Author's Note: Important Notice!!
You must read this!!! It is of dire importance! I know most of you hate this space where the author rambles on about their boring lives, and I know you want to get to the good stuff, but PLEASE READ THIS!!! I have to address some important issues about the book!! It’s not about my mediocre life, I promise!!!
1. I can hear you snarling in that unlovely way of yours. Yeah, you. You’re saying: “Hey. Never Been Kissed. Isn’t that a movie in which the very awesome Drew Barrymore starred in? Racingheart, you copyright violater! I can reporting you to the feds!!!”
Wait, wait, wait. Don’t report me. This book is NOTHING like the movie “Never Been Kissed”. I am not violating any copyright law. The plot is utterly different. Drew Barrymore, if you’re reading this (you’re not, but still), then I am telling you now, this book is utterly and completely different. Drastically opposite, in fact.
2. Warning: This book is different from my others. You may be thinking: “Racingheart! This is a depressing book about death! How dare you let my beautiful eyes look at this moving and well-written (I hope) piece of work! I’m off to read real literature, like Winnie the Pooh!”
No. I included so many depressing details in the first chapter, so you get a good idea of her background, etc. There are no depressing things after this chapter. Promise. Well, not much. There is some heartbreak, but of the sweet love variety.
3. Give this book a chance!
Nothing has happened in this chapter yet. Literally nothing. I’m no where into this plot. So read the next chapter when I have it up, and then judge.
Rant over. Let's begin.
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A kiss. What is it?
Well, obviously I know – Wikipedia can tell you for free. A kiss is the act of pressing one's lips against the lips of another person. It’s that simple. But doesn’t that seem so clinical, so detached? It doesn’t describe the butterflies in your stomach, the racing heart, the shaking fingers, the weak knees, the tingling lips, the sweaty palms, the hot breaths, the tongues tangling and twisting in sweet agony –
Sorry. I got kind of distracted there. My initial point was that you don’t need to kiss, to know what it feels like. Any romance book can describe that for you. Not for free, like Wikipedia, but for the amount the book costs. Unless you borrow from a library, or a friend. Or just steal one. But my point is, it can all be put into words, right?
This is the moment I say “wrong”, and launch into a long monologue about how kissing can’t be described, and how beautiful and melodic it is, and how awesome it is for tongues to tangle and twist in sweet agony…or some other poetic crap.
Well, how would I know, really? All my experience comes from reading romance books. All I’ve ever known is the boring, black on white description of kissing, written by some middle-aged female romance writer (who if you think about it, is actually kind of weird, to want to write about teenagers and their tongues tangling and twisting in sweet agony).
I know nothing about it.
After all…I’ve never been kissed.
***
13 Years, 364 Days, Thirteen Hours, Twenty-One Minutes and Thirty-Two Seconds Old
I ripped the book from Aaron’s hands, and glanced over the pink cover. He glared at me, trying to snatch it back. I laughed, pulling out my birthday party invitation, which he had been using as a bookmark.
“Are you kidding me?” I smirked. “Why are you reading this crap?” I put on a high-pitched voice, and started reading out loud, drawing the attention of some seniors in the library.
“It started this morning. The rapidly beating heart. At first, I ignored it. I ignored it, on my bus to school. I ignored it, when I was talking to my friends. I managed to ignore it, right until we entered the gates. Then my heart started beating too fast for me to be able to breath, think, move properly. I was rooted to that very spot. I knew something was going to happen. Something was going to come.”
My laughing eyes met with Aaron’s defensive ones.
“Then I looked up,” I continued, in the same sing-song voice. “And there he was. The boy of my dreams. The guy I knew I would love, for ever and ever, until death do us part.”
I raised an eyebrow up at him.
“Shut up, Ivy,” he snapped, blushing. “It’s…good.”
“I didn’t know you were into girly romance.”
“I’m not! It’s just that…you know…”
“You know its all crap, right?” I said, tossing Aaron back his book. He stumbled, but managed to catch it before it hit could hit the navy carpet of the school library. His brown eyes stared at me reproachfully. “It would never happen in real life.”
“You don’t…” he hesitated for a second. “…believe in love?”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course I don’t, Ari.”
He gave me a look.
“Oh, don’t do that, Aaron,” I sighed. “Don’t give me that, ‘Isn’t she so broken and decrepit look?’. Yes, I’m an orphan. Yes, I’m adopted. Yes, the only living relative I have left is my three-year-old sister. You think I don’t know that? I don’t need you to treat me so sensitively all the time. I’m still a person.”
He winced, as I stated my life. My past hurt him a lot more than it hurt me, to be honest. My parents are gone, and I’ve come to terms with that. Aaron still hadn’t, apparently.
“No,” he said, in a very small, defensive voice. “I just…thought you would believe in love. I mean, I’ve seen you reading romance books as well.”
“That’s because they were part of our reading list in English,” I said, exasperated. “Don’t tell me you believe in love?”
“Well…yeah, I do actually.”
“Whatever, naïve little Ronny. The world will kill you and eat you one day,” I sighed, holding my scales book to my chest, absentmindedly slotting the invitation to my birthday party for Aaron into it. “Look, I’ve got to go to piano. It’s in the stupid snob school, St. Helen Private Institute, again.”
“Go, then” he snapped, as I walked away.
“Bye,” I called, over my shoulder. “See you at my birthday party tomorrow!”
I heard him give a grunt as I walked away.
St. Helen was only a couple minutes away from our school – Javotte Public. They stood opposite each other, St. Helen tall and fat, grey-cheeked and stern, topped with glass and chrome and surrounded by lush green playing fields and other facilities for sports that I’d never heard of. Javotte was long and malnourished, over-decorated with tacky colors that did not entirely hide the crumbling reddish-brown bricks. St. Helen dwarfed Javotte completely. Whereas Javotte was a tiny school consisting of the world’s worst delinquents, St. Helen was a huge school, the size of Buckingham Palace complete with the decor, attended by the world’s richest socialites.
