Hearts On Stars (rough draft)

❧

There aren’t nearly as many stars here in England as there are back in Homeworld. “Light pollution,” Dad sighs, squinting through the glass periscope. He adjusts it with his fingers, wincing when the metal screeches quietly. “All the electricity and lights makes it harder to see. Why do you think I moved with your mother to Homeworld? Life is tough for an astronomer here in Otherworld,” he says softly, laughing with his deep and husky voice as his beard trembles.

“Is electricity the magic you were talking about before?”

“Yup. Powers everything here, ever since a century ago or so. Hard to harvest, but worth it.”

Father’s kneeled and hunched over, inspecting all his tools. His telescope glimmers dark blue and gold, encrusted with crystalline diamonds. His matching bejeweled sextant lays in the soft grass beside him. People always ask him how he could have gotten the money for such a thing, or assume it’s fake. Jewels are precious in Homeworld, but not nearly as expensive. The telescope itself wasn’t that much gold, but he customized it with the jewels after the fact, so that’s where most of the cost came from.

I lean back on my hands, legs spread while idly rock my feet from side to side. The Otherworld clothes Father got for me feel strange. Here, girls wear jeans for fashion and rip up their clothes to look cool. The denim jacket he got me is lined with fleece, which wards off the cool nightly breeze in this empty British park. I inspect the silver coins Dad gave me to spend, though I’d rather keep them as souvenir. Gold is rare, but silver is even rarer. Dad tells me it’s the opposite here. How strange.

I hold up a “pence” to the sky and inspect it with one eye closed. It’s thinner than our gold coins, or “yorthys”, as our currency is formally called. About the same in size. Not sure how it’s worth would translate to Homeworld, seeing as how silver and gold have completely different values to us, apparently. They use money that looks like paper as well, though father said that the money actually being made of paper is just a myth.

“They stopped doing that when they realized it burns and dissolves too easy. They make it out of special...fabric, you could say. Slightly more durable, though not much. Easier to carry than coins, though,” he snorts. I saw that. People carrying thin leather sleeves to hold their fabric-money, rather than coin pouches.

“Doesn’t it blow away easily, though?”

He goes silent at that. Maybe I hit a sore spot. I giggle and decide to put off the question. Maybe I’ll ask mother about it.

He took me to a school today, introduced me to a few kids. They look normal enough, other than their clothes. He said him and mother are planning to enroll me there, see if I adjust better.

“School is...well, school,” he admitted. “I’m not sure how it compares, but I can’t imagine that any school is all that fun. But I do know that they do Otherworld sports instead of sword-fighting and all that.”

“Everyone?”

“Everyone. Girls don’t get to sit by and pretend to be rescued here,” he drawled sarcastically. But then, he just ruffled my hair and smiled. “I’m sure you won’t have a problem with that, though. You’re unique. I’m sure you’ll make lots of friend. But you were always the type to be unbothered by terrible people,” he jokes.

I’m sure he’s referring to the citizens of Sunshine, the new town we just moved to. It’s a town full of rich people, one that Father finds slightly unpalatable. All of us do. Only Ellia, my snobby older sister, manages to fit in, and even she gets tired of the snobby rich girls. I think that says something about just how hard to swallow the personalities of Sunshine’s residents are.

Father continued to give me advice as we walked towards the park, the sun setting in the distance. I idly kick pebbles, occasionally nodding or making a quiet sound to assure him I’m listening. There’s a lot more stone here. Smooth slabs of concrete and rough black gravel and huge buildings made of cement everywhere you go. In a weird way, it’s soothing. Different, but a nice type of different. Maybe I really will like it here.

“If kids bully you, say something. Kids here tend to have a problem with that, and I know you’re quiet, but believe me, you’ll be a hero for doing it.”

His voice is calm as usual, but his words have a sense of concern and urgency to them. He’ll be visiting everyday to check up on me, and I’ll be going back on the weekends, but I know they’re still scared. I know I should be happy that my parents are worried about me, but I can’t help but feel a slight sense of bitterness. If they’re so scared of the idea, they shouldn’t have suggested it in the first place. I gladly would either stay or go, but to put me in a place like this and make me scared with their incessant nagging is still a bit...

“Don’t stay out when it’s dark. If you feel like someone suspicious is following you, even in broad daylight, go somewhere where there’s lots of people. Either that, or find someone official, like a police officer or even a store employee. Okay? Good.” He sighs. “Now that I’m done telling you all the stuff mom told me to tell you, I’ll give you some actually practical advice, as a person that’s spent his whole life here.”

I can’t help but feel like that’s a jab at mom’s incessant worrying, so I smile and nod.

“Don’t ever buy school lunch. Like, ever. Unless you want to try it once just to see how bad it actually is or something. You’re a good cook—make yourself something at home and bring it. They have lunch boxes that keep things cold and all that, so I’ll get you one of those. I’d rather that, than you get sick from some frozen burritos...”

Father maintains an “apartment” here in Otherworld to live in while he works. He claims he’s a fairly reputable name in the astronomy community—among the few people that know him, at least—so he comes back here often. Apparently there’s a whole bunch of people in Otherworld that study stars. Looking at the sky here

____________________________________________

Rhett's ruby Taurus necklace glints brightly in the light. The glittering crystal ruby head and diamond studded horns are threaded onto a gold chain, blinding when the light reflects off it. The light is always bright in Sunshine. I've gone to a lot of places, but Sunshine is one of the few that at least feels a little homey. Maybe because my family's here. Maybe.

"How about...the Reflecting pools?" Rhett suggests, throwing another pebble into the pond. It skips across the glittering blue surface, plopping and skipping until it bounces into a soft tuft of grass on the other side of the pond. "Yes!" He pumps his fist and points at the small mountain of pebbles he's already created on the other side of the lake excitedly. He looks so oddly boyish sometimes. You know, when he isn't being obnoxious.

"You see that?"

"Mmh," I hum. I lost interest after the fifth pebble. The sunlight glints off his jet black hair and emerald green eyes. The sunlight does that here—it makes everything glittery and bright, like the chrome filter on a picture. The grass is always bright and shiny, the trees are always vibrant, the sky is always a magnificent blue, and all the ponds and lakes reflect it with a glittering hue. Perfect, perfect, perfect. It's sort of annoying how perfect it is, honestly. I'd do anything for a drab English rainy day, or the offset dark cloud. Something less bright.

The thought of a ‘chrome filter’ makes me think of the fancy cellphone Father brought me for my birthday, from his last business trip back to Otherworld. He tells me it was quite expensive. He took me there for a few hours, so he could show me how it works. “It’s a fascinating little box that can do anything your heart desires,” he promised me. “Unfortunately, this type of magic doesn’t work in Homeworld.”

“Like telephones? And cameras?” I asked.

“Yeah, something like that. We have a different type of magic in Otherworld. It can be finicky, just like Homeworld’s. But people have to buy it.”

The little silver piece of metal sits in my bedside table, untouched. It won’t even turn on like it did before in England. Father says that it must “charge”, using a long cord to connect it to the magic currents people keep in their homes. We don’t have such things here in Sunshine, of course. I long to experiment with it, and wait eagerly for Father’s next business trip so he can take me along and show me.

“I’m sure you’ll pick it up quick. The youngsters over in Otherworld always do. Us older ones tend to struggle.” You would think the older wise men would have mastered the magic, but Father tells me that children are more adept at figuring out its complexities. I asked him if it was because they’re more pure at heart and the magic is more keen to them. He said it’s something like that.

Rhett falls back into the grass with a soft crunch. He spreads himself out like he's making a grass angel and sighs so loud I can hear it clearly all the way up in the tree.

Meanwhile, I swing my legs idly, way up above the ground, watching the light glint off the gold buckles on my white boots. I pick at the lace petticoat under my silk, checkered blue dress, and I groan quietly to myself. "So bored...." I ponder the little silver box’s ability to capture moments in time and make them look one way or another. We can do that with scrying paintings, but they’re such a hassle to get, let alone hang up. The little box stores it, so you can look at whenever, like a scrying album. Father says there’s lots of different types of boxes to take pictures. Some people even have careers where they just use their boxes, like we have scryer painters. They aren’t very many of them, though, and they aren’t well paid.

“Not much different from photographers, sweetie,” my father told me when I asked him if ‘photographers’ were like scryer painters.

I roll my shoulders for the umpteenth time today. Puffed cuffs feel so weird, especially with long sleeves. It's like I'm a princess in the North Star region or something. Hand-me-downs are such a pain. Ellia was such a trend-freak when she was my age.

Maybe I should ask for a camera for my next birthday. I have an old scryer album, but it’s all used up. The camera boxes aren’t paintings, either. They’re just...windows, into the very moment you took it. Clear and perfect. Father seems to know a decent amount about them.

Rhett actually does start to make a grass angel, though it doesn't look like he's having any fun. The shape of his limbs waving out flattens the grass in a surprisingly realistic shape. He closes his eyes and tries to smile like he's having fun, but then he scowls after, like, five seconds.

"This isn't as fun as I thought it would be."

I pick at the cut emerald on my silver chain. I hold certain jewels for when I'm feeling certain stuff. They soothe me for some reason. Emerald is for when I'm anxious. "Then go play with the other boys," I say quietly. I'm surprised Rhett even hears me. But, lo and behold, he does. He sits up with a determined look on his features.

"No," he says. "I promised to hang out with you today, and I shall do it, milady." He stands up and puts his foot on a particularly large rock in hero-pose, forcing a grin onto his face. "Aren't I just the most charming?" He's still in his outfit from sword class, leather boots and a clean blue tunic. So, actually...

"No," I mumble, half of my mind still pondering what type of magic camera box I should ask for. I saw a really pretty one that even makes the little painting—picture, sorry—into a physical thing! It was positively entrancing. It didn’t seem too expensive, either. Compared to the other models Father showed me, at least.

His smile falls, and he dragon-huffs at me. "Well, what do I do then?" he exclaims, throwing his hands up. "Mom forced me to go to the scryer, and he said I'm destined for greatness in my life, and that I need to find a special girl, so all she talks about is 'Rhett, be more princely' and 'Rhett, be nicer to girls.' It's boring," he groans.

Rhett is popular among the girls. I know that at least. Because of his charming smile and princely demeanor, all the girls want to be paired up with a Taurus. In reality, his mother had secretly taken him to a prophecy altar when he was five years old—a complete faux-pas, by the way—and she was told to "make her son a prince." She did, and now, ten years later, she took him to the scryer at the proper time; and as it turns out, if he keeps on acting like a prince, he'll find his special little lady and find his destiny of greatness or whatever.

Rhett glares up at me with his piercing emerald eyes, arms crossed. Not exactly the look of some destined for greatness. They're always bright, even when he's not in Sunshine. It's sorta scary. But, well, not that scary. "I don't have to be here, you know," he says coldly. "I can be here sweet talking some girls I'm actually going to marry."

What's scary is that he's thinking about marriage this early. I know he only invited me out because his parents are forcing him to hang out with every girl on the planet to figure out who’s ‘most eligible.’ I don’t see why he’s acting like I have to be grateful for his invitation. I fix my hair ribbons, then I push off and jump off the branch. I had meant to startle him, but I realized too late that I'm shorter than him by a good inch or two. It's easy to see, even though he's still ten feet away at the pond's edge. I opt to sit down next to the tree and wait out his tantrum. So I cross my legs and I lean my chin into my hands.

Rhett takes a few menacing steps toward me, sniffing. "But I promised to be here, with you. Aren't you grateful?" It's times like this he really seems like a prince.

I shrug, and I start to pick at a dandelion stem. "I said you could go if you wanted to..." I mumble.

He sniffs again, and he lifts up his chin high and mightily. "I do want to go."

I shrug again. Father says some people have jobs where they all have to do is pose for pictures. I have this strange feeling that Rhett would be good at that.

Rhett stares me down for a while longer. Then he falters. He sighs and lets his arms drop. "Fine, you got me, I don't actually want to go!" He swings his arms back and falls back into the grass. I keep picking at the dandelion while he talks.

"Whenever I'm with the other girls, it's always, 'Rhett, pick up my handkerchief for me. Rhett, look at my pretty dress. Oh, Rhett, look, I've fallen! Can't you pick me up like a princess and carry me off to your castle?'" He points at his throat and pretends to gag. "It's like, shut up already! When I'm with you, you barely talk, let alone constantly drape yourself over me like a damsel in distress." So I’m easier for him to be around. I’ll take that as a half-compliment.

Rhett flips onto his stomach and leans his head into his hands, staring at me calculatingly. "Why don't you talk that much, actually?" he asks. "It's sorta weird."

I shrug again, barely lifting my shoulders. The dandelion has dew on it. I pick the dandelion by its stem, and I lift it up to the sky. Rhett stares at me, eyes narrowed and absolutely baffled. "Are you going to start doing a rain dance?" he mutters.

I squint, turning the dandelion until the sun glints right off every single one of the dew drops. Then I lower it. Rhett stares at me if he's already trying to remember the directions for the asylum. To the normal eye, it looks like nothing happened. But if you look closely, you can see the glittery sunlight glowing in the drops of dew.

I hold it out to him. Rhett, still staring at me with narrowed eyes, tentatively holds it. "What do I do now?" he asks.

I shrug at him. Then I put my hands out, and I clap the dandelion firmly in between them. It explodes in a burst of shimmery golden dust, gently raining down into the grass. Rhett's jaw drops. "Awesome." He looks at me with wide eyes, as if saying, 'Did you actually do that?'

"How come I didn't know you could do that?"

I hold up my hands, showing the golden glitter dust coating my palms. Rhett guffaws. I smile a bit. "Star shimmer," I say simply. I hold out my hand like I'm blowing a kiss, and I blow as hard as I can. A cloud of golden dust rains down all over Rhett's face. When he opens his eyes, his glittery gold eyebrows are raised in surprise. Then he just grins.

"Awesome."

Rhett brushes off all the gold dust, shaking his head like a wet dog. I stifle a giggle. When I turn towards the glittering green horizon of the valleys in the distance, the sun is already starting to set.

"Oh no," I mumble. Rhett turns toward me, eyebrows furrowed in concern. "Huh?"

"I...g-gotta go home," I murmur. Rhett nods in approval. "We've evolved to one sentence. Let's keep working on that," he jokes. I hope he doesn't actually mean that we're going to meet again. I honestly regret this.

He stands up, brushes himself off, then holds his hand out to me to help me. I stand up on my own and brush the grass and dirt off my blue silk skirt. Rhett grins at me. "And that's why I like you."

I release my emerald gem, and I wave at Rhett as I turn back to the village. He runs off in the opposite direction, towards the shopping district. "Bye...Rosie or whatever!" he calls after me.

"Bye, Rhett," I mumble.

❧

I walk back down the brick path cutting through the meadow to the small cottage district of Sunshine. Cute little wooden cottages arranged in a small, spacey town with stone paths, a few humble shops, and a broken diamond fountain in the town square. I run my hands over the smooth diamond as I pass by it. "One day," I hum softly. "One day you'll flow...and bubble and shimmer and trickle," I add with a grin. It's to the tune of an old folk song all the kids sing. All you have to do is keep adding adverbs and make the four-note chord continue. It's like an endless game to make the longest song.

I pass by the bakery and the butcher on the way home. They all know me as "the daughter of the woman downtown who never speaks." But all I have to do is point at what I want on the counter and they always give it to me, regardless. As long as the coins get put in their hands at the end of it all, they don't care if the customer isn't one for conversation.

That's at least one good thing about living in this town. You'd expect people that live in a town called Sunshine to be painfully joyful and giddy, but truthfully most of the snobby rich people live here. People from the North are little less wealthy, but are painfully talkative. My mother hails from there, and can keep up a fanciful conversation, but over the years she's become tired and more inclined to take a long nap than a long ramble. It's one of the many reasons she and my bookworm of a father thought the quiet streets of Sunshine were more fitting for their family.

Honestly, maybe the shop-keepers are just used to fancy princesses shooing and waving their hands at them, far too above their level to even speak to a commoner. I never considered that. With that thought lingering in my mind, I hold my wicker's basket with two hands so the cheese wheel doesn't fall out and hope my bumping knees don't keel it over.

The front door opens with a creeeeak. Mother is in the recliner chair, completely conked out as usual. Every time she snores, a loose strand from her bangs floats into the air. I smile as I set the wicker basket down on the kitchen table. Mother suddenly sits up, smacking her lips and fluttering her eyes sleepily.

"Drago?" she murmurs, raspy. "Is that you?"

"No, mother," I answer quietly. I unwrap the cloth on the top and start to unload the basket.

"Phoenix...?" she says slowly, squinting at me. I roll my eyes, but I can't help but grin. "No, mother."

She waves her hand at me, yawning. "I know, I know, I was just teasing you." Nowadays, I can never be sure with her. Mother does her unique, high pitched giggle. She sees the wicker basket and smiles. "Rozalia, have I ever told you that you're the best daughter ever?"

"Yes, mother. Last time you said that, Ellia threw a fit," I reply. My mother shakes her head. "That girl..." She waves her hand again. "Anyway, that's not what we're talking about. Did you have a good time at—wait, is there school? Is it summer?" She suddenly stops short and starts to tap her chin.

"No, mother, it's summer. And I do independent studies."

Mother nods and points at me. "That's why you're my favorite. Ooh, dearie me, remind me not to say that when your sister comes for dinner. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, dear, it slipped my mind. I hope there's enough for Ellia, too."

"No problem, mother." I unload the last of the basket. I set the empty basket by the door. "I made sure there was extra. And yes, before you ask, I know father's coming, you reminded me five times this morning and forgot each time."

My mother blushes, but she quickly waves her hand, a strange demeanor habit of hers. "Oh, posh, don't remind me that I'm getting old." She runs her hand over her perfect, chocolate brown hair, not a single gray hair to be found. "Be grateful I gave you my looks. You look wonderful in my old dress! Even better than Ellia. And your hair is even more beautiful than mine. You're a perfect combination of your father's looks and your mother's looks, and you're more talented than both of us combined." She crosses her hands over her stomach and leans back in the creaky old recliner. "I swear, I don't know why you aren't married yet. Damn the star signs—you're a beautiful young lady for heaven's sake."

The door bursts open, sending the wicker basket flying. I don't even jump anymore. I already know it's—

"Drago's here!" he shouts, pumping his fist in the air. His dark brown hair is caked—no pun intended—in flour and baking soda and he's still wearing his icing stained apron. Drago hangs it on the hook, does a little shake of the head, as the flour flies into the air in a white dust cloud. "Hello, auntie. Or mother. You know, I'm still not sure on that." He has the edges of a British accent from the North Star region, along with an equally sharp attitude.

"Mother," mother says. "I took you in, so that means you're my son, my husband's son, and you're Rozalia's brother."

"Cousins," I remind her. "We're still cousins." I've heard the story a million times. As I said before, my mother isn't inclined towards long rambles anymore. She, however, enjoys retelling old stories far too much, enough to make me worry about the type of old lady she'll grow into.

A while back, my mother's only sister and her husband fell ill and didn't recover. It hit her pretty hard, even seeing as they were hardly close. In fact, as distant as two strangers could be. But she was softened when she heard news of their newborn twins. Especially since, at the time, she herself was bearing her second daughter (and secretly desperate for a son or two.) She immediately jumped to adopt them as her own.

Northerners tend to be very courteous, and since we were children, they've insisted on calling my mother 'Auntie', if not 'Madam'. I like to tease them, Drago in particular, about how they're not really my brothers, cruel as it seems. After all, they're the reasons why my mother had to raise three babies at once, and the prime factor why she's become as tired as she is today. It's a running joke between the three of us, one we all can't help but laugh at.

