When Life Gives You Wings

Potential

Leaving Ariel behind felt like ripping off a bandaid: she knew it was going to hurt but she had to do it before she lost her nerve. The red door closed behind her and the plain room greeted her. Very unlike the rest of the castle, it was bland with little to no color. The walls were covered in painted white bricks, sloppily done as if the room were usually used for something very versatile. Maybe it was simply meant for something like this. 

Around the room, a plastic white table lined the walls with a single one in the middle surrounded by two chairs. This table was smaller than the rest and a perfect square, perfect for two people who wanted to be close to one another. Sitting on one of those chairs was Dave. He was moving around different tools that sat on a pristine, stainless white cloth. It was so clean that Henri wondered if he would actually even be using the needles and scalpels at all. Everyone who had come out hadn’t had a single scratch on them but each of them stared at their hands in wonder as they went off to the celebratory feast. Just thinking of the possibility of food made her mouth water and stomach growl. They had been fed throughout initiation but it was little more than granola and protein bars and shakes to give them the best chance. Perhaps less people would have passed had they given them normal food. 

“Henrietta, please sit down.” The voice that had interrupted her thoughts turned out to be Dave. Henri walked up to the chair and apologized to the man. Surely he was tired by now. The chair felt warm on her bottom, unnaturally warm as if the last person to sit here was on fire. Of course, it wasn’t as heated as it would normally be if someone had really been on fire, but it was still warmer nonetheless. She could feel it gradually cooling down beneath her even as Dave stared at her for a while. 

His eyes gazed into hers and she had the sneaking suspicion that the test had already started. At the same time, everyone else didn’t take nearly as much time. His dark eyes lingered on her navel where the butterfly pin sat and he mumbled, “Curiouser and curiouser. Truly curious, miss Morgan.” 

Swallowing, Henri replied “What is it?” She didn’t ask this to actually get an answer but simply to fill the awkward silence. His jumbled mumbles also made her feel like a science experiment or an animal as if she had no capability to speak or understand the language. 

Dave shook himself out of his stupor. “Let’s begin, shall we?” And his curious stares disappeared, replaced by the calm exterior he always put on display. “You are in a very interesting position, miss Morgan. Your father is the most common class there is and your mother… well, she isn’t as special as the system thinks you are.” The implication of her mother made her bristle and she tried not to let it show on her face. She must have failed. “I don’t mean to offend, simply to say that your abilities outshine even the king and neither of them should have been able to create something completely different in the terms of genetics. However, there is a theory that Class depends solely on the bearer. In other words, it doesn’t matter what your parents have. This is why we usually check children directly after they are born and decide whether or not they are worthy of becoming a guard, general, or part of the army that’s on standby.” Somehow, Henri knew that he wasn’t supposed to give out this information but she sat quietly and continued listening for fear that he would stop talking all together. Maybe she needed this. Maybe she wanted to know this for some future time. Or maybe, she thought, she would much rather hurry up and get this test over with so the anticipation wouldn’t completely consume her. She was a bundle of nerves trying her best to sit silent and still in the now-cool plastic chair. Of course, Dave seemed to notice this and grabbed one of the tools beside him.

Before she could stop herself, she blurted; “Will it hurt?”

Dave shook his head no, grabbing the scalpel. What the heck does he plan on doing with that? 

Her nerves only jumped when he gently caressed her wrist with one hand and Henri did not fight him. A soothing calm washed over her beginning from her wrist where he held her hand to the nerves in her spine. She felt her body relax and her breathing even out. 

I thought he was a snake, she thought. 

As if reading her unspoken thoughts, Dave said “Seduction can happen in many different forms. It’s not only s****l. It’s any desire at all. If you desire to be in a state of calm, I can make you. If I wanted, I could even make you feel pain.” 

His words weren’t supposed to be a threat but it felt like one nonetheless. Henri gulped down her trepidation while Dave gently caressed her wrist. Perhaps it wasn’t meant to be so sensual. Her heart was still calm despite her troubled mind. 

