The Placeholder

Chapter 15

I am skipping rope outside of the castle. My hair is in two ponytails, and looks like honey under the sun. I am happy to get away from my pressuring parents for a little while. To wedge some space in between their consistent nagging.

Ever since my twelfth birthday, mom has been on my case with twice the intensity. I get nick picked for wearing skirts that are too short (or too long), how straight my posture is, what I eat. On and on and on. It seems like I can never catch a break.

I managed to sneak out while Mother was busy. Someone will come find me soon. In the meantime, I'll at least have a few minutes to myself, and am outside for fresh air. 

I skip around the courtyard until my lungs threaten to burst. My cheeks are rosy and my knees are wobbly, but I feel more relaxed than I have in at least a month.

My much preferred, and much deserved, solitude is short lived, as predicted. Mother approaches me in a long, lavender gown that is too thick to be worn so deep into summer. Long sleeves to her wrists and the skirts nearly brush her ankles. I remind myself that my mother has been inside our air conditioned home all day, and probably had no idea how hot it is outside until now. Her forehead glistens with sweat.

Beside her is a lanky, teenage boy with a shaggy haircut. His dark eyes are guarded, yet eager. He knows who I am already, but I have never encountered him before. 

I stick my nose out, knowing it will make me look like a snob, and choosing not to care. There is no good reason why my mother would bring a stranger to me abruptly, and without warning. I will myself not to gag as I wonder if he is supposed to be a practice boyfriend. I heard my parents argue on finding me one a few weeks ago. My father wants me prepped on respecting my future husband, and had suggested I should use someone to train with. Mother wouldn't go for it. She thinks it is too risky, due to the off chance of me developing feelings for the boyfriend, and choosing him over my duty. Maybe she had changed her mind.

I nod to the boy. He isn't cowering behind my mother. He also doesn't appear to be shy. I won't know what to make of his demeanor until I know his purpose for being here.

"You're not from the castle." I squint my eyes. "So who are you?"

"That's not a proper way to greet someone, Rhoswen," My mother scolds. 

I ignore her, c*****g my head to the side curiously. 

My mother attempts to mold my interest into a more positive sculpture by smiling brilliantly. "Do you remember the promise I made you?" She asks.

My eyebrows arch. "What promise are you referring to?" There have been several in my lifetime that have yet to be fulfilled. 

'I promise everything will get easier soon', has been the most consistent so far. 

For a brief moment, my mother is uneasy.

"I told you I would find you a friend," She nudges gently. 

I snort. "That was three years ago."

"Needing a friend doesn't dissipate with age," She reminds me. "And the strongest friendships tend to be produced by a little force."

I doubt my mother came up with that quote on her own. I wonder what novel she had stolen it from.

My eyes flicker back to the boy. His clothes are plain, but clean. An orange bleach stain crouches on the left shoulder of his t-shirt. He radiates the aura of someone who is completely average. Nothing special about him. I doubt he is related to someone of high ranking or he would be better dressed. I guarantee his hair wouldn't be so unkempt either.

None of these minor details are necessarily important. As a matter of fact, I wish I could be as loose as this boy before me. However, his unremarkable appearance raises the question of why my mother would choose him specifically for me to socialize with? Why him of all people my age? When there are hundreds of teens with far more circumstantial similarities.

I cross my arms over my chest as I deliberate.

"A real friend…or a boy toy?"

The boy's facial expression finally changes to one of stunned confusion. 

My mother smooths her hair. The humidity is starting to create frizz, the same as mine. She glances down at the boy. 

Perhaps she had chosen a commoner because they are disposable. Surely, my parents wouldn't want me to taint our family's relationship with anyone of respectable reputation. Maybe the potential heartbreak of a boy devoid of relevant status is meaningless to my parents, so long as I have a harmless human to practice on. 

The most defining, questionable moral here stems from me, because I have higher standards of common decency set for myself. It disturbs me that I can't immediately confirm nor deny, not even to myself, whether commoners are equally as expendable in my eyes as they are my parents.

"I hadn't realized you overheard that conversation," my mother says, snapping me out of my thoughts. "In any case, your father and I have come to the mutual agreement that we will not use that course of action in your training."

I point at the boy, puzzled. "Then exactly why is he here?"

"I told you already, Rhoswen," My mother presses disapprovingly. "I have brought him to be your friend."

My lips curl in amusement. "Congratulations," I say to the boy. "Against your will, you are now befriended by a princess." I laugh bitterly. "The only perk is that I'm rich."

"Rhoswen, that is enough!"

The boy brushes the dark waves from his forehead. He steps forward.

"I'm not here against my will," he intervenes calmly. "I want to be here."

My mother tilts her head ever so slightly upward—triumphantly—as if to say- you see? I told you so...

"I'm trying to do something nice for you. Maybe say thank you, instead of being rude."

"Thank you for leaving me hanging for three years," I snap tartly. "I'm so grateful you came through last minute, when I no longer need anyone."

My mother hardens, her composure rigid.

"Very well, then." She reaches for the boy's shoulder. 

"Erick, I am leaving now. However this turns out is not in my control."

The boy, Erick, nods, unperturbed.

Neither of us speak until my mother is out of sight.

"You will need me one day," the boy states.

I unravel my skipping rope and resume my activity.

"No, I definitely won't."

"You will," he persists.

I pause to glare at him. I am floored by his misguided confidence. I want to ask him what it is that would make him believe I will ever need a random teenage boy for. 

I change my mind and retract. I will not waste my time arguing with a stranger, whom will surely disappear in a matter of weeks. Especially after exchanging jabs with my mother. It would be a pointless exercise.

"We will have to see for ourselves, now won't we?"

"We will," he agrees. After a short pause, he reaches his hand out to me. "Can I have a turn?"

After a brief hesitation, I surrender my rope.

I hadn't known Erick would one day become my guard. I also hadn't known he would eventually become my friend, my best friend.

My mother had gotten one thing right, even if she had borrowed her words from another person.

The strongest friendships tend to be produced by a little force.