"Don't be like that," Drago says with a pout. His ruby red eyes stare down into my blue sapphire ones. "I'm your brother. But, I suppose, most brothers don’t do this." He hugs me from behind and starts to attack me head with kisses. I giggle as his hands tickle my stomach and his lips peppers all across my forehead and cheeks. The sapphire on my charm bracelet flickers faintly.

Drago pauses when the door opens, less violently this time. My mother sighs. "Oh, Phoenix, thank goodness. Keep your brother in line, please?"

Phoenix dusts granulated cane sugar from his hair and smiles gently. His eyes are the same ruby as his brother's, but less intense and more like the orange of a sunset. "Of course, mother." He flicks Drago on the side of his head and pulls his ear. Then he pats me on the head, kisses my temple, then places a small box bag tied with ribbon on the counter. "Caramel creme fudge. Still warm," he says with a wink. "Knock yourself out, little sis."

Drago and Phoenix are fraternal twins. Close in appearance, but not quite close enough to be identical. As well as polar opposites, of course. Drago is hyper, while Phoenix is a bit quieter and mature. They're both forms of Sagittarius, and they wear matching necklaces. Drago's is a ruby arrow, while Phoenix's is orange.

Phoenix slips on a pair of gloves from the hook on the back door. "I'll go get a fresh batch from the garden. Do you need anything for dinner, Rozalia?"

Drago claps his hands excitedly and rubs them together. "Ooh, yeah, yeah, what's for dinner? Can I make lemon squares for dessert?"

I grab Phoenix's sleeve with a smile. "Garlic, please. You know how Father loves extra garlic in his beef stew." I lean up and I kiss his cheek, and I do the same for Drago. "And yes, you can make lemon squares. Powdered sugar on mine instead of icing, please." He smiles. "Alright, sis."

"Welcome home you two. Now get to work." I clap my hands like Mother does when she gets ready to do something important. "Father won't be home for long this time, so let's make a good impression." Ever since Ellia moved out to pursue her career in fashion, and Mother's limitless energy has since wound down after watching her eldest finally grow up, I've shouldered much of the responsibilities around the house.

Father likes to joke how I'll make an excellent wife, taking jabs at the Sunshine girls who only know how to sit and look pretty (which I can't help but agree with.) I've gradually started picking up the chores Ellia once did for the family, the things my mother has grown too weak to handle on her own; picking up the groceries, keeping the garden growing, making sure my brothers don't knock each other's heads off. I'm proud to say that in the last year, I've really come into my prime. I emulate after my mother, and she's the only role model I could ask for.

My mother's eyes are closed, her form still lays back content in her recliner. But I can't help but notice a small, proud smile on her lips. I take a deep inhale. I've already been born a disappointment to this family. I can't grow to be an even bigger one.

Phoenix runs off to the garden, and Drago follow after him, picking the wicker basket up from the floor. My mother rubs her hands together anxiously. "Rozalia, is there time for beef stew? Your father will be here within the hour, you know."

I gesture towards the stove. "I put the pot on this morning, mother. Don't worry. Keep sleeping, and I'll wake you up right before Father comes."

My mother waves at me and sits up in the chair. "I've been sleeping for ages. Work is hard, but it's not that hard. Don't take me for an old lady, dear." She wags her finger at me, just like an old lady would do. I smile at my little inside joke.

"I stopped for bread and cheese on the way home," I call to Drago as he clatters back from the garden, holding a basketful of lemons. He scowls. "I didn't see you at the bakery. Unless you were there while I was icing the cake for the Kingman's son's birthday party." He whistles. "You would not believe how big it wasn't. Big enough for a prince, indeed. Five layered, sugary beast."

Phoenix suddenly comes in, nodding. He hands me a bunch of rosemary, tied neatly with twine. "Oh, yeah. It's crazy. I made three dozen sugar flowers and pulled enough green taffy for an entire town. And I'm not even half done with their order!" Phoenix's specialty is his fantastic pulled saltwater-taffy. Everyone in town (particularly the noble girls who come in to gawk at his muscles) adores his batches. I imagine they weren't all that happy to hear that they were pausing taffy sales (and taffy spectating, for heaven's sake) to fulfill the gigantic order for Rhett's bash.

I pop a piece of warm caramel fudge into my mouth. "Well, I mean," I mumble with a full mouth. I quickly swallow before I continue, licking the sticky remains from the roof of my mouth. "They've been trying to find a wife for their son since he was born."

My mother sighs. "Aye, I got the invitation for Rozalia this morning. I think they're inviting all the females in the town. Do you even want to go, dear? Have you ever even met this Kingman boy?"

I shrug. "His name is Rhett. We tried to hang out today, but..." I shrug again, and I focus on pulling another stubborn piece of fudge off the bar. "...he's not super horrible, I think. Only a little bit compared to his parents."

Despite his parents' reputation, Rhett is basically an idol in this town, and everyone acts as if though a single moment alone in his presence is the equivalent of having dinner with the Queen. It's a large part of the reason I kept our meet-up under the umbrella. I suspect Rhett had similar motivations for wanting to keep it secret, seeing as how I'm nothing more than a random farm girl that once sat next to him in Arithmetics.

My mother just raises her hands in surrender and presses her lips together in a tight line. "Do whatever you want, it doesn't matter to me. For all I care, you can go just to bring home some caviar and a goodie bag."

Drago taps his chin thoughtfully while he sifts powdered sugar. "Would caviar taste good with cake?"

I stare out the window at the sunset, like a brilliant swirling blaze of purple, red, and orange. If I was cake, Rhett would probably be caviar.

"I don't think they'd mix well."

❧

When the doorbell rings, I know it must be Ellia. She's the only one in this house that doesn't burst in. I smooth my blue silk, hoping they don't notice the grass stains, and I open the door with a smile.

"Ellia! Dad!"

I prefer to call him Father, but he wants me to call him Dad. He still has his scraggly eyebrows and his bushy black beard. He waggles his eyebrows goofily. Ellia rolls her perfect sea-blue eyes at him and flips her golden chestnut hair back with a flick of the head. She's the definition of beautiful. It's a bit scary how pretty she is.

"I found this man on the street. Should we call the police?" she says haughtily. A breeze blows by, ruffling her white silk dress like Monroe. Father gives her a tight squeeze. "Aw, come on Elly, I know you love me a little."

Ellia just flips her hair again and purses her full, pink lips. But her eyes crinkle at the corners with that familiar smile of hers. Father sets his telescope, his astrolabe, and his sextant down on the counter, then swoops me up in a tight hug. He smells like the stars and wind. His hugs are always firm and tight, with just the right amount of roughness from his canvas jacket and the fringes of his beard tickling my forehead.

"What delicious dish did your mother make today?" he asks with a bright grin. My mother waves her hand at him and sighs, but she kisses him on his rough cheek. "Rozalia made dinner. She's made a lot of progress since the exploding bread loaf incident those few months ago."

I flush a bright pink. "Mother!" I squeak. "I'm better now!"

She waves her hand at me as if batting me away. "Yes, yes, I'm aware. I'm grateful. You've become a better cook than I could ever hope to be. I've had the dreadful habit of putting things on the stove and falling asleep these past few years," she admits in a tired sigh.

My father shrugs his broad shoulders, a habit I've claimed from him. "Nothing wrong with homemade charcoal, my dear." He turns to the twins and practically shakes the house with his laughter. "You boys better be treating your sister with respect, eh?" He ruffles both their heads, and they reply with matching grins.

After a small skirmish over who gets to sit where, I end up sitting with Ellia on one side, the twins on the other, and Mother and Father on either side to keep us in line, supposedly. I can't say I don't feel a swell of pride when everyone digs into the stew and mash so heartily. Even Ellia, the dainty eater, devours some hefty spoonfuls. My sapphire glows brightly under the collar of my dress.

Mother, Father, and the twins all engage in a heated discussion over wether I should attend the Kingman's birthday party, which I gracefully decided not to participate in. Drago seems adamant about the rumors of Rhett being a playboy, Phoenix arguing back that he's supposed to be quite stuck-up, while Mother still seems vaguely hung up on whether or not there'll be caviar somewhere in the vicinity.

Mother was apparently born into a rich family, before she defied her parents to marry a man from Otherworld and was disowned by them. She doesn’t talk about them much, but I assume it’s the reason her and her sister didn’t talk either. To her credit, she did end up marrying a Virgo, just like the Astros predicted. Just not the Virgo people wanted her to marry. I sometimes vaguely reminisce over the woman my mother once was, a wealthy young girl with a rebellious streak. It’s not so far out of the ballpark to contemplate, after all. She’s kind and courteous, yet snippy and dismissive at the same time. It’s very fitting of her.

In her own right, my mother was born into the wrong family and rebelled against the standards of status quo. I think that’s why she supports me so whole-heartedly despite my mishap of a birth, and frequently damns the system that both me and her defied. The only difference is that she chose to defy. My very birth is a defiance I didn’t ask for.

Mother and Father couldn’t bind their stones to me, even if I asked—and I have. They already chose each other after all. Drago and Phoenix and Ellia...they would have to give up their future husband or wife to be bonded with me and keep me alive. They tease me nervously, saying that no one can be sure I’ll really just fade into non-existence. After all, there’s no one else like me. Nowadays, I’m not sure if I’m sad because they don’t love me enough, or because my very existence makes my family feel guilty.

They would have to give up their future for mine.

Truthfully, now, I just want to do my best to give as much as I can to my family...before I can’t anymore. If that’s truly the case.

Father quietly listens, occasionally adding in a few comments and questions, but nothing else. He seems to be appreciating the garlic more than the conversation topic. Ellia startles me by nudging me in the ribcage with her elbow, and I realize she hasn't spoken a word either. Strange, seeing as Ellia always seems to have something to say.

"I think you should go," she murmurs quietly so the others won't hear. "Mother claims she doesn't want you to go, but it'll relieve everyone if you put on a pretty dress and parade around like the rest of the girls. They're worried since you're starless, you won't make friends."

I gulp, trying not to show the disappointment in my face. I've always known that mother was worried about my starlessness—I mean, who wouldn't be?—but I never knew she thought it was strange because of it. My amethyst blazes. "A-Alright," I mumble quietly. "But, it's so fancy."

"Don't worry. I've got a friend in the district," Ellia says, loud and clear. I realize a bit too late that she's doing it on purpose. "She's a tailor. She'll make you the perfect dress for the Kingman's party."

The table instantly silences. My father's eyebrows practically float off his forehead. "You've decided to go, Rosie?"

I gulp, hard, and I clutch at the green peridot circle on my chain. "I-I guess so."

❧

I feel like a lost puppy whenever I'm in the shopping district. Especially during rush hour. The stands are abustle with shouting. "Wares are cheap! Fried fish! Clay pots!" There are people pushing past you from all sides without so much as a sorry. Smells are attacking you from all sides—baking bread, meat pies, and yummy fruit tarts—and it completely discombobulates you. And makes you hungry. I get this insatiable urge to buy a meat pie whenever I'm here. There's something about this place that manipulates your weakest sense and makes you want to buy anything and everything, as long as it satisfies that want.

It makes me long for the bustling street markets in downtown England that Father would take me to, where he’d buy me curry and mincemeat pie to eat while we watched the stars.

Can you find my sign? What about mommy’s sign?

My heart starts to ache. I know they’ve been talking about taking me there...for good. At least, there, it might be a little safe, if I can hide my strange origins. But that would mean living alone. After all, all of my siblings are Homeworld. They wouldn’t be able to stay long in Otherworld. Father would be the only one able to stay with me, since he travels there for work anyway.

The thought makes me lightheaded. The only thing that keeps me from fainting, or spending all my gold and silver pence on blueberry crumble, is Ellia's firm hand clamped like a vice around my wrist, pulling me forcefully through the busy, overwhelming streets. Her grip and pull is so hard that I wouldn't be surprised if she pulled it off. But it keeps me awake, from falling into a trance. I focus on her confident figure, chest puffed up and chin held high as she digs her manicured, ruby nails into my wrist and drags me like a rag doll.

I don't realize that we've left the street until my ears stop ringing. We're inside a cool, small little shop. The floor and the walls are all paisley velvet in various shades of Crimson, burgundy, and wine. It's oddly soothing after all the hustle and bustle. I square my legs and I lean over onto my knees, huffing and puffing, until Ellia smacks my back.

"A lady doesn't do a vulgar pose like that," she hisses at me. In normal circumstances, I would've squared my legs so wide it would've ripped the seams of my dress, just to spite her. But I know she means well this time. I can see the glass chandelier and the gold sconces on the wall. This is high-class. If I'm not equally high in class, they'll boot me before we even get to my fitting. So I force myself to stand up straight, and hope I'm my face isn't too red.

A lady about Ellia's age skips out from a magenta colored hallway. Her pale yellow eyes and blonde hair and perfectly fitted pink dress scream, "I'm adorable, love me!" I can't even manage a smile back when she smiles at me. She's even more perfect than Ellia. Every perfect strand of hair in place, every pearly white tooth in perfect place, every single curve in her perfect body, every single muscle in her unblemished face form a perfect smile. It's absolutely horrifying, at least to me. Perfection is an intimidating thing, and this lady is a beast.

"Oh, Elly," she says in a perfectly lilted voice, as gentle and sweet as a sugared lily. I somehow manage to swallow a gag. "You really came! Your little sister is such a darling!" she squees, running her hands over my arms like we've been best girlfriends for years. I shiver.

"I'm Mariposa," she says with a grin so wide it's impossible. "And what's your name?" Every syllable of her voice is sugar-sweet coated. It's giving me a cavity.

"Rozalia," I reply softly, doing a small curtsy. My knees knock together like a newborn lamb's. Mariposa just squeals and does a little dance in place. "Oh, you're just too adorable! Come, come, let's get you a dress to impress at the party, huh?" she says with a wink. I turn to Ellia and I cast a fierce stare that I hope says, 'Help me escape.' Ellia just shrugs at me while Mariposa drags me down the hall, and into a fitting room. She positions me on a little elevated square, in front of a tall mirror. I put my arms out like Ellia taught to me. I hoped that Mariposa would become silent as she immersed in her work, but it turns out that tailoring makes her even more talkative. She talks about how amazing the Kingman's birthday party will be, how she wishes Rhett had an older brother, how lavish and full of rich silks the wardrobe shall be, all in sighing longing.

Finally, after taking my measurements and inspecting me creepily for a while, she makes a decision.

"I'm thinking red."

Ellia's eyebrows raise. "Red?" she says slowly. "I don't mean to offend you Mari, honey, but Rosie's worn powder blue all her life. It matches her eyes. It's the only color that looks good on her." I cast a withering glare in her direction, muttering, “It’s not only only color that looks good on me,” following it with a soft scoff.

Mariposa taps her chin and hums in thought, pulling at various parts of my checkered blue dress. I try my best not to squirm. "Yes, yes, she does. It matches her eyes and gives her a cute, but subtle, Mary Jane look. But for this type of party, we need to talk pop and dazzle. Something that catches the eye. Red is the most eye catching color in the scientific spectrum. Your eyes can't help but be drawn to it." Mariposa's all business now. She drapes the measuring tape around her neck and starts to circle me, like a vulture or a lion stalking his prey. It's strangely unnerving to have her golden eyes wandering up and down my body.

"Normally, I'd go for glittery ruby, like those nails of yours, Elly," Mariposa says. Her eyes narrow thoughtfully. "But that's just a little too eye catching. You see, Rozalia, your charm is your subtleness. You're pretty, but you're not so beautiful that it screams for attention. It's quiet and subtle, so when you look closer, you don't want to look away. A bright, but innocent red would be perfect for a little Mary Jane girl like yourself."

I don't know what Mary Jane is, other than a brand of shoe buckles, but I decide to take it nicely and let her size me up a little more. After all, she complimented me. I think...

"I'm thinking..." Mariposa snaps her fingers at me, as if she just got an idea. "Rose red. Innocent, but eye catching, and not too much or too little of either. Plain, short cup sleeves, maybe a little loose to hang off your shoulders—that'll emphasize a bit of your...well, you know." She bats me off, just like mother would, except it's more sashay and sparkly with her pink nail polish. "The red will emphasize that cute pink glow of yours," she teases, pinching my cheeks. I chuckle awkwardly while she dotes over me. "It'll make your brown hair look really rich. And it'll make those blue eyes dazzling in comparison. If we're going for cute and understated, the obvious choice is knee-high, puffed—oh, and white ribbons to finish it all off. Waist, neck, hair, and matching shoes. Oh, it'll look darling!" she squees, clapping her hands excitedly. Elly nods along to Mariposa's strange language as if she understands it completely.

Mariposa skips over to a wide curtain, which I assumed covered a regular wall. But when she pulls the curtain aside, it reveals an entire wall of cubbies of fabric rolls. My jaw drops at the sudden explosion of color. She pulls out a giant spool or roll or whatever you call it—of rich, rose red silk. Once again, she waves me off. Well, us, I guess.

"The party's at three today, right? I'll be done before one so we can do a proper fitting. Come back promptly, dearies," she sings as Elly walks me back down the hall and out of the shop. Once we're back in the street, which has gotten significantly calmer, she lets out a heavy sigh.

"God, that girl is annoying."

"Glad I'm not the only one who thought so," I mutter.

Ellia walks me around the shopping district idly for the next few hours. When we finally can't take it anymore, we sit down outside of a quaint little cafe and nibble on mini mincemeat pies and white grape juice until one o'clock rolls around. While we lounge in the shade of the canopy, Elly finally admits that Mariposa isn't really her 'friend'. Apparently Mariposa was one of Ellia's classmates in Fashion School, and "Mari"s insisted her and Elly are best friends—despite Ellia's obvious reserve. "She's useful for times like these, though," she adds, carefully dabbing away the crumbs from her face. "She's a genius at fashion, and a huge softie, so I always get a great price."

We run promptly into the shop at one-fifteen. Mariposa is like a blonde, pink whirlwind. She pushes me into the dressing room before I even realized we stepped foot into the shop at all. I don't have time to look at the dress either. She forces the soft, but tight red silk bodice onto me, and proceeds to adjust the fit and poke me with needles for ten minutes before she puts the actual dress on me. Then she completely strays from all tailor work and starts to poof and pamper me. She sprays me with strange perfume and brushes my hair with a fairy comb, and rubs weird creams into my skin, and smears goop across my lips.

Then, finally, I get to look myself in the mirror. I can't help myself: "Wow," I whisper. The soft red dress is definitely eye-catching, but way cuter than any of my other hand-me-down dresses and skirts. The white pearl choker, the white hair ribbons, the white waist bow, the white embroidery, and the ribboned white heels give a strangely sweet and completed look to it, like the white bow on a Valentine's candy box.

My eyelashes look longer. My lips look fuller and pinker. My pale skin looks less flushed red and more bashful pink. Mariposa squeezes my shoulders and smiles at me in the mirror. "Told ya," she says with a giggle. "You're beautiful, darling. Now go impress some boys."

When Ellia takes my hand, I realize that somehow even my hands look better. They're softer and the nails look less uneven. Mariposa is the truest of miracle workers, isn't she?

Ellia squeezes me every so often while she guides me through the winding streets and into the housing section. Her reassuring grips take the edge off the rolling pavilions and intimidatingly large mansions.

We arrive in front of one clearly set up for a party. Dozens of carriages are parked in a driveway that probably has more acres than our entire house on its own. Men in suits and women in edgy, sparkly dresses lead their daughters inside. They all seem to be wearing some sort of glitter or diamonds. I look a little plain next to them. But I remember Mariposa. My charm is that I don't need to catch people's attention with diamonds. I just need to be quiet. Easy enough. They pass through a pink flower arch into a large garden where a tea party gala is taking place. I gulp. These are all important, rich people. I don't even know what I should be doing. I need to go. I'm not in this league. I start to grab for my emerald, but my collar is too tight to put my hand under.

