Downhill

Chapter 2

               If I'm being totally honest the mere thought of Eliza made my stomach turn. She terrified me in a way I didn't think was possible. I've known her since grade school and she used to be the sweetest girl you would ever meet, that is until her parents divorced and she went to live with her father  since then she's been one of the people everyone tries to avoid, rightfully so. She had starved a boy to death because she just felt like it.
               For some reason, completely unaware to me, she's quite found of Mirtha. I'm told it's because it's like a prank but I'm not entirely sure. The only reason she doesn't need with me is because of Mirtha, she couldn't give a damn about my royal status.
                         .              .             .
          The day is actually pretty boring. Everyone speaks of how highschool in Faerieland is as gold is to mortals, but it truely isn't. Matter of a fact if faerie were aloud to hate something, school would be my something. Faerie can't hate though, many think its because our hearts are too pure, but I believe it's because we can't love either. Of course we can have a crush on someone as I do Mirtha, but we can't truely love, when married it's either for fame, money, to start a family, or because you have a crush.
           The carries on as boring as it started until finally the sun is past the trees and we may leave. To this though I am disappointed, I don't like school but being home is much worse. To deal with the bickering of my mother and my father screaming at Eli and my sister pretending we simply don't exist. I'd rather be anywhere else. And so I beg Mirtha to let me go home with her. She's reluctant, she does this whenever I ask to see her home. But after thirty minutes of trying to convince her she caves. And so instead of going home I go to Mirtha's. I'll deal with my mother's scoldings tomorrow.
...
           Mirtha's house is definitely not what I expected. As soon as I step into it I'm filled with guilt. There's dust all over the furniture, and it seems as if it hadn't been cleaned in years. There are holes in the kitchen window which would cause the place to freeze in the winter. And the house itself is barely livable. It's a one bedroom one bathroom broken down shack. And the guilt I feel only intensifies as I stare at it. As I've been living comfortably in the royal palace my best friend lives in a deserted house that's inhabitable.
            Mirtha must sense how I'm feeling because she immediately tries to justify the home
           "It's truely not that bad, I promise. It may look bad but it's not.", She pleads, I say she pleads because she truely was pleading, it wasn't as if she was simply explaining the condition of the house, she was begging me not to think of her as a dirty person. Of course I didn't, but I knew I needed to clean this up for her. And so I set off to the store three miles down on the road to her house.
             I buy everything I can, Kleenex wipes, herbs, brooms, scrubs, sponge's, mops, buckets, pretty much anything that may help, I also grab some food because of the look at that house I doubt she has much.
...
             When I return I see Mirtha trying as hard as she can to clean the place up. But all that is accomplished is the smearing of dust on the broken down sofa. When she sees what I had brought we dont even need to exchange any words. We just set out to clean. I love how she can do that, read my mind so effortlessly, it's one of the many things I love about her.
            I start with the kitchen. I grab one of the many sponges I bought and begin to clean the sink, despite having no cleaning supplies Mirtha did have working water and electricity. That must have been what she was spending her paychecks on. Keeping her bills paid. Because she's a mortal she gets paid less and charged more. So it explains the condition of the house.
           When I finish the sink I set my focus on the counters, making sure to get every nook and cranny. And then I work on the fridge, wiping every shelf down so it's sustainable for the food, I after carefully place the food and organized the shelves until satisfied.
             When we're finished cleaning the house looks unrecognizable, the walls now show a sage green color that makes it pop, and it smells of herbs, candles, and incense. The bedroom is now spotless and the bed cleared of any junk that had once made home of it. And the living room looks as if a servant had cleaned it herself. I had put I plastic wrap on the window until I would be able to send one of the many workers over her to fix it.  
              Mirtha seems happy though it's hard to tell as she sleeps soundly on her bed. I decide I should leave this moment to her and her alone. I can deal with my mother on the coast of Mirtha. And so I set out for home. Maybe I'll be lucky and make it back after my mother is asleep.
             On my walk home I think of the events that took place today. And the weird thing is, there were none. Now I say that's weird because whenever I'm with Mirtha we find a way to get into trouble. It happens all the time. It's usually small details like a bit of graffiti and maybe some loitering here and there, but it happens without fail. Mirtha had seemed oddly distant today. Barely speaking a word to me today. That's what's truely odd. It makes me think weather or not the reason we didn't speak this summer was because of my being at camp, or because of her growing apart.
            Suddenly my thoughts are interupted by a stick breaking behind me, and then I'm on the ground.