While St. Helen looked like it’d been designed by a famous, snotty, over-respected architect, Javotte looked like it’d been pieced together by a blind madman whose only vaguely architectural experience had been with badly coloured Lego bricks.
I didn’t like the way the receptionist gave one sweeping look over my cheap, itchy uniform and raised a sculpted eyebrow. It was just typical for St. Helen to hire a receptionist as snotty as the rest of the school.
I didn’t like the way the boys, sprawled over the cricket field, glanced at me, and then glanced away, as if I was unworthy of their precious attention. I just held my head high, and carried on walking, sticking out my chest so my Javotte logo was obvious.
I didn’t like the way the girls, with their “Oh my God”s, and their “Totally, like, no way”s, avoided me as I passed them in the corridor, like I had some kind of infectious disease. I didn’t care, really. Let them be like that. Let them think that everyone loved them, and they had the right to pass judgement on others. Let them live off their successful parents for the rest of their lives.
I climbed up the long, winding stairs of the Music tower, and settled into a chair in the waiting room. I put a hand over my heart, frowning. It was beating unusually fast. I shook my head, dismissing it. I was probably nothing. I glanced up at the clock on the wall, and it told me I was hopelessly early. That’d always been my problem. I was early for everything. My hands were completely empty, so I fidgeted restlessly, suddenly wishing I’d stolen Aaron’s stupid little love book, just so I would have something to do. I didn’t know why, but I had a kind of agitated feeling. Like I was waiting for something.
No. Like something was about to come.
Suddenly, the sounds of slow, hesitant notes broke through the poignant silence. I looked up from my hands. It was coming from Practice Room One. Someone was in there… Who?
I stood up, curious, wincing slightly at the more obviously out-of-tune notes. My heart beat faster, as I walked closer, faltering slightly. In the back of my mind, I was vaguely wondering why. Why was it beating so hard, so hard I could feel it against my ribcage? So hard that I couldn’t hear anything else? So hard, I could barely breathe?
Something was definitely going to come.
I was at the door now. It was slightly open. Carefully, I pressed the flat palm of my hand against the cold door. It opened, slowly, making a painfully loud creak. The scale broke off, midway.
My heart completely stopped for a moment, as it waited.
It was boy. An average boy, around fifteen, with caramel brown hair, and sharp green eyes. He wore a casual t-shirt that didn’t hide his muscled arms, and held himself in a stiff manner, his back perfectly straight, even on the backless piano stool. The piano was in the centre of the huge, wooden-floored hall, the light from the window falling over it, casting a long shadow.
He glared at me for a moment, reproachful.
“What do you want?” He had an English accent.
His eyes bored into mine aggressively. Then, his eyes grew wide.
“Were you…were you listening?”
His façade dropped for a second, and I suddenly saw the vulnerability in his green eyes. Then he was back to glaring again.
“Why aren’t you speaking?” he repeated, his British accent growing more pronounced. “Answer me!”
When I smiled, he blinked, looking taken aback.
“What are you smiling at?” he asked, suspiciously. I awarded him with another sunny smile. Without talking, I walked up to him, and sat next to him on the piano chair. The sunlight from the window next to him fell onto my skin, warming it.
Now that I was close, I realized I was too quick to judge him as “average”. A distinct aura of elegance surrounded him. He had high cheekbones, soft red lips, straight nose, and sharp eyes that were currently glaring at me. His face was arrogant, yes, but a sweet sort of naïve arrogance that put a smile to my lips.
“Do you want to play together?” I asked. My throat was a little dry. Why was I nervous?
He glared at me, and I thought he might refuse. Then he gave in, sighing, running a hand through his already messy hair. I took this as acceptance, and my fingers found their familiar place on the piano keys, trying to be calm. Then I started playing.
The familiar tune intertwined with the rhythm of my frantic heartbeat.
Suddenly, his face broke out into the heart-stopping smile, showing off his perfect white teeth.
“Twinkle, twinkle, little star,” he murmured, his green eyes dancing with life.
“Why don’t you try?” I suggested.
“Oh, I couldn’t,” he said, wide-eyed, looking at me in fear. “I’m awful.”
“It’s really easy. Look at my fingers, and memorize the pattern. Most of it is common sense. After all, you’ve heard this before, so you should know how to sounds. Do you want to try?”
I saw the hesitancy in his eyes, and with some unknown confidence, I smirked at him.
“Or are you too scared?”
For a second, I thought he would yell at me. I thought he would storm off, offended by my utter rudeness. Instead, he leaned forwards, his eyes turning a lighter shade of green in the sunshine. He returned my smirk, accepting the challenge.
“Let’s go.”
I slowed my tempo, so he could memorize the notes, letting him lead the way. But he learnt quickly, and soon he was playing the speed I had maintained before, and faster. I watched the unadulterated joy in his face, lit up by excitement. His fingers moved faster over the keys, so fast I could barely keep up with him.
“Are you sure you’ve never played this before?” I asked, my fingers dancing over the keys. I was going to slip. I knew I was.
He threw me a cute, boyish smirk, “Positive.”
I laughed, and pushed the tempo, making him work. His sweet laughter was more melodic than anything anyone could ever play. Our fingers flew over the piano in union, our unexplainable laughter occasionally rippling through the song. I finally managed to stop laughing, until he glanced at me again.
I collapsed, breaking off the song. I banged my head against the piano, my shoulders shaking.
“That was amazing,” he said, smiling. He looked so excited, it was cute. “I never knew piano was so exhilarating. The truth is, I was going to quit today. But you’ve made me change my mind.”
“Really?”
“Yep.” He shook the strand of hair from his eyes. “Definitely.”
I smiled. Somehow, that information made me smile. I stuck out my hand, feeling kind of formal.
“My name’s Ivy,” I said.
With a smirk still on his lips, he gently took my hand, and pressed his mouth against the skin.
“Enchanté.”
I felt my heart thud hard, as I stared into his laughing eyes. I suddenly forgot how to breathe. This side of him was so different from the moody child who had been stabbing the piano keys. This side was charming, this side was empowering, this side was…
Why was I letting him do this? I’d just met him.