Ellia gives me an extra tight squeeze. "You're beautiful, kiddo. Make me proud." Her gentle push is the only thing that keeps me standing while I walk slowly, and carefully to the flower arch in my heels. I clutch extra tight to the small white gift box in my hands when I see the gift table. It's overflowing with boxes bigger than me. I bashfully hide the tiny little box in my ribbon as I enter through the arch, into the cusp of high society.

It's exactly how I imagined it. Men in suits laughing as they hold cups of wine, and women in fancy dresses drinking tea while they observe the rose hedges that line the garden lawn. I wonder where the croquet is. The snacks table is spread with alcohol and chocolate fountains. No caviar. I'm a bit thankful, actually.

Girls roughly my edge mill all about, letting their extra-poofy, glittery dresses sparkle in the sunlight and flutter in the wind. They're all some type of beautiful, each in their own respective way. They all smile gently and greet each other courteously. But the aura coming off of them is unmistakable. It's red and green and jagged, like broken stained glass. Anger. Envy. Amidst all the kind smiles and polite greetings, each of the girls are casting snarls and glares at each other. They're all competing for a single prize, and only one can win. Yet another benefit to me not standing out: no one views me as a threat.

But I'm not completely spared. Sometimes, I'll feel a girl steal a quick glance at me. A quick glance will turn into a stare. Then a narrowed, calculating glare, like they don't know what to make of me. Once I catch their eye, they can't look away. I gulp. I'm starting to get on people's radar. I need to stay off. I need to talk to—

A boy besides Rhett.

Surprisingly, there's a few besides Rhett. Wether it's because they're his friends, or they're so important they insisted on coming, I don't know. Most of them are milling about with their parents. But one particular boy with chestnut hair is leaning casually on the snack table, sipping at a cup of strawberry punch and looking absolutely bored. If I talk to another boy, perhaps that will spare me some death threats. I quickly stride over to him, then I slow my pace once I get near so I don't seem too eager.

Rather than attempting to start a conversation and ultimately failing, I decide to let him start instead. I ladle myself a cup of punch, station myself a few feet away from him, and I stare nowhere in particular as I sip at the punch.

Or, at least, that was the plan.

I take one sip, and I wince. It's definitely not strawberry juice, or any berry for that matter. I'm not even sure if it's meant to be consumed at all. It's horribly sour, and extremely bitter to boot. My expression certainly catches the boy's attention. He chuckles knowingly. His actions speak the words he doesn't say out loud: he's already gone through the experience and feels my pain. "Yup," he says, taking another sip from his own cup. "Don't know what it is. All I know is that there's nothing else to drink."

I quickly pour the contents of my cup back into the bowl when no one is looking. "How do you drink this swill?" I rasp, still reeling from the aftertaste. He shakes his cup, and it rattles like crazy. "This is literally ninety percent ice. It's like drinking iced coffee with lemon or something." He sets his cup down and holds his hand out to me with a kind grin.

"I'm Zay, nice to meet you." Unlike most people, he doesn't introduce himself with his star sign. His necklace is hidden neatly away under his shirt, with only the slightest bit of the chain showing. Zay notices me staring and winks his pale gray eye at me. "You don't ask me, I don't ask you. I don't really think it matters, you know?"

I nod, suddenly feeling a lot more at ease around him. Having to explain being starless is surreal and awkward. "I'm Rozalia. I might as well tell you I'm only talking to you so the girls won't include me in their silent cat fight." For some reason, I feel like I can tell him and he wouldn't mind. Something about him is easygoing and kind. Zay nods and takes another icy swig. "Oh, totally. These girls are in it to win it." He grins at me. "It's nice to talk to one girl that isn't obsessed with Rhett." He does a quick once-over of me. "You know...I think you're one of the prettiest girls here." I freeze, suddenly unsure of what to say. My topaz suddenly starts to glow under the red velvet of my dress.

Zay suddenly snorts. "Or maybe it's just because you aren't blinding me every time the sun shines on your dress."

I quickly relax and manage a laugh. Oh dear god, I wasn't sure how to react just then. This was a godsend if I've ever seen one. "I know. I was so glad when my tailor didn't put glitter. It's always sunny here, after all." My topaz gem dims it's glow until it's back to its dark, icy cold self. I do a quiet sigh of relief to myself. Zay raises an eyebrow and points over my shoulder. "Uh, look out."

"Look out for w—?"

"You're the girl from yesterday!"

I whip around just in time to catch a glance of bright, glimmering emerald green eyes shaded by neatly combed jet black hair, right before Rhett leans down and hugs me so tight I feel like I'm suffocating. "Oh, God, you don't know how relieved I am to see you, Rozalia.” That’s certainly an upgrade from ‘Rosie or whatever’. “I made sure to invite you because you're the only thing that's going to keep me alive at this party," he groans in relief, squeezing me in his strong vice. I can feel all stares pointed at me. All conversation ceases. Each stare is like a tiny dagger pointing at me. I shudder all over, and I have to use all my strength to pry Rhett off me.

He pouts at me. "Aw, what?"

"Are you trying to kill me?" I hiss at him. "These girls will eat me up alive the second you leave my side." My amethyst and my peridot blaze brightly against the skin of my wrist, pulsing with light. I know I need to calm myself, otherwise they'll get brighter.

Rhett grins proudly at me, like a little kid who managed to steal a cookie from the jar. "Well, you're not gonna leave my side. I'm going to use you as my girl shield. Stay by my side, and neither of us will get mobbed." He grabs my hand tightly and starts to pull me away. "Come on, meet my parents." Since when did I become his best friend? I'm not sure wether to be flattered to the point of embarrassment, baffled, or just plain furious. My gems don't seem to know either.

Before Rhett can yank me away, another hand grabs my free one. I'm not sure if I should be relieved or not. When I see the fierce, stubborn determination in Zay's eyes, I decide on the latter. "Excuse me, but I believe Rosie dear was talking to me first, Rhett," he says sharply, a menacing smile on his face.

Rosie dear?

Rhett's eyes narrow to green daggers. "Well, I need Rozalia."

Need me?

Zay rolls his eyes. "Obviously. But I believe I was talking to her. Beat off the girls on your own, Rhett. Rozalia's the only thing that's going to keep me from dying of boredom at this god-awful party of yours."

Somehow, I manage to pinpoint a girl's voice close by. "Rhett and Zay are fighting over her? But they're the dreamiest boys in Sunshine. What does that plain girl have that I don't?"

Why do I have such bad luck? I would've been targeted even if I had just kept talking to Zay like I planned. Instead, I'm caught in between two guys, and both of them will only lead to further hatred on my part. I would make a mad grab for the emerald, but both of my hands are currently trapped.

Fortunately, it's ultimately decided. Zay's hands are still slippery from the sweat on his punch cup. His grip on me slips, and Rhett promptly drags me off, immaturely sticking his tongue out at Zay all the while. I cast an apologetic grimace back at Zay, but he’s already stormed off out of sight. Rhett leads me under a lace parasol umbrella stuck in the ground, then he just groans. "Ugh, they're not here. Guess we'll have to wait."

His eyes suddenly brighten. "Did you bring me a present? Can I open it?" He suddenly reminds me of Drago. I resist a smile.

I remember my rinky dinky little box in comparison to all the big boxes on the table, and I consider lying about it. Instead, I find myself pulling the small white box from its hiding place in my sash, and I bashfully hand it to him.

"It's not much, but..." I shrug, my cheeks a bright pink. My emerald starts to glow again. "It's the best I could do."

"What is it?" Rhett starts to eagerly open the box before I even answer.

"Caramel creme fudge," I murmur quietly. "My brother makes it really well. So I got him to teach me and I made you a few squares."

Rhett stares at me with wide, innocent green eyes. His neatly combed hair starts to fall out of place and over his eyes, back to its usual position. "You made this yourself?"

I nod, opting to stare at the ground rather than Rhett. "H-Happy birthday. Heh..."

Rhett surprises me with, not another one of his dastardly prince smiles, but a genuine, bashful grin. My face suddenly feels warm. All my gems dim except for my topaz. "I think this is the best one yet," he chuckles softly. "Most people just bought me something expensive without a second thought. I've...I've never gotten a homemade gift like that before." He gives my hand a tight, reassuring squeeze, just like Ellia would've given me. The ruby on my bracelet starts to pulse with warmth. "Thanks."

My face flushes the ever embarrassing bright pink. I mentally will my gems to stop glowing by focusing on slowing my heart rate. Since when was Rhett actually charming and not just a pompous jerk? I hope he hasn’t gotten the wrong idea about me coming to this party. Somehow, I actually manage to calm myself and dispel that troubling thought; Right before Rhett releases me, and I come face-to-face with his parents.

I've gotta say, his parents: not that surprising. His dad has slick, combed back hair as black as oil, a bright, but intimidating smile, a clean shave, and a tux without so much as a wrinkle. His mother has a natural, but sharp beauty, dark brown hair, and dark red lipstick to match her model-like mermaid dress. Both of their eyes are a matching, piercing green. I hope they didn't hear me gulp. They have this royal air around them that's so thick you can barely breathe, let alone look them in their eyes. Or maybe that's just the stifling mix of their cologne and perfume wafting off them.

Rhett wraps his arm tightly around my shoulder and smiles respectfully up at his parents. "Mother, Father." He gestures toward me. "This is my close friend, Rozalia."

Rich, coming from the boy who didn’t know my name yesterday and probably only learned it once it was written on the invitation. It takes all of my willpower not to scoff.

His mother does a smile that seems more sarcastic than genuine. "Charmed, I'm sure." I bow my head, too tongue-tied to speak. Her Gemini necklace is made up of tiny diamonds bedazzled on a gold curvy 'I' with two brackets, instead of being carved from a single gem.

"What a pretty young lady." His father's words are too genuine; his real thoughts shine through: 'What a plain town girl.' I don't let it intimidate me. I spread my widest smile and I bow my head. His Virgo is made from a dark black gem as oily and shiny as his hair. It's like an 'M' with a ribbon at the end.

"When does the party end, mother?" Rhett says so sugary polite that I almost puke. Instead, I swallow the bile and I smile sheepishly while Rhett beams up at his parents innocently and hugs my shoulders as if we're married.

"Why, in about an hour or so, I suppose. Why do you ask?" Mrs. Kingman says. Her lips are so full and red, each word is exaggerated. It's hard not to stare.

Rhett squeezes me again, tight. "I was hoping to take Rozalia dear to the Reflecting Pools."

I can't help it when my cheeks flush pink. I'm glad that my dress is red, otherwise they'd notice the soft red glow of my ruby in my pocket. The only person that's ever called me 'Rozalia dear' is my mother.

Mr. Kingman narrows his eyes at me, a forced smile still across his face. But his eyes glow with intrigue all of a sudden. "Alright, as you wish. Just make sure you don't get too cold."

Rhett bows his head. "Thank you, Father, Mother." He releases me from his almost deadly vice as we escape from them. I rub my now sore shoulder as he mutters, "How do you even get cold in Sunshine?" Contradicting his earlier, rather passionate statement, Rhett immediately abandons me and heads straight for a group of girls. I wonder if he really hates being a prince as much as he claims. I think he just enjoys attention. Maybe it recuperates him after talking to his stifling parents. Who knows?

I suppose he chose me as his decoy favorite since I was the only girl he knew wouldn’t take it seriously. Even so, I let my eyes linger on that emerald smile of his as he regales the sparkly young ladies for just a moment...before I quickly look away and I file to the snack table.

Zay is still there, looking bitter as he sips at his bitter drink. "Your boyfriend finally release you?" he remarks sharply. I can't even be offended. I shrug. "We’re not even close,” I lie. Zay slowly cocks up an eyebrow. "You’re...not?"

I shrug again. "I met him only yesterday. He didn’t even know my name before today." It’s not a complete lie. At least, the second part isn’t. “He’s just pretending to please his parents because he knows I don’t like him.”

A brief look of nervousness darts across Zay's face before quickly fading back into a facade of indifference. "So..." He inches a bit closer to me and shifts his feet idly. "I mean, you don't like him at all?"

I start to drift off, staring at the punch bowl and wondering just what it could possibly be made of. "No, not at all," I mumble off-handedly.

Crystal? Diamond? Some well shaped glass, perhaps?

"So, it'd be okay if I asked you to the Rose Pavilion tomorrow, then?" he says casually, clinking the ice around in his punch cup. I grab my wrist behind my back to hide the ruby’s flickering.

"I...I guess not."

"Alright." Zay beams, and he almost looks like a child. His gray eyes gleam like silver as they sparkle with excitement. "I don't know why, but there's something about you I like. I'll try and figure it out when you meet me there at three o'clock precisely."

❧

Rhett focuses on kicking up every patch of gray dirt in the cave, while I focus on counting the stalagmites. Usually, you could just go to the top of the Ray Cliffs and pick a reflecting pool from there, taking a simple, winding road down, but Rhett insisted that the best ones are through caves. The Reflecting Pools are small, brilliant pools of water, interspersed down a long cliff and connected by a series of waterfalls. Some are icy cold, some have rainbows, and some are saunas, depending where you going. All my life, I've usually gone to the rainbow pools because that's where the kids go. But Rhett says his pool is "more dazzling and absolutely divine than all the other ones combined."

I guess that I should go to a pool for older kids. But I'd rather not listen to all the girls gush about which star sign they're going to find their absolute true heart's desire from, while I hide in the corner and hope they don't notice me. The bundles of confused feelings in my core is making almost all my gems glow like a bright kaleidoscope. I changed after the party, carefully putting the fancy red dress away in an old box so it doesn't get weathered. I just couldn't stand to stay in the dress any longer. It felt so...not me.

I was surprised that Rhett was actually serious about his invitation, though I quickly realized it was just an excuse to leave the party as quickly as possible. As to why he chose to bring me along instead of sneaking out on his own, I’m starting to think that Rhett is using me as some sort of surrogate rent-a-friend. He knows I find it hard to say no (evident by me meeting him and going to his party in the first place), and I’m neither in love with him nor jealous of him, so he feels justified in dragging me along with him wherever he goes so he doesn’t get lonely. I hope he realizes that I’m only doing this so for my own selfish reasons as well, mine being so my parents think I’m better acclimated; because I’m far too humiliated to say it out loud on my own.

I twist around the necklace so the gems are the back of my neck, and I smooth my hair over. It's hard to ignore the burning sensation on my skin.

The caves are one of the few dark places in Sunshine. It's wet, cold, gray, and oddly refreshing. I run my hand along the moist, dark cave wall as we walk down this never ending passageway, breathing in the scentless, chilled air.

And then, before I even realize it, we step out back into the blinding sunshine.

I can't tell if I'm relieved or sad or a little bit of both. What I do know is that it's extremely disorienting to step into the blinding Sunshine when you're no longer used to it. Rhett has to grip my arm to keep me upright.

"So, whaddya think?" he asks with a devilish grin.

I squint until my pupils finally adjust. It had the same golden fence as all the other ones, separating the edge of the cliff from land. It reflects so much light that it made it that much harder for me to see. Figures. I guess I thought that if this one was so secret, no one would've thought to put a fence by it. But same as ever, the citizens of Sunshine are thorough. I wonder if no one comes here because the caves are too dark for them. There's few citizens of the town that weren't born in Sunshine, with light practically running through their veins like oxygen.

I should've expected the citizens of Sunshine to be afraid of the dark.

The pool looks the same as all the other ones, if not a little bigger. A small, perfectly temperate, vibrant blue pool reflecting back the hues of the sky, surrounded by even more vibrant green grass and small bushels of flowers. Yet, there's one thing that sets this pool apart from all the others: no people. I glance at Rhett, bewildered. He smiles back at me with childish pride.

"I figured you wouldn't want to be around a lot of people," he says, surprising me with his consideration. Rhett spreads out his arms. "This is like my own personal spot. It wouldn't harm to show you. After all—" he smirks impishly at me. "You wouldn't tell anyone, would you?"

I shake my head, and I mean it—despite the further implication and confirmation that I’m simply Rhett’s token quiet friend. It's not like I have any friends to tell. And I don't think any of my family would be interested, nor happy to hear that I went to a secret pool with a boy.

"Good. After all, I think of you as my confidant."

Before I can ask what he means by that, Rhett pats his blue board shirts and puts himself in a ready position. I instinctively step back. He breaks into a sprint, pulling off his shirt in one fell swoop, then, with a loud whoop of joy, cannonballs into the pool. For some reason, it's a scene I can't help but grin a bit at.

Rhett finally resurfaces, his dark locks wet and all over the place. I urge myself not to stare at his torso. He's...strong. I can tell you that from first glance. He has more muscles than it seems.

Rhett puts his hands behind his head in a relaxed position and starts to float on his back, without a care in the world. "Come on, Rozalia!" he calls, eyes closed. "Don't be scared!"

"I'm not," I mumble. I want to protest that I don't like my swimsuit, but I feel like it'd be rude considering it was his mother's old one (supposedly). So I reluctantly strip off my dress. I make sure the neck tie ribbon is tight. It's a bright ruby red bikini with white polka dots. For some reason, I feel sorta weird wearing it. I've worn enough red for today, I think. Or maybe because there's no place to hide my jewels. They're completely out in the open. I just pray Rhett won't notice, or ask about it.

I squirm skittishly at the edge of the pool, dipping my feet into the more chilly than usual water. Rhett pops open one eye, sees me, and laughs.

"If you don't jump in, I'm gonna come get you!"

I shake my head adamantly, and I take a few long steps back.

"I don't hear a No!" he sings.

Rhett swims to the edge of the pool and pulls himself out. He shakes himself like a wet dog, spraying water onto the grass like a sprinkler. When his eyes land on me, his emerald pupils glint with a scary grin. "Come on, Rozalia. I invited you here to have fun. And I will make sure you have fun!"

I feel like it'd be too stupid to run. And it's not like I can defend myself against him. So I can only mutter a soft curse of regret as Rhett runs toward me, then picks me up princess style.

"W-Wait, don't, don't!" I squeak as he takes long strides to the edge of the pool.

"Aw, you're cute when you're scared," he coos teasingly. Then, my stomach lurching as I clutch at his neck and shriek, he jumps into the pool.

When we resurface from the cool water, I gasp for breath. Rhett awkwardly pats my back. "Um, Roz, or whatever I should call you—You can swim, right?"

I nod quickly.

"So, I mean, you're going to let go eventually, right?" he says slowly. My eyes fly open, and I realize I've been holding on to Rhett's neck this entire time. My emerald glows dimly, but my ruby blazes as brightly as my cheeks. Rhett seems to notice, and he laughs. "Ooh, is that color coded? What does that mean?"

I quickly release him, and I paddle in place, while also trying to hide my wrist behind my back...it doesn’t work that well. Rhett sees me struggling, and wraps his arms around me, pulling me back to him. I wonder if it's possible for the ruby to melt.

"Dude—I mean, Rozalia, or...Roz. You can calm down. Just wait until you get used to it." Rhett's voice is surprisingly soft. It dawns on me that Rhett invited me here to his secret spot, and is now helping me swim out of the kindness of his heart. Or something close to kindness, at the least.

"Should I be concerned about that bright red glow?" he asks with a nervous chuckle, glancing at my charm bracelet, which is now sandwiched between our torsos.

