The Prince's Wish

Chapter Twenty Two

TWENTY TWO

There were times when I really wanted to see Timmy Jones. There were times when seeing his dorky, curly hair that fell over his circular glasses that sat on his button nose that stood between his oceans of freckles was tolerable. There were times I absolutely loved to see him.

Like before a calculus exam I forgot to study for, when I knew he was going to help me do some last-minute, cram study.

Like after a class that I had accidentally zoned out during and he was more than happy to help me during recess so that I'd understand.

There were also times I really didn't want to see Timmy Jones. When his unflattering hair disgustingly showed off his pestering eyes and glasses, the glasses that drooled too lowly above the bridge of his pig nose, the same nose that homed his monsterous mountains of freckles.

Like when I was busy talking to Joan and Clayton, and he would walk up and turn our golden trio into an awkward foursome.

Like when he would caress my arm by my locker as if I wanted anything to do with him.

And then there were times when seeing Timmy Jones made absolutely no sense whatsoever.

Times like now.

Times like now, when Timmy Jones' small-framed body stood creepily in the doorway, the dim light from outside caressing his almost-silhouette. His lips curved upward into a tyrannical smile. "I've been meaning to run into you, Adara."

The innocent boy from school who so often stood nervously by my locker was confident and cynical, standing before Danyl and me with the sourest of expressions. His forehead met his eyebrows at a crumpled line of beige and his eyes glowed powerfully through his rounded glasses.

"T-Timmy?" I asked, certain my sight was failing me.

I felt my head spin like ballet dancers during auditions, like the sand that washed through the ocean after a tidal wave, like....like I was going crazy.

I had to be. It was the only thing that made sense.

There was no way Timmy Jones was here, in Elsetime. Before Danyl, I had no idea it existed. Why would Timmy?

"Well obviously it's me," he said, "do I look like anybody else?"

Danyl stood before me, his arms venuous and bulging, his hands fisted and his eyes narrowed. "You have no business here," he bellowed, "go home."

Timmy shook his head, stepping toward us mockingly, the knife that sat in his balmy palm now flicking through his fingers with ease. "Oh, but I can't, you see," he laughed, "for I have a job to do."

"Let me guess, writing an article for the local newspaper?" I snickered, worsening the situation.

He narrowed his eyes at me threateningly. "You think you're so funny, Adara. You think you're so clever. Well guess what? You aren't!"

"What are you talking about, Timmy? Why are you doing this?"

Ignoring my comment, he focussed his attention on Danyl, bringing his weapon ever closer. "I had a run-in with your lovely girlfriend Elondra."

"She is not my girlfriend." Danyl said sturdily, his voice and eye contact breaking not once.

"Well, she was. Once." Timmy laughed. "But that's irrelevant, I'm sure Adara already knows. That was the plan, anyway. You know, to crush her heart and soul and finally let her know you don't love her."

I felt my stomach flip for the millionth time that day as I felt tears form on my eyelids again. I couldn't help being so emotional. "Shut up, Timmy, just tell me what you're doing here!"