of school. I do a fair amount of drawing in my free time though. What about you?¡± I reply.


    He shrugs. ¡°I¡¯ve been to a few, but I only got into art around a year ago. Luckily I¡¯ve improved since then¡±, he says with a half-smile.


    I look at his sketch. True to his word, it¡¯s already amazing. I look back at my own, which hasn¡¯t progressed passed the shape, and start sketching again.


    After awhile, Jason talks again.


    ¡°Do you know anything about drawing eyebrows?¡± He asks out of the blue.


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m pretty good at it, I guess¡±, I reply, looking up.


    ¡°Good¡±, he smiles, ¡°how do you get them to be a good shape?¡±


    I help him, and soon we start talking more comfortably and less formally. We play an old game where we take turns asking questions about each other, until we can¡¯t think of any more.


    ¡°I guess that¡¯s it then¡±, he says with a smile.


    I nod, before exclaiming, ¡°Wait! I have one. What¡¯s your favorite plant?¡±


    He rolls his eyes, a smile on his face before replying. ¡°I like birch trees, I guess. But roses are by far my favorite.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± I wonder aloud.


    His smile falters the tiniest bit. ¡°They remind me of my mother. That¡¯s part of it. But I¡¯ve always loved their scent¡±, he says.


    I nod, and when neither of us can think of any more questions, we finish the class in silence.

 Three

    The whole place becomes silent as a voice speaks from the speaker.


    ¡°People of Hani. For a few years now Vala has been a potential target for Paykan attacks. To prepare for this potential scenario, we must have drills. Please listen to my instructions, and follow them carefully. When I say so, you may take action¡±, the voice coming from the radio says.


    Kamilla sighs, annoyed. Drills do tend to happen at the worst time.


    The woman announcing the drill tells us to follow the instructions of people in charge. Don¡¯t take anything that¡¯s out of arms reach. Move silently. Kamilla and I stand up slowly, taking our drinks with us as we follow the employees downstairs into the bomb shelter.


    Drills always make me nervous, because I know it would be so different in real life. Some people would be in cars, unable to stop in time. Now, everyone moves leisurely, whereas in a real attack, I doubt we¡¯d remember what to do.


    I realize Kamilla is talking as we sit down on a couch in the corner of the room.


    ¡°-That, do you?¡± She says.


    ¡°Sorry, what?¡± I ask. She rolls her eyes.


    ¡°I said, there was a drill while you were in the hospital, but you probably don¡¯t remember it. They¡¯re having quite many. At least three this...¡± she drones off like she does sometimes, not caring if anyone listens. I think about what she said. There was a drill at the hospital. I remember. I was there...


    ...must we? it could be dangerous... if we want her to live... in the tunnel, we''ll...


    Little snippets of memories enter my mind. I know somehow that was the day I woke up fully. The day I found out. The day I started slowly dying, melting into a sad heap of nothingness...


    I can be way too dramatic sometimes. We sit in silence for awhile, which I¡¯m grateful for. Though it may seem otherwise, Kamilla knows when to stop talking.


    ¡°Will you drop me off at the harbor?¡± I ask out of the blue. I know she understands what I mean.


    ¡°Won¡¯t your family be there?¡± She asks.


    ¡°Maybe. The ship leaves at five thirty in the morning. They¡¯d prefer to sleep in¡±, I say, half joking.


    Kamilla nods. ¡°If I don¡¯t, this will be the last time I see you until October. That¡¯s a good enough excuse for me¡±, she says with a smile.


    The speaker turns back on and a voice tells us that it¡¯s safe to leave the basement. We walk outside together and Kamilla turns right while I take a left towards the Tube station.


    The underground train system is ancient. It has been renovated and reconstructed many times, and each station looks like it came out of a different time period. The one I¡¯m headed to, Mantabarry, is still quite new. It was only renovated 10 years ago.


    Luckily for me, a train arrives almost instantly. It slows down to a stop and opens the doors. I get on and sit down. There aren¡¯t many people on it right now. There usually isn¡¯t after a drill.


    ...:::...