I adamantly shake my head. Rhett shrugs and forgets about the matter all together. He doesn't seem to notice or care what my gem is. I’d already told him on our way that I was going to take off my necklace, which was actually a chain with no charm, before we swam to keep it from rusting.

I guess that's the beauty of hanging out with boys. For most girls, their life literally revolves around those necklaces hanging around their neck. Their gem is their gateway to marriage, and here in Homeworld, that’s a deathly serious matter. But for boys, most of them don't really care at all. They’re just waiting until they stumble upon someone they’re compatible with.

My ruby quickly and suddenly dies down, as well as my emerald. I take a few even breaths, and I focus on floating in place. I hardly realize when Rhett lets go of me. I follow his example and I somehow manage to relax, floating on my back. The water draws up to my ears, muffling all sound and making me sleepy. I can faintly hear Rhett swimming around, shouting and laughing, but it all sounds like he's in another world.

The hours pass by in minutes. It isn't until I start shivering that I realize just how late it is. Rhett carefully swims up to me, and he chuckles quietly.

"Aren't you just the most precious thing?"

I don't protest or even open my eyes as he picks me up and carries me out of the pool. I flutter open one eye. The sky is a brilliant, dark blue, with thousands of white stars glowing. I breath a soft sigh, in a nutshell: "Wow."

Rhett gently lays me down on the grass. I sit up, ignoring the chills and shivers all over me, and I let my eyes rest. Rhett lays his head in my lap without a word. I don't mind. My brothers do it all the time, too. I instinctively start to brush the hair out of his face and smooth it down, just like I would do with Drago. Then I run my fingers through to get all the tangles out, like I do with Phoenix. Rhett seems pleasantly surprised by it all. He smiles sleepily up at me.

"Rozalia," he says softly. "How long have I known you?"

"Two..." I mumble. "Two days, I think."

"Hmmph," he chuckles at his own inside joke. "How long have you known me?"

I almost respond with the same answer. But I can tell by that mischievous sparkle; I can tell what he really means.

"Since about maybe ten years ago," I mumble. Rhett seems mildly surprised. "Really?"

I nod. "I used to go to your school. I was in your class. I sat right behind you."

Rhett sighs deeply and closes his eyes. "That's the thing," he says quietly. "Sometimes you don't know a person, but they've always been there, knowing you. I just realized that. I suddenly remembered one time when you let me turn in your English paper. I remember reading it, and I thought, 'This girl is a really good writer. I wonder why more people don't notice her.' And yet, I never really noticed you." I've never heard Rhett sound so articulate. No, that's not the word I'm looking for. I've heard him give plenty of speeches and presentations in school. More like, he's never sounded so...genuine.

Rhett's eyes open. He suddenly reaches up, and he starts to play with the ends of my hair. "All of a sudden, you're all I think about." He laughs softly to himself. "When I'm not daydreaming, and I find myself worrying, I usually think of you." His eyes close again. It's like he can't decide wether he should rest or look at me. I keep brushing his wild bangs out of his eyes, but they keep coming back. I can't help but smile.

"It's strange thinking that everything about me was determined by a cluster of stars in the middle of nowhere, you know?" he says. "I'm sensitive, but lazy. I get worried really easily. And I don't know if you could tell, but I don’t really have that many friends." Rhett lists off some of the most common traits of a Taurus. It's...strange. I never really think about how their zodiac signs can affect a person’s personality, too. After all, it doesn’t apply to me.

Rhett pops open one eye to grin at me. "As a Taurus, I'm supposed to need one person to keep me grounded, keep me sane, I guess. I've barely known you, yet I already know that you're that person." He opens both eyes, and switches his gaze every few seconds from the stars to me.

"You're not like other girls. No, no, that's too cliché, even if it is true." I have to stifle a giggle. Rhett winks at me. "You're not like any other person. Mostly females, but you get what I mean. You're quiet. Whenever I talk to people, I get this weird kind of pressure. I'm supposed to give off this princely aura, but what if I say the wrong thing and I mess it up? I start getting all stressed on the inside, and it's even harder to just speak to people. And everyone gives off this aura that they're either trying to impress me, or one up me. It's absolutely hectic." He sighs. "But with you, it's completely different. You don't talk at all. And it's perfect." He does a laugh, completely carefree and airy. "I don't have to wonder what to say next, what I should say from your response so you don't think I'm a weirdo. Because you barely talk at all! You let me talk, and talk, and talk, and you just listen. You give off this completely neutral aura, like you don't really care who I am, but you just want to listen. It's amazing!" He exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air, towards the sky. "I can talk however I want forever, and you'd listen. You respond just enough to remind me that I'm not crazy and talking to myself, but you never try to turn the conversation one way or another. Listen to me! I'm going on and on about all this, and you're just completely listening. It's baffling, and absolutely perfect." Rhett sets his hands back on his chest, and he sighs out heavily before continuing.

I suppose it’s nice that someone high-and-mighty like Rhett actually thinks that way about me. My whole life, I’ve been so used to being ignored or avoided like a plague. Since Rhett remembers me, he surely also remembers my reputation—an outcast freak who needs a medical bracelet to stay alive. But I suppose Rhett has such an impeccable reputation that even hanging out with someone like me couldn’t ruin it.

"I'm not stressing about anything with you. Not even zodiacs, or star signs, or scryers, or whatever. I'm not analyzing your traits to figure out what star sign you are, I'm not wondering if you got matched up with Taurus, I'm not racking my brain trying to remember what your sign even looks like. You don't give off this feeling like every other girl, or even any other person. You're calm and poised, and you make everyone around you feel the same way when you're around them long enough because you're not constantly worrying like everyone else. You're different, unique. And I like that more than you can imagine."

I don't really know how to feel. Happy, I guess. Maybe. It's just a weird, not unpleasantly fluttery feeling when someone acknowledges my different-ness, and they actually like it and embrace it and want to be around me instead of avoid me like the plague. The soft blue of the topaz is bright when alight. I start to brush the hair the hair out of Rhett's eyes again, but he stops me. He reaches up, grabs my hand, and clasps it tightly over his chest.

"And then..." Rhett says, suddenly barely able a whisper. His eyes are suddenly distant and far-away. "There are times where I feel like I don't have to talk. Like I can just not say anything. You'll be here, I'll be here, but we don't have to constantly affirm that with words." Rhett stares at me with a mysterious smile on his face. "I can analyze you, and you wouldn't mind. But I don't feel like daydreaming to escape the world like I usually do. My head isn't constantly in a worried flurry of thoughts and wishes. I can just say absolutely nothing, I can stare at you, or the ground, or the sky, and I can rest in absolute bliss, without a single thought." His smile is surprisingly soft. It warms me from the tips of my toes, to the top of my head, to my very core. "I guess that's another flaw of mine—I get attached really easily," he says with a chuckle.

Attached. Rhett Kingman is attached to me, the Starless Curse. My necklace somehow shifted back into place while we were swimming. The ruby, garnet, amethyst, emerald, and topaz all blaze brightly at the same time, impossible to miss in the dark night. My heart beats erratically, without a consistent beat. My palms are clammy.

Not again.

"Does that mean something?" Rhett asks quietly and curiously. My cheeks are flushed. I can't stop fluttering my eyes anxiously.

"I-It...It just means I like being with you, too," I mumble as softly as possible. Then, with a sudden spark in my chest, my aquamarine flickering with light, without a further thought, I lean down and I kiss his cheek.

Rhett just grins brightly, lighting up the twilight. "Let's get you home, Rozalia."

❧

I don't really know what I thought was happening when I woke up to the blaring glow of my Turquoise. I guess I thought that maybe Drago got food poisoning from eating raw cake batter again.

I didn't think I'd be the one that was sick. Not with food poisoning, obviously. Just...sick. Pounding headache, coughing, can't blow your nose enough times type of sick. I haven't had a cold in years. I think back to the previous night, trying to remember what would've made me sick.

Tailor's, the party, then the pool—

Ugh, I was floating in that freezing cold pool for hours.

I bundle up tight in my sheets, and the extra stack of my blankets I keep for the winter. Cold shivers roll down my body like ice water, making me colder every second. I think my breath is actually making clouds when I breathe. I think. Or maybe I've lost my sanity a long time ago.

I unclip the turquoise and I put it at the middle of the my chain. The small, uncut stone glows a dim light from its core, shining out as if through glass. I clutch it tight, and it grows warm in my hand. Or maybe that's just my fever. My shaky breathing becomes a bit more even, but my head won't stop pounding. I just have to wait for the turquoise to do its job. Since I feel so horrible, it might take a while. It works a lot better in the winter, but unfortunately spring just began.

The only blessing of my horrible migraine and stuffy nose is that it hurts too much to think about last night. At least for now, I can pretend it never happened and wallow in my pit of self-pity for a while.

A bird chirps outside my window, and light flows brightly through. I groan quietly under my suffocating pile of fur and blankets. I reach up a shaky hand. It's difficult to even lift up any of my limbs. My head is woozy and lightheaded from the light. I can't even see where I'm reaching. Only by the sheer power of desperation, I manage to fumble for my curtain and pull it closed. The thick, dark purple curtains block out almost all the light, leaving only the thinnest slivers to shine through the pores. I use the last of my energy to curl up in a tight ball, and fall asleep.

❧

The house is normal as usual. Ellia is sitting at the kitchen counter, filing her nails, mother is making a lunch for Rozalia, Father is sitting in the recliner, reading his newspaper, and Drago and Phoenix are bickering over the fridge.

Then, the doorbell rings. Mother wipes her hands on her apron and sighs. "I'll get it, I'll get it. It's deathly dull around here without Rozalia, ironically," she says as she makes her way to the door. "I hope it's the postman. It'll probably be the highlight of our day."

"Good morning," Mother greets tiredly, opening the creaky door. To her surprise, she has to look down a few inches. A rather charming and handsome young man with Raven hair and green eyes smiles brightly at her, holding a bouquet of Sunjewel flowers.

"Hello..." Mother says slowly.

Then he says that fateful question.

"Is Rozalia here?" he says, eyes narrowed in concern. He's impossibly charming. It's literally impossible how charming this young man is. "I had invited her out last night and I heard that she may have gotten sick."

Ellia hisses at her mother until she turns. "It's the Kingman boy! The one from the birthday party!" she whispers. Father drops his newspaper. Drago and Phoenix pause mid-strangle.

Mother turns back to the door, trying not to show how startled and confused she is. "O-Oh, you must be...Rhett. You must be impossibly busy. If you would like, I can take the flowers and a message—"

"N-No, I would like to see Rozalia myself," Rhett insists. "I want to make sure she's alright." His sparkling green eyes are dripping with worry. "Is there anything I can do to help before I go to see her?"

Mother whirls around for a moment, fumbling for something. "I-uh, um...."

"The tray, mother," Ellia hisses again, rapping her fists on the counter excitedly. "Give him the lunch tray for Rozalia."

"O-Oh, yes! Of course!" Mother wags her finger in the air triumphantly, as thought she came up with the idea all on her own. She runs to the counter, picks up the tray, and hands it to Rhett. He holds the flowers in one hand and the tray in the other. He grins brightly. "Thank you. I just knew Rozalia's family would be as nice as her."

Mother nods, dazed. "Um, down the hall. She may be sleeping, so—"

"Oh, it's no problem," he says. "I'll stay as long as needed to make sure she's alright." Rhett merrily goes down the hall. Drago is the first to break the silence.

"Woah."

"What happened at that party?" Ellia giggles. Father whips his newspaper back into place. "Well, that was certainly the highlight of our day."

The doorbell rings once more. Phoenix shoots his hand into the air. "Five coins it's another boy to see Rozalia." Drago pouts. "No! Rozalia's supposed to stay with us forever! I won't let anyone take away our adorable little sister—cousin, whatever!"

Father stands up with a groan, dropping his newspaper. "I suppose I'll get it this time. There's no possible way it can be another boy—"

He immediately trails off as he creaks open the door. A young man with chestnut hair and silver eyes, looking handsome and bored, holds up an unnaturally large bouquet of Diamond Daisies. "Is Rozalia here?" he says quietly, sighing. "I invited her out on a date to the Rose Pavilion, but I heard she was sick and wanted to check up on her."

"Rose Pavilion?" Drago squeaks, his face ashen white. "Make-out Pavilion," Ellia squeals, giggling into her hands. "I don't mean to make it worse, but, dude, you owe me coins," Phoenix mutters, elbowing a shell shocked Drago in the ribs.

Father, a man of few words, clears his throat and mutters something unintelligible, pointing down the hall. Drago desperately fumbles until he finds a cup of hot coco from the coffee brewer. He holds it out to the boy, a determined pout on his face.

"Give it to Rosie! Tell her it's from her most favorite brother/cousin that she loves very, very much, who she'll never ever leave, and that she'll love forever."

Phoenix chuckles and chimes in, "And from Phoenix."

"Shut up, I'm her favorite!" Drago turns back to the boy, pouting even deeper. "Pwease."

"Okay..." he says slowly. He takes the cup, and goes down the hall.

What happened at the party?

<><><><><><><><><><><><><>

When Rhett goes inside the small, quaint little room, he knows it's immediately Rozalia-esque. The walls, carpet, and sheets are a mix of paisley and rose vines in hues of every shade of the jewel rainbow. The patterns and roses are all sprinkled with sparkling little jewels, and everything has a beautiful, hand-painted look to them. The room is decorated with glass blown sculptures and sparkly figurines and art canvases and unfinished charcoal sketches. He finds himself smiling fondly at each and every personal touch. He never knew she liked art.

Rhett pulls a bejeweled stool to the bedside and balances the tray on his lap. He places the flowers inside a large, glass-blown, sculpted blue vase. He lifts a flap of blanket from the mound of fur on the bed. It reveals the peaceful face and bed-head hair of Rozalia. He chuckles. She really looks cute when she's asleep.

Seconds later, she stirs. She sits up in her bed and strokes down her hair, and it's perfectly straight and neat again. Her ribbon isn't even rumpled. It's baffling. "Rhett?" she mumbles, rubbing her eyes sleepily. Her purple lace nightdress is the only thing wrinkled on her. "What are you doing here?"

He places the tray in her lap. "Bringing you lunch apparently. Oh, and some flowers, in case."

A soft smile spreads across Rozalia's face. A smile so soft and sweet that it makes Rhett's throat tighten. "Mash and gravy and beef stew. My favorites. Thank you," she says, quiet as always. Rhett pulls at his collar. "I-I mean, it's not l-like I made it...."

The door swings open, and a new boy walks in that makes a scowl deepen on Rhett's face. "What are you doing here, Zay?" he whispers through gritted teeth. Zay ignores him and smoothly makes his way to the opposite bedside. He pulls a purple, seemingly fragile glass chair to the right of her bed, across from Rhett. Zay ignores Rhett's evil eye and hands her the cup of hot coco. "Here. And I brought you some flowers." Rhett whips the flowers away before Rozalia can even touch them. "I'll take those, thank you very much," he says through a forced smile. He stuffs them into the vase beside his with a huff. Rhett crosses his arms as he sits back into the stool.

"I love hot coco and orange gratings when I'm sick. Thank you," she says quietly, a sleepy and soft smile on her face. Zay gulps, hard, his cheeks pink like a sunset. "N-No problem," he mutters.

A shrill squeal suddenly echoes from down the hall. "Another boy!"

"Aw, come on!"

Rhett and Zay turn to each other with wide eyes. "Another boy?"

Lo and behold, another boy stumbles down the hall. Literally stumbled. He clumsily trips into the room, somehow managing to catch himself. He's a bit spindly, but easily as tall as Rhett or Zay. Maybe even taller. His hair is straw-wheat blonde with white streaks, and his eyes are a curious, light cerulean-baby-blue. He's holding a large paper bag.

"U-Uh, h-hi Rosie," he stammers, waving awkwardly. He rolls up the sleeves of his blue sweater over a brown tunic. He looks like one of the boys that would work in the wheat mill.

To everyone's surprise, Rozalia smiles brightly. "Hi, Orion. I haven't seen you in forever. What are you doing here?" she says, a bit louder than her usual quiet voice.

Rhett's cheeks flame jealously. Zay crosses his arms and huffs.

"O-Oh, y-you see, I was at taking lessons at the, u-um, bakery, and I heard you were sick," Orion stammers, laughing nervously and rubbing the back of his neck. A cloud of flour floats off his head, a clear sign he's been with Drago. Rozalia giggles.

Orion clears his throat and seems to compose himself a little more. "I-I was at the library and I heard you had a book reserved, so I, uh, got it for you.” He pulls a thick leather bound book out from under his arm and hands it to her. She giggles as she takes it from his clearly shaky hands.

Rozalia retains this soft, glowing smile while she talks to Orion, something few have seen. It makes Rhett and Zay simultaneously bashful and blazingly jealous.

"What's the bag for?" she asks.

Orion fumbles for the bag and almost drops it. He kneels down on the ground and grins sheepishly. "It's sort of a sick kit, I guess? I-I don't really know what to call it, b-but it's for you, s-so...yeah." He pulls out three thick, plush and soft blankets. "My mother had woven some extra blankets and I know you like them extra soft," he says with a chuckle. Next, Orion pulls out a paper lunch bag. "I-It's just chicken soup and some soft marshmallow cookies. I-I remember you said those were y-your two favorite things to have with h-hot coco, and that hot coco was y-your favorite thing to have when you were sick, so, y-yeah, heh. I just sorta figured," he says, with that awkward grin of his. Orion pulls out a bejeweled box of tissues and a small bottle. "Oh, and, just some extra soft tissues. A-And some cold medicine, to help you sleep." He rummages through the deep bag a bit more, his arms completely engulfed. "And..." he says slowly, digging in the bag determinedly. Orion pulls out a sketchbook, a charcoal pencil, and a small stack of books. "Stuff to help you draw. And some new novels to read. I know you probably ran out of both by now," he says. "O-Oh, sorry, one last thing." He reaches into the very bottom of the bag and pulls out a single white flower. "Moon lilies. I know they're your favorite." He bashfully hands it to Rozalia. She sniffs the petals and sighs happily. "Thanks, Orion."

The other two boys in question stare at the over-the-top bouquets of bright, vivid flowers they brought, furious at how they seem to pale in comparison to a single, wrinkled white flower.

Orion stands up and picks up his paper bag. "Well, I better head out..." Rozalia hugs one of her new, soft blankets and suddenly blushes. "O-Orion?" she stammers softly, squeezing the blanket.

"Yeah?" he turns to face her.

"D-Do you still have t-the drawing I gave you?" Rozalia is suddenly bashful and sheepish like a little child. It's absolutely adorable. And Rhett is furious that it's for another boy.

Orion blushes deep red. "Y-Yeah," he murmurs. "I always keep it in my pocket. I look at it a lot through the day. You know, makes me think of you."

Rozalia blushes rose red and practically buries her face in the blankets. "O-Oh. I'm glad..."

Orion rubs his nose and clears his throat. "It'd be cool...if you drew me another one," he mumbles. Then he says a quick, quiet goodbye and closes the door, leaving Rhett and Zay alone with a fiercely blushing Rozalia, and their own boiling jealousy.

Rhett stares regretfully out at the setting sun. "I better go..." He leans down, kisses Rozalia on the forehead, and quickly leaves. It's left to Zay and Rozalia now.

"Rozalia?" Zay says quietly.

"Mm-hmm."

"We're still up for the Rose Pavilion, right?"

Rozalia nods, back to her quiet self.

"Good. I'll see you whenever you feel better, kay?"

Without another word, Zay kisses her on her cheek, squeezes her hand, and leaves. Now it's only Rozalia, and her glowing jewels.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Two days later, when I'm sure I'm no longer contagious, I manage to pull myself out of bed and slip on a pink silk day dress. It's billowy and decorated with sparkly embroidered roses. I've never worn it because it seems too intricate, but it seems appropriate today.

