Five Days

The bus comes to a stop just in front of the school’s entrance. It’s not allowed in without a pass. I’m not allowed in without a pass.

But, I get off anyway, the only person to do so. The bus speeds away, and I can see that everyone has their hands and noses plastered to the back window, waiting to see what I do.

Luckily, no one’s at the security station. It would have been hard to explain what I’m doing here, especially since I don’t talk…

The driveway/road leads to a roundabout right in front of a huge brick building. In the center of the roundabout is a fountain dedicated to Queen Danielle, King Yulin the First’s wife. I know Fannelian History inside and out, but, then, that’s why I’m here.

This über prestigious university is King Yulin the First’s baby, and it has been run by the royal family for almost sixty years now, currently in the hands of Prince Yulin the Third, who was looking for someone who could compete in the AC with him this year.

Now, the AC is a sort of contest, encompassing everything you could think of. There’s so much as a fitness portion, music, anything, really. Since this is the prince’s final year here, he was really hoping to win the AC, which starts out on school level, progresses to nationals, and from there to globals. He’s tried every year to win, but his partners always suck.

Which is why he had every high school student in the country take a certain test, and said that whoever scored the highest would be given free tuition in exchange for participating in the AC with him, and here I am.

As I stare up at the building, I feel for a second like I belong. It is a very short second.

“Who are you?” someone demands, standing a good yard or two away from me, probably worried that I’m going to contaminate her with some sort of disease I brought from whatever dump I came from. Ok, maybe I’m exaggerating, but no one here should expect me to look as perfect as they do. I don’t come from a family that has money pouring out of their pockets. I don’t come from a family that has amazing jobs and amazing lives. Technically, I don’t even come from a family…

I stare back at the immaculate girl for a second before dropping my gaze to the ground. I wish I looked that perfect. Anyway, I should probably get inside and get things sorted out before someone sics security on me.

“Damn it, Becca, where is she?” Someone is shouting at the secretary in the office right in front of the main entry. It startles me, making me rethink this whole thing. I could just walk back outside and wait for security to come remove me from the building. At least I could say I tried.

“The bus was due here just a minute ago, Richard. Calm down.”

“I can’t calm down, I-“

I step in the office and both adults turn to me. My face is instantly warm and I press my hands to my cheeks as I realize I’m probably the “she” they were speaking of.

“Addison Franklin?” the man asks sharply, eyes boring into me. He’s dressed in a suit, and the lady is as well, albeit with a short skirt on instead of pants. They make me feel underdressed and unprofessional, but I did the best I could today.

Nodding, I pull the envelope with all the papers and forms out of my pocket. They’ve been folded and unfolded so many times that they look aged. I can’t help the fact that I had to keep rereading it to make sure I was reading it right. It was a dream come true.

He snatches them from me, then motions for me to sit on a chair across from the desk. I catch sight of a sign on the desk.

Rebecca Stevenson, Secretary

So now I know who she is. Upon closer examination, I notice that the man looks a lot like Prince Yulin’s right hand man, Richard Fowler. And she did call him Richard.

If he is that Richard Fowler, then he’s also the math teacher here. About half the employees here work directly for the prince, and once he leaves this November, they’ll leave, too.

“You don’t speak?” He jerks his head away from the paperwork and stares at me, bewildered. I assume he got to the section on handicaps.

Shaking my head, I stare at the wooden floor. It’s really dark, so maybe it’s cherry? The walls are white and in pristine condition. Either someone really knows how to clean or the students here aren’t as childish as they were at my old school. At my old school there were constant food fights, people would draw on the walls, or run their hands along them as they walked. But these walls show no sign of any of the above.

“You realize that the AC requires speaking, right?”

You realize I didn’t choose myself, right?

I mean, come on. The prince looked at the scores. He read the forms, I’m sure. He knows I don’t speak. I’m here nonetheless.

“Okay, well…” Mr. Fowler trails off, setting the forms on the desk and putting his hands on his head, beginning to pace back and forth. “It’s not too late to send in for another kid, maybe send you back home.”

I bristle. No way am I going back home, ever. If something happened to where I was kicked out, I’d sooner run away than go back to my lousy excuse for a home.

“Just call him, Richard,” Ms. Stevenson sighs, putting the forms in order. My eyes flicker between the two of them, trying to figure out if she’s on my side or not. “I’m sure he knows of this.”

While they continue bickering, I take the opportunity to glance around the office. Behind the desk is a giant hall, with doors on either side. The doors bear plaques with names much like the sign does on Ms. Stevenson’s desk. The only one I can read from here, though, is Casper Hidan, Psychologist.

I’m torn away from my intense stare at the psychologist’s door by a loud slamming noise that makes me jump.

I quickly find out that it was Mr. Fowler, slamming his phone on the desk.

