Rustling came from the bush, and I spotted Killian from the corner of my eye turning to watch us, but I stayed focused on the idiot before me. While wiping the grass from my skirt, I corrected the blonde, “No, it’s a Spanish name, Magdalena.”
“Are you part of the Spanish royal family?”
“Huh? What?” I ruffled my eyebrows and forehead. “No, I’m from here. Why would I—” Killian’s giggle interrupted my question. Why would I be part of the Spanish royal family?
Mael sucked his teeth at Killian. Finally, I had remembered his name. “I’m just asking because I’m part of Monaco’s royal family?—”
“Like almost everyone else in this school,” Killian added, with a mischievous smile on his face. I already didn’t like Mael for what he and his friends had said about Killian earlier, so it was difficult to resist Killian’s amusement and not allow it to lift the corners of my mouth. We both peered at Killian in the midst of his uncontrollable chuckle. The amusement gave a light to hisfacial features. I longed to study them in this mood the way he lifted hie eyebrows at he ends, the way he opened his mouth wide. There was something hypnotizing about all of it. Although Mael’s expression held disdain, mine was filled with surprise and curiosity.
Why didn’t Daddy tell me that almost everyone in this school was part of the royal family? Mom despised people from the upper class and their daintiness. And why had he brought me here?
The bell rang.
“Magdalena,” Bessie called from the middle of the playing field. It was already obvious there was some sort of a competition between Mael and Killian, so I ran to Bessie, not wanting to be in the middle of whatever debacle was about to break out.
2. My True Home
MAGDALENA
It took a little over a week, I think, for me to grow tired enough of the toxicity from Bessie’s friends to gain the courage to walk away. We were playing football (nope, not the American kind) when the goalie threw the ball at another kid’s head too forcefully on purpose and laughed but pretended it was an accident. The poor kid collapsed on the grass, out cold.
I was done.
To my right was Killian, as always, leaning forward, reading a book, ignoring us. His unique presence, like always, lured me. He was the only kid willingly reading a new book every day and the only one who wanted to stay away from the rest. By then, they had told me so many ridiculous lies about him that I’d started questioning reality. I had so many questions for him and couldn’t take it anymore, so despite all the other kids yelling my name, telling me to come back, I walked over to him.
He was wearing all black, including the tall boots. His thick black curls were usually swept to the side, but by recess, they hung in front his face, inches above the book. Even from afar, he looked rebellious and as if he were Dracula’s nephew.
I stood in front of him for a while, close enough for him to see my black shoes if he’d only stop reading, but he didn’t. Withmy lips curled and arms crossed, palms at my waist, I watched him slowly turning pages. The urge to snatch the book from him crossed my mind, but instead, I tried to read the sentences upside down, only for my eyes to cross.
Only when he finished the chapter, then earmarked the page and closed the book did he lean back and lifted his eyes to me.After his indifference, I sat next to him with a nervous smile that wouldn’t leave my face. I couldn’t remember what I wanted to ask him. Then an easiness swept over me, unclenching my muscles, allowing my shoulders to fall. There it was again, that incomprehensible sensation accompanied by the flutter in my tummy.
I was home.
He held my gaze, occasionally looking at my cheek. While staring into an abyss I never wanted to escape, our souls seemed to be lost in each other. We didn’t need words. Being so near him, looking into each other’s eyes, it wasn’t something I could stop doing once I started.
The more I studied his eyes, the more I needed to do it. I felt like Alice, being too curious and then falling down the hole, but the fall was so delicious. It made me giddy.
The bugs buzzed, birds chirped, the other kids yelled as they continued playing, and thank God, had long forgotten about me. We didn’t have much time left, so I broke our silence.“Your eyes don’t match.” They were my favorite physical aspect of him. I’d always told myself I’d fall for a guy with eyes like Dad, but Killian’s eyes, they were so much better, so much more beautiful. Addicting. “Brown and blue.”
“Heterochromia,” he stated. It didn’t sound good at all, and I hoped it wasn’t a disease that would end with blindness.Wait why do I care if it does?
“Is it a disease?” I asked, my tone and widened eyes holding too much alarm.
“No. Science says it’s a mutation. My great grandma says, ‘The brown one is a door to the dead, to see and hear them, while the blue one is for the living.’”
“I like it. Do you see any ghosts?” I liked that while I had to speak in French to all the other students, I could speak in English with him, like I did with Mom and Dad. Although, his English was more interesting with his accent.
“No.” Why didn’t I believe him? I didn’t believe in ghosts, but there was something about the way he answered that question so fast.
“Doyousee any ghosts? Both your eyes are brown,” he asked me. The defensiveness in his tone lured my smile.What are you hiding?
“Nope.” I shrugged my right shoulder, the one closest to him. “But maybe my brown is not the right shade.” My eyes were boring. They were dark brown. No big deal. Blah. Unfortunately, I’d gotten them from Mom, my first bad decision as a living being.
“Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?” The question came so fast and was so bold it shocked me. No one except Mom and Dad had said that to me.
My cheeks burned, and my lips hung slightly open as we searched each other’s faces, trying to take in everything and seal it to memory. He giggled, but I didn’t ask him why. “My Mommy and Daddy tell me all the time. But parents always say that, right?”
“Well, in your case, they’re right. You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.” The wind blew my hair over my shoulder, and he traced the strands with his fingers, pushing them back behind my ear. “I love your hair.” With the avalanche of compliments, it almost became a challenge to throw some at him.