The Rose Pavilion is just next to the Reflection Waterfalls. It's a never ending field of thornless roses growing individually from the ground in all directions, in every color you can imagine. Strawberry red, periwinkle, macaroni yellow. And each has a unique scent. It could smell like beef stew, pumpkin pie, clean laundry, or who knows what else. I liked to think that picking a rose was like getting a (hopefully) pleasant surprise.

It's not hard to spot Zay. His black coat is a stark contrast to the bed of white roses he's in. I slip off my flats and I let my bare feet walk in the beds of fallen rose petals. It's like walking on the softest, smoothest, most delicate silk. "Hi," I say as I sit cross-legged next to him. Zay glances at me, smiles briefly, then goes back to staring at the sunset. "Hi."

He's sorta quiet. I wonder if I like that or not.

"Why'd you invite me here?" I ask quietly.

There's a pause. I sniff the air. Smells like lilies. How odd.

"I don't know," he mutters, sighing. Zay leans his messy head of hair on my shoulder. "To figure out why I can't stop thinking about you, I guess." He chuckles darkly. "Known a girl for a day, and yet you're already making me all weird. Either I'm a sap, or you're a witch."

Somehow, I find myself clutching at my emerald and ruby, clipped closely together as they pulse in alternating heats. My heart races faster with every second. I don't hate that he's leaning on my shoulder. So why is my stomach doing flips?

"When you meet a girl," Zay suddenly sighs. "She's ready to tell you her life story, everything from her favorite book to the joke that she finds absolutely hilarious. They think it's their subtle way of throwing themselves at boys. It's really stupid."

I let a giggle slip out.

"But the moment I met you, and I said 'don't tell me your star sign and I won't tell you mine' you actually...didn't." Zay laughs. "It was the greatest thing ever. You're the first girl I've ever met that didn't tell me, and didn't care what mine was. You wanted to talk to me just to get away from all the other girls. I mean, it was just amazing. You're the first girl I've seen get all huffy at Rhett instead of swooning whenever he looks at you. You're not constantly squealing, too. Why do girls do that?"

I shrug. Zay laughs again. His laugh is sharp and loud, and seems to shift with the wind. It's nice to hear.

"That's another thing. You shrug at half the stuff I say. And I love it!" he exclaims gleefully. "Whenever I say something, every girl's got an answer for me. But you don't. You genuinely either don't have the answer, or you don't care enough to answer. It's like—finally! A girl that doesn't care. That's all I've ever wanted in this happy-go-lucky town. Someone who doesn't freaking care so much about every single word I say. It's not that important! You don't talk, and I can tell you're listening, but you don't actually care that much to answer everything I say. I swear, you're the only sane person in this town. For once, there's someone who enjoys not being around people as much as me. The irony." The contrast between him and Rhett is comical, at the very least. Rhett's words are intelligent, calm, gentle, romanticized. Zay's words are bordering on the shouts of a madman, as if every word he's been keeping inside himself is escaping in a mad dash for freedom.

I find myself smiling giddily. I thought I was the only person who didn't like to talk or socialize like everyone else in Sunshine. Even my father, someone who barely talks, hangs out with his coworkers all the time. Drago and Phoenix have tons of friends, and mother is part of the unofficial housewives club or something. I'm in this tiny isolated bubble, and I don't mind. I thought I was just freaky because of my starlessness. But it turns out, there's someone who enjoys being quiet sometimes. And...And I guess I sort of enjoy his company, too.

My ruby blazes brightly. I gulp, hard. I got lost in my thoughts again. No, no, no, I did it again. My heart flutters. Suddenly, the sensation of Zay leaning on my shoulder makes me feel tingly to the tips of my toes. Zay likes being around me. And I do, too.

So?

So?

"Zay..." I mumble, playing with my hands. My heads all screwy. I can barely think straight. "Mmh?"

"D-Do you l-like me?"

Zay sits up straight and looks me squarely in the eyes. "Definitely. I'd be crazy not to."

"S-So..." I stammer weakly, my face flushing red. The garnet and ruby blaze in a single red glow. Without a second thought, I lean forward and I kiss him on the lips. When I pull away, I feel all melty and foggy in my head. Zay stares at me, his jaw to the floor, eyes wide.

"R-Rozalia, I-I mean, I don't really—"

—Like you that way.

He doesn't like me. I did it again! I did it again, like I always do! I always misinterpret what a guy says, and I go for it, and then it turns out they don't like me at all! God, I'm such a freak.

My cheeks glow a brighter red than my ruby and my garnet combined. "Sorry!" I squeak, right before everything goes black.

❧

I was banned from warping when I was a little kid. My parents didn't want me becoming even freakier than I already was. Every time I'd get really nervous, I'd pop right back to my parents. It became a real problem back in school. It's why we had to move from the Northern Star to Sunshine.

I guess it's another perk of being a starless freak. I warp to the dimension between dimensions, the Place Without Anything. No light, reason, time, or sound. The place I was born. When my mother was pregnant, she was in the Otherworld when she was in labor. My father rushed her to a light portal. But the exact moment I was born, was the split second between Otherworld and Homeworld. I was born in the Place Without Anything. A place without stars or sky to shine down.

So when I start freaking out, I rush to the Place Without Anything, and I jump out to the safest place. I guess when you're born there, you're allowed to go through whenever you want. Most people need a light crystal to pass through, and they can only go through to Otherworld. For them, they need to punch a one way portal through the space. For me, I can create anything in the Place Without Anything, a loop or a u-turn, whenever I want. Like it recognizes me.

It's a pretty scary experience for most people. But for me, it's strangely comforting. It's a rush of cold and darkness for a split second, like being inside your own shadow. Then the ripping sound as you escape back through the dimension. When I rip back through, I land right on my feet. It's like jumping through for just enough time to get up, even though there's no time. I don't waste a second. I start running, even though I don't know where I'm going. I'm going to someone who's going to make me feel better. That's where it always takes me.

I don't look around me. I run with my eyes closed, letting it take me where I need to go. Water drips from the ceiling. It's cold. My footsteps echo off the uneven ground on close walls. Then, when my feet crunches on grass, I open my eyes. There's sunlight. I think. My eyes are blurry.

Crying. I'm...crying.

I try to part the waterfalls of my hot, stingy tears. My heart feels like it's being squeezed, really tightly. It hurts. A lot.

A stone skips across the surface of the brilliant blue water. The Reflecting Pool. Rhett looks up from his pile of pebbles, surprised. "R-Rozalia? What are you doing here?"

His black hair is ruffled and messy from the wind. His green eyes are more vivid than real emeralds. Right now, to my surprise, all I want to see is Rhett. The only person I want to see is Rhett. I don't know why, but being with him makes me feel better, even though it hurts so bad.

A fresh wave of tears erupts out of me. The embroidered roses on my dress are threadbare and dirty from running. I find myself running as fast as I can, and straight into his arms, so quickly I knock him into the ground. He sits up and brushes himself up, but I haven't stopped crying into his chest. His coat smells like mint and pine needles. He's just big enough to wrap my arms around him tight. I want to hug him forever. He makes me feel so much better.

"R-Rozalia!? W-Why are you crying?"

I'd shrug, but my shoulders are already shaking so much.

"W-When'd you get here? Wait, why are you even here?"

His crisp white shirt is soaked from my tears. "I-I know y-you don't l-like damsels in d-distress..." I mumble shakily through my tears. I look up into those concerned, emerald green eyes, and he makes me feel better. "B-But I really wanted t-to see you." I bury my face back in his chest. "I-I'm sorry. Please, d-don't hate m-me...."

Rhett's strong arms pull me tight into his lap, and he strokes the hair away from my teary face. "I could never hate you, Rosie..." he mutters, squeezing me tight. My tears start to stop. I like being close to him. It feels warm and tingly.

"I don't mind saving a princess...a-as long as it's you."

When I look up, his face is really close to mine. It makes my heart skip a few beats, then race really fast. Looking into his eyes is like getting lost in the Place Without Anything. It makes you shivery, and you're not aware of anything else. You can't look away because it's the only thing there. And it makes me feel really...nice.

"I-I like saving you, Rosie..." Rhett mumbles, his eyebrows knitting together. "A-And I got jealous when Orion was there. What did you give him that made you blush?"

"I-I..." I can't even form coherent sentences in my head. My head's even more melted than before. I can't seem to catch my breath. He's really close. Really close.

Rhett leans a centimeter closer. I shiver, and he wraps his arms around my waist. It feels strangely comforting.

"I want you to look at me, and not him or Zay or anyone else. I want you to blush for me. You look...you look beautiful when you blush. And all the time. Every time you look at me...." he says softly. Right as he says that, I flame bright red. He gets a little closer. My breath hitches.

"R-Rhett..." I mumble.

"Rozalia...you still haven't told me what that glow means."

I realize that my garnet, my ruby, and my emerald have been searing into my skin this entire time. My throat is too tight. I get cotton-mouth. I can't speak.

"Does it mean you want me to kiss you?" he murmurs, a glint in his eyes. I can only shudder in response. "It doesn't matter," he suddenly whispers. "Cause I think I might..."

He doesn't finish his sentence. Rhett presses his lips to mine firmly, but gently. He tastes sorta bittersweet, and like rosemary. Part of me wants to pull away. The other part of me clings to him. All my senses melt away.

"Rozalia. Rosie."

It isn't until he starts calling my name that I realize he's already pulled away. I flutter open my eyes, and I realize I've been clinging to his shirt. Rhett smiles in this strange, crooked away that makes me all...screwy.

"You want me to take you home?"

I nod silently. Rhett picks me up princess-style and starts to walk me home. I lean my head on his chest and I fall asleep to the rhythm of his heartbeat, exhausted from crying and the whirlwind of feelings in my heart.

❧

I consider walking to the Rose Pavilion, but I'm pretty sure it doesn't matter anymore at this point. Secret's out. So I take a deep breath, and I step through into the Place. I mean, it takes a few tries to do it at will—the dents in my bedroom wall and the sore spots on my forehead are definite proof of that. Once I step through, the darkness seems to shift around me like coiling shadows, waiting to push me into a new place. There's a weird energy to this place. It's restless, waiting for someone to step through so it can morph. Maybe that's why you can only go through one way; it's sorta hasty. But if you know the place well enough, it can let you linger.

It's a strange sensation, to say the least. You can't really see anything except for darkness. You think you see shapes and colors and incomprehensible white fuzz of somethings, but it's all so fleeting that it's fades away and it makes you wonder if it's your imagination. It makes your head feel like doing all sorts of weird things. Like it's poring in and messing with you on purpose. I'd describe it as being in the white fuzz of an old TV. You know, when it isn't working and it's all scratchy black and white? Sorta like that.

The darkness shifts and pokes at me impatiently, waiting for me to push through. I take the hint; I rip through the space, and into a soft bed of white rose petals.

Zay nonchalantly picks the rose petals off a rainbow rose, letting the petals flutter away in the wind as he releases them. He flushes red when he sees me. "H-Hey."

"Sorry," I quickly mumble, already preparing to rip back into the Place. "I wasn't thinking straight y-yesterday," I ramble. I nervously play and shift my fingers together.

I start to hiccup. I realize that my throat's getting tighter. My eyes start to hurt a bit. Am I crying again? Oh god. I can't teleport this time; Rhett is vacationing in the Autumn Fields, and I'm not even sure my freakiness can get me there without some serious Anything Vertigo.

Zay grabs my shoulders and shushes me. "Hey, it's okay, don't cry! I-I really start panicking when people cry, like, in general. Please don't cry otherwise I might faint. I-It's like when people see blood and they go crazy, you know? I'm like that with tears. A-And when I get really nervous, I start s-stammering and rambling like a weirdo, and then the more I talk the more n-nervous I get, and then—okay, I'll stop now because I realize that this is only making it worse. Stopping now. No more talking." He runs his hands through his hair wildly. "Ugh, what is wrong with me?" he groans.

Zay looks me squarely in the eyes. The sun glints off his gray-silver eyes. They're like storm clouds and the silver lining, all at the same time. "Okay, so, I'm not here to scold you," he reassures me, like a parent to a child. "It's just that yesterday I freaked out and I didn't know what to say. I-I guess my mind couldn't quite comprehend the whole situation." He does a weird hand motion, like rolling his fingers. Then he runs another hand through his hair, eyebrows furrowed. "And then you...teleported? You disappeared in this weird shadow flash—...like you did just now. And quite honestly, I'm seriously confused by that....But I'm gonna let it slide for now, because that's, like, the last thing on the super long list of questions I have for you."

Zay licks his lips and nods, bobbing his head. "So, like, yeah...I mean, I liked the kiss. Is that a weird thing to say? I did, so...yeah. So...let's just be real here: You—are crazy confusing. But, in a good way. And bad way. But mostly good way. So, how about we start by answering some questions? Because this—" he gestures back and forth from me to him, "I don't really know what all this is. But I like it. I think. I guess. Is this weird? Is this just the most awkward and weird thing in the world, and I should just, like, stop talking?"

I wipe away the last of my tears and I sorta laugh. "You're worse than Orion."

Zay groans. "Don't even get me started on him. He's question number fifty-seven through eighty-two."

So, I patiently sit down on a particularly soft patch of roses. Zay follows my example and sits across from me, resting his elbow on his knee. "Okay, so...do you mind starting with your whole life-story deal?" he says. "Because the majority of my questions are about that, and it'd be so much easier if you just told me." He puts his hands in a surrender pose. "And, before anything, I totally swear not to be judge-y about you. I get that you're weird, and I'm weird, and everything about this is weird—so it'd just be great if we both accepted that." Zay sighs heavily in relief, puffing his cheeks. "Okay, that was great to finally get off my shoulders."

Zay's sorta weird. But...a good weird, I guess.

I turn the idea over in my head, trying to decide how to explain it in as few, last confusing words as possible. "Um...I was born in The Place Without Anything. I don't have a star sign. My dad is from Otherworld. I can warp through the Place. I use my gems to help me with my feelings, and they glow whenever I need or feel certain things. I don't really have any friends for all of the reasons above." I have to take a deep breath once I finish. I've never spoken so much at one time. It's hard. How do people do that all the time?

Zay nods adamantly. "That's...that's definitely a good start. Okay. How come you barely talk then?"

I ponder the thought for a few moments. Then I shrug. Zay cracks a grin. "Fair enough. I should've expected that. To each their own."

Whenever he huffs, his bangs float off his forehead. It's kinda cute. And funny.

"Okay, so, what's the deal with your brother...Dragon?" he says slowly. "I mean, it's not a life-threateningly confusing question like the other ones. I guess I'm sort of wondering because he had spastic attack on me. And remember, I'm not being judge-y, I'm being super honest."

I shrug, and I start to pick off pieces of grass growing around the roses. It's funny. I wonder how they grow without bushes. "Drago's just...hyper. He's always been attached to me since we were little."

Unable to look Zay straight in the eyes anymore, I look up at the sky. The stars are already beginning to twinkle in the twilight. Like crystals on a blue cave ceiling. I hold back some of my verbal awe and I begin searching out constellations to distract myself. Good thing it's a warm night. I don't plan to get sick again.

Zay scoots a bit closer to my side. "Okay, since we're on the subject of boys," he says, just a bit too casually. "What exact type of relationship do you have with that belt-and-arrow boy?" Zay asks, pursing his lips curiously. I can't tell, but he looks sorta judge-y right in this moment.

I open my mouth to say something, but I quickly decide better and I settle for a shrug. Zay narrows his eyes suspiciously and judg-ily.

"What? Do you have a crush on him or something?"

I shake my head firmly. The pearl starts to glow, and it refracts of my diamond like a tiny disco ball of light. Zay deadpans. "That means you're lying, doesn't it?"

I quickly shake my head again. The disco ball starts to get brighter.

Zay sets his jaw determinedly, his gray eyes blazing. He quickly leans forward and kisses me on the lips, sweet and brief. My jaw comes unhinged when he pulls away, pouting like a little boy.

"I-I used to," I suddenly blurt. "I-I'd draw him. Now we're just f-friends. We're both in Phoenix's taffy-pulling class," I add in a squeak for good measure.

Zay glows a bright ruby red. "Oh," is all he says. For a long while, it's silent. Though I swear I hear him mutter, "I don't know why you can't draw me." Then Zay suddenly curses under his breath. "Sorry. Damn it, I forgot how late it is. I gotta go. B-Bye. Meet me back here tomorrow, alright?" He leans forward, gives me another kiss, then races off.

I fall back, crunching into the roses and grass, sighing to myself as my gems glow and refract off each other.

Boys are so confusing.

❧

I've gotten used to the feeling of rose petals on my feet. Zay invites me out to the Rose pavilion a lot nowadays. Sometimes he rants and rambles randomly. Other times he just sits there quietly and lays on my shoulder. He claims he never falls asleep, but I swear I hear him snoring sometimes.

Zay is fidgety today. He lays in my lap and tosses and turns. He leans on my shoulder and squirms. He lays on the ground and kicks and groans. "I can't get comfortable," he whines.

Zay stares at me with a strangely intense and serious look. It's so unwaveringly intense that I have to look down into my lap.

"....Rozalia?" he says quietly.

"...Y-Yeah?"

"Do you ever get scared that no one will ever think you're good enough?" Zay asks. His eyes are strangely sad and scared, like a little kid's. It's a strange sensation, knowing you're feeling the exact same fear.

I had a hunch that Zay was under a lot of pressure. He has this 'I don't care,' rebellious behavior to him, like he's angry at something. He offhandedly mentions his parents "buzzin'" on him all the time. I could tell by the way his aura shifts uncomfortably every time he mentions them that they bother him more than he lets on. I think that's why he hates Rhett so much; his parents expect Zay to be like him.

I can only nod. I don't want to cry. I don't like thinking about it. But I know that secretly, my family's bitter because I'm such a freak. That I can't be normal. I don't think any of them will ever think I'm truly part of the family. I'm less a member of this family than Drago and Phoenix are, and they're not even my mother's real children. I've always been secretly jealous of them. Truthfully, it's why I poke fun about them not being my real brothers.

I shift my hand through the grass until it finds Zay's. I close my eyes and I focus on the warmth of his hand in mine. "I think you're good enough," I whisper. And it's true. I do. From the brief flashes of real, quirky, dorky Zay that I've seen under his cool facade, I know without a doubt that he's one of my favorite people in the world. He's smart, and funny, and just a bit weird, and I think that's enough. Deep down there, he's one of the closest people I'll ever have.

"I think you're good enough, too," Zay suddenly whispers back. I find myself clenching my eyes shut to hold back tears. I don't want a pity response. He doesn't have to say it just because I said it to him. I'll never be normal. I'll never be enough for anyone—for the world. My breathing gets shallow. The tears threaten to jump out when—

Zay leans his head on my shoulder and nuzzles my neck with his ruffled chestnut hair. "I don't think you have to be normal to be good enough," he murmurs gently. "In my opinion...if just one person thinks you're good enough, then you are." Zay squeezes my hand. It comforts me, strangely enough. "You're good enough for me. So that's all you need. I think you're one of the best people I know. You're always so kind, never judgmental, and, well, a great listener. When you talk, it always makes me feel better, even if it's rare."

Zay shifts his hand to clasp every single finger with mine. "So, we just need each other to keep reminding ourselves that we're both good enough, right? No matter what anyone else says."

Without another word, Zay wraps his arms around me and pushes me down into the grass next to him. A tingly flurry of warmth races through me as he kisses me. He smiles in that half-mischievous, half-dorky way that I've always liked. "Sorry," he says in a way that doesn't seem like he means it at all. "I guess I finally found a position I'm comfortable in."