“Well…” he said, weaving his fingers through mine. “Since you told me your name, I guess I should tell you mine. My name’s –”
“Ivy?” my piano teacher called, ruining the moment. She stared at us, sharing the piano stool. Immediately, I tugged my hand from his. “It’s time for your lesson.”
“Of course,” I said, a blush flooding my cheeks. I stood up, slightly leaning forwards, to let my blonde hair hide my face. I picked up the scale book again, and held it to my chest. I was suddenly too scared to meet his eyes.
“Well, uh, bye,” I muttered, awkwardly. I started to turn around.
“Wait,” he protested, grabbing my wrist. He pulled me back, so I was facing him again. His eyes were pleading. “Don’t go. When will I see you again?”
He wanted to see me again?
And small smile spread over lips.
“I’m having a birthday party tomorrow. Do you want to come?”
“Sure!” he said, eagerly. I smiled, and handed him Aaron’s invitation that was still slotted into my scales book. He took it, pressing his lips to my hand again.
“See you tomorrow?”
“Yeah.”
I pulled away from him, and walked away, brushing a strand of my hair behind my ear. This was going to be the start of something good, I could feel it. I smiled at my piano teacher, who was still at the door. She looked at me, with an unreadable expression. As soon as I was in arm’s reach, she suddenly grabbed my wrist, and pulled me into the next room.
She’s never grabbed my hand like that. She seemed angry as well. My teacher was a university student, and was really nice. She’d never been mad at me before.
“What do you think you are doing?” she hissed, pushing her fringe back adamantly as she stared into my eyes. “Do you know who that boy is? You can’t talk to him!”
I frowned. “What? Why?”
“His father owns this whole school,” she whispered, glancing at the wall, as if he could hear us. “He’s royalty here. Well, he’s royalty everywhere.”
“What?” I asked, not comprehending. “What are talking about? How is he royalty?”
Her eyes were wide. “You don’t know? You really don’t know?”
I shook my head, and a gust of air dragged through her lips.
“He’s a Prince, Ivy. Prince Caleb Fournier Laurent Rossi Solaire of Castonia.”
***
14 Years, 364 Days, Fifteen Hours, Thirty-Four Minutes and Five Seconds Old
I sat on the park bench outside Javotte, waiting. This bench was directly in the middle of St. Helen and Javotte, so I had the spectacularly contrasting view of the two schools’ students, as they left the school. The two streams of pupils never crossed. It was almost like there was a giant, incredibly powerful air vent that forced the students away from each other, into separate lines. One went East to the run-down, crime-infested part of town, and one went West, to the sparkly, upper-class part of town. But I won’t spoil it for you, by telling you which is which.
The only place you could sit to watch the phenomenon, was this bench.
Aaron saw me on the bench, and did a double-take. He sat down next to me.
“Hey,” he said. “Aren’t you meant to be happy? It’s your birthday tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” I sighed.
A girl got into a car with her father, visibly cringing at his blue sweater. She yelled at him loudly, loud enough for us to hear. Her father held up his hands, trying to defend his style. They were arguing, as they drove away.
When they were gone, I faced Aaron again. Aaron had been staring at my face, with a sad look in his eyes.
“You miss your parents, don’t you?” he asked, cocking his head in that stupid, understanding way of his. I rolled my eyes. Even though, since last year, he’d finally hit his growth spurt, and had finally gotten a decent haircut, he’d never shaken off the idea that I was a poor, tortured soul that needed saving. “You wish they could spend your birthday with you.”
I hated the way he was so assuming, like he knew everything about me. He had no idea.
“I do. I really do. In fact, every day, my heart yearns for the parents I don’t remember. I yearn for their warm hugs, and kisses. I want to be like other kids. I want to be part of a family.”
Though my tone was bitingly sarcastic, his eyes filled up with tears even as I watched. Oh, God.
“Well, then,” he said, wiping his eyes quickly. “Should I give you your present now? I mean, it’s nothing, it’ll do nothing to patch up that hole inside you, but still…”
I watched him rummage in his bag, vaguely annoyed. Didn’t he understand that the worst part of it for me, was when people treated me differently? That was the worst part. When people first meet you, they talk to you normally. They greet you, and smile at you. Then, in some other conversation, you let slip that you’re an orphan, and that you’re adopted. Suddenly, their faces collapse into shock, and they quickly cover it up. They leave the conversation pretty quickly, and you don’t see them for weeks. Next time you do, they’re on the other side of the room, whispering darkly with their friends, while sending stupid, stupid sympathetic glances in your direction.
The only person I’ve ever met and hasn’t reacted like that is Caleb.
When I told him, he just looked back at me, and said, “So? Why would something like that bother me?”
I smiled, and clutched my backpack to my chest. He was so sweet. We’ve been dating for about a year, ever since we’d met. The fact that he’s royalty doesn’t have much effect on us. We don’t mention it. The social gap between us. If someone else does, well, we laugh and smile it off.
In fact, that’s why I’ve been waiting for him. I’m catching him before he leaves for his flight back to his country. He was missing my birthday, but promised to give me a gift instead.
Aaron suddenly shoved a badly parcelled present into my hands, and I was drawn from my mini-daydream.
“I hope you like it,” he said, his brown eyes still full of emotion. “I didn’t know what to get you, but… Yeah.”
I gave him a polite smile. Even through the packaging, I could tell it was a pair of headphones.
“Thanks, Aaron. I love it.”
“Really?” He was about to cry again.
“Yes,” I sighed, pulling him into a hug before he burst into waterworks. It was so much hard work, having a friend. And he was definitely my only friend. I wasn’t very talkative, and so Aaron was the only person willing to talk to the “scary adopted girl”. I didn’t mind. It was just easier that way.
Aaron returned my hug, squeezing me for so long, it was awkward.
Suddenly, someone coughed very pointedly from behind me.
I pulled away from Aaron, a giant smile on my lips.