    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    I step inside to the smell of eggs burning. I wrinkle my nose at the stench, annoyed.


    ¡°Mom, why did you let Bran cook?!¡± I shout, in the general direction of my mom¡¯s office.


    No one answers. ¡°Mom?¡± I say again. This time Bran answers.


    ¡°She¡¯s not home, she went to get dad from work¡±, he says from the kitchen.


    ¡°You could¡¯ve told me the first time I asked¡±, I say half-heartedly.


    I quickly take off my shoes and put my bag down. Walking into the kitchen, the smell intensifies.


    ¡°Max, please take that off the stove!¡± I shout, seeing the burned mess of an egg on a pan.


    He turns off the stove with a smirk. ¡°I can¡¯t wait until you¡¯re gone and I can finally be free.¡±


    I glare at him. ¡°Whatever¡±, I say, already heading towards the stairs. I struggle up the stairs with my crutches and eventually just leave them leaning against a wall. I don¡¯t really need them if I have my brace on, but Jenny says I¡¯ll recover quicker with them.


    I close the door to my room and sit on the edge of my bed. I know I should start packing, but instead I lay on my bed for awhile, just staring at the ceiling. For a few weeks after the accident, I thought I wouldn¡¯t be able to go to Avera after all. Then I got a new doctor, Jenny, who said if I worked hard, I¡¯d be able to go abroad in a couple weeks.


    I sit up. For awhile, I sit in silence, not really thinking about anything, not really doing anything. I jump at the sound of the doorbell. Getting up slowly, I make my way to the stairs, where I left my crutches. Dad doesn¡¯t like it when I go without them. I stumble down the stairs slowly.


    ¡°Hi¡±, I say.


    ¡°Hey, Rhea. How was Physio today?¡± My dad asks.


    I shrug. ¡°It was fine.¡±


    ¡°Good. Here, let me put my stuff down and I¡¯ll help you pack.¡±


    ¡°I can pack my own things, I just need you to bring my suitcase upstairs¡±, I say to Dad.


    He sighs. ¡°Alright then. I¡¯ll be right up¡±, he tells me, and opens the door to the storage. I head upstairs. A few moments later, Dad brings a small suitcase to my room. I¡¯ve had it since I was thirteen. Dad leaves my room, closing the door. I unzip the suitcase. I gasp.


    Inside is a piece of folded paper, and a bag of small, flower-shaped chocolates wrapped in foil.


    Jason. Somehow, he got this in my suitcase. I know it¡¯s him.


    I take out the paper and unfold it. It¡¯s covered in writing.


    Rhea


    Good luck on your trip. I thought I¡¯d leave this here in your suitcase so you could read it whenever you feel lonely in Avera.


    I think you¡¯re sort of angry with me right now. I mean when I¡¯m writing this. I¡¯m not sure why. It might be that speech-thing. I know you didn¡¯t want me to, and I didn¡¯t want to either, but I did. Will. Whatever.


    I love you. I¡¯ll think of you every minute while you¡¯re gone, and when you get back, I¡¯ll have something special waiting. You know, I¡¯m thinking of visiting Bayree for awhile in September. The official story will probably be that I have some sort of meeting, but really I just want to see you. That sounds so cheesy.


    I¡¯ll drop you off at the harbor. If you want. I wish I could go with you.


    Please don¡¯t stay alone the whole time. Make friends. I know it¡¯s a bit hard for you, but trust me, trips are better when there¡¯s someone with you who knows about your destination. If you want, you can try to meet up with Narcissa Miller. I met her on my last trip to Avera. To be honest, I find her kind of annoying, but I think you¡¯d like her.


    I¡¯ll send messages, of course. Don¡¯t worry. Tell your grandmother I said hi. She was very kind when she visited us last year.


    Well, I¡¯d better go. Good luck.


    Jason :)


    I finish the letter in tears. My breathing is ragged and uneven. I struggle to stop myself from screaming. I cry for awhile, clutching the letter in my hand. Eventually it¡¯s like I have no tears left. I know my face must be red and blotchy.


    I fold the note back up and put it back in my suitcase. I pack in complete silence.