I'm not really sure what we are. Friends or something more. But all I know is that I really like being with Zay. So I'm just going to assume we're...something in between the two. Little more than friends, not quite something else.

So I wrap my arms around his midsection and I hug him tight, savoring every pulse of warmth that radiates off his dark blue tunic.

"Don't...don't leave," I murmur.

"Ditto."

❧

Zay wasn't kidding when he said the Golders were Kingman-wannabes. I'm standing in front of his mansion, and I'm having this crippling Deja-vu. Same windows, same hedges, same flower bushes, exact same garden. I'm looking around, trying to find some significant difference, and I really can't. The driveway even has the same cars in it. It's really scary, actually.

Before I can even knock, Zay opens the door. He's wearing a crisp white shirt as black pants, and his hair is combed. I narrow my eyes. "I've stepped into an alternate universe. Zay has turned into Rhett..." I mumble.

Zay deadpans. "Okay, normally, I would be laughing at that, but I'm too mortally terrified and nervous right now, so—" he grabs my arm and roughly pulls me through the door. I glance around at the double staircase, the polished marble and serene white furniture. He notices me staring and he rolls his eyes. "I know, everyone thinks it's weird. My parents are such Kingman copy-cats. That's why they think I should be like their 'perfect son, Rhett,'" he says in a gaudy British accent. I'd laugh, but his usual comedic sarcasm seems forced and nervous.

Zay pauses me the moment I open my mouth. "Bup, bup, bup!" he shushes me, holding up his finger. "Dress first, questions later. The only way this is going to work is if you change everything about you in the next twenty minutes. Good, good? Good." He grabs my already sore wrist and drags me up the stairs, and into a dressing room/closet. I can't believe there's an entire room dedicated to putting on clothes. Can't rich people change in their bedrooms like everyone else?

Zay pushes me inside and locks the door behind him. I stare at the blinding flurry of color around me, rubbing tears out of my stinging eyes. It's like...the walls are made out of clothes. Zay stops hyperventilating long enough to run to the end of the closet-room corridor and gingerly pick up a pink dress off a velvet stool. It's frilly and pink and white beyond belief. It's like a Pippy Longstockings dress and a Valentine's Day wrapping paper had a baby twice as gaudy as the two of them combined.

"Dress quickly." Zay rolls his eyes when sees me pale ashen. "I won't look, I swear. I just don't want to risk being mobbed if she comes early." He shivers. I start to become a little scared too—and I don't even know who 'she' is. I quickly start to pull myself into the dress. There's so much fabric that I can barely find where to put my arms through. Zay explains while I fumble through a panicky struggle, his back turned and his fingers over his closed eyes for good measure.

"My parents want me to meet this girl to marry. I bet that even if we don't have a Glimmer, they'll force me to. She's everything they want for me. A cutesie little pink girl in bows." He does a pretend gag and points down his throat. "So I told them that I can't because I already have a girlfriend that looks like she walked out of a discount Pink store. So you gotta be prim and cutesie. My parents think quietness is polite, so that's one check for you and a strike for Goldilocks." Zay groans and buries his head in his hands, slightly ruffling his bangs. "God, she's soooo annoying. She's always squealing and talking all the freaking time about her poochie, Fifi. She's like a pull-the-string Barbie that never ends!" He shivers. "And she's scary. I've tried to deflect her off with other girls before, but they always run away crying, and then she just smiles at me like, 'I wonder what happened to them.' She's like a pink Satan in a tutu. I can't marry a she-devil!"

I twirl around in the mirror, watching the sparkly, gauzy pink fabric spin and flip with every movement I make as I tie the pink hair ribbons. I admit, it's cute. It's a short, bouncy day-dress that you'd see on a princess cartoon. But it's too cute. I feel like I'm going to sprout a unicorn horn any second. Zay comes up behind me in the mirror and wraps his arms around me, making the ultimate, desperate puppy-pout.

"But I know that you can handle her, right?" He nuzzles my neck. I quickly pat down his hair. "So we just need to be a couple for, like, an hour or two, okay? You act like a cute little Barbie princess, I act like I'm a blonde Rhett-Ken doll, Goldilocks stops stalking me and ruining my life, and we're all happy again. Yay or nay?"

I glance down at Zay's wide silver eyes, and I sigh. "Yay..."

He makes a teethy grin. "Yay. Now practice being cute." Zay pushes me back to the mirror and starts combing through his hair with his fingers. After a brief moment of resignation to my assignment, I come up behind him and I wrap my arms around him, mustering the cutest smile. "Am I cute yet?"

Zay flushes pink and chuckles. "Y-Yeah, that's pretty good."

I pinch his cheek. "Don't be so dorky around your parents. We have to be not ourselves, right?"

"You can be yourself a bit." Zay winks. "It'll be easier to be in love with you that way."

A whistle suddenly echoes through the door. Zay stiffens to a metal post.

"Zay!" A perky, middle aged, female voice calls. His mother. "Goldilocks is coming up the driveway! Get your girlfriend and come down here in two minutes!" Her voice is so soft and serene, it's actually sickening. I pretend to gag.

Zay places his hands on my waist and takes deep breaths to calm himself. "Oh, geez, I've been avoiding this for too long. I gotta make this work. We gotta..." Zay suddenly looks pleadingly into my eyes. "Rozalia? I know this is already weird enough, but I need to calm down and get back into Prince mode. So you have to promise not to slap me."

"P-Promise. I think..."

Zay presses his lips firmly into mine, kissing me sweetly, like a Prince. I admit, it's extremely disorienting. His usual kisses are brief and rushed. But this one is warm and lingering. I find my arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him close as I melt into the kiss.

I'm his girlfriend now, right? So I'm allowed to do this. Yeah...

Zay pulls away and leans his forehead on mine. He breaths evenly and softly. Finally, he smiles courteously and holds his arm out to me. I try to think: what would Mariposa do? After a moment of thought, I hug his arm and I lean my head on his shoulder. Zay clears his throat a few times before we exit.

I wonder why.

❧

Fortunately, Zay's parents aren't Kingman carbon copies, as I had expected. They have the same regal air and stiff look to them, though. His father is a bit skinnier than the intimidating Kingman, and his golden blonde hair is just a shade off from Zay's. His mother has warm brown hair and stormy gray eyes, giving her the look of a model.

She waves us over as we head down the stairs. I tighten my hug on Zay's arm. "Oh, aren't you two darling? You and Goldilocks will get along swell."

I plaster a smile onto my face. "That's her real name?" I whisper through my teeth, not moving my mouth. "Yeah," Zay responds through his own smile. "A picky little princess with a bad attitude. That's Goldi."

"Z-Zay?"

I can feel Mr and Mrs. Golders staring at me with daggers. They're scrutinizing everything we do, just waiting for us to slip up so they can boot me and ring the wedding bells for Mrs. Zay Goldilocks.

He glances down at me with concern. "Yeah, Rozalia?" he murmurs.

"C-Can you hold my hand?" I stammer quietly.

Zay's eyes widen ever so slightly.

"H-Hmm?" he squeaks.

I laugh nervously. "I guess I'm just sorta nervous. You know I'm a little shy. It's just that...h-holding your hand always makes me feel better." Zay nods and starts to play along to my buttering-up act. He clasps his hand with mine and smiles gently. "Is that better, love?"

I blush for real this time. He's never called me love. He's like...oh, God, that's the last thing I want to think about. I nod quickly. "Mm-hmm."

The door swings open. I yelp and jump in place. A girl about my age with perfect golden curls, a pink ribbon, and a dress even frillier than mine skips through, clicking her perfect Mary Janes—I think I finally understand what Mariposa meant. Her eyes land on me, and I can only pray my gulp wasn't audible. Even her eyes are a perfect, dazzling blue. So perfect that they're unnatural. Like she harnessed the sky and froze it over underneath those cold, dark irises of hers.

Her aura has two layers. For people, that's what you'd call two faced. The outer layer is a gauzy sunshine yellow, a happy aura that makes everyone like you. The inner aura is jagged and rough like broken, red glass. It's menacing, like a lion's.

"Oh, you must be Rozzie!" she says sweetly. Her voice is so high pitched that it's obviously fake. I have to resist a scowl. I've never hated a person so quickly. She pulls me aside from Zay to give me a tight hug.

"H-Hello," I squeak as she gives me a suffocating hug.

Her aura is burning hot and pointy, like lava daggers. It's deadly suffocating and painful to be so close to her. "Don't play the copy game, hon," she snarls into my ear, her facade gone. "I'm the original, and they like me more. Zay is mine."

How can someone actually be this horrible? I thought that people like her can only be found in the Spawn of Satan Circle of Hell, and the Mean Girls show back on Otherworld. I didn't realize real people were actually capable of being evil Barbies.

"Nice to meet you, too," I chirp back happily. I force myself to keep positive. Zay is my....my best friend. I have to do this for him.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><>

We all sit outside in the garden, bathing in afternoon sunshine, drinking tea at a fancy little table. The tea is unbelievably sweetened, and it's pink. I have a weird feeling that Goldilocks poured five packets of sugar and a pink lemonade energy drink into mine, because she keeps casting me expectant smirks, like that's going to make me run away in terror.

Is Goldilocks just a psychopath, or did her tactics actually work at some point? Either way: rich people.

Zay keeps one hand under the table to hold mine, in perfect view of his parents and Goldi's. Every time his parents look away, she practically snarls at me. And yet, even when no one's looking, he's still holding my hand.

Zay suddenly turns to me and mouths, 'Are you okay?' and I realize he's been doing it to comfort me the whole time. I nod reassuringly back to him.

"So, Rozzie, darling," Mrs. Golders purrs. Dear god, I hope she doesn't think that's my actual name. "What does your family do for a living? Dear Goldilocks here owns an import station at the harbor. Business is booming nowadays, I here."

Goldilocks beams proudly, but she seems to smirk at me. Mrs. Golders gaze is more wolffish than kind. "What do you do?" She seems to be daring me to do better. I glance helplessly at Zay. He stares back at me with equal shock. We both come to the same conclusion in that instant: we never had a chance. The Golders either didn't believe our little act for one second, or they've been favoring Goldi all this time. They're just waiting for me to run away crying.

Is that what's always been happening?

I don't know what possessed me to. But I decide to blurt out the truth.

"My mother is just a weaver, and my father is a humble astronomer," I admit, laughing nervously. Zay gives me this look that screams, 'STOP TALKING.' But I can't. No matter what, I can't seem to send myself home.

I should be.

But...I don't want to leave Zay's hand.

"Honestly, my family is alright, we all make it by. My brothers even help out at the bakery and the confectionary making pastries for parties." My cheeks glow red as I stare down into my lap. I can feel ever single one of their burning gazes.

"That's why I've never gotten why Zay likes me," I murmur. "He's so much more wealthy than me, and just...plain wonderful compared to all the other boys. But he still likes me for who I am." I feel a smile creep onto my face. "That's why I'm really grateful that he chose me."

The table is eerily silent for a while. Everyone seems to have identical shell shocked faces. Even Zay and Goldi seem baffled with my speech.

Wait, wait, wait—did that just come out of my mouth?

"That's right, mother," Zay suddenly says, grinning triumphantly. "When me and Rosie get married, we're going to be happy together. So if you'll excuse us, I'd like to show my girlfriend the rose bushes."

As Zay stands up, Goldi actually has the nerve to stand up and smirk at me. She starts to head towards Zay, as if she's actually self-declared herself Zay's girlfriend. Fortunately, Zay grabs my hand and drags me away from the table, leaving her to pout and stomp in place. If Mr. and Mrs. Golders weren't watching, I would've stuck my tongue out at her.

Zay hugs me when he drags me far away enough. "Oh god, Rosie, I think you saved us. If that doesn't win them over, I don't know what will." I rest my head on his shoulder. "I didn't want it to be over before we even began," I mumble. That was exhausting.

Suddenly, Zay stiffens. I pull away from the hug, only to find Zay's ashen white face.

"Zay! Would you come over here?" His father calls cheerily. "We've made a decision for you!"

Goldilocks merrily skips across the garden from us. She holds up a little pink and brown flower, and sniffs it daintily. Then she smirks at me, and she crushes the flower in her fist. "I won," she mouths.

I can only stare as Zay talks to his parents. They hand him a small velvet box, and Mrs. Golders points at Goldi. Zay has yet to gain color in his face. His eyes are full of resigned terror. He nods, and he makes a slow walk of shame to Goldilocks. I try to catch his stare. But he only looks at the ground.

I don't know why. But a scratchy, itchy feeling of desperate horror overcomes me. It makes a pit in my stomach. I stop making rational thoughts. I watch as Zay kneels down in front of Goldi, staring at the ground, and mumbles something. She twirls her hair around her finger and holds out her hand like a dainty princess. Zay pulls out the ring and takes her hand.

And that's when I black out.

❧

I don't know why I ran. The Place Without Anything doesn't have time. When I'm in here, I'm broken away from the moving hands, and to a place where they never turn.

I think I screamed at some point. I forgot when I even came in here. But the moment I did, I released every ounce of burning frustration that I didn't even understand. Then, the pit of terror and desperation in my stomach doing a triple flip, I jumped out.

People need light crystals for a reason. They keep the Anything from doing strange things to you. That's the thing with magic. It's mischievous and restless. It always wants to change something, do something to you. Even if it's small, it knows how it can affect you. Turning a bride's dress black on her wedding day. Turning a man into a bird. Changing the gold in your pocket to silver and bronze pence.

So when I jumped out, I let the Anything push me where it wanted. Then when I opened my eyes, I found Zay holding my hand, kneeling down in front of me, staring at the ground.

I'm too lost for words to even gasp in shock. In my peripheral vision, I see Goldi at the other side of the garden, exactly where I was, looking dazed, slightly frazzled as her curls are slightly out of place—and extremely pissed. I look a bit down, and I look exactly the same.

Except for one thing—all the pink dye from my dress is gone. Every gauzy, soft piece of the frilly fabric is a pure white.

The Anything just loves to prank me, doesn't it? Oh, the horrible irony of this situation is not amusing, world.

I'm almost about to ask where the Anything where it put all the dye. You can't just make something disappear. It reappears back with you, just in the form of something new. It's like this world's version of the Cell Constancy Theory. But the moment I even dare to consider asking, a rain of pink confetti and rose petals that look eerily like the shade of my former dress rain down onto me and Zay as he slips the ring tightly onto my right ring finger. Zay suddenly has the bravery to look up. His eyes widen to the size of silver saucers.

"Rozalia?" he gasps. "D-Did you just—?"

I don't know how to respond. I can hear Zay's parents cheering and clicking a camera in the background. I can only stare at Zay.

Well, this situation looks a lot like I changed into a wedding dress, purposely switched places with Goldi right as Zay was proposing, and made it rain pink rose petals and confetti to celebrate said wedding. I swear to god, I didn't mean to. But I can't exactly say, The magical dimension I passed through did this to me.

And, well....did I mean to do that?

Zay's parents race over to us, clapping their hands and cheering. I freeze in place. Have they momentarily mistaken me for Goldi? Are they going to go ape on me for stealing their son away from the perfect daughter?

Goldi Golders—oh, I just got that right now. Is that why they picked her?

"That was absolutely beautiful," Mrs. Golders whispers, dabbing at her eyes. "I don't know how long you've been planning that, but that was heartwarming enough to win me over. Rosie," she says, turning to me with a bright smile. "Welcome to the family!"

The sudden reality of the situation dawns on me. The ring on my finger turns icy cold, burning my skin.

Zay just put a wedding ring on me.

I lean my head on Zay's chest. He wraps his arm around my waist and rubs my back while his parents take more pictures of the 'happy couple.'

"Z-Zay?" I mumble.

"Yeah?"

"I think I'm going to faint."

<><><><><><><><><><><><><>

When I finally come to, I shriek, "I'm too young to get married!"

Zay raises an eyebrow at me from the bedside. "Is that what you were freaking out about?"

I raise myself up on my elbows. The sheets feel too soft to be mine. All the walls are pink. Bright, bright pink. Where am I?

Zay pulls off his tie and casually sips at a tumbler filled with red juice and ice. I'm starting to think he likes that devil juice. "I was wondering why you fainted. You gave me a real scare you know. Don't freak out. Look at the inscription."

I raise my right hand up, and I squint to read the cursive flourished on the gold band. "Pro...mise....?" A promise ring.

Ohhhh, a Promise Ring!

I fall back into the bed, sighing with relief. "Oh, God, I thought I'd have to marry you."

"....Is it really so bad to get married to me?"

I flutter my eyes back open again. Zay lays down on the bed next to me. So I sit up. He sits up, too.

"I-I don't know," he mumbles, cheeks red. Moonlight glows from the window behind us. "You said all...t-that at the party, and the thing that happened at the end when you thought I was proposing to Goldi...was it just because I looked like Rhett that time?"

I stare at Zay. His chestnut golden hair is messy and all out of place, like the perfect bedhead. His shirt is disheveled and half unbuttoned. His eyes are a worried, stormy silver gray. The more I stare at him, the stranger I feel in my chest. My heart squeezes. I tingle all over, like a minty shiver.

Before I even know it, I find myself straddling his legs, letting the white fabric spill all over him. I brush the messy bangs away from his face.

"You've never been Rhett to me," I murmur softly. I can barely hear myself talk over the pounding in my chest. It's been so long since I've felt like this. The last time I felt like this was with the person I trust most...

Even after he broke my heart, I still trusted him.

"Is that a good thing?"

I nod.

"Then, are we...?"

"If you want to be..."

Zay threads his fingertips through my hair, staring into my eyes. "You know, from the moment I met you, I had a feeling you were going to be special to me." So when he leans in for a kiss, I don't protest. He pulls away, barely a hairs-breadth, and I whisper, "I think I might love you, Zay."

"Me, too," he whispers back.

A flash suddenly pops, filling the dark room with light. I yelp and twist onto the bed.

"Mother!" Zay cries. When the spots fade from my vision, I find Zay's parents, holding a camera, grinning sheepishly at us.

"We couldn't resist," Mr. Golders says. "You two are just too cute together."

Mrs. Golders squeals. "I want to get some pictures for the wedding album."

"Mother! Father!" Zay groans. "Me and Rosie were having a moment alone together!"

"Aw, you two already have pet names for each other," Mrs. Golders sighs, as if she's staring at a puppy wedding.

"Mother, please!"

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry," she sighs, rolling her eyes at her son. "Dinner's in an hour and a few clicks. Oh, and I already called Rosie's mother, and she said it's alright for her to sleep over tonight." Her heels click all the way down the hall, and Zay doesn't relax until we can't hear them anymore.

"Sorry about that...but, yeah," he says. "You were out cold for a while, so we decided to keep you over. If that's alright with you..."

I nod. I realize the burning on my chest is my ruby, emerald, and garnet, all glowing together. "I-I mean, we're...."

"Yeah, w-we are...."

Zay grins brightly as he rummages through a dresser. "Oh, and excuse the pinkness, this was supposed to be Goldi's room. You should've seen the fit she had after you fainted. She was stomping and screaming and kicking things. She's not going to be back for a looooong time."

I idly kick my legs off the tall bed, grinning until my face hurts. I'm Zay's girlfriend. I'm Zay's Girlfriend. Rozalia Golders. Oh, geez, I hope I don't turn into Goldi.

Zay shows me to a bathroom with a huge bath, already filled to the brim with warm water, bubbles, and lavender. "If you don't know how to use it, I can get in with you," Zay suggests impishly. I stick my tongue out at him. "You wish."