“Caleb! You came!”
His sharp green eyes were glaring over my shoulder. “Bye, Aaron,” he said, very obviously. His English accent was fading, but slowly.
Aaron blinked. Hinting didn’t work with this guy.
“Go away,” I told him. He blinked again, and comprehension flooded his face. Without another word, he turned and left. I looked back at Caleb, smiling again. His eyes were fixed on Aaron’s present that was resting in my lap. He reached over, and grabbed it.
“He gave you a present before me,” he said, frowning. “I was meant to be the first one.”
It wasn’t an accusation or a curse, but more of a lament. I smiled at him, and stood on my tip-toes to give his cheek a kiss.
“Sorry,” I said. “But I promise you’ll be the first one next year, okay?”
He still wasn’t looking very happy, so I attempted to lighten the mood.
“How’s my favourite nerd?” I said, changing the subject.
He frowned at me, trying to look angry. It didn’t work, because he was smiling at the same time.
“I’m not a nerd,” he snapped, in that British accent.
“Don’t worry,” I assured. “I think nerds are cute.”
Caleb pulled me into his arms, and suddenly I could breathe again. I smelt his neck. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him close as I sighed in content. After so long, it still felt right. The spark was still there, the way it was there the first day I met him.
I studied his chiselled face, his well-defined features. With time, he only got cuter. He’d hit his growth spurt a lot harder than Aaron. I glanced behind him, and sighed.
“Can you guys leave, please? We only have a couple hours before he leaves,” I yelled, at Caleb’s bodyguards.
They didn’t move.
“You know they can’t do that,” Caleb said, pressing his lips against my ear. I shivered.
“I know. But it was worth a try.”
There was a soft silence, as we just enjoyed each other.
“Caleb…”
“Hmm?” His voice sent vibrations down my spine.
“This business, back in Castonia…is it to do with what’s happening with the government there?”
He was silent for a while, and I wondered if he’s heard me.
“How do you know about that?” he said, his voice carefully controlled.
“Well, it was on the news…” my voice broke down. He hated any mention of his country’s affairs. “I’m sorry.”
“No, I am,” he apologized, pulling away so he could look me in the eye. “You should know. A couple years ago, I was evacuated here, to America, for my own safety. Now, it appears everything my Father feared is coming true. Castonia was taken over.”
“What?”
I’ve never been to his country, but I’ve seen the way he talks about it. His eyes burn with passion as he describes the beautiful, yet small, country. Palm trees, with white sand, and high mountains, and deep seas, and only about ten thousand inhabitants. The perfect fairytale setting. I hated the idea that his country – and it was definitely his country – had been taken away from him.
“The situation been bad there for a while,” he sighed. “Some political unrest…I don’t know. But Father says it’s not official. It’s just temporary, until we can sort some…issues out.”
“Oh,” I said, suddenly feeling useless. There was nothing I could do to help. “So why do you need to go back?”
“The people need their figurehead right now,” he said, tiredly, rubbing his eyes. “The reliable prince, the future leader. Listen, about your birthday, I’m really sorry. I would’ve avoided it, if I could…”
“No, no, it’s fine.” I felt awful. Here I was, being selfish and wanting my boyfriend to come to my stupid little party, while he had some real issues to solve. “I’m sorry about it.”
One of his bodyguards made a gesture at his wrist, telling Caleb it was almost time to go. I sighed.
“Give us five minutes,” he yelled back, making a gesture. He turned back to me, with a smile. “I have your present now. It was going to be an amazing gift-giving ceremony but, well…”
A huge smile spread across my lips. Now this, I had looked forward to. My boyfriend was amazing at gift-giving, and his heart-warming, touching, yet personal gifts always seemed to top my badly-chosen store-bought presents.
He held out a flat, velvet box. I was practically dying with excitement.
“I had this taken out of the palace vaults, and polished. I hope you like it…”
Palace vaults?!
My eyes, glued to the little box, widened when he snapped the box open. I gaped.
“Do you like it?” he asked, staring avidly at my face.
I nodded, speechless. A pink diamond, the shape of a heart, on a long chain of platinum. I turned around, and pulled up my hair, exposing my neck as he pulled the long chain over my head (there was no fastening). It fell heavily, into the centre of my chest.
“The Rosa Heart,” he said, smiling as he faced me again. His green eyes took in the necklace, nestled into my ivory skin, appreciatively. “There’s a legend about this necklace. Do you want to hear it?”
I nodded, and he smiled back at me.
“The legend is this…a thousand years ago, when Queen Rosa – my ancestor – was still on the throne, she fell in love with a man. He was an ordinary man, without talent or class. And she fell for him hopelessly.”
My eyes didn’t leave his face as he told this Fairytale.
“Her sister, jealous of her beauty and throne, told her that she had to choose. The country, or the man. Queen Rosa was fearful of her sister’s motives, and so she stayed on the throne, even when she fell gravely ill.”
His voice was so smooth, almost like velvet. It was softer than the breeze that played over my skin.
“On the deathbed, she finally changed her mind. She finally chose the man. But it was far too late. He was in love with another, and was already married. She asked him one last thing. That she can kiss him, before she dies. Reluctantly, he accepted, as she was the Queen of his country, and he was born to serve her. And as soon their lips brushed, her last breath left her lips, and she died.
“Later, when they cremated her, and she was nothing but dust, they found a diamond in her ashes. A pink diamond, the shape of a heart. And that’s what you’re wearing now.”
There was a small silence.
“That’s such a bullshit story,” I said, breaking it. “Maybe she was just wearing the diamond when they cremated her. God, Caleb.”
He sighed. “I’m just trying to give you some background information on the thing. If you want, I could just say that the necklace is my heart, and it’s yours forever, blah, blah, blah.”
“Hey, Caleb,” I said, wrinkling my nose. “If that story is true, doesn’t that mean that this necklace has been in some dead old woman’s ashes? That’s kind of gross.”
The bodyguard signalled at him again, more ferociously this time. Caleb sighed.