“He says he knew,” he mutters in a low voice. “He’s all, ‘She got one hundred percent, Fowler. That’s five points higher than anyone else.’”

Mr. Fowler takes a deep breath. I’m stunned to hear him mock the prince without hesitation. Maybe the prince doesn’t mind. Maybe he’s nice.

“He can’t even participate with a mute!” Mr. Fowler screams suddenly. I whimper even though he’s not talking to me.

“I’m sure the prince knows what he’s doing, Richard. Now calm down; you’re scaring the new girl.”

“Winning the AC has been his dream ever since he was little, Becca. You don’t understand what a big deal this is to him. If we don’t find him a replacement, and fast, we’ve failed him.”

“Did he say when he’ll be here to met her?” Ms. Stevenson asks, coming around the desk and handing me my papers back. She’s even gone so far as to refold them from me. I like her.

“Fifteen minutes. That’s when his class gets out.”

Prince Yulin teaches Fannelian History, which is amazing. I’m sure he makes it so interactive, too, what with having the inside scoop on everything.

“Did he say what to do in the meantime?”

“He said to show her around.”

“Then why aren’t you?”

Mr. Fowler sends a death look to Ms. Stevenson before motioning for me to follow him and walking away. I jump to my feet, tossing a faint smile at the secretary.

“Dorms are on the third floor,” the math teacher says flatly. “Students on the left and teachers on the right. The prince has a house on the back corner of the property, and you’ll be expected to stay away from it.”

I’m only half listening to him, lost in wonder at everything we pass. The windows are all wall-length, revealing the entire front yard of the school. I have yet to see the back. The walls out here are spotless as well, almost to the point you want to grab a marker and doodle all over. The entire school is so clean I feel like with every step I take I’m tracking dirt in and making someone’s job a hundred times harder.

“Classrooms are on the second floor. Lockers are as well…” I tune him out as someone walks by, giving me that same look of disgust that the girl outside did. It’s not lost on me that this boy moves to the other side of the wide hall in order to avoid me.

When we get to the second floor, something finally catches my eye in a different way than the sterilized walls and glass so clear it probably murders hundreds of birds in a month.

The lockers are all personalized, some painted, some wallpapered. It gives color to the otherwise neutral hallway, to the otherwise neutral building. Instantly I start planning out how to do mine.

I’m distracted by Mr. Fowler, who clears his throat in order to grab my attention.

“I asked if you’d like to go see outside.”

I nod quickly, embarrassed that I was caught off guard so early. He merely sighs as he takes off again, leaving me scrambling after him and thinking he hates me already.

Considering I’ve seen the front several times what with walking in and staring out the massive windows, we go straight to the back, which reveals everything a person could possibly want for the outdoors.

There are greenhouses, sports fields, pools, a track, and what looks like hiking trails way in the back, entering into the trees that seem to border the entire school. At the far left is the house Mr. Fowler mentioned, looking countryish with its white picket fence and simple landscaping. You’d think the groundskeeper lived in it, almost.

I don’t get the opportunity to look closely at anything, because as soon as we get back and I scan the surroundings, Mr. Fowler gets a phone call and then informs me that our time is up and i have to go meet the prince.

“First of all, don’t speak unless spoken to,” Mr. Fowler informs me as we walk briskly around the school. I think he’s worried about how I might act. He, fortunately, realizes how stupid what he just said is, and even chuckles slightly, opting to just shake his head for the rest of the walk and thus sparing me a lecture.

***

The first thing I notice about the new kid as she walks in is her smell. She reeks of alcohol, which is not a good sign. I don’t allow drinking on campus, and I especially do not need my partner for the AC to be drunk half the time.

She bows stiffly, as if she has no idea what she’s supposed to do in front of royalty. As soon as she rises, I realize just to what extent I’m going to have to go to make her acceptable as my partner.

For one thing, her shirt is discolored, off green and almost brown in some places. It has words that are mostly faded away, so they’re illegible, and it’s covered in holes and… cigarette burns?

If I was surprised at the drinking, this makes me lose it.

“You smoke?”

She seems confused by my question, cocking her head slightly and making her greasy matted hair fall partly over her mud brown eyes.

“Your shirt,” I say bluntly. “It’s full of burns.”

She pales for the quickest second, then shakes her head and smiles weakly. Her teeth are quite obviously her best feature, as they’re white and straight, the only clean part of her.

“You don’t smoke?” I raise my eyebrows ever so slightly, wondering how she got those burns, then.

She shakes her head again, wrapping her arms around herself as if to make me stop thinking about it.

So I do. I stop focusing so much on her shirt and glance at her pants, though her shirt is so long it reaches just above her knees. Her jeans are in considerably better shape; however, they’re too short, reaching slightly above her ankle. In an effort to fix the height issue, she’s sewed white lace on the bottom, but the lace is falling apart and needs to be replaced. Upon closer inspection I realize they’re children’s’ skinny jeans, and probably not even the largest size. She’s got to be underweight, and by a lot.

