Authors: Erica Cope
I watch him tug at the tie around his neck and clear his throat nervously before ringing the doorbell.
I rush to my bedroom door and hang back in the frame while my mom answers the door so I can spy a little longer.
“Good evening, Mrs. Carrington. Thank you for inviting me to dinner,” Jacoby says as he hands my mom the gift.
She hesitates and looks questioningly at the thin 8X8 square before saying, “It’s our pleasure, Jacoby. Come on in.”
Jacoby walks in but turns around to face my mom again, gesturing to the square in her hands.
“Mia said you don’t like to give people real flowers so I figured receiving them is probably not your thing either, but since I didn’t want to come empty handed I–,” he says nervously, “I thought maybe I’d try my hand at it.”
He shrugs in the offhanded way he usually does when he’s trying not to make a big deal out of something.
Realization lights up on my Mom’s face. She gingerly rips off a corner revealing the familiar edge of a canvas. She quickly removes the rest of the paper, gasping when the picture comes in full view. She studies it for a minute before looking back up at Jacoby with wide eyes and a beaming smile.
“I don’t know what to say,” she laughs. “You did this?”
“It was harder than it looks,” he admits, and I can practically hear his smirk.
My curiosity can’t take anymore so I bound down the stairs to see firsthand what Jacoby has painted.
“Hi! When did you get here?” I ask as I reach the bottom of the stairs. I don’t want them to know I was spying on them after all.
“Jacoby has painted me a masterpiece!” Mom can barely conceal the entertainment in her voice as she gazes at him affectionately. “Why didn’t you tell me he was so talented?”
He’s a brown-nosing genius. I’ll have to make him teach me everything he knows.
I take my first look at the painting and burst in to laughter. I don’t know what I was expecting but I definitely wasn’t expecting to see a replica of Van Gogh’s Sunflowers.
“Jacoby,” I scold playfully. “Is this a Paint-by-Number kit?”
“Maybe,” he answers with a sly little grin that makes me just want to kiss his face. And I probably would’ve if my mom wasn’t standing right next to me.
“Oh good grief,” I tease him. “Look I can still see the number 14.”
“You can not!” He grabs the painting out of my hands and checks to make sure then narrows his eyes at me.
“Oh Mia, leave the poor boy alone.” Mom takes the painting back from Jacoby. “I think it’s beautiful, Jacoby. I’ll hang it up in the hallway.”
“Yeah, right along with all of Maddie’s ‘masterpieces’,” I add. He mocks devastation and I nudge him with my elbow. “Come on, let’s go eat. I’m starving.”
“Good evening, Jacoby,” Paul greets him as we enter into the dining room that we rarely use. We normally eat in the breakfast nook in the kitchen but since that table only has four seats, we have to eat in the dining room tonight. Paul is still in his navy blue scrubs from the hospital, Maddie is wearing only a diaper since she still hasn’t quite mastered the art of not getting food all over herself. Mom is in an old white t-shirt and faded mom-jeans. Her hair is pulled back in a messy bun at the top of her head and, as usual, she is covered in paint.
I’m wearing my Hello Kitty jammies since it seemed silly to get dressed again after my shower.
And Jacoby is sitting here in suit and tie. Well, not the suit part.
“
Why are you so dressed up?”
I ask him in Mind-Speak as we sit down at the table.
“I wanted to impress your mom,”
he answers back.
“
My paint-splattered mess of a mom
?”
He looks around the table, at the attire of each member of my family before laughing out loud earning peculiar looks from my parents. “I guess the tie was overkill,” he says as an explanation for his sudden burst of laughter.
Paul joins in the laughter before saying, “Yeah, I guess we don’t really dress for company.”
“Oh,” Mom gasps running her fingers through her hair. “I guess I didn’t even think about it. I must look a mess.”
“You’re beautiful,” Paul assures her. “I like you just the way you are, a paint-covered-hair-matted mess.” He kisses her sweetly causing her to blush. I clear my throat, loud and obnoxiously mocking embarrassment when really, I think they are kind of cute.
I often find myself wondering what it would have been like growing up knowing Alberico as my father. But when I see my Mom and Paul together, I’m torn because while I suspect that Alberico is still in love with my mom and that makes me sad for him, I can’t deny that Mom and Paul are happy together since they still act like newlyweds after all this time.
Dinner goes much better than I anticipated. I think Jacoby might have finally won my Mom over. I wasn’t too worried about Paul since Paul’s the kind of guy who acts like you’re best friends after knowing you for ten minutes.
It’s after midnight now and I’m wide awake . After today my brain is having a hard time shutting off. I flip through the TV channels until finding a documentary on European architecture during the Renaissance in hopes that it will distract me.
It seems strange to me that the 16th century produced ornate, complicated, well-thought out, highly-decorated buildings that remain standing even after hundreds of years yet now in the 21st century, with all of the technology we have at our fingertips, we build simple and boring rectangular buildings that Mother Nature has no problem knocking to the ground.
“Psst, Lark, are you awake?”
“Why are you whispering in my head
?” I giggle.
“It’s not like anyone else can hear you.”
“Okay Sassy, so you’re still up?” Jacoby materializes in my room.
“Shh! You do have to whisper in here!”
He laughs softly to himself. “Wanna go somewhere with me?”
“Where?”
“It’s a surprise.” His eyes are smoldering. “Please say yes?”
How can I resist?
“Okay, are jammies appropriate attire?”
“Always. C’mon,” he says with a smile.
He holds my hand and a second later we are on top of the Manhattan Hill. The real name is Bluemont Hill, but I’ve lived here my whole life and I’ve only ever called it the Manhattan Hill because, well, it’s a hill with the word Manhattan spelled out in large white letters. I guess the real name doesn’t really matter since if you just say the Manhattan Hill to anyone here, they know exactly what you are talking about.
