Awakening: 3

Again, something slammed against the door. Keya had run. On the other side of the door were men. Very angry men who had gone too far. Keya was on the Face of the Earth. It was called Ilecaradetier, an Indian outpost in the middle of the desert. It was true that arranged marriages were folly and stupid stereotypes made up by American novelists and television shows but it was also true, that rarely, when the mother and father of a princess were killed, in order to take the throne, men, in their lust for power, would try and kidnap her. Keya wasn't kidnapped. Instead, her aunt, Cecilla had tried to sell her off to a rich noble family but they weren't a rich noble family just a bunch of traders from the south, white men seeking gold, who wanted her for whatever reason. She was eleven, what could she give them, so she had run, away from the temple.

But, wow, did she remember that heaven. She remembered it now, when she was cold, hungry and scared. She remembered the large stone walkways and the myriad of purple blossoms and red chrysanthemums and blue lilies on the temples gardens. She could play in the garden forever, without the thought of a husband or a man in her life. Not if that man was going to be arranged like she was a piece of cake to be sold to the highest bidder.

The door began to crack as a soldier from the Common army kicked at it. Its wooden frame splintered inward, shedding light into the room of the shack. She had gotten inside through the roof but they hadn't noticed how. Well, she was small and agile, that was how. How else would she have escaped? She had slipped her hands through the handcuffs when they'd been busy talking about the princess and her royal estates and how well-to-do Steven, her would-be husband, would be once he got her back to his estates in England. Now, this Steven person had that look of a handsome man, with golden hair and gray eyes but there was something not quite right about him. He had a disconcerting smile and wore gray trousers and army boots with a rifle of some sort slung across his back. He also didn't wear a shirt for the occasion, probably to show off. What was there to show to Keya, she was eleven?

Finally, the hinges were torn off the door.

Men came in but only two. The rigid odor of their sweat trailed after them. These men wore all-green Army uniforms and caps with insignias on them. They yelled after one another, searching her out.

She saw them pulling back drapes and dumping aside barrels of whatever was in the shack. One of the barrels had spilled out a gray and gold powder that spread all across the room evenly. It touched her feet, just as she was wishing to be anywhere but there.

As the men approached, they saw her shoes beside a barrel and knew she was ducking behind it and they ran at her. One of them slipped on the powder and broke his neck. The other wasn't so stupid. He pushed his comrade aside, coldly and kicking the other barrel aside. He walked up to her, attempting to grab her hand but then Keya was gone. The soldier stumbled back, stunned. That was the last she saw of Ilecaradetier.

"Are you sure you want me to do this?"

"Yes," Billy said, with a sigh, "Justice must be had."

"But you're going to get in trouble for this, Billy."

"Don't worry, Simon," Billy said, from the booth in the ice-cream shop. They walked past the glass casings where kids watched the arranged of ice-creams flavors in display in buckets with small plates on the sides describing their flavors. These were pointless to Billy, since he liked Pistachio and since it was so rare that he got ice-cream that it didn't bear remember the names. If he had, he would probably have an even bigger weight problem and Billy just couldn't afford another problem. But, maybe, he could afford this one.

Simon stopped walking in front of Cal, who was still in line.

Cal had noticed them in the back and just pointed and laughed with his two buddies that were also in line. Lackeys. Billy just regarded them as standbys. The real problem was Cal. Well, Cal needed a lesson in something but Billy didn't know if it was the right thing to do. Suddenly, Simon got up. It was a good attraction to Cal because he liked to chase after geeks who panicked. Simon telling Cal that he knew Billy wouldn't work. There was already a dire animosity between them. Billy was a step or two away from Simon, and as Cal broke the line to chase after him, Billy pulled a chair from an empty table up in front of him, and Cal stumbled forward and hit the door with his elbow. He probably broke it from the way he screamed.

"I'm so sorry," Billy said, "I was just...I mean I meant to move the chair out of my way and my clumsy hands."

"You did this to me!" Cal screamed but there were enough witnesses that saw Billy moving the chair out of his way almost nonchalantly enough for his story to be true. Cal lay on the floor holding his elbow. At least, one bully was out for the count.

As Billy left the shop, he marveled at his victory. Yesterday he'd been giving an unfair task and an unfair punishment, yet today he had one good friend to count on, who gave him lunch every day and his most hated enemy was on the floor, seeking vengeance. It had been a good day.