.
you get what’s coming to you, you disgusting parasite.
My parents then walked hand-in-hand into the monstrous home, leaving me alone with Victoria.
She stared at me, meeting my gaze once more. Her expression was peculiar as though she was fighting to keep it pleasant. I wondered what it was about me that was so distasteful.
There was an awkward silence.
Had she been like the other girls I’d met before today I probably would’ve come right out and asked her what was wrong with me. But there was something about Victoria that was catching me off guard.
“Are you ok?” she asked.
Was I ok? What was that supposed to mean?
I settled on shrugging.
Shrugging was good. Very cool.
She giggled.
It sounded nice. Like wind chimes in a light breeze.
She then grabbed my hand and led me toward her house. At least I assumed it was her house. It seemed to fit, really: only a palace would befit a girl of such beauty.
I wondered where we were going, but then I realized that I didn’t care. As long as I was with her I didn’t care where we went. Besides, she was the one who had liberated me from my twisted parents.
“They aren’t your parents, Amadeus.”
I started.
It wasn’t so much the fact that she knew my name that’d taken me by surprise. I mean, if she knew who my parents were, she definitely knew who I was. No, what startled me was her knowing what I was thinking.
Had she been reading my mind?
“What do you mean?” I asked curiously.
Her pace slowed.
“I mean that you are not related to William and Catherine Angel in any sense of the word.”
More relieved than surprised, I was overjoyed that I could finally hate William and Catherine without feeling guilty.
“How do you know this?” I asked curiously
“Your—eyes.”
Her slight pause made me think she wanted to say something else.
“I know you’re wearing contacts, Amadeus.”
“You seem to know a lot.”
Actually, you seem to be psychic.
She laughed.
Was it odd for me to enjoy her laughter?
We were now at the front door of her palace. But we didn’t go inside. She took me around the side of her house and into the backyard—and what a backyard it was! There was a huge lawn that stretched from one side of the house to the other. The lawn was surrounded by a white-picket fence. But that wasn’t what caught my attention—no—what caught my attention was the beach on the other side of the fence.
I knew at once that this is where she wanted to go. I didn’t know how I knew—she hadn’t said anything—but I was sure that she wanted to head to the beach.
She let go of my hand and bounded gracefully toward the fence and lightly jumped over it. She then turned ’round and eyed me expectantly.
Now, common sense would have dictated that I simply walk over to the fence and either climb over it or just go through the gate—especially with the effect Victoria was having on me. But common sense was the last thing on my mind. And besides, the fence wasn’t that high.
I sprinted toward the fence and tried to hurdle it as Victoria had done. But instead of leaping over it gracefully, my shoe caught on the fence and I did a sort of face-plant right in the sand.
It hurt—a lot.
The sand was a bit rockier than I’d expected.
I didn’t want to cry but the tears came anyway. Tears always welled up in my eyes at even the slightest bit of pain.
Sometimes it would save me from the long hours of torture. But right now it just made me seem weak.
“Are you okay?” I heard her ask in her velvet voice.
Thankfully there was concern in her voice instead of humor.
“I’m fine,” I mumbled getting to my feet.
I could feel the sand still on my face and I hurried to brush it off, causing a few more tears to escape from my eyes. I heard the thuds as they hit the ground. Victoria had apparently heard them too because she bent down to pick them up.
Crap! How on earth was I supposed to explain that I cried tears of crystal?
But if she was surprised she didn’t show it. Her sour expression was back, however. I wondered how many teenage boys she had seen cry.
Without another word, she flung the crystals into the sea. Of course, they flew a good hundred yards before landing in the surf.
She looked at me again, her expression pleasant once more.
“Tears come easily for you, don’t they?”
“It’s a defense mechanism,” I said defensively, “You know—against the pain. The pain stops when the tears come.”
Why was I telling her this?
It wasn’t like she had any idea what I was talking about.
I buried my hands in my pockets and strolled out into the surf, not even bothering to take off my shoes.
Now, I’d been expecting both my shoes and socks to be instantly saturated with sea water, but I was startled to find that they were, somehow, completely dry.
Curious, I waded farther into the water, allowing it to rise to my knees. When the water was at my waist I plunged my head beneath the waves. The sensation was far beyond anything I had ever experienced. The ocean felt warm, as though I had just plunged into a hot bath. I felt the ribbon holding my hair fall off, and that took me by surprise. I felt my clothes again: they were completely dry! I felt my hair: it was acting as hair normally does underwater, floating this way and that. But it, too, was completely dry. Stranger still was the fact that my eyes were penetrating the murk and gloom of the water and I could see everything around me quite clearly. But my vision was lavender as though I was staring through a colored lens. Weirdest of all was the fact that I was breathing.
I was actually breathing underwater!
I was baffled. This phenomenon never occurred when I took showers or swam in pools.
I stood up again, letting my hair drape over my shoulders. My lavender vision vanished. It seemed my sight was only colored underwater.
I put my hands back in my pockets and walked back onto the shore completely lost in thought.
I hadn’t realized before how windy it was. The wind ruffled my hair as it blew out behind me.
Victoria stared at me with a distasteful expression as though she knew my real reasons for entering the ocean.
I strode past her not meeting her gaze wondering how I was going to explain my being completely dry.
I continued walking and didn’t stop until I reached the white-picket fence. I then sat down and brought my knees to my chest. Wrapping my arms around them, I stared out at the ocean.
Victoria sat down on my right side. It was nice having her so close. She leaned her shoulder against mine and began to absentmindedly play with my hands as though she wanted to see them.
Once again even though she hadn’t said anything I somehow knew what she wanted—almost like we shared some sort of weird bond.
Victoria was curious about my palm lines, and truth be told, I was curious about them too. I mean, it was more than a little strange to have palm lines that were knotted