The Other Side of Me

Chapter Four: The Other Side of Me

It has been a month since the encounter with Mr. Polic in the hallway. Mr. Stark has stopped coming to class but I still feel exposed, like someone stuck in a corner. I always wonder if seeing Mr. Polic in the hallway darting away was just a coincidence, or if he is the presence I've been feeling that follows me around school.

"I can't believe it's almost the Mid-Falling Solstice!" Elizabeth exclaims at the end of our last class, Level Six Advance Sciences.

"I can't believe you're so excited about it," I respond. "It's just a day of nothing."

"Exactly. They can't give us assignments for that day and we can stay home. And the teachers get a day off. Sounds like a win-win to me." She says with a sarcastic sigh. "I wish there was a solstice every day."

"But you know there can't be."

"Don't ruin it, Harper."

Laughing, we enter the main hallway full of chatty dark angels. The Hall of Art is filled with dark angels of every level. A group of little Level Threes run past us, giggling as the rush down the hallway. Besides them, there are only a few other groups, most of the groups are Minors and Majors. Seniors and Completers fly above in five story ceiling, weaving effortlessly through the gigantic golden chandeliers in the building. As I watch the little group scurry away, I slow my pace to look at all the paintings on the wall. The gold frames put the focus on the paintings against the blank white wall. Pictures of realistic tangled up trees cutting through gray skies and drawings of Dark Angels pas and present reflect off the polished floor. As I continue walking down the hallway. I come across a blank space on the wall. It seems new, since I don't recall a blank space on the wall since the beginning of the year.

"Why is there a blank space here?" I ask. Elizabeth stops and examines the wall.

"I don't know," she responds. "Maybe they took it down for cleaning."

"They never do that when we are in school."

"Maybe Her Majesty wanted one of her pictures back."

"She donated these pictures to the school."

"She might have wanted it back. It could be one of her favorites."

I shrug and we walk away. I continue to think about the space and trying to remember what painting was hung up in that area.

Think, think. What painting was there? I've looked at all of those pictures at least a hundred times. What's missing?

Then I remember.

The Girl. With the white rose.

The painting was of a little girl my age with long dark brown wavy hair looking to the sky. In her hands is a dewy white rose. Tears stream from her black eyes. The white open back dress show her wings as they glisten a metallic grey in the beaming moonlight. It looked so realistic that you could have gone up to it and touched the crystal clear lake she kneeled before. Legend says it was supposed to be a vision given to the Queen of what her daughter might have looked like. The Queen loved the painting, but hated what it represented. Rumor says that she casted the king away to the other side of the planet so that he could never bring a child to rule after her. But of course, they're rumors.

"I have to go meet some of the girls at the bus line," Elizabeth says, turning towards me. "Are you coming?"

"Not today. I have to discuss with Ms. Ashburn on the science assignment given to us."

She shrugs. "Okay. So I guess your mom is arriving later."

"Yes."

"Then I will see you tomorrow."