“Now, be still for me, Henrietta.” Nodding, she watched as he lowered the scalpel to her wrist. Holding her breath, Henri waited for the sting, but felt nothing as the sharp end smoothly sliced through her wrist. No blood came out as if her skin had suddenly formed a thousand layers. As she watched, Dave grabbed a pair of tweezers and dipped them into the cut in her wrist. Henri felt none of it. 

She guessed when he said it wouldn’t hurt, he really meant it. His other hand was still rubbing against her small wrist. If he just closed his hand, it would circle it completely and his fingers would reach all the way around to touch the other. 

Henri felt a small tug inside her as Dave pulled something smaller than the circumference of a strand of hair out. The pulling continued until her breath became short and ragged as if her body couldn’t get enough oxygen. Keeping the hand holding her on both her and the string seemed to come easily to him as he grabbed a water bottle beside him and set in on the table. She felt a bit nauseous at the amount of time she was sitting there, trying so hard to breath. Henri tapped the table to get his attention and when Dave looked back at her, his lashes lowered and he pushed the bottle her direction after opening it a little. Grabbing the small scissors, he reached over to the extremely thin strand coming from her body and all at the same time, he squeezed her wrist tightly, opening up her wound, and it yanked back into her body. 

Suddenly, her body warmed up from the inside, heating up as fast as lightning, and she felt herself go under. The flames consumed her and she fell off the chair, shaking and gasping for air. The oxygen had come back to her in large mouthfuls but it only fueled the fire as wood or dry leaves would. Or maybe a torch would be a better example. Dave ran over to her side, cane forgotten behind him. He grabbed the water bottle, reaching down for Henri, hissing when his hands met her skin, but still managed to drag her up, hold her, and force water down her throat.

As she swallowed until she lost her breath, the shaking began to slow and the sweat across her brow returned because it kept evaporating before then, Dave had finally poured the water on her head. She was barely aware that her wrist didn’t hurt anymore. The water on her evaporated slower and slower and Henri felt herself calming. Dave brushed his callused hand against her forehead, sending back that soothing calm. She wasn’t sure how long she had been in the room but it certainly felt longer than the amount of time it had usually taken for the other participants to get officially put into their class. 

Her dream came back to her again, the blue light chasing her and burning the butterfly onto her hand. She looked down, wondering if it could be true, but her hand was as bare as it was before. Dave had gotten off the floor and sat back in his chair, sliding all of his tools back to where they were and replacing the white cloth with another one. The only difference between the two was that one looked more wrinkled than the other. Perhaps appearance is everything here. 

Perhaps, her brain mocks her. Sitting up, she could hear her heart slow down back to its normal rate. Dave began staring at her and pointed to her head and body. She looked down and her clothes were disheveled and her hair dangled in front of her face. She quickly fixed them both and stood there. She wasn’t sure what to do now. Yes, she’d felt something shift inside her when he cut that string and she was definitely worried about what it meant but she no longer knew what to do. Should she leave? Should she sit back down? Was the test over? Her thoughts were running a mile per second even as Dave sat there, waiting or something. 

Finally, he sighed, and said, “You can leave, miss Morgan.” 

And that she did, glancing at his clean tools and cloth one last time, reminding herself that those same tools were used to slice into her arm. Reminded of that, too, she glanced at that area of her body and saw nothing there as if the skin had stitched itself together. In fact, perhaps the lightness she felt had something to do with how she combusted after the thread had been snapped. Actually, it would make a lot of sense. Realizing she was still in the room, Henri quickly let herself out, glancing at her wrist every so often for any trace at all of what had happened. There was still none even as she made it out the door, wished Ariel good luck, and headed toward the celebration. 

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Perhaps the reason behind everyone looking at their hands on the way out had been the same as what she was doing now. Perhaps she was wrong in assuming that they were looking at their hands instead of their wrists. What were the chances that she was looking at all of it wrong?

The trek to the large dining room took longer than she expected it to because they had never actually eaten a real meal there. In fact, they had been given the protein bars and drinks in their bedrooms right before initiation, never actually eating together. This would be a new experience for them all. 