“I have to go.”
“I know.”
“Well, one last thing about the necklace…some have claimed that it is magical.”
I raised an eyebrow sceptically. “Really?”
“Yes. They say that if this necklace touches the blood of a virgin, tears of a pure heart, and untouched lips at the stroke of midnight, then the person will achieve what their heart desires.”
I groaned. “That’s so lame. God, Caleb. Bye, before I kill you.”
Caleb glanced at his bodyguard, who was practically crying in exasperation.
“Bye,” he said. “I really have to go now.”
“I know.”
“Sure you won’t kiss me before I go?”
“Maybe after we’re married, Caleb. You know I don’t kiss.”
“Right.” He gave a cute smirk, and I gently brushed my lips against his cheek.
“Bye, nerd,” I whispered. He pulled away, but held onto my hand, reluctant to let go of it.
“Are you calling me cute?” he asked, smiling cockily.
I fake punched him, as I laughed.
“Whatever. Just keep practicing that piano. Maybe, when you come back, you might be as good as me.”
He smirked. “Aren’t I already?”
The bodyguards were really flipping now. I heard a scream of intense hatred.
“Love you!” he called out, as our hands broke apart.
“Love you too,” I whispered. My words were carried away by the breeze, stolen by the wind.
I watched him sprint towards his bodyguards, and practically jump head-first into the car that was open and waiting. Through the car window, he waved me goodbye.
When he was gone, I was engulfed by a wave of loneliness.
Maybe Aaron was right. Maybe I was a tortured soul.
***
15 Years, 364 Days, Seven Hours, One Minute and Fifty-One Seconds Old
“Get up! Get up, Vee!”
I grumbled something, and pulled the covers over my head, avoiding the sunlight, grasping onto the very fabric of the dream I was being pulled out of.
“Ivy!” Jess whined, pounding my head. I winced, but didn’t move, as conscious thought flooded back to me. “It’s your birthday tomorrow!”
I sighed, and let go of the fabric. Suddenly, two five-year-old hands pulled my covers back. Sun burned into my retinas, and I squinted, pained.
“I know,” I said, trying to sum up the same level of excitement as she did. She started pulling on my hand obviously wanting me to come out of the cosy little hovel I’d made, but I was reluctant. Inside, I pulled back my covers, and tucked her in as well.
“You’re going to be sixteen,” she said, her blue eyes wide in excitement. I smiled back at her. We’d both gotten our eyes from our mother, but our messy blonde hair from our dad. I glanced at the only picture of our parents over her head, the one resting on my bedside table. They were smiling up at us, friendly and calm.
“I know.”
“You’re not any prettier.”
I narrowed my eyes at her, pretending to be angry. “Don’t be cheeky.”
She stuck her tongue out at me.
“Alright,” I muttered. “You asked for it.”
I pinned her down, tickling her armpits until she was breathless, but giggling.
“I’m sorry, Ivy!” she yelled. “I was kidding! I was kidding!”
I ignored her, and carried on tickling her.
Suddenly, her giggles stopped. I frowned. My sister, Jess, was being serious. That wasn’t good.
“Ivy…Tell me the story about our parents again…”
I froze for a second, then smiled. “Why are you asking for this story again? You’ve heard it so many times already. Don’t you want me to read you a book, or something?”
“No,” she said, sticking her bottom lip out stubbornly. “I want to hear about our parents.”
“Right,” I sighed. I sat up in the bed, and pulled her onto my lap, the way I used to whenever I told her the story. Jess’s eyes were wide, and she was unusually silent. She always was when I told this story.
“Years ago, before we were born, there was a beautiful girl,” I began, launching into the story I’d told many times before. “She was a soft-spoken and kind artist. She had been orphaned since birth, but she held no bitterness or anger against the world. She’d already decided for herself, that she would live and die alone.”
I smiled. I was so much like my Mom.
“So it came as a surprise to her,” I told Jess, brushing one of her curls from her face, “when she fell in love. Sixteen years old, walking home alone at night, she was ambushed by a gang of thugs. They were enraptured by her beauty, and planned to kidnap her.” I smiled sardonically. Maybe, one day, I could replace the word, ‘kidnap’, with another, darker word, that would’ve been more appropriate. Maybe not. Maybe I never will. After all, she was my baby sister.
I returned to the story. “But she was rescued,” I said, dramatically. “Through the darkness of the night, appeared her prince. He fought off the thugs, heroically, and beat them into messy pulps.”
Jess smiled proudly at this, and I knew she was imagining our Dad.
The truth was nothing like this. Dad had been out with his other bad-ass friends. He’d accidently shoved one of the thugs against a wall, and cracked the thugs head. The other thugs, misinterpreting this accidental action, thought he could actually fight, and so ran away.
My Dad, being the honest man he was, took credit for saving Mom.
“That was the start of a long relationship,” I said, smiling. “They got married too young, but they were happy. And that’s our parents’ story.”
Jess wiped her eyes.
“I don’t believe you still cry whenever I tell you this story,” I sighed, giving her a hug.
“I can’t help it!” she burbled. “It’s so sweet...”
Was it? I was doubtful. It sounded like a lucky coincidence to me.
“Are you and Caleb like that?” Jess asked, her eyes narrowed in a sly way.
I smacked her gently, reprimanding her. “That’s not something you can ask me.”
“Do you love him?”
“Uh…yeah, I guess I do.”
“The way Mom and Dad loved each other?”
I looked back at the picture in the frame. Mom and Dad, their arms around each other, smiling at the beautiful future they would never have.
“No.” The word tumbled out before I could stop it. “Sorry, Jess, but I don’t think any two people could love each other more than Mom and Dad did.”
She was silent for a while longer, seemingly out of questions. I stared at the picture of my deceased parents. Suddenly, I was confused. That didn’t make sense. I loved Caleb, right? I should’ve said yes. Why didn’t I say yes?
I held the beautiful, heart-shaped diamond I always wore around my neck, as I changed the subject.
“So, Jess…Why did you come into my room? It’s still seven AM!”
