I grimaced, my ears ringing with the steady sound of the rattling alarm clock. Pleading for five more minutes, I ignored it. Turning to my other side, I let my left arm suspend loosely in midair, with the rest of my body secured by the wooden railing of the bunk bed.
My alarm clock could go on forever, and it wouldn’t matter. I was perfectly fine as it clattered noisily beside me. Taking a deep breath and tugging in place one dreamy smile, I sniffed something weird. Could it be possible to smell something in your dreams? The fresh scent of evergreen trees was intoxicating.
“Can you stop smelling me?”
Startled by the voice, I forced my eyes open. The first thing I saw was nothing. Actually, the lights were off, so I really saw nothing aside from the complete darkness. In a moment, I felt something brushing my face. And then there was something hitting me lightly on the back of my head. Could that be an elbow?
Then I heard a familiar voice cuss.
“KN?” I said, sleepily. Reaching for my bedpost light, I disregarded whatever was rubbing the tip of my nose. I just needed some light around here to show me exactly what was going on. I could almost bet that I smelled KN’s shirt.
Evergreen.
When the light flickered open, I saw none other than KN. Of course, it was him. Any other person would be questionable. He was, as always, trying to find the rattling alarm clock. He was going to silence it for good. That was actually his mission in life.
Sliding below his stretched hand, I moved away from his alluring scent of evergreen. “I’m on it. Go back to sleep.”
“At four in the morning! What are you thinking?” he demanded.
The headboard and the right side rail were positioned against the corners of the room. Although KN was towering, his arm wasn’t long enough to reach my alarm clock, which was tied around the right bedpost of the headboard with a metal chain.
If he really wanted to silence the thing, he had to climb up my bed. Of course, I didn’t want that to happen. And gladly, it didn’t happen yet. But putting my alarm elsewhere could endanger its existence. In fact, I believed he might have had already obtained a chain cutter by now, only waiting for an opportunity to attack my poor alarm clock.
“Have to meet Mr. Crooge at six,” I said, as I pressed the switch behind the alarm.
The scrutinized look on his face softened when the alarm went off. Although it was still fierce, it was now within the normal KN range. Letting out a yawn, he asked, “Why do you have to meet him?”
“To help around the preparation,” I told him, tidying my bed. “He said that he needed help. I volunteered.”
“Ah, right,” he muttered before he collapsed on his bed. After another moment, he was off to dreamland once more. KN, I’d found out, was a light sleeper. The first ring of the alarm usually woke him up. The second, third, fourth, fifth, etc. annoyed him to the core.
I made my way down the bed, sliding my feet in my slippers. Walking around, I stretched my arms and yawned to my heart’s content.
Yesterday, when I saw Mr. Crooge, the art teacher, walking around and asking if someone could help him place the paintings early this morning for the White Canvas Art Exhibit, I somewhat approached him and said that I would love to.
With a sore body, I cheered myself on. Almost two days after that gruesome PE class, my body was still aching everywhere. I already patched it up with pain relievers, but it was still aching. I did not know how I’d survive more PE classes in this place. These PE classes were designed for boys, if not for professional athletes.
‘Where are you, Finn?’ Could I just scream that outside my window right now? Maybe if I’d do that, he would appear and respond, ‘Here I am, Fiona! Let’s go home!’
Finding Finn was getting insane now. And yes, I talked to Grayson yesterday. Thank you to whoever told him to answer my text messages. Grayson had promised to keep my secret, after making me swear I would leave this place as soon as I found my brother. He had stressed out that being here was unethical.
And I had also asked him if he was my brother. After all, he was my primary Finn suspect. But after ten minutes of cruel interrogation, he did not know how in the world did I ever formulate that suspicion. Well, he and Finn had the same facial features. I couldn’t help it.
More facts on Grayson:
He was an only son. I didn’t believe him at first, of course. But he let me talk to his mother on the phone.
No twins, obviously.
A nerd. Okay, I was kind of getting repetitive about this one. I mean, how handsome could he get with those thick-rimmed glasses and luscious bed hair? For a guy who didn’t seem to know the meaning of having a nice hairdo, Grayson was definitely good-looking.
So with all that said and confirmed, could we finally have a chance to be together now? Just kidding. He didn’t reciprocate the same feeling.
But a girl could dream.
I could just imagine Grayson and me walking around this old, lovely castle hand in hand. We’d be sitting on the balcony, telling each other about our day, about calculus and PE class, while looking at the setting sun.
Wait.
I shook my head, disappointed with myself. I was getting into that delusional thought again. Finding Finn would be my first and only priority right now. Dating Grayson would only be the second.
No, Fiona. No.
Okay, fine. As much as I wanted to kindle a fire with Grayson, I had to settle on staying as I was now. No love interest and all serious finding Finn mindset. But seriously, when did my mindset win over me?
But no, Fiona. No Grayson.
Checking that KN was still in deep slumber, particularly by placing my hand near his face and waving just above the tip of his nose, I grabbed a canvas from behind his bedpost. From my history of holding a paintbrush and smudging a white canvas, I had to admit that I had no talent for this one.
Absolute zero.
Painting was not my expertise. But I liked it. No, I loved it. However, some feelings were not meant to be mutual. Some people lacked coordination in their hands. Some minds weren’t creative. Sorry for falling into this category.
I tried. I looked at my artwork. It was blue for the sky effect. The circles were supposed to be the crab cakes, although it didn’t show. The plate itself was the only coherent thing. Okay, so maybe the plate was looking awkward as well. It was something in between a crooked dish and a UFO.
I let out a long and heavy sigh.
No one would believe that this was the work of the masked guy. He, like what everyone had said, was exemplarily talented.
I saw it for myself. When he had sketched me, his hands were unbelievable. If he’d turn that sketch into an oil painting, which I heard was the one he was so good at, I could only imagine how unbelievable it would be. I might appear as a goddess, even though I was far from being one in real life. After all, the praises given to him were astounding. He could make someone look even better than modern professional editing.
The theme for this year was ‘Delight’. My theme started with something “d” as well, only that it ended with “—er”. Disaster. No one would be delighted if they’d see this painting. No, this wasn’t a painting. This was what you call as a child’s doodle. And really, my lowest grades were in art classes.
Enough said.
Draping a white cloth over my painting, I thought if I could really sabotage masked guy’s entry with my own. Should I even try? Would anyone believe me if I would do so?
Nope, not one.
Sliding my arms inside my school uniform, still three-layered, I prepared my mind for the worst. There was only this slightest chance I wasn’t the only one he had drawn over the past few weeks. Maybe, after staring at my boring face, he’d decide to crumple the paper, where my face had been nicely sketched, and say that it was a crap. I would feel offended. But if it was for everyone else’s welfare, I’d let the masked guy wrinkle that said paper without complaining.
Hoping for whatever, I still picked up my painting. KN was still asleep at five in the morning, so he didn’t see any of my drama, which included staring at my painting, walking around the room while thinking, and that endless cycle of putting my painting to the trash and picking it up again.
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