Her feet didn’t scrape against the floor at all and she kept losing her balance which she found odd considering the floors were just recently waxed and looked shiny, smooth, and new. Perhaps it was that lightness she felt that made it easier to lift her feet, or maybe the thought that she had unlocked some sort of power in her. Looking down at her navel, the butterfly almost seemed to glow, its wings fluttering with every step she took toward a meal. Her stomach growled, echoing the thought. 

The double doors to the dining room beheld two guards, both, male, tall, and it. She wondered if these people had willingly applied for the job or been drafted. On occasion, the king doesn’t have enough volunteers that apply for the job so in order to get more men, he orders the draft. People aren’t exactly afraid of it because becoming a part of the king’s army offers them a very exceptional wage, especially compared to most jobs. Henri’s mother only made as much as she did because her work was fairly popular and her designs were exceptionally exquisite. 

It was too bad that the majority of the dresses gifted to Henri had been destroyed along with her other things. The only one left was the violet knee-length dress lined with silver she had worn the first day they had arrived. Fortunately, initiation hadn’t begun that day because she wanted her dress to still be as beautiful as before. That’s how she wanted to remember her mom, too. Just thinking of her mother home, all alone, sewing dresses, picking fabrics and measuring for those who asked for custom sizes sent her heart aching. She wondered what Amelia would say now that she was completely initiated and unlocked. 

The two guards nodded, either in greeting or to allow her in; Henri didn’t know and hadn’t thought to ask. The white doors covered in swirls of inky black opened to a room with two large black tables. The white doors covered in swirls of inky black opened to a room with two large black tables covered in bacon, eggs, potatoes, beets, salads, turkey, mayonnaise, and cheese sandwiches, and all her stomach could ever want. 

The walls were covered in shiny white paint with different colored paintings hanging on them. The walls did not match the door and, to her, the color combination would have been odd and far more bland if they had. The swirls of black along with the door would only make the colors clash and they wouldn’t pop as much. However, with the pictures of all different bright colors lining the walls, the spirals on the door don’t feel as ominous. Whoever designed this place had a fairly decent eye.

Lost in her thoughts, Henri did not notice as someone approached her, taking her arm in theirs. Looking up, she saw Sam beside her, and between them, their arms snugly held together. Everyone else had only glanced at Henri when she entered, eyeing the blue butterfly still pinned to her, but now their gazes were sharp, especially a few female ones and Henri prayed Sam Temple’s idiocy hadn’t just cost her a potential ally or friend. 

When tugging out of his grip failed, Henri only pulled him along. He still didn’t budge from where he stood and still held onto her. She really did not want to deal with this today. 

“Let me go, Sam.” She said through her teeth.

His answering sneer was enough to make her want to barf. “Now, that’s not very polite. We need to talk, Henri.” 

First the stunt he pulled earlier and now this? She was already starting to curse his existence as she replied, “I don’t want to talk to you.” She tried to yank out of his grip again, but he held firm. She still remembered the warning her mother had given her about being careful. He was a snake, after all. 

His eyes narrowed in on the pin attached to her navel, and her body went cold. So that was why he was even speaking to her. It had always been like this between them. He’d only show interest if it benefits him in some way at all. In elementary school, he only approached her when she had gum that he wanted. When she had the answers to a pop quiz, he was there. When he had a crush on a friend of hers, she was who he approached. It never mattered what she wanted, though she did try to talk to him on multiple occasions. By that point, though, she didn’t feel like trying and having to pretend to be his friend anymore. He was so preoccupied with his “popular” friends that he never noticed her attempts at friendship. So now here they were, still playing the same roles as if the competition changed nothing. Perhaps it didn’t and that may have been what unnerved Henri the most. 

To him, this was only a game. The icy glare Henrietta Morgan gave Sam Temple caused him to release her arm, and she strode toward one of the empty seats, ignoring the many stares that she felt from across the room. It seemed that they had been interested in what had happened after all. 