I shoved the doubts away. I couldn’t doubt now. I’d made my decision. I was going kiss Caleb tonight. It was time. I was going to give my first kiss to him. I guessed it was weird that I’d never kissed anyone before, but was not being a slut wrong?
“Oh…” She looked confused, like she’d forgotten as well. “I just wanted to say happy birthday for tomorrow.”
I laughed, and kissed her forehead gently, acting like the mother she’d never had. “Thanks, Jess.”
“No problem,” she said, beaming proudly. I gave her another kiss on her forehead, before stretching and yawning loudly.
“Now shouldn’t you be getting dressed for school?” I asked.
“Okay!” she sang, jumping off my lap. “See you later!”
I winced, as I got the circulation back in my legs. She was really getting too old to sit on my lap. But I couldn’t help acting like a Mom. It’d been so unfair, how she’d lost out on that big part of her childhood. Because of that day…
My eyes closed, as I remembered.
Being called out of school. That’d been the worst part. You’d think that you would realize beforehand. You think you would have some kind of premonition. No. The world didn’t give you warnings. You would be in class one second, listening and gossiping with your friends, and the next, the whole world would crumble under your feet as your life exploded into dust.
The day they died had been my birthday.
I remember blaming myself for the car crash. After all, they were going to San Diego to buy me the present I’d wanted.
I closed my eyes, to stop the tears.
I’d only been in seventh grade then – only twelve years old. I still remember the awful moment the teachers told me. It’d been the receptionist. She’d barely been in the job for a month, and she probably had no experience before. That hadn’t stopped me from hating her, when she told me. She’d been stuttering, and sweating, and crying. I’d known something awful had happened…But not what had happened. That’d been the last time I’d seen her, or any of my other friends. We moved.
They’d whisked me off to the hospital. By the time I was there, my parents were dead. Then they’d asked me…did I want to see them? My parents were both orphans, and had no brothers or sisters. I had no other guardians. So it was my choice. A sombre doctor had asked me, point-blank, did I want to see their bodies?
My twelve year old mind had been terrified. I couldn’t handle it. They couldn’t be dead. They were my parents. I depended on them so much. They were the centres of my Universe. I couldn’t handle it.
A tear slipped out of my eye, now. I brushed it away. I’ve cried so much about this already. There was no point.
But I’d said yes. I don’t know why. It was stupid. But I said yes, and the doctor brought me down to the morgue. He wasn’t a bad guy, just on shift at the wrong time. He even held my hand as I stared over their lifeless, pale bodies.
I wiped away the torrent of tears that were spilling down my cheeks. No…I can’t remember.
Their eyes had been closed. I remember feeling confused. Why weren’t they sitting up? Why were they just lying there? Why weren’t they laughing? My parents had been warm people. They were always laughing.
Why weren’t they laughing now?
I grabbed the photograph from the bedside table, rubbed away the tears that were obscuring my vision. I stared at the picture of my parents, laughing, smiling, happy. I tried to scratch out the dirty image in my mind. The image of their corpses.
No, Ivy. Remember them as they were alive. Don’t let that affect you anymore.
But it did. It still did. Most days, I could repress it, but when I was asleep, the nightmares would come back and they would always be willing to play.
Mom, Dad, I hope you’re laughing in heaven now. Please, smile for me. I hope your smiling to each other. Laugh, please. Laugh at your stupid, stupid daughter. The stupid daughter who couldn’t move on, move on and forget, just like the rest of the world.
My vision cleared again, and I found myself smiling at the picture. Aaron was right. He was so right. I was beyond damaged beyond repair. Nothing could fix me. Not even falling in love.
My door opened, and I quickly shoved my picture under my pillow, freezing as my adopted mother, Mrs Clarence. She entered the room, her hair scraped behind her head into a ponytail, smiling in the usual bright way she always did. She was carrying a basket of laundry.
“Do you have anything you need me to wash?” she asked, matter-of-factly.
“No,” I mumbled, through my duvet. I’d pulled it over my face. I didn’t want her to know I was crying.
“Ivy…Are you okay?” I froze.
“I’m fine…” I said, as naturally as I could.
“Let me see, Ivy.”
I didn’t move.
“Ivy, please.”
I did as she said, and I let her see my tear-stained face.
“Oh, honey,” she whispered, setting down her basket. She pulled me into a hug, and let me wet her shirt with my tears. The diamond necklace Caleb had given me dug into my skin as she held me, just like a mother. But it didn’t feel right. It was all wrong. She didn’t give me that sense of comfort and security that a mother was supposed to give you.
But I held onto her, anyway.
I had nothing else left.
***
15 Years, 364 Days, Twenty-One Hours, Forty Minutes and Twenty-four Seconds Old
“Hey, Ivy. Where the hell were you?”
I smiled at the sound of Aaron’s indignant tone.
“Jealous?” I said, into the receiver of my phone. “I got to miss the History test, right?”
“I can’t believe you,” he grumbled, as I laughed. “Did Mrs Clarence let you off school again? She spoils you so much.”
“You’re just jealous,” I said, rolling my eyes. “What happened at school today?”
“History test.”
“Aw, don’t be so bitter. You take a lot more sick days than me.”
“That’s when I’m actually sick.”
“Sure, sure.”
“So do you want to meet up later? A little pre-Birthday smoothie or something?”
“You’re such a girl, Aaron.”
“Shut up,” he snapped, annoyed. “Fine, how about a…beer?” His tongue rolled over the word, as if it was something disgusting. I laughed.
“No thanks, Ari. I’m meeting up with Caleb tonight.”
“The British loser?”
I frowned. “Don’t call him that. And he’s not actually British. He’s European.”
“Why are you meeting up with him?”
I sighed, again. “You’re nosy, Aaron. It’s nothing to do with you.”
“Are you going to sleep with him?”
“What?” I spluttered. “No! Of course not!”
He was silent, and I thought we’d hit a patch of static, until he spoke again.
“You will tell me if you decide to do anything with him, won’t you?”
