"Im 80% sure im allowed in here and 77% sure you're allowed in here" I follow Mandy to dad's desk. She's avoiding my gaze, which she always did when we were kids when she was up to something.
"That 3% doesn't mean anything if you're the one calculating it." Mandy spoke lowly, letting out an exasperated sigh.
"Hey, you better watch it. You're speaking to your future king y'know" Which in response got me an eye roll from my sister.
She's tapping her feet, mimicking what sound she wants my feet to do in the other direction. A rude habit she'll probably never get rid of.
"Why are you here Theo. Go do future king stuff."
"You're in my to-be office i have a right to be here" I lean against the desk tapping my feet slowly, matching her rhythm. "Besides how would father feel about you snooping in here?"
I ask with a smirk i know she hates. Yet i don't get a witty reply. I raise my eyebrows at her sour expression and crossed arms.
"Gosh! You're such a daddy's little boy aren't you?" Her fists slam against the table, with a clenched jaw. Im just glad it wasn't me she hit. "Fine go tell father how i was snooping in his stuff! Go!"
Oh. *oh*. *That's* what this is about? We're staring at eachother for a long enough awkward silence for me to bust out laughing, hunched over. Her nose crinkles up and i can see her mouth twisting into a smile.
"Seriously Mandy? Im not gonna snitch on ya, im just making sure you don't get yourself in trouble again" i clap my hands, still shaking with laughter, which does reward me with a punch in the shoulder. I deserve it. "I get it now. You're jealous."
"*What.*"
"You're jealous that father likes me more. That he chose me."
She jabs a finger at my chest walking towards me, as i take a few steps back.
"How self-centered could you be? Im not jealous. That you're favoured in this rotton palace and this rotten kingdom that i can't wait to get out of one day." Her lip is quivering as she's yelling at me. "And im certainly not jealous how you have to be married off to some rando and i get to choose!" Her voice cracks but she's to angry to notice. "So you can take your pride and ego coloured lenses that think everyone wants to be you and shove it right up your royale-" before she can finish cussing me out i grab her wrists that's still pointed at me and wipe her tears with the other hand. How long has she been feeling this way? "Let go of me!" She attempts to push out my arms but im a good 6 inches taller than her and the most athletic part of her life involves hitting me. I wrap my arms around her, i don't expect her to do the same. I don't even think she knows how to hug someone back. She hates affection and the last time we hugged we were forced because i stole her toy sword and broke it. "I didn't realize you felt that way. I mean i knew you were jealous of me but-"
"Let go of me Theo"
"You do realize you're lucky im letting your tears anywhere near this silk shirt right?"
Just as i feel her arms coming to wrap around me, we hear strangely familiar footsteps approaching fathers study. I can see the panic setting into Mandy's face. As the door opens and we see father. Who doesn't look all happy that his office looks like it was raided by racoons.
"The headlights of Bus 09 steered straight past my stop without slowing.
I stepped closer to the curb, thinking maybe the driver hadn’t seen me. Well, this sucks. It was raining and dark in a really crappy part of London, and all I wanted was to get home. Bus 09 never misses their stop. I've known the bus driver, Mr. Kremoy, for years now.
He has the best memory I've ever seen, which is surprising considering his gray hair, but it's okay, I'll Uber. He's probably just having an “off” day.
Off day turned into off days. Plural.
Bus 09 came down the street, its headlights cutting through the rain, and once again it drove straight past me.
And then it turned into “off” weeks, months. I haven't seen Mr. Kremoy for the past 3 months. 3 months Bus 09 has missed my stop."
"The headlights of Bus 09 steered straight past my stop without slowing.
I stepped closer to the curb, thinking maybe the driver hadn’t seen me. Well, this sucks. It was raining and dark in a really crappy part of London, and all I wanted was to get home. Bus 09 never misses their stop. I've known the bus driver, Mr. Kremoy, for years now.
He has the best memory I've ever seen, which is surprising considering his gray hair, but it's okay, I'll Uber. He's probably just having an “off” day.
Off day turned into off days. Plural.
Bus 09 came down the street, its headlights cutting through the rain, and once again it drove straight past me.
And then it turned into “off” weeks, months. I haven't seen Mr. Kremoy for the past 3 months. 3 months Bus 09 has missed my stop."
