The Art of Unopulence

17 | mistake

Taking Dad's advice, I spend the rest of the evening in bed watching Justin Trudeau's beautiful face and admiring his peppery beard in a YouTube compilation of his speaking in French. Dad brings up some warm chicken soup that I suspect he made himself, and threatens to lock my bedroom door to make sure I don't sneak out. The soup is spicy and a little too watery to be a respectable bowl of soup, and basically a clear indication of who I inherited my culinary finesse from.

Dad's being such a protective mama bear that I can't help but gush over it behind his back. Given that his go to ways of showing any affection tend to include low-key threats and average cooking and reluctant permission to order scented candles and bath bombs which he despises. But it's enough to have me devising plans to get myself into life threatening situations again.

Which either makes me a rebellious daredevil or a total sucker for affection? Go figure.

Sleep abandons me earlier than usual the following morning, leaving me wide eyed in the darkness as I stare at my phone for the alarm to ring in two hours. I feel thoroughly unsettled, especially with Dad's vague suspicions regarding Nathaniel.

It was clearly obvious now that there were things he was hiding, even after multiple attempts to get him to open up. But I wanted to give him the benefit of doubt. For myself. Because I really liked the idea of having a real friend.

After about twenty minutes of lying in bed idly, I kick off my covers slowly and roll off the side of the bed. Turning off the alarm feature on my phone, I step into the bathroom to finish my morning chores. My limbs feel like they've been cut out of freshly set jelly.

Running my fingers though my hair, I stumble barefoot down the staircase. All the lights are switched off and the dead silence says that no one is awake.

I pad slowly towards Nathaniel's room feeling like a ball of curiosity and shot nerves as I inch closer. The more that I think of it, the more I realise that I don't know anything about Nathaniel or Volatis for that matter except the basics. If anything Nathaniel's entire personality seemed unreal- he is kind, intelligent, extraordinarily understanding and every little thing he does screams of perfection and practiced control. What if the Nathaniel I know is just a projected version of what he wants me to see? And the ruse of the protection program is simply a ruse for something else entirely? Something that the secret service isn't even aware of.

I have half a mind to go through his stuff right now, taking advantage of his unconsciousness after taking the antidote. Something he doesn't know won't cause him any harm. Besides, it would help to resolve any weird suspicions that Dad may have.

I press my lips together when I reach Nathaniel's closed bedroom door. Darkness spills out from underneath it and I cannot here anything unusual, everything appears to be perfectly normal. So far so good.

Leaning over the bannister of the staircase behind me, But silently listen for any sign that Dad is awake. He will certainly go nuts if he learns of me intruding into a boy's bedroom in the middle of the night, even though Nathaniel's unconscious in this particular situation.