“I had assumed you’d be dressed up for your first day here,” I remark offhandedly, watching her turn a bright red.

Whatever. I extend my right hand to her despite the fact that she probably hasn’t washed her hands in weeks.

She’s startled by my gesture of friendliness, and when she finally takes it, I find she’s trembling.

Glad you know your place, girl, I think to myself, smirking.

“Addison Franklin, correct?”

She nods rapidly as I pull my hand away.

“I’m Prince Yulin Deboir the Third. Pleased to meet you.”

She giggles quietly, but loud enough for me, Fowler, and Stevenson to all jerk our heads to her, causing her to flush again.

“Do you think I’m joking?” I demand, indignant. The smile disappears from her face, she brushes the hair out of her face, and she stares at me with wide eyes.

Since I’m now slightly irritated with her, I decide to give her a hard time.

“We don’t allow drinking or smoking on campus. I also don’t allow students to laugh at me. And you must certainly never appear to me wearing those clothes again. Understand?” She nods eagerly, which irritates me further. She should be hanging her head in shame.

“Your forms are only half filled out,” I press harder, trying to get her to break. “So sit down and fill them out now.”

She looks more worried now than anything as she pulls them out of her pocket. They’re folded. Neatly, but that doesn’t stop me from being irritated that she didn’t have them in a folder. It doesn’t stop me from being irritated that she’d treat something with my signature on it with such disrespect.

She carefully smooths them flat, then bites on the end of a pen as she thinks. I turn to Fowler as she does so.

“What do you think about her so far?”

“I think this is a mistake and you should find a new partner as soon as possible. She doesn’t talk.”

“I am well aware of that,” I snap. “But she didn’t put that she was diagnosed as mute by a doctor, and she didn’t put that she was mute from birth. Obviously, then, she’s mute by choice. I can handle that. I meant her as a person, not as a walkthrough to the globals.”

“She doesn’t bathe, for one thing,” he whispers, not even looking at me. He’s staring at her, fixated.

“Maybe she doesn’t have money. Here, at least, she’ll have free bath products and whatnot, so she’ll come to learn it’s expected of her.”

“What if she doesn’t have money for clothes, either, though?” Now he glances at me, concern lining his face. As I stare back at him, I only now realize that she’s much shorter than the two of us, maybe about a foot shorter.

“Hey, Addison, stand up for a second,” I order. She does so without hesitation, but showing her confusion. “Fowler, stand next to her.” We look almost like we could be twins, so seeing him up against her is how I’d look, practically.

He does. I turn to Stevenson. “I’d say a foot, right?”

She nods, shrugging and probably wondering why the hell I care. “A little more.”

“Ok, go ahead and sit now.” I dismiss her and turn my attention back to Fowler.

“It’s almost as if her growth was stunted. She’s wearing a child’s pair of jeans.”

“Eh. You’re probably just used to all the girls here wearing heels.”

As if on cue, Jasmine, my girlfriend, walks in, her heels clattering loudly on the wooden floor. She glances at Addison and wrinkles her nose.

“Who’s the orphan, Yulin?”

Addison is obviously hurt by Jasmine’s careless remark, but she doesn’t turn her attention from the papers she makes no move to correct.

“Addison, this is Jasmine, my girlfriend. Jasmine, this is Addison, my partner for the AC.”

Of course, my girlfriend has to correct me. “You’re supposed to introduce me first, Yulin. The more important person’s name always goes first.”

“Prince Yulin,” I correct, ignoring her. “I don’t care who you are in relation to me -it’ll always be Prince Yulin.”

She, in turn, ignores me. “So, are we still on for dinner?”

“Yes, Jasmine,” I snap. “If we weren’t, I’d have called you or have Fowler call. Now, please, excuse me for an hour or so.”

By the time she leaves and I turn my attention back to the new girl, Addison is smiling widely, as if she found that exchange amusing.

Which makes me feel as if I’m being mocked, which is something I hate. I swear, if I ever caught someone mocking me…

“Paper,” I demand shortly, snatching it out of her hand when she holds it out. As I scan it, I come to the conclusion that she’s hiding something. Parts she previously left blank are now filled in with meaningless words such as I don’t know, or Can’t say. She does have the family income part filled out, with two numbers.

Before my parents waste it -$51,600

After my parents waste it -$3,600

Setting the paper down on the table beside her chair, I jab a finger at the dollar amounts. “A month?”

She shakes her head.

“A year?”

Now she nods, shrugging. That would explain the clothes and her hygiene. Something still seems off about this, though. Fannelia has the highest standard of living in the world. Did her family not get the message?

She’s also now filled out the section on her doctor’s contact information with another half-answer.

Don’t have a doctor.