"Oh, whatever. You can use anything you want from the counter. Dress and come down for dinner whenever you're ready." Zay grins at me. "And remember, you get to spoil yourself now. You're my girlfriend."

I push Zay out and I slam the door with my back. I find myself sliding down the door, giggling. I still can't believe this is happening.

I force myself off the floor, making sure to lock the door behind me, and I strip off my dress. I stare at the array of bath products on the marble counter, doubtful. But...Zay said I'm supposed to spoil myself. I set side a nice turquoise blue loofah, and a few different soaps. I pick up an unfamiliar brand.

"Bath salts..."

I pour a handful of the crystals into my hand, and I sprinkle it into the bath. A feeling of giddiness starts to bloom inside me. I've never gotten do anything lavish or fancy. I'd never be able to afford all these. I pick up another bottle of bath oil, and I drizzle it all over the tub. I pick up all sorts of manner of bath relaxation lavishes and I sprinkle and pour them into the bath with glee. When I finally lower myself into the bath, I breathe out a loud sigh of relief.

I didn't think it was possible for water to feel as soft as silk. I almost want to sleep in this, god. I somehow shake myself out of my blissful trance so I can grab my loofah and scrub myself. Even the loofah feels like it's made of silk. In fact, it probably is. I scrub off the dirt off my body to my heart's content, feeling like a princess bathing in her castle. I have to force myself to drain the bath before I fall asleep and get a cold. Then, out of habit and courtesy, I rinse the bubbles out of the bath and I put everything back in its proper place, even while thinking there’s probably a maid that would beg to do it.

I dry myself off as fast as humanly possible, and I slip on a powder blue long sleeve, and a silky white skirt. I can't tell if it's pajamas or a princess dress, but either way it's wonderful to wear. It looks good, and it's comfortable—and I thought that was impossible in the rich world. I'm in the middle of trying to wring out my soaking wet hair when the door clicks open.

Zay's mother suddenly sashays into the bathroom, her hair tied up neatly into a bun with jeweled bobby pins, wearing a casual silk dress like mine. All her make-up is washed off, and yet her skin looks flawless. If it wasn't for all the jewels, I would think she looks a bit more like my mother. She smiles kindly at me.

"Would you like me to do your hair for you?"

I nod mutely, still slightly nervous. She picks up a silver hairbrush and starts to comb through my hair. "You know, when I look at you a little closer now, you're very beautiful. My son was lucky to find you." When she smiles, her nose wrinkles a bit, just like Zay's. "Let's make you even more beautiful, hmm?"

She combs through until it's glass straight, then she expertly uses the hair dryer to dry my hair. She uses a strange device to curl my hair into soft, long ringlets, like I've seen princesses have in the movies. It's beautiful. While I marvel at myself in the mirror, Mrs. Golders suddenly ties a blue, pearl choker around my neck. She smiles at me again in the mirror. "I'm excited to have you as my daughter."

She leaves, leaving me to stare at the strange person I've become in the mirror. I never thought of myself as pretty. It's nice to look the part for once.

❧

I pad tentatively down the staircase, and into the dining room. The table is set, but no one is sitting down. I wonder where Mr. and Mrs. Golders went. And Zay. Where is anyone?

I walk around on the cold marble without shoes aimlessly, trying to find a new door to go through in this endless maze. I wander back down the hall until I find a swinging wooden door with the smell of a gas oven wafting out.

The kitchen is just as extravagant as I expected. Marble counters and stainless steel everything. A short, stout woman in an apron is at a counter slicing vegetables while an oven heats up. She notices my stare and pauses.

"H-Hi," I squeak. "C-Can I help?"

If I have nothing else to do, I might as well make myself useful.

She stares at me, unsure for a moment. Then she sighs and makes a tired smile. "Why not? Can't reject a pair of hands willing to help." Her voice has the slight lilt of an Irish accent from the Spring Fields. She waves me inside, and I close the door behind me carefully, despite it being a swinging door.

"I'm Mrs. Potts. Have you cooked before at all?" Her eyes are so desperate, I suddenly feel a lot better about asking. I nod. "I cook for my family every night....I mean, if that counts."

She sighs in relief. "I'm just glad you can. Come, come, help me prepare the vegetables."

I pick up an apron from the hook and it tie it around my waist. It's a nice bright yellow, with a modest amount of frills. Mrs. Potts holds her breath as I pick up a parrying knife. After I slice a few carrots and potatoes, she seems to relax. I gradually relax into the routine of working, a habit I know well. I feel sorry for Mrs. Potts. She seems stressed, cooking all alone. Even if it's a stranger, it's always nice to have someone helping in the kitchen. I've always been grateful for my brothers. It's nice to be the one helping, too.

After making the main course, and tossing a salad or two, Mrs. Potts regales me with stories of working in a restaurant in between the Autumn Fields and the Northern Star border when she was younger. As the smell of roasting beef fills the air, she tells me about meeting exotic people from all over, collecting recipes, making recipes in other languages she couldn't even understand. "And the best part," she says. "Was when it'd get really chilly. Young or old, poor or rich, people would gather in the humble little restaurant, and the warmth of dozens of people and a crackling fire would make the atmosphere content and happy. We'd all have a cup of ostumo, or coffee, or coco, or tea, or whatever they'd fancy, we'd cook up something big and warm, and everything in the world would just feel right."

The oven dings, pulling us both out of trance. "Would you mind getting that dear?" Mrs. Potts asks sheepishly. "The racks are low, and my back isn't as good as it used to be."

"Of course." I pull the roast out of the oven, still bubbling hot, and I breathe in the heavenly smell. Mrs. Potts digs out a small piece with her fork. Then she grins. "Never tasted better." Her eyes dart around the room, as if she's about to tell a secret. "Are you the new girlfriend to take the place of that old Gold-hair, eh?" she whispers.

I can feel my cheeks heat. I instinctively grab for my emerald, and I nod.

Mrs. Potts suddenly barks a boisterous laugh, startling me. "Thank goodness for that! That little girl was horrid. One time she brought a girl into the kitchen, and poured a casket of my freshly brewed tea over a girl's head! Not sorry for me or for the lass, was she?" She sighs as her laughter calms, lacing her hands over her stomach. "When you came in, I thought perhaps that you were a new gardener girl or something. But you have this grace about you that even that Goldilocks girl didn't have."

A bell suddenly tinkles from down the hall. "Whoopsies, dear, I've kept you a tad too long. Looks like the Golders are ready for dinner." Mrs. Potts kindly unties my apron for me and pushes me out the door. "I hope you come over more often, my dear."

I'm glad I got to help. I don't want to get too focused on all the fancy things like Goldi did. She wanted all the riches and perfection. But I've never wanted perfection. All you need is something warm, some people around you, and that's all you need. I've survived that way with my family all this time. I don't need bath salts and silk to be happy as always.

And so, with that happy thought, I skip into the dining room. Zay pulls a seat out for me next to him. And when Mrs. Potts comes in to serve dinner, we share a secret smile.

❧

I toss and turn restlessly. The bed is too soft. The pillows are too fluffed. Everything is way too pink. And then, the Lightning starts. That's the last straw. I grab a pillow, a flashlight, and I stumble aimlessly down the hall, lit only by the occasional flash of lightning and the boom of thunder. I almost cry with relief when I my hand finds the doorknob.

A pillow thuds on the ground in front of me as soon as the door creaks open. "W-Who's there?" Zay stammers.

"Your...I-I mean, it's just Rosie," I mumble, sleepily and bashfully. I can't even say girlfriend now. It makes my heart pound way too hard.

Zay sits up a little higher in his bed, rubbing his eyes. His bedhead is unfortunately cute. Every single piece of hair sticks every which way, like they're electrically charged. His pajama shirt is unbuttoned all the way down, and I have to force myself to avert my eyes to the ground instead.

"Geez, what's wrong Rosie?" he groans when he realizes it's me. A bolt of lightning and the crash of thunder alights the room and booms. I involuntarily begin shivering as my heart pounds in my ears.

"I-I..." I whimper. "T-The light...." Another crash of thunder, and a flash of lightning. A tear drips down my chin.

Zay's eyes widen. "O-Oh, geez, Rosie." He waves me over rapidly. "I'm sorry. Come on, come on, come sleep in my bed."

My legs feel like knocking pieces of lead. I can't move. I can't move. Another boom of thunder echoes, so loud it may as well been the sky ripping open. I fall onto my knees, digging my nails into the silk cover of the pillow. I can't tell what's thunder and what's my heart pounding. The ground shakes. Or maybe that's me. I can't tell anymore.

A pair of arms wrap around my torso and my knees, picking me up bridal style and carrying me to the bed. Zay gently lays me down on his soft bed and throws the covers completely over me. I curl up tightly in a ball, my pillow as the center. I attempt to take even breaths through my tears, but my breath skips every time I hear the thunder.

Zay suddenly scrambles under the covers with me. He slips something thick onto my ears. The soft sound of piano music fills my ears, completely blocking out the thunder. He puts something small and furry in my hands. It's a threadbare old teddy bear. Zay talks just loud enough for me to hear. "One of my old toys. Y-You know, if you want it."

I shake my head. Mozart's 5th Symphony. I didn't know Zay liked classical music. Or used to play with teddy bears.

Or that he was so...perfect.

I discard the teddy bear to the side and I hug Zay tightly around his midsection. He smells a bit like pine and rosemary.

"I love you," I murmur softly.

"I love you, too, my sleepy little rose."

❧

“I think I might love you” might be my favorite six word sequence in the entire English language.

I knew from the moment I saw you. The moment you caught my eye like a blooming rose in a garden full of glittery, gaudy girls. Quiet, conspicuous, and yet somehow that humbleness made her more beautiful than the rest of them combined. I wasn’t sure what to call it, because I had never felt a Glimmer before. All I knew is that I could barely hear that beautiful lilting voice of hers over the pounding in my ears, and that my eyes were on her eyes, that kept stealing glances at my lips. I don’t think she even realized it. But her eyes would always gravitate slightly downwards as we spoke, even in the weeks we spent in the Rose Pavilion.

You weren’t just everything I wanted, you were everything I wanted to be. Kind, strong, sensitive, mature, loving, forgiving, sweet, reassuring, determined. I didn’t see signs or numbers, nor did I hear my parents whispering over my shoulder. When I looked into your eyes, lost in their blue oceans, I saw...you. A person, so warm and true, looking right back at me.

And yet, I knew there wasn’t just clear blue skies. There was depth in your eyes, like a murky blue ocean. So beautiful at its surface, but hiding so many secrets in its deep waters. I saw glimpses of it. The way you would stare at me when you thought I was asleep, as if you were pained at the sight of me, was just the beginning. The child I saw within you that night, as lightning illuminated your pale features, was terrified and scarred. I started to see the person behind the facade. Her maturity was the result of being made the head of the household at a young age, evident even by the burdensome slump in her delicate shoulders. Her gentle quality was self-induced timidity, years of putting herself down culminating into this. Worst yet, there was the darkest of all, a shadow in her expression I have yet to define.

It can’t be a Glimmer, I convinced myself, knowing that if she had yet to notice it, there was little chance she ever would, if it even existed. So I withdrew, too afraid to try and heal the pain I saw in this poor girl’s eyes. So when she used those same eyes, looked right into the very depth of my being, and told me she loved me—I felt exhilarated. The “might” was nothing more than a sign that I would need to affirm such love with my actions going forward. The very presence of her feelings was enough. That sparkle in her eyes, pushing back the darkness, was undeniable. She could have asked me for anything in that moment and I couldn’t have refused her.

For the first time in my life, I felt glad to be born the way I was. Not just because my riches would allow me to spoil her to her heart’s content, but because it allowed me to meet her by chance. Same party, same table, same punch bowl at the same time. What are the odds?

❧

Rhett stares out at the whipping winds of Autumn fields, whirling and swirling golden and red leaves and colors of all the rainbows. They took a villa bordering the Rainbow Valley, for obvious reasons. Whenever he sees a blue leaf, he thinks of Rosie. Wondering what she's doing now. Wondering if she misses him. Wondering what would be a good gift to give her when he comes back. Roses? No, too cliche. Sweets? No, her brothers are pastry makers. A kiss? No, she'd probably slap him.

Actually, that's kinda worth it...

"Rhett, honey?" His mother suddenly calls.

"Yeah?" he calls back lazily.

Mrs. Kingman strides into the room with her glittery orange and red fall dress, her yellow heels clicking on the floor. She's smiling as she stares down at something. "Rhett." She clicks her tongue, curling her finger. "Come look at these, they're absolutely darling."

"What is it?" he mutters, not making a single move to get up from his spot.

"That, um, Golders boy, I think he found himself a girlfriend. They look perfect together, don't they? I mean, it's obvious they're madly in love."

Rhett snickers under his breath. "Did Goldilocks finally rein him in? I'd feel sorry for him."

"No, no, I don't think so," Mrs. Kingman murmurs, seeming deaf to Rhett's snarky comment. "She doesn't look very much like Mrs. Golders told me she looked like. She called me on the phone and told me that Zay found the most darling girlfriend for himself."

"On his own?" Rhett rolls his eyes. "What a surprise."

His mother scoffs. "If you'd just come look at the picture, I could call her back and tell her we all loved them." She drops a pink and blue envelope into his lap. She nicks his ear, and he whines, "Hey!"

"Such a rebellious boy, you are. You haven't even packed your things and we're leaving in an hour," she sighs as she clicks out the room. "If you keep that attitude, you'll never get a nice girl like Zay."

"Doubtful," he growls. Rhett picks up the envelope and squints to read the writing. "'The Happy New Couple?' Oh, I gotta see this..." He opens the flap, and pictures spill onto the table.

Rhett randomly picks up a picture. It shows Zay kneeling down in front of some girl with blue eyes and brown hair...

His eyes widen to emerald flames.

"Motheeeeer!"

❧

"Morning, sleepy heads...." A lulling voice sings. I hug my pillow tighter.

"What time is it...?" I mumble.

"Too early," my pillow says.

I open one eye to peer at my mysterious talking pillow. Zay's sleepy face greets my gaze, his hair looking even messier than yesterday. I don't know why, but I just love when his hair is like this. His nose is bumped up against mine. We both smile.

"Morning, darling," Zay coos. He shifts closer to me until he can wrap an arm around my waist. He pecks me on the lips.

Wait, if that wasn't Zay...

Zay comes to the same conclusion. He sits up with a start. My worst fears are confirmed when he groans, "Mother!" I whine and I crawl deep under the sheets.

"Sorry, sorry!" Mrs. Golders squeals. "Just wanted to remind you to have breakfast, and we'll leave for shopping in a few clicks."

"Mother, please!"

"I'm going, I'm going!"

Zay doesn't relax until the door clicks closed. He attempts to pull the comforters off me. I resist. "Tired," I mumble. He isn't satisfied. Zay starts twisting and grabbing at the comforter. His hand grazes my stomach, and I let a giggle slip out. I can feel the smirk growing on his face.

"Oh, little Rosie is ticklish, is she? I wonder how I can take advantage of that...."

Zay pounces immediately, and starts to tickle me through the sheets. I shriek in laughter, twisting and thrashing to escape his hands. The covers gradually slip off the bed, but Zay doesn't stop. I shiver and shudder and squirm all at the same time, laughing so hard my stomach aches. "C-Cold!"

"That's what you get for trying to escape me!" Zay cackles evilly.

"S-Stop!"

You know that moment when you're so desperate that you blurt the first thing that comes to your head?

"S-Stop tickling m-me and I'll m-marry you!"

Zay stops short, eyes wide and cheeks red. We both gulp, hard. I forget how stormy his gray eyes are. It makes me want to brush the bangs away from them so I can stare into them.

"W-Wait, wha?" he sputters.

You know that moment when you get really embarrassed so you do the first thing that comes to your head?

I grab Zay by the collar of his shirt and I desperately crush my lips to him, as if hoping it'll subside my embarrassment. To no avail; when I pull away, my cheeks glow red.

"I love you," I blurt. For some reason, Zay laughs. "Well I knew that." His eyes shine merrily. "What I didn't know is that you wanted to be my wife so badly." My heart skips a few beats as he brushes my hair behind my ear for me. "We should go shopping for wedding dresses, huh?"

"I'll just wear the one I did when you proposed."

Zay cracks a small, crooked grin that makes me all fluttery and twisted in my chest. "You know, sometimes I forget how madly in love with you I am."

Whenever Zay kisses me, it fills me with the weirdest, strangest feeling. The longer he kisses me, the more the feeling grows. By the time he pulls all way, I'm about ready to burst. I shudder in this weird fluttery, tingly sensation, before I collapse back into the bed.

Everything happened in the blink of an eye. All I can hope is that it doesn't do it again.

"You wanna go back to sleep?"

"Mmh."

"Wanna sleep in my arms?"

"I wouldn't be able to sleep any other way."

❧

"You look cute in an apron."

"Is it almost ready?"

"Do you wanna have kids?"

I elbow him in his side. His laughter echoes throughout the kitchen as I stir at the pan. The kitchen is filled with smell of roasting peppers and runny yolks. Zay groans and slams his fists on the counter. "Ugh, it smells so good! Is it almost done?"

I nod. Zay smiles brightly at me. "Aw, my Rosie-bunny is back."

I cock my head to the side questioningly.

"Because bunnies are silent, but adorable. And I love them," Zay coos. He skips around the kitchen while I stir around the pan, soothed by the simple sound of his footfalls and the sizzle of homemade cooking. The last two days felt like a dream, where I was someone completely different. I guess when the realization hit me again that I, plain and freaky Rozalia Rosalinda, am actually in love with Zay, the coolest guy in all of Sunshine, I sorta hit my mute button again.

Zay watches me with intense interest while I stack up Belgian waffles. Or, rather, the frills on my apron. He's absolutely enamored with the piece of fabric. I stare at him pointedly. Zay blushes. "Sorry, I just can't stop imagining this exact scene after we're married." He sighs blissfully. "In the kitchen, watching you cook. The perfect life."

I fan my cheeks, pretending I'm hot from the steam. The thought that I'm actually part of Zay's perfect life is absolutely...crazy. I turn my attention to emptying the contents of the pan into a bowl so he doesn't see my face. It's eerily silent for a long time. A really long time.

"Rosie?"

I turn towards Zay, and his face is serious all of a sudden. His eyes are worried, and the concern tightens his expression. "I-I know this is weird to say right now, but...are you alright? Not just, like, right now, but in general. Are you really okay?"

I slowly nod my head, but I can't tear my eyes away from the strange sorrowful concern in his expression. It's like he's unconsciously reaching out to me. It makes me feel weird and tight inside. His stormy eyes are full of rain clouds that may burst at any moment for all I know.

"I don't know..." he says quietly. "Ever since I met you, there's just something there in your eyes. It's really dark and sad. It scares me." Zay slowly takes my cheeks in his hands, pulling my head up so I look up into his eyes. His thumb gently strokes my hair behind my ear.

"At first, I thought it was really beautiful. But, it's there all the time now," he says. "It makes you look a bit tired. A little stressed. Really sad sometimes. It worries me." His eyes are as soft as clouds. "Tell me, please?"

How does he manage to look through me like glass? I shake my head, smiling a bit to show him I'm okay. Zay only looks even more concerned. He looks close to tears. All because he's worried abut me

In the blink of an eye, I give in to him. I lean forward into his chest and I sniffle a few times. "It's...heavy, I guess." I chuckle offhandedly. "You seem to get all my secrets from who knows where. I've always known that it weighs me down. I didn't know you could really see it. It doesn't even have anything to do with you. And yet, being with you makes me think about it even more." Zay gently strokes my back, urging me to continue. I comply. "Before I met you, all I had was Drago, Phoenix, and mom and dad. But I don't think any of them really want me in their family like I do." Zay pauses his stroking. But I'm too deep in to stop.