We walk down the narrow path leading to the giant letter H and stare out into the town. The city lights glitter in the distance like millions of lightening bugs.
“What are we doing here?”
“I have a surprise for you.”
He leads me down a little further to a more secluded area hidden by the trees. I see the flickering of candle lights as we approach and eye him curiously, but he just smirks like a giddy schoolgirl--in a completely masculine way of course.
We get closer and I notice a red and white checkered picnic blanket with a bottle of sparkling grape juice and two champagne flutes as well as a tray of strawberries, chocolate, cheese and crackers. Beside the picnic is the word “PROM?” spelled out in twinkling white tea lights.
The smile that was already forming on my lips at the sight of the little picnic widens when I realize just how romantic my boyfriend is.
“Yes!” I answer the unspoken question as I throw my arms around his neck.
And for a moment, it’s easy to forget that I'm a part of this strange mythological world full of magic and darkness and good and evil. Tonight I'm not the Light Elf princess, I’m just a perfectly normal teenage girl who has just been asked to go to the prom.
Chapter Nine
M
y phone buzzes and I jerk upright, disoriented. I stayed up way too late last night reading a new book. It feels like I just fell asleep. I clumsily reach for the phone on my night stand and open up a new text message.
Jacoby: R U awake?
I check the time—3AM. I type out a quick reply but have to clear it and start over a couple of times since my sleepy fingers keep missing the right key and I don’t like to misspell words even in text message. I don’t even like to use the normal text slang, preferring to type out the entire word.
Me: No. What’s up?
Jacoby: Meet me in the courtyard
Me: Okay... when?
Jacoby: Now
I decide to brush my teeth and attempt to brush through the tangled mess of my usually perfectly straight hair. That’ll teach me to fall asleep with wet hair. After working at the theater last night, I didn’t want to go to bed with the stale butter-smelling greasiness that was the state of my hair after cleaning the popcorn machine.
I quickly give it up as lost cause and just pull it to the side in a braid. I’m going to need some coffee.
Since I’m in the habit of looking the part of a princess whenever I’m in Álfheimr, I decide I’ll transport myself to my room at the castle and change into something a little more princess-y than my current Hello Kitty pajamas. I toss my phone in my purse and throw the strap around my chest.
I stand in the middle of the room, rubbing my thumb carefully over the amulet that I never take off. Alberico gave it to me to help me transport back and forth easily between Álfheimr and the human world. I close my eyes and prepare for the tummy-flipping sensation that always accompanies the trip. It’s not nearly as overwhelming as it once was.
These days transporting comes naturally, almost like breathing. One minute I’m engulfed in the warm bright light and the next moment the familiar honey-suckle and cinnamon scent wafts up my nose. I toss my purse on to one of the pale gold Queen Ann chairs in my room and take a look around. A small sigh escapes my lips. I really love it here.
My room is located in one of the castle towers. I know it sounds all very Rapunzel-like, but unlike Rapunzel, nobody has ever locked me up here. And even if they tried, I probably wouldn’t complain too much. The canopy bed is lush and as soft as downy-feathers. A crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling with real candles, not the artificial lighting ones—this one’s the real deal. Probably my favorite part of my room is the view from my balcony. The castle gardens are one of my favorite areas in Álfheimr.
I enter my massive closet and search through the hundreds of different dresses, finally deciding on a floor length teal dress with cap sleeves and a scooped neckline lined in lace. The waist in cinched together with a thin belt boasting a pearl embellishment.
It takes a little longer to find a pair of suitable shoes. Whoever’s in charge of stocking my closet seems to think princesses should only wear four-inch heels. Newsflash: this princess prefers flip-flops. After some digging I finally find some silver ballet flats that I slip on before making my way down the hall to the stairs that will lead me down to the main floor of the castle.
I pass a couple of servants on the way who bow or curtsy politely to me and I smile in return. Nobody says much to me but at least they are no longer constantly whispering about me whenever I walk by. Most of the Light Elves seem pretty comfortable with me now, but they seem more reluctant to accept Jacoby as one of their own even after learning that he’s Isobel’s nephew.
All of the Light Elves love Isobel. How could they not? She’s the kindest person I’ve ever met, human or elf alike. While I understood their initial distrust of him—I mean, he did live with the Dark Elves and aid in my kidnapping—I feel like he has proven himself to be on our side. But still the whispers follow him wherever he goes. He doesn’t act like it bothers him but I think deep down it does. I guarantee that even with the whispers and distrust he prefers it here over the Underworld where he was considered something like a prince. Here nobody forces him to harm and torture innocent people.
Plus, the food is way better.
I glance in the library as I pass and see Grey and Adele standing nearly nose to nose whispering to each other. It’s times like this that I wish elfish hearing had been one of the traits I inherited because I’m dying to know what Grey is telling her that’s making her cheeks turn that lovely shade of pink. Whatever they’re talking about is making him nervous because he keeps pushing his dark brown locks of hair behind his ear. I’ve only ever seen him that flustered on one other occasion—the night in the garden when he kissed me.
“Mia?” Freya says from behind me, causing me to jump out of my skin alerting and Grey and Adele of my presence.
“What are you doing here?” Adele asks as her cheeks redden even further. Grey looks everywhere but at me.
“Is the king expecting you at this hour?”
I look away from Adele and Grey and turn to answer Freya’s question.
“Um, no. Actually Jacoby just asked me to meet him so I’m here. Meeting Jacoby. I was just on my way down to the courtyard. That’s where I’m heading now. See ya,” I stammer nervously. I’m not sure why it should bother me, what I think I almost witnessed, but for some reason it does.. I wave awkwardly and walk away as fast as I can without making the situation even more awkward.