“No!” I snapped. “Aaron, I’ve known you for a long time, but I’m really not comfortable with you like this. Sometimes, Aaron, you act so obnoxious.”
“It’s the way I was raised,” he muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing. Have fun,” he said, sourly.
He hung up, and I stared at my phone’s blank screen. What had that been about?
I rolled my eyes, and blamed puberty.
I walked to the mirror, and examined my dress. I looked good, I had to admit. I smiled at myself, unable to repress the excitement. I was going to kiss Caleb tonight. My first kiss. I pouted in the mirror, and giggled nervously. It was time, right? We’d been dating about two years now, and he was absolutely the best part of my life.
I pulled out a little tube from my drawer, and stared at it doubtfully. I twisted the top, and out came a thin stick, with spikes around the end. It was the only mascara I owned. I still couldn’t see the attraction of the bumpy black liquid. I brought it awkwardly to my eye, and trying the flicking motion on one of the lashes.
After fifteen minutes or so, having poked myself in my now red eye three times, I finally gave up, deciding I looked good enough without the chemicals. I grabbed a jacket, just as I caught sight of my parent’s photograph as I left my room. I smiled at them. Sorry, Mom and Dad, for being such a rebellious kid. I promise I’ll visit your grave tomorrow.
I never got to.
The town’s clock struck eleven just as my front door closed behind me with a gentle click. I breathed in the smell of fresh air, letting the sweet scent of roses fill my lungs.
If I only knew this would be the night before everything changed.
***
15 Years, 364 Days, Twenty-Two Hours, Twenty-One Minutes and Sixteen Seconds Old
I buzzed the intercom, darting from foot to foot to stop the cold settling in. I was outside Caleb’s house. It never failed to amaze me. It reminded me of the huge palaces I’d only seen in picture books. Caleb told me it was only a pale imitation of his palace back in Castonia. He promised to take me there one day, once the power struggle was over.
“Hello?”
I waved at the camera. “Hey, it’s me!”
The gate opened for me, and I ran inside. The doorman smiled and waved at me as I made my way over there. I’ve been here so many times, they knew me well. It wasn’t until I was close that I realized something was wrong. His face was taut, and he looked worried.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“The King’s here.” He nodded at the black car in the corner of the front yard. Two Castonian flags on the sides fluttered in the wind.
“The King?” I froze in shock. “What’s he doing here?”
“I don’t know,” he said, looking helpless. “But they sounded angry…I didn’t disturb them. You shouldn’t either, Ivy.”
“Right…” I mumbled, frowning. I’d never met the King, but just the way Caleb talked about him was enough. He’d always had a bright blaze of respect in his eyes when he spoke of his father.
Caleb had never introduced us. I had a feeling that he’d been trying to keep us from meeting. But it was time, right? I should meet my boyfriend’s father. It didn’t matter that he was royalty. Every guy would be happy to meet the girl who was dating his son.
“It’s fine,” I told the doorman, giving him an assuring smile. “I should meet him.”
“If you’re sure, Miss,” he said, sounding doubtful. He stepped to the side, and let me through. Caleb’s diamond bounced on my neck as I walked past him. The warm heat hit me with as much force as a battery ram, and I closed my eyes, as one by one, my limbs thawed.
Caleb’s room was up the stairs. I smiled at a maid who hurried past me quickly, shooting me a sympathetic look. Was the King really that scary? I frowning, my fingers found the wooden handrail. I grasped onto it, as I walked up the stairs. Caleb’s mansion, which was usually so noisy and a fun place to visit, was completely silent. That wasn’t a good sign. I bit at my lip, taking the stairs one at a time.
I reached Caleb’s door, about to push it open when I heard voices through the door.
“Please, Father!”
My hand paused, hovering over the doorknob. I froze, listening hard, my mind racing in panic. Caleb never pleaded. He had too much pride, as a Prince. He’s never pleaded before. What was he talking about with the King?
“Please,” he begged, again. “Please…”
“Caleb.”
The King’s voice was low, and calm. He had the same British accent as Caleb, tinged with something else. French, maybe? His tone was emotionless, as he said his own son’s name.
“Do you understand what’s happened to our country?” His words were hard and cold. Completely closed.
“Yes, father, of course I do, but –”
“Then you understand why you have to do this. The people of our country look up to you, Caleb. You are the icon they all worship. I am an old, decrepit man, Caleb. They see me as a corrupt politician who has lost them a country. But when they see you…they see the future.”
I swallowed. Just what exactly was he trying to get Caleb to do? My heart hammered against my chest, and I struggled to keep my breaths smooth and even.
“But, Father…I love Ivy…”
I froze at the mention of my name.
“Love means nothing, Caleb. You should know that by now. Ivy is not good enough for you, and you know that. She’s not attractive enough, she has no family, and her grades are barely sufficient.”
Every insecure thought I’d ever had was pouring out of his mouth. Every dark feeling that had entered my mind was now coming out, into the open. I already knew I wasn’t good enough for Caleb. Did he have to say it? And the worst thing was Caleb wasn’t denying it.
There was a painful silence.
“Yes…Father.”
I froze, my ear pressed against the door, cold blood pumping through my veins. What was he saying? Caleb was just…giving in? Just like that?
“So your fiancé…”
“I know.” Caleb’s tone had hardened. “I’ll marry her.”
What?
The world stopped spinning. I stared at the door, unsure of what I’d just heard.
He was…
“Excellent. I’ll prepare the wedding. You are to wed the Princess of Iviress tomorrow.”
I couldn’t breathe. My chest was too tight. The floor spun, and I staggered back. My head felt light, like I was about to faint. Caleb…How could you do this to me? Wetness rolled down my cheeks, and then I realized I was crying. Caleb…you said you loved me.
A billion images flashed through my mind. The day I met him, in the Music Tower. I’d thought that he was different from the others…the other people so intent on hurting me. You had a cute smile. It hasn’t ever changed. The day before my fifteenth birthday party, when he’d had to leave for Castonia. He’d given me the beautiful necklace I was wearing now, and told me great folk tales of his country. I’d thought he cared. And now, outside his room, listening to his Father and him discuss his new marriage…one that wasn’t to me.