"I can feel them separating me from the rest of them. No matter how hard I try, there's always a barrier between me and them. They're the family. I'm just the mistake they had to have...y-you know?" The tears leak out before I can even attempt to stop them. They soak in Zay's shirt, tainting the faint scent of his softener. "I can't help what I am. So now that I have you, I-I'm even more afraid of losing you, too." Letting the words and tears spill out make me feel like I'm floating on air. When I look back up, Zay grins. "Just try and get rid of me, Rozalia." He kisses my forehead. "I’m stuck to you like glue.”

I silently turn back to the counter. I pick up two of the plates and bowls, balancing them on each hand and carrying them to the table. Zay picks up the last two bowls and helps me set the table. Once again, the air is filled with silent tension.

"Sorry for bumming everything out before breakfast," Zay mutters as he sets out forks and cups. "I was just worried."

I reach up on my tippy toes, and I kiss him on the cheek to let him know everything's alright. Zay's eyes soften so nicely. "I like it when you make me feel better without saying a word." He leans on the table and huffs up his chestnut bangs. "Stuff's been moving fast," he grimaces sheepishly. "I sorta realized that. Like I got knocked out of this weird trance, you know?"

I nod, knowing exactly how he feels.

Zay reaches out a trembling hand, and carefully threads his fingers through mine. It comforts me in the strangest way. It's not super intimate, but not distant either.

"I love you," he says. "But for now, let's be a little like best friends, and a little less like we're married. I am still sixteen."

I flame a warm red. Zay narrows his eyes worriedly. "What? What's wrong?"

"I forgot that you're two years older than me," I mumble bashfully. Zay flinches, like the same realization surprised him just as much. He flames red, and his hand squeezes me a little tighter.

"Wow. The weirdness level just doubled." Zay whistles.

I'm suddenly starkly aware of the two inch difference between us. Maybe even three. I can't decide whether to stare up at him and acknowledge the fact that he's way older than me, or just stare at the ground and pretend this never happened.

"Can I kiss you?" Zay suddenly blurts. "I-I mean, for some reason, I think I'll feel less like a creep if I acknowledge the fact that this is okay. Right?"

"Mm-hmm, sure," I hum.

Zay wraps an arm around my waist, I lift myself up on the tips of my toes, and he fits his lips to mine. When he pulls away, I'm still on the tips of my toes.

"When do you turn fifteen?" he asks softly.

I find myself gulping a little harder than usual. I glance up into his eyes, and I let the tension melt away. "A week, I think."

Zay raises an eyebrow. It's even funnier up close. A giggle slips out my lips. "You think?"

"Well, it's hard to remember," I mutter. "We never celebrate it. We don't have any money to have a party, let alone friends to invite, and we have leftover birthday cake practically every day."

"Well," Zay says cheerily, taking my hands in his, "I'll have my parents host a big party for you now that we're apparently engaged in their mind. Instead of a cake, let's have a...giant cookie or something. And you can wear a pretty blue and white dress, and you'll get tons of presents. Does that sound good?"

I abruptly push him back, grinning. "Save that for after you eat some waffles, mister. As much as I love talking with you endlessly, I happen to love eating."

"At least I learned something new about you."

I pull out a plate with a stack of three waffles. "I happen to know the perfect recipe for waffles," I sing.

"Work your magic, wifey," Zay teases.

"Something sweet...." I sing a little as I work. I drizzle some chocolate syrup and some thick, golden honey onto the surface of the waffles. It drips down viscously down the sides of the golden waffles. "A bit of fruit..." I sprinkle some sliced strawberries, raspberries and blackberries, and blueberries on top. "Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow," I sing happily. I sift soft white flurries of sugar, covering the fruit and syrup with a thin white layer of snow.

"The weather outside is frightful..." Zay starts to quietly sing the soft to himself as I make my own stack of waffles. "But the fire is so delightful..." He stops singing to smile at me. "We should go to North Star someday. It'd be nice to warm up by a fire and play in the snow for a change, huh?"

I daydream as the snow flits down, letting my mind drift. Playing in the snow with Zay, then warming up with some chocolate strawberries by the fire under a blanket...

"I think Waffletown is experiencing a blizzard, Rozzie."

Zay's voice breaks me out of my trance. My waffles are coated in a hills and blankets of sugary snow and frost. It's beautiful. But also will probably give me cavities.

"What were you thinking about?" Zay asks as I scrape sugar off my waffles.

"You."

❧

"Can this day get any worse?" Zay groans. The sun is a bit more blistering than usual, I admit, but the shops are surprisingly quieter. We stroll through the dust roads, passing by shops. I'm full on fruit and mincemeat pies, I've got a nice new blue day dress on, and my boyfriend is carrying all my bags. It's the perfect day.

"I can't believe I went inside a women's lingerie store with you," he groans. Zay pretend to gag, and he stares woefully at the bags hanging on his arms. "There are some things you never forget."

Zay drops the bags into the trunk of the carriage. I smile at the horses as they neigh, and I give a little wave as I walk inside the next store. Zay's mother is busy inside the nail and hair salon while Zay goes on a spree with me. We stop by the carriage after almost every store to drop off a new batch of bags. I'd be completely lying if I said it was horrible that every time I saw something I liked, I got to take it home rather than imagine myself in it.

Zay sighs quietly under his breath when he realizes it's a regular store. I have a little Ellia squeal when I see the racks and racks of dresses.

"Help me choose some, Zay! Come on!"

Zay rolls his eyes. "You're cute when you're excited, bunny, but I'm sort of dying from exhaustion here."

I use my cutest pout, and I stare up through my batting eyelashes. "After this, we can share a milkshake."

"Or I could get a Popsicle for myself while you buy another trunk load of dresses," Zay suggests.

I wrap my arms around him, deepening my puppy dog pout. "But I'm gonna be wearing most of these dresses for you, Zee," I whine. "I wanna look good for you."

Zay looks me over. "So I get to choose what you wear from now on?" His interest suddenly looks peaked. I nod slowly. Zay strides over to a rack, and pulls out a dress almost immediately.

"T-That?" I squeak.

Zay's grin suddenly looks very, very scary. "Let's get to a change room, dear."

❧

I try to pat down the bouncy white skirt. It's pudgier than Cinderella's. It's knee-high, and it's pleasant white with a few fur details here and there. It's normal.

Until you see the ears that come with it.

I step out of the dressing curtain. Zay grins wider than I've ever seen.

"There's my cute little bunny."

I pull down the ears, attempting to hide my face. "Let's just check out..."

"Aw, come on Honey-Bunny, let's do more dress shopping."

❧

I admit, I got some cute dresses, but there are some that I can only hope I will never wear.

Zay happily skips beside me, despite my best efforts to stay ahead of him. "Well, that was fun! Where are we going next?"

I shrug. "I don't have any more stores to go to. Or any more gold for that matter...."

Zay's bright grin doesn't waver. "Well, I do. Let's go!"

Zay pulls me down the streets until we arrive in front of a tall store. The inside gleams with things all too familiar.

"A jewelry store?" I unconsciously clutch at the crystal chain of my own necklace. "Why here?"

Zay grabs my wrist and pulls me inside. The light of Sunshine streams through the windows and refracts through the endless counters of jewels, filling the store with refracted reflections and endless amounts of colors.

He pushes past all the counters and to a desk. The lady at the desk is covered with jewels from head to toe. Her lips have glitter so shiny that it may be from ground-up diamonds. Her dress is made from jewels. Her neck is hidden behind an endless jewel choker measuring five inches across. Her hair is jeweled. Each of her fingers has a ring, and each diamond sharp fingernail is bejeweled. If I could see her shoes, I'd bet they'd be like Cinderella's, only diamond.

"Order for Zaychary Golders, please," he says politely. The woman silently pulls out a velvet box from under the counter and hands it to him.

"Zay," I warn, staring at the box. "Remember what we talked about this morning?"

"It's not a wedding ring, I swear," he promises. Zay pulls out a sapphire band with dark gray silver details curling and wrapping all around. They remind me of my and his eyes. He slips it onto my hand and kisses it.

"The promise ring from before was meant to be from my parents for Goldie," he says. "This one is from me."

He pulls a chain out from under his tunic, revealing a dark gray silver band with sapphire detail looped onto it. "Matching, too. That way you won't worry that I'll ever leave you."

I fall asleep to the rhythm of the shaking of the carriage, and the echoes of Zay's words in my heart.

❧

I swing my legs off the tree, peering through the window of the Sword Academy. Boys thirteen through seventeen usually take this class if they don't have a particular profession like sewing, art, baking, or something like that in their family already. More wealthy, un-working class boys usually take this class if they don't have an interest in entrepreneurial business.

Through the small window, I have the perfect view of Zay sparring. He seems to be having fun. And he's pretty good. His blade slices across the other boy's armor shield, and he whoops for joy. All the boys turn, probably to their teacher, then they all start running towards the lockers. Zay turns to me and winks. He can't see me because it's a two-sided window, and yet I feel like he's staring right into my eyes.

'Come in ten,' he mouths.

I swing my legs eagerly, filled to burst with excitement. Zay said it's sort of a right of passage for the boys in the Sword Academy to have their girlfriends visit them after their session. I guess somehow, this arbitrary myth makes us official. I don't know if I should swoon or pass out. I can't do either considering I'm on a tree branch, so I can only swing my legs as hard as I can and smooth down my hair, trying to make sure I look alright.

I dressed up in my nicest silk white top, and I strayed from the blue for a sunset designed skirt. I've got the choker from Mrs. Golders, Zay's ring, and the nicest pair of sapphire blue heels I could find. The ribbons took forever to wrap, but it makes me feel like a princess when I twirl. I added an extra petticoat to make my knee-skirt a little bouncier, I had my nails done, and I even got my hair done in the most wonderful curled half-tail. I feel like fanciest girl in Sunshine. Even Zay hasn't seen me yet.

After counting to six hundred seconds, and adding thirty more to be sure I wasn't counting too fast, I jump down from the tree, clutching the blue lunch box close to my chest. I straighten my back, and I run for the entrance of the academy.

I stand there, twiddling my fingers idly for what seems like several eternities, while nothing happens. I can feel the excitement building up in my gut, building up like carbonation.

The door suddenly slams open, and thralls of boys start to step out into the sunshine. Once a space clears, I run through. I can feel a few stares on my back, and I giggle gleefully. My heels thump onto the worn old wood, and I run my hand along the scratchy stone walls. There's hallways branching off every which way from a single long hallway, going to different classes and workshops and armories.

Boys of all ages come out from the spiderweb hallways, smelling like sharpening stone and dressed in the same tunic and boots, just in various colors. I keep my eyes focused ahead of me, but I can feel their stares on me as I pass by. I focus on hugging the lunchbox close while I walk down the hallway, hoping I'm not blushing an embarrassing blotchy red.

I stop by a particular doorway, with an 'X' carved into the wood of the doorway, just as Zay said. I walk slowly through, evening my breaths carefully.

A dozen boys mill around, putting away their swords and pulling out paper lunch bags. I squeeze the box a little tighter. I take a step forward, and my heel clomps particularly loud on a creaky piece of floorboard. All talking immediately ceases, and attention focuses on me. Each wandering stare gives me a prickly feeling on my skin. I rub my toe into the wood floor bashfully.

"Bunny!"

Before I can even scold him for calling me such an embarrassing pet name, Zay runs toward me, picks me up, and spins me around. Once he puts me down, he pulls me into a kiss.

"Wow, Rose, you're a princess," he says in awe.

Another boy, probably about my age, suddenly appears over Zay's shoulder. "Zay, how'd you get such a cute girl?"

"She's hot!" another boys says, appearing over Zay's other shoulder. "Mind if I steal her?"

Zay roll his eyes and elbows him in the side. "Shut up, Leroy."

Leroy grins elfishly. "What? We're all thinkin' it."

Zay pushes the two boys off him, then leans close to me. "So, princess Rosie, why exactly have you graced me with your royal presence?" he says teasingly.

I hold out the sapphire lunchbox, fiercely blushing red. "I-I made you lunch. I h-hope you don't m-mind."

All the boys in the room make various groans and gasps of awe. "You got a girlfriend that makes you lunch?"

"No fair!"

"I wish my girlfriend could cook."

"Let me have some!"

"Trade with me!"

Zay pulls over to bench a corner with no one in it, only for us to be surrounded. I try to pretend they're not there, but it's really difficult when they're all giggling and leaning in. Zay told me it'd be really quick, too. I should've known he was lying.

"Whaddya make me?" Zay says excitedly.

I open my mouth, but no sound comes out. I try to swallow, and my throat only tightens. Oh, God, I feel lightheaded. Each pair of eyes staring at me feels like a dozen, like spider eyes watching from their web on all sides.

"Zay," I mumble. "I don't feel good..."

❧

When I come to, Zay is hugging me. Or throttling me. I can't really tell.

"I can't believe you just did that! Rosie! Wake up already!"

"Stop shouting, my head hurts," I murmur into his chest. He still smells a bit like steel and leather. It's oddly soothing.

Zay groans in relief. He quiets his voice to a whisper. "Rosie. You know what you just did?" He's hugging me so tight I can barely breathe. But I decide to ignore it this time. I shrug weakly into his arms.

"Well, first you fainted. So I carried you out for some fresh air. Next thing I know, you disappeared in a flash of light, and I went out of my mind looking for you until I found you here," he says. He's still hugging me tight to his chest. To be honest, I...I kinda like it.

"Where's here?" I mumble. I curl up a little tighter in his lap. Zay chuckles. "Bunny, geez, I gotta stop hugging you, you're getting spoiled."

I don't respond. Zay sighs. "We're not too far from the sword's academy. Just a small pond and a tree." He reaches over to the ground and picks something up. "Lots of stones here. Wonder why."

I gasp involuntarily. Somehow, Zay doesn't hear. "I can't imagine why you would teleport here. Did you just go to a random place?" He huffs. "Well, at least it wasn't too far."

I nod, burying my face in his chest in an attempt to hide my blushing face. If Zay ever finds out why I picked this place, he'll go insane.

All of a sudden, the thought of my looming fifteenth birthday appears in my mind like a shadow I can't escape. Something deep inside me prickles. I hug my the sapphire on my ring finger a little tighter, and the thought disappears. I know I can count on Zay. Every time I feel this ring, I feel so happy I could cry. I know I don't have to worry about anything anymore.

"Love you," I say with a smile. Zay smiles down at me, with that pleasant crinkle at the corner of his silvery eyes, and he says, "I love you, too." He leans down and kisses my forehead. And now, everything is absolutely alright.

"Thanks for the lunch by the way."

For some reason, I burst into a fit of giggles. Zay always manages to do that to me somehow. I push his chest, hard, and I laugh, "Shut up! You ruined a perfectly good moment."

Zay laughs, too. Somehow, his laugh is impossibly infectious. No matter how hard I try to stop, Zay barks out another laugh, and I start giggling all over again.

"Fine," he wheezes through laughter. "Let's have another moment, then."

He suddenly presses his lips to mine. We both start giggling all over again.

❧

❧

❧

"Rozalia. Rosie."

When I open my eyes, I expect him to let me go. And yet, when I do, Rhett clings to me tighter than ever. His lips are parted, as if he's frozen on a word on the tip of his tongue that he can't quite say. I'm still draped over his lap with my red, swollen eyes and tear-stained cheeks, just like all the damsels in distress he can't stand. But his arms keep a firm grip on my waist and refuse to let me go.

"Rosie," he whispers again, the only word that seems to be able to come out of his mouth. His eyes are...desperate. Filled with a weird, unsure, desperate type of longing. The opal on my neck glitters unsurely.

Is he...okay?

"I was gonna take you home," he whispers, his voice crackly and breathy. "But...I just can't." He suddenly grips my wrist, tight and fast. "Please don't go. I might die if I'm alone right now."

He buries his face in my shoulder. He isn't...crying, is he? I stiffen and watch as my jewels do some sort of synchronized flash dance. They're not quite sure to make of the moment, and frankly...I'm not either. For the first time, I'm not sure if Rhett's really okay.

"You saw Zay...right?"

I don't say anything. But my silence only works to confirm his words.

"I knew it," he hisses. "God, Rosie, I don't think you even understand...I'm crazy, even for a Taurus. I'm possessive, and I've never been more aware of it until now." He suddenly lifts his head and stares square into my eyes, his green eyes blazing with that famous Taurus passion. I clam up instantly.

"I can't even stand the thought of you being with that Golder boy for a minute. His lips being where mine were supposed to be—and only mine." His cheeks flame red. But his eyes soften. "I know I must sound insane," he says quietly. "But I'm going to lay this out clearly for you, right here, right now—

"I don't know how I feel about you, okay? All I know is that I want to be the only one that can kiss you, not that Orion guy, and especially not that wannabe-blondie. And the fact that I'm probably your fourth or fifth kiss is infuriating."

"I...I want you to be all mine."

The ground hits my back, hard. It knocks all the wind out of me and doesn't give me enough time to get a gulp of breath. The starry sky is blocked out by the image of Rhett, hovering over me with blazing green eyes. They seem to flicker with a dangerous fire. He's becoming consumed by the passion in his star sign. Even the bull and horns, encased in glittering crystal around his neck, seem to be engulfed in glittering flames.

"If I can't be your first, then fine," he says roughly, in a tone I've never heard him use before. He stares down at all my gems, flickering and flashing on my neck. Smug satisfaction fills his expression. "I'll be your fourth. And your fifth and sixth and seventh and so on, until no other guy compares to me."

He grabs my wrists and pins me down to the soft, lush green grass, on a ground that seems much pricklier and harder than it was just before. The surroundings are silent, except for the gentle chirp of a cricket, the rustle of the grass and the trees, the lap of the water in the breeze—and Rhett's lips placing kiss after kiss on mine.

Each kiss is unlike any other, true to his word. They're blazing with anger, passion, and possessiveness. By the tenth one, I can feel the bruises starting to form. Some are brief. Others are long and heated, crushing against mine until I can hardly take it anymore.

"Mine," he whispers as he pulls away, hoarse and raspy. His eyes seem foggy, as if he's not quite present anymore. "You're all mine..."

His fingers hover, poised over the buttons of my bodice. I can only stare up at him, helpless to do anything besides my first instinct.

"Oh my god. Are you crying?"

Rhett suddenly rolls off of me, groaning and coughing. "I'm sorry," he suddenly squeaks. "I'm so sorry. I didn't think you would actually, like—well, cry! Maybe it was the stars or the season or something, but something just...took over me. I swear, I never planned to take it this far!"

He stares at me, his cheeks flaming, resting back on his hands and staring out over the expanse of the Sunshine region. Glittering even under the stars and the overly bright moon. He rubs his nose awkwardly. "I'm sorry," he mutters, "although I can't say I regretted it all that much."

That's Rhett. Painfully truthful, even at the worst times.

"Stop crying," he whines. "Otherwise I'll feel even worse about this. I was so...unprincely." He pauses and waits tepidly until I've wiped away all my tears. I make sure to scoot and maintain at least a foot of distance between us. Rhett scoots over and quickly closes the distance.

"I'll confess," Rhett whispers. I stare at him with wide eyes. He rolls his eyes. "Not like that, love. You're not that cute." He wrinkles his nose in a scowl and stares at the ground. "I...liked it. I liked throwing all reason to the wind and letting out all that passion in me. Even if it was...unorthodox. Sorry. Again. Even though I'm really not. Mostly."