The food felt like ash coating her tongue as she ate and people began talking amongst themselves again whether they were discussing people they knew they would outrank, the training to come, boys and girls, the people they had left behind, or the food. None of it made Henri want to talk to them as none of it would actually bring her joy. She wondered how Ariel was doing. Would she really be a sun? 

As if her thoughts summoned her, the doors opened wide to let in the small brown-skinned girl with the sun still perfectly set on her navel. She looked slightly ruffled, but not startled as everyone took a look at her. Someone directly across from Henri, the only other sun of the 43 of them that had passed initiation, raised his hand, waving her over. Ariel smiled and Henri c****d her head. This boy was nearly the same shade as Ariel, only slightly darker. Perhaps they lived in the same neighborhood or maybe they were related. Ariel sat beside the boy and let out a shy smile. 

As if only just noticing Henri’s presence, Ariel jumped; “Oh, hi Henri.” The boy’s eyes widened in surprise at her sudden interest in the butterfly girl. 

A small smile from Henri; “Hello, Ariel. How was the unlocking?” Henri glanced pointedly at the sun still snugly pinned to her and Ariel’s smile faltered. 

“It was… warm.” She replied, looking away. It must have been just as uncomfortable for her, too, then. It was nice to know Henri wasn’t alone in that. 

The boy, whatever his name was, glanced between Henri and Ariel and Henri could see the question in his eyes: since when are they friends? The truth: they had only spoken for a few minutes and most of that time was spent in silence. Fortunately, silence isn’t necessarily a bad thing. 

Reaching out his hand toward Henri, the boy greeted; “I’m Marcus Salotto.” and with the ease and confidence of a gazelle, he added “and you are Henrietta Morgan, famous for being the only butterfly, keeper of the more infamous Sam Temple and complete mystery to us all.” His smile was charming, and Henri only seemed to catch part of what he said. 

“I am not Sam’s keeper.” Henri said, stuffing her mouth with food once again. Unfortunately, it still tasted disgustingly like ash. 

Marcus’s eyes narrowed, “But you two are close enough to be on a first name basis. Tell me, how exactly do you know Sam Temple, representative of our class, and current rank 1?”

Henri replied, glaring at her seemingly new tormentor. “That’s none of your business.” and she knew that the moment the words came out of her mouth, she shouldn’t have said that because that implies that there was business at all between them. It was made worse when Henri noticed a few people had stopped talking and had heard her statement. They’d probably assumed the same thing, too. 

Ariel cringed away from some of the stares, and Marcus was staring at someone at the end of the table, someone else who had been listening. And Sam’s blue eyes were across the room staring directly at Henri. He heard, too, then and she knew he would use this to his advantage somehow. She wasn’t sure how he would, only that it would happen. Or maybe she was just overthinking it, she considered. Maybe this was all in her head. 

Shaking her head, she let the thoughts drift away. Marcus had stopped glancing at Sam, Ariel had stopped shifting her weight, Sam paid attention to his friends again, and everything was how it was before Ariel walked in and before she gave Marcus a reason to interrogate the butterfly girl. She wondered then if they knew she wasn’t one of the ones on the list outside the castle. She wondered if anyone besides Sam knew that she is the daughter of King Argonaut and not some commoner. She wondered if, through all of this, her bloodline could actually change the course of the competition. How would these 42 people look at her if they realized a half-royal was in their presence and how much they would immediately despise her and accuse her of being a favorite. She knew it wouldn’t be pretty, knew it would only make her enemies. She also knew that if anyone were to see where her room was, it would give it away in a heartbeat.

To Henri’s despair she now had something she wanted to keep from everyone here and the only person who knew she was not like most of them was Sam, the one person she knew she could never trust. Of course, he didn’t know whether or not she wanted it kept secret, so she thanked the gods for that. Perhaps he thought everyone knew or didn’t care, but, alas, this was the palace, the castle, the home of the king and she knew that no such peace could rest in this place. Especially in a competition where everyone gets the chance at the crown.