A small gasp finally escaped my lips.
“Hello?” the King said, sounding angry. “Is that you, Hilda? I told you not to listen!”
I froze for a moment, unable to move, terrified. I couldn’t be seen here. He can’t ever know I came here.
“Hilda! Caleb, go see who is there.”
I finally found my feet. The door burst open, just as I turned away. I caught a glimpse of his handsome face, contorted into a mask of shock. I didn’t stop. I just ran.
“Wait, Ivy!” Caleb cried. “Wait!”
I didn’t turn around. I couldn’t see his face again. I shoved past the doorman, who tried to catch my hand. I shook him off. I couldn’t stay there any longer. The cold of the night air hit from all sides, and the tear tracks running down face bit into my skin.
Caleb’s yells were far away now. He’d stopped running. Half of me was relieved at not having to see his face, but the other half cried in despair. I wanted him to chase after me, catch me, and tell me it was all lies, tell me he meant none of it, tell me he was sorry, tell me we would be together for the rest of our lives.
But I rarely, if ever, got what I wanted.
I just kept on running, to the only safe place I had left.
***
15 Years, 364 Days, Twenty-Three Hours, Fifty-Seven Minutes and Twenty-One Seconds Old
The Practice Room was dark and musty from disuse. The silence in the Music Tower was almost deafening. I leant against the cold wall, breathing in an out. My tears were long gone now. Instead, there was an empty hole in my heart. It didn’t go away. My fingers grasped onto the cold diamond at my neck, the only part of Caleb I could ever have.
I looked over the room Caleb and I had first met. I’d once sat that piano chair, with Caleb, playing that song. What did we play, again? I tried to remember, closing my eyes. Suddenly, I smiled as the memory flooded my mind.
“Do you want to play together?” I’d asked. I had been so nervous, sitting next to this mysterious English boy. I still remember my tongue chafing against the roof of my mouth painfully when I swallowed, as my heart beat a tattoo against my chest.
He’d chosen his country, over me. It was all over.
I would never see that smile again.
All of a sudden, the dark room was too small for me. I couldn’t breathe. I had to have fresh air. I had to be outside. The dirty, stale air suddenly made me want to blanch.I ran out, up the stairs to the Music Tower roof, my head woozy as I hyperventilated, trying to take in air. I burst out, into the dark night, barely noticing the cut the sharp edge of the handle had left on my hand. Any pain that could lessen the one in my chest would be welcome.
Any pain at all.
Leaning heavily against the rails that bordered the roof, I struggled to get my breath back. My lungs took the cold, undiluted air in gratefully. I stared up. The night sky, though pitch black, seemed open to me. An open space. I was no longer contained. Because that’s exactly what I was, right? Contained. Trapped. Taken hostage by life.
I wasn’t good enough for Caleb. I’d always known that, but I’d been too afraid to day anything. I was a coward.
I clutched at my necklace with both hands, my head spinning as I looked down at the ground below me. The Music Tower was high – about eighty feet high, at least. Suddenly, the thin rails didn’t seem so safe to me any more. I leaned back, wiping away a stray tear with the palm of my hand.
Caleb never loved me, right? It’d never meant as much to him as it did to me.
After my parents died, I shut myself off, not allowing myself to get close to anyone again. I was independent. I needed no one. I was strong enough to look after myself and my sister.
It was only now I realize I was an idiot.
I held the cold diamond again. Over the last year, I’d never taken it off. It’d been precious to Caleb, which meant it was precious to me. It was another portion of his love. If he gave something this good to me, it had to mean he loved me, right? I didn’t care if the stupid myth was a lie or not. It had been Caleb’s, which made it magical for me.
Somewhere, in the distance, the clock struck.
It was almost midnight.
I pulled the necklace from my neck. The diamond symbolized Caleb’s heart, a heart that wasn’t mine. It’d never been mine. I would be kidding myself, if I said it was. He’d chosen his country over me. Wasn’t that proof enough?
I smiled to myself.
He was going to be a great leader someday. I would watch him, from afar.
If only I wasn’t born like this. If only I was special, like him. Then we might’ve had a chance.
But Fate didn’t work that way. There were no second chances. I could never get what I wanted. I would always be Ivy Moore, poor little orphan. No one could ever change that.
I pressed the cold diamond necklace gently to my lips. I’d never even kissed him. I was stupid, saying I wanted to save my first kiss for the day we married. I should’ve kissed him before. Now, it was too late.
The clock resounded again, as I held the necklace out, over the edge.
“Bye, Caleb,” I whispered. My words were taken, whisked away by the harsh wind.
I dropped the necklace. I leant against the rail, watching it fall through my tear-hazed eyes. My hair whipped around my face.
I love you, Caleb.
The clock gave its last chime. Midnight had passed. I was officially sixteen years old. I smiled through the tears. Suddenly, the rail snapped. I gasped, as I tumbled forwards, my fingers grasping the rail that had been in front of me only seconds before. My eyes widened, as the ground below suddenly rushed up towards me. Wind slammed against my exposed skin, making my hair billow out behind me. I didn’t have time to react.
Then, a split second before I hit the floor, everything went black.
Virgin Blood
Untouched lips
Tears of love
When night’s veil lifts
Your darkest desires
Will burn bright
Watch, child
Destiny alights
***
Author's Note; If you're reading this, you bothered to get to the end of my first chapter. First of all, thanks for giving this book a chance.
Also, you might be WTF?? right now. Don’t worry, Ivy is NOT DEAD, if some of you thought I she was, and was hating me. NOT DEAD!!!
I know the country names are kind of weird. Ah well. I’m bad at them.
VOMMENT!! I spent so long writing this. This is the longest chapter I have ever had in a book. Ever. It took me twenty-three hours to write this. So please vote, so I know my hard work is not wasted :) I love you guys!!!