Allice in Mysterious Land (ON HOLD)

13: Baffled

Once sunlight peeks from my eyelids, I roll on the rug, cringing at the aches that follow. Yesterday's events rush in like a broken dam, jerking my mind awake like cold water.

I look at the bed. Sandra's lying with an arm slithering down, her mouth like a small tunnel. The bruises on her chin and neck are as big as cheetah's spots, hidden under her ponytail.

I snap out of my reverie, kicking my blanket off and shuffle on my feet. I quickly avert my attention to Miro. Roy's game consoles are still scattered around his bed; he must sneak out to play while we were sleeping.

How many days has he skipped school? With the intensifying situation, his routine won't get back to normal soon. And after there's news about me everywhere, Daily Dose and my usual clients at the cleaning service must think twice before letting me return to the job.

My life has been entirely ruined. But who should I blame? Jorge Zaragoza, the Mantis shrimps, Lin-Irene, or the media?

"Allice?" Sandra calls softly, stretching her arms. She hisses, brushing her sore spots. To the eye, Lin-Irene only hurt her chin and neck. But who knows? "We're home, right?"

Who knows it only takes me three days to refer to this place as home?

🐾

The news of our rebellion group is widely reported across Dogson. While they hide our identities, photographs of Grand-Mad's chipped house and the beaten policemen are surfing like wildfire over the internet, according to Sandra.

"Anything new?" Whisking the egg with normal appliances, Sandra turns around to face me, stifling a yawn.

I shake my head, staring at Channel Four's Mr. Bald Eagle. "No. He's talking about the plan of moving Biliya's capital."

I zone out from the bland screen to the troubles in my head.

Roy and Sandra's parents must've suspected something's off. They didn't go home last night, after all. They might assume it has something to do with their relationship, but it's unlikely that it's their only suspicion.

Not to mention, Lin-Irene is hospitalized. As Dogson's Chief of Police, surely Mr. Lin-Orion's underlings have reported something to him.

"Sandra," I blurt out, staring at the bar table instead of her eyes. The barstool burns me, and I scoot farther. "Sorry, now you're deeply involved."

She chuckles, putting the bowl down. "Allice, ni hen bèn a. I told you—"

"Did you expect things will get this bad?" It's like having Roy's grenade on my chest, only dragging others to trouble with its persistent grapples. "The stakes are too heavy. If your parents know—"

"They must've figured it out already. Roy gave me a pep talk before we met Grand-Mad and the others." She sighs heavily. "We can't hide this forever. They won't accept it, scorning us for bad decisions. It won't last forever, though. And so is the chance against these scheming Highlifes. We can't let them get away with their plans."

My stomach churns. How far should she sacrifice herself before we reach our goal? And how long will it take to get her normal life back after this?

She drops the whisk into the bowl, sitting in front of me and lands a cool touch on my arm. Physical contacts never make me comfortable... until now. "Dogson already waits for too long, Allice. A new mayor might've been erected, but that's why we should move. We know how rotten he is—if only more people see through him."