Fine. If she wants to play these games, withhold information from her prince and now her headmaster, teacher, and partner, I’ll show her how to cheat.

“Fowler, for every item she hasn’t given me a satisfactory answer on, I want you to do some research on and find it yourself. If it’s easy to find and something she should know, she’ll be put on probation. Otherwise, we’ll drop it.”

Addison jumps at my words.

“Yes, sir,” Fowler replies, taking the paper. I take things a step further.

“I also want research done to make sure that everything she has put on there is accurate. Basically, why don’t you just find out all you can about our new mystery student?”

The new girl is pale by the time I finish speaking, which brings me a great amount of pleasure. I milk that for everything it’s worth.

“Is there something you’re hiding?” I ask, almost lightly. She is terrified of me right now, and I love it. I love power more than anything in the world. “Something I should know before someone else finds out first?”

It seems to take every muscle in her body to shrug her shoulders the smallest bit.

“Classes begin at six in the morning,” I say a minute later, deciding to leave her like this. “Meet me here at five. Don’t be late.”

Fowler walks back to my house with me. I like my house, for the most part, but sometimes it’s too quiet, being so far away from the school. I appreciate quiet if I’m seriously behind on my work, but otherwise I need at least some level of noise. Hearing people in the background helps me remember why I do what I do. I take care of the populous.

“I’m hungry,” I say as we enter, throwing my suit jacket on a white chair to the right of the door. The house is small, too. The living room is the first room you walk into, but it opens directly into the kitchen and then there’s only a small hall with four rooms all next to each other on opposite sides of the hall. On the right is the bathroom first, then my office. On the left is the guest room (which has never been used, so I have no idea why I even still have it). At the back is my bedroom. “Make me a sandwich.”

He goes straight to the kitchen and begins pulling the ingredients out. I usually go right to my office to work, but I’m so stressed out about this new girl that I collapse onto the couch, kicking my feet up over the arm of it and sighing loudly.

“Are you alright, sir?”

“No,” I laugh. “That girl is a joke. Do you think she can pass the AC with me?”

“No. I think she should be sent home immediately and we should notify the runner up about coming.” Fowler is very frank about what he thinks.

“And maybe I would consider that,” I muse, more to myself than to him, “but something about this doesn’t sit right with me. Once you’re done with that sandwich, I want you to start doing that research.”

As soon as he’s done, I take it into my office and begin my work. Approximately half an hour later, a knock on the door distracts me from the task of trying to find new teachers to replace the ones who are coming back to the palace with me in November, on my twentieth birthday.

“What?” I growl, slamming my laptop shut.

“Yulin, I found out a couple of things about the new girl you should know.” It’s Fowler, and he lets himself in as if he doesn’t need permission to enter.

“Prince Yulin.” God, no one listens to me around here.

He disregards me, same as everyone else does.

“Sir, I did the research. Everything she said lines up with what I’ve found, including the doctor and annual income portions. Her disability lines up. Everyone I spoke to says she spoke right up to kindergarten, and then just gradually stopped. They all said she was extremely bright, and her teachers even wanted to skip her through some grades. Her parents refused to allow her to.”

“Explain the doctor, then.” I spin my computer chair to face him, taking a sip of my water. “Can they not afford one? What are they wasting their money on?”

“Well, this demands the entire story. At least, what I’ve heard. Both her parents were laid off a year before she entered school. Once she entered kindergarten they both got jobs again. Her mother worked at a nightclub, and her father at a bar. They worked mostly at night and were gone all day, probably wasting the money at the very places they worked. Because they worked at night, Addison had a key, and she was expected to take care of herself, it seems. It was only a week after that all happened that her teacher noticed she didn’t speak anymore.

“In first grade, her teacher noticed that she didn’t like to be touched. She wouldn’t so much go to the school nurse for a skinned knee or a fever because the nurse would touch her. Her neighbors suspected that she was abused, but Addison refused to go with any of them to the police, reportedly writing a letter to all her neighbors saying that the idea was ludicrous. She said, and I quote, ‘How could they abuse me if they’re never around?’.”

“So she doesn’t go to the doctor because she doesn’t like to be touched?”

“The last time she went to the doctor was when she was twelve. Had a nasty gash

on her arm from a kitchen knife. Her father said she had been cutting watermelon and slipped.”

“So she only goes for emergencies?”

“Not even. It appears she missed one month of school in seventh grade with nothing but a call from her father saying she had pneumonia. There are no hospital records from anyone within one hundred miles for that.”

“This isn’t making much sense, Fowler,” I admit, setting my glass down.

“It does, if you ignore her letter. That was the only time she ever made an attempt to communicate. She was trying to keep from being discovered, probably. Ask her.”

I make a mental note to, then dismiss my right hand man and turn back to my work. Well, if she was abused, she’s out of it now, and there’s no rush to find anything out.