Wish Apon A Star

Nicole - Pancakes

"Wake up. James. Wake up!" I shook him hard. He threw his arms out and nearly smacked me in the face. "Watch it! And get up."

"Why? It's only..." He glanced at the clock. "Ten o'clock."

"Exactly. Get up. You're coming with me."

"Where?"

"Town."

"Why?"

"Leo."

"What?"

I sighed. "Leo. It's Leo's birthday soon, and I need something. I assume you do as well, and since he's currently not here, I was thinking now would be the easiest time to get something. Do you understand?"

He blinked at me. "Maybe. Give me...an hour. Ish."

"An hour?"

"Hey, my hair takes effort, Nicole! I don't just magically look that good–I mean, look at it now! I can't be seen in public like this; I have a reputation to maintain! What would Annabelle say if she found out. I'd never hear the end of it."

"You have half an hour," I said. "Tops. Hurry up."

It took him forty-five minutes. Of course, with James, I probably should have counted that as a win–usually it did take him the hour he had first suggested to do his hair, and another fifteen minutes to get dressed. He complained about how much time Annabelle spent, but, most of the time, spent the same amount. And then they just ended up complaining about one another.

He grumbled behind me the entire way, and I ignored him. Prices had skyrocketed recently, and we were practically living from job to job, as no one wanted to spend any more of the money we'd gotten for the jewels than we had to. People were starving; except for the elite. They still carried on with their balls and parties and whatever else they did, none the wiser. This had all been coming for a while, but von Vikas assumption of the throne had put it all into motion.

I went through probably a million shops (or at least that's what it felt like) looking for something I could even think about affording. James, who probably should have been looking, too, just irritated everyone around him. He complained loudly and messed with things on shelves, so it seemed like I'd brought a toddler rather than a boy older than me.

I picked up a sketchbook and flipped through it. It was good quality–thick paper, blue cover, with paper that he could probably tear out neatly if he wanted, but wouldn't just rip by accident. Plus, he was almost at the end of his current one. I winced when I saw the price; it was nearly triple what it would have been several months ago. Still, I tucked it under my arm and headed toward the counter.

"You can stop whining now," I called back to James. "I'm done."

"Thank God." He trailed after me. "Where are you going to put that, so that he doesn't see it?"

"My room. Probably just in my closet or something." I handed it to the checkout lady, along with the money.

"How is he not going to find that? That's so obvious."

"It's not like he digs through my things. Anyway, where would you prefer I keep it?" The lady handed it back and I gave her a quick smile and a, "Thanks."

"Literally anywhere else. Your room's the most obvious spot you could keep it."

"But he's not going to look, so what's it matter?"

"I would look," James said, "and I'd find it."

"But you're you–and you've been incredibly annoying lately, may I add. Leo's not going to look. I could put it in plain sight, put a tag that said 'Nicole' or something on it, and he wouldn't pick it up and take it. And if it's in my closet, he's definitely not going to find it. Why would he be looking in my closet, anyway?"