Secret Royalty

Chapter Four

They were nice, my parents, or up until I stumbled across that now-familiar letter. "Emilia, we want you to know how much we love you. We have to leave, use this for your needs. Call Aunt Jane if you need anything," they had written sloppily, taping one of their debt cards next to it. They didn't even have time to write their names at the bottom. Three little sentences and I was living on my own.

"Emilia," whined impatient Pierce. I blinked my eyes realizing that I was at work, not the horrid morning.

I shook my head to force the thought out of my mind; I shouldn't have been thinking about it in the first place, I knew what could have happened to me. "Sorry," my lips twisted in frustration, looking around the damp basement for what I was recently doing.

Her combat boot tapped impatiently on the floor. "Are you going to put the damn book away yet?" she questioned, her black eyeliner making her look even more intimidating. Good thing customers never came down here.

My hands gripped the cookbook as I practically stomped to the shelf it belonged on, where I let my eyes do a long roll at her mood. I turned around, arms crossed over my chest, curls tickling my bare skin. "What's with the mood?" I asked in a snarky tone which matched her perfectly.

"Nothing," she huffed, her hands pushing her freshly dyed orange hair out of her face before pulling her black cardigan sleeves over her knuckles.

I sat on my stool placed by hers, "Is it Dean?"

Her eyes looked towards the creaky, old stairs, avoiding my own. "Yeah," her lips curled inwardly. I watched her, knowing she would eventually look over, which she did even though her face continued to look worried.

"Tell me when you feel like it," I chanted, dragging my messenger bag to where I was sitting. I knew Pierce wouldn't let me in on what was edging her on until she felt like it, so I let her have the upper hand. I got out my sketchbook, or known at work as my boredom saver, and flipped through for a clean page. Right before I found one, my eyes glanced at my sketch of an eye on the page before and studied it curiously.

Carefully inscribed were slightly altered lyrics to Guns N' Roses's "Sweet Child O' Mine".

"She's got eyes of the greenest fields

As if they were insane

I hate to look into those eyes

And see an ounce of pain

Her hair reminds me of a warm safe place

Where as a child I'd hide

And pray for the thunder

And the rain

To quietly pass me by"

A smile spread across my face. Jed had changed the lyrics to fit my drawing and me. It was incredible, even if he didn't do much to it. The fact that he thought the song went well with me and what I had quickly sketched amazed my mind in an odd way. It was also nice to know he had a good taste in music.

"What's got you smiling?" Pierce cooed, her eyes never leaving the cookbook entitled Thanksgiving for Vegans.

I forced my mouth to quit its smirk, but my futile attempt simply made it worse. "I was just thinking about this girl's poetry at Snaps. She called it "Thinks" and said the most jumble of crap I have ever heard. You would have loved it," I lied, hoping she would believe me. She always had been able to see through my lies, especially when I told her I ate my pink crayon because it was ugly in the first grade.

Her eyes ran the lines of the Vegan book as she spoke, "We should go there soon." She unfolded her legs and sat "crisscross-applesauce". I had always hated that saying when I was little. How do you cross applesauce?

I nodded, knowing she could still see me as she read; I constantly envied her for the special capability. "We should," I agreed.