Wish Apon A Star

Nicole - Lockpicking and Smoke

"Teach me how to pick locks." I stepped into James's room, and he looked up from sharpening his sword. Which, honestly, wasn't the weirdest thing I'd seen this week. I sat down on the edge of his bed as he stared at me in surprise.

"You know how to pick locks." He set down the sword and looked up at me. "Unless there's some other way you've been getting into buildings that I don't know about."

"No. I just...want to be able to do it better."

He rolled his eyes. "You always want to be able to do everything better. But, sure, I'll show you again. Grab that box on my dresser." As I did, he dug around in his bedside table drawer for a lock pick. "This'll work best, but you could also probably pick a very simple lock with a bobby pin. You have those, right? Annabelle's probably got about fifty on any given day."

"I don't usually do anything complicated with my hair," I said. "I don't need bobby pins when I leave it down, or put it in a ponytail." I took the lock pick he handed to me. "But maybe I should start."

James shrugged. "They won't work for anything very complicated. Still, maybe it'd be worth it. How complicated are the locks you usually have to pick?"

"I don't know. They're hard for me, but..." I'd honestly never thought about it. I just knew I wasn't very good at it. "Maybe not very? I think it depends on the building, though. The one on the tower was really hard."

"Not surprising. Do you know what type it was?"

"No. Sorry."

"Just start with that one, and I'll get some of the one's I usually practice on." He hopped up and went to his closet, where he started digging through piles of stuff. As unorganized as she was, even Annabelle would be horrified by the mess. I started working on the box's lock, probably messing it up badly.

James tossed a bunch of locks down next to me and watched as I tried to pick the first one. "You're pushing too hard," he said after a moment. I adjusted, and he shook his head. "Too light, now." I tried again, and then looked up for his approval. He nodded. "There."

A moment of working later, it popped open. James tossed me another, and I started on that one, too. It was more complicated than the last one, with several tumblers.

"Nicole," James said, after a moment.

"Mm?"

"Have you talked to Leo recently?"

I looked up. "Yes. Why?"

"Does he seem...mad?"

I blinked. I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen Leo mad, or even very upset at all. He always seemed calm and serene, like he already knew how everything would turn out. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd heard him raise his voice, either.

"No," I said. "I don't think so."

"I screwed up," he muttered. "I shouldn't have ever spent that much money. It was so stupid. But I don't know...I just couldn't stop myself. I wanted it, and I didn't see why I couldn't have it, then. Now I do, but it's a little late isn't it?" He stared at his sheets. "He told me he trusted me with the money–he left it with me. And look what I did."

I didn't answer, for a moment. "I think you should talk to Leo yourself about this," I finally said, "but he's Leo. I don't know if I've ever seen him mad."

Even if I felt like I was always going to mess something up and make him mad. It felt sort of like a ticking time bomb, even if I knew it was illogical. Leo didn't yell. Still, I worried he might, one day.

The lock sprung open, and I glanced down, startled. I hadn't even realized what I was doing. "But I don't think he's mad. If he was, he got over it. I don't know." I stared at my hands. The scar on my pinkie had closed up again (thankfully). "Just talk to him, I guess."

I wouldn't even talk to him half the time, yet here I was, advising James to do that very thing. I was a hypocrite.

"Can you tell him I'm sorry?" James pleaded.

"No." I reached for another lock, and looked up to meet James's eyes. "You can tell him yourself."

...

I woke up choking on smoke.

I stumbled out of bed and to the floor, still coughing. Panic had begun to set in, and it made trying to breathe even worse. I tried to take a breath and just ended up inhaling more smoke. The world was blurry, and it'd taken on an almost gritty appearance, like everything was covered in a fog.

I headed for the window. I didn't know what was behind the door, and I didn't even want to try to open it. If the fire had spread very far, stairs or anything could have collapsed or been on the brink of it, and I didn't want to fall through.

As I pulled up the window, however, the ground seemed infinitely far away, and the world spun. I wasn't sure if it was the panic or the smoke–maybe both. Breathe, I told myself, The air outside is fine. You're fine. You can breathe. Windowsill. Wall. Pajamas. Floor. It's fine.

My list barely helped. My stomach was still clenched, and I still stood, frozen, two stories up. Two stories. I'd been five the other night, and it'd been fine. I'd been up the Queen's tower, too, and while that hadn't been exactly fine, I hadn't fallen. And I had climbed it. Two stories was nothing.

Or it should have been.

Slowly, I pulled myself over the window sill. I could do a climb like this in my sleep. I had to get out, not sit around waiting to be burned alive. I had to stop acting stupid. I knew what to do, and how to do it. I didn't have time for my own stupid antics.

Halfway down, I started to panic again.

Smoke.

Fire.

Leo.

Annabelle.

James.

Anyone.

Can't breathe.

Help.

Fire.

My fingers slipped.

I fell. 

Word Count: 1,040