Brighter Than the Stars

Nicole - Pretty Fantastic

Everyone was in a constant state of motion. I half expected the ground to explode beneath my feet–war was almost a sure thing now. My stomach never seemed to release itself from knots, and half the time I spent the night wide awake, listening to Leo's even breathing, trying to convince myself that I was okay. Because I had to be. Now was not the time to fall apart, not when things needed to be done. But I was always falling apart, a mess of broken pieces that never seemed to fit quite right. I wasn't sure if they ever would again–or if they ever had to begin with.

I curled myself back up under Leo's arm, raising my gaze to the window. The sun was just rising, golden light spilling over the treetops. My room faced the garden and forest, and I'd fought Annabelle for it–though, she'd eventually decided in favour of a different one when she found out she could have rooms, though it was beyond me what she was going to do with a sitting room. Meanwhile, I claimed the turret. I couldn't hear it, but I knew the kitchens would be beginning to prep for the day–Mrs. Dayal would already be awake, as would the majority of the kitchen staff. James only had training twice a week in the morning, because he despised waking up early–in theory, he would've had to lead one every day, but, as he put it, "he made the rules."

I heard Leo's breathing change as he woke up, but neither of us moved. Here, I could pretend that the rest of the world wasn't moving on, that time had slowed to a stop. I wished it really had. Especially now–nothing was ever steady, nothing ever constant. Every day, it seemed like people just waited for bad news. Or, they said they waited for good news–I waited for bad, because that's what I figured I should expect. I was right most of the time, too.

Which wasn't a good thing in the slightest. I supposed I should have "thought positive," but thinking positive just set you up for disappointment. And since I'd practically been a disappointment since I was five, I figured I'd had enough of them. If I expected the worst, I wasn't ever disappointed. I guessed that transferred over into everyone I knew, too–I half-expected Annabelle to decide she never wanted to see me again, or Leo to realize he hated me and wanted to get away as fast as possible.

"Hey, Leo," I whispered.

"Hey, Nicole."

"Do you hate me?"

"What?" He tilted his head to look at me. "No. I'll never hate you, Nicole."

"I mean, you could." I turned onto my back and stared up at the stars painted on my ceiling. It was just light enough to truly see the navy background they were on and each point, instead of a fuzzy black and fuzzy white dots. "Nevermind. It was dumb." Please don't hate me.

"I will continue to actively choose not to hate you for as long as I'm alive and capable of conscious thought–and then after." He turned over, cupping my cheek with one hand as he bent down to kiss me. "And I'll tell you as many times as you want. Actually, I'll tell you so many times it'll probably drive you crazy."

"You already do." The corner of my mouth turned up, and he returned his own dimpled smile. "I'm just thinking. Too much, I guess."

"When are you not?" I glared at him and he grinned. "I love you for it, though. Promise."

"Funny." I made a face at him and he kissed me again. I wrapped my arms around him, loosely connecting my hands at the back of his neck. He bent so his forehead touched mine. "I hate to break it to you, but I think I might love you."

"Hey, Nicole," someone called. "I've got a note here for you."

I hopped up and cracked open my door. Jack handed me the promised note, and I examined it. "You've got to be kidding me." I glanced up. "Sorry. Thanks, Jack."

"Sure." He gave me a wave and headed off down the hallway.

I turned back into my room, shutting the door and leaning against it. I held up the note. "Guess who?"

"You're joking."

"I am, unfortunately, not." I ripped open the envelope. "Ooh, this one's good–he wants to talk. And, guess why? Well, actually, he doesn't really say–but he knows about the virus thing. So, he knows it's me. For some odd reason, he thinks playing nice will make me–I don't know–tell him all of James's training schedules and Maddie's strategies or something." I rested my arms on his shoulders. "You want to go with me? We can make a date of it. Like, meet my parents? Or one, anyway."

He raised his eyebrows and wrapped his arms around my waist. "Sounds like a good time. What should I say? Here, let me practice: 'Nice to meet you, sir–you know, beside the same time you stabbed me–I really like your daughter, by the way: she's brave and brilliant and beautiful..."

"That'll go over really well. I think you've got it down. Maybe a few less compliments to me–he doesn't really like me, you know." I leaned forward and kissed him. "Glad you think so much of me, though. Probably a good thing."

"Probably." He paused. "But, seriously, Nicole, are you going to go?"

"No. I mean, I guess...I guess I should. What if I could be preventing the rest of a war? But, then again, I kind of hate him and would really prefer to have no contact whatsoever." He pulled me closer to him, so that I sat back down on my bed. I rested my head on his shoulder and tucked myself into his side. "Is that horrible of me to say? That was horrible of me to say."

"You're allowed." He kissed the top of my head. "And, hey–I also kind of hate him, so if that's horrible, we're horrible together."

"Oh, good." I stood up again and headed to my desk. "I'll be polite and courteous and write him back. Nicely. Except I'm saying I'm not coming, so I doubt it'll matter all that much."

"Darn. I was really looking forward to meeting your dad properly."

"I'm sure you were." I started to scribble out a reply. "I'm sure he'll be upset to have missed you. Should I add that you're sorry to be missing it?"

"Please do. I know how much he likes me. I'm like a son to him."

"Well, he probably likes you more than me."

I heard him cross the room, and he wrapped his arms around me. "You know, Nicole Juliette, I love you. And my family loves you–and Annabelle and James and all the rest of our friends. You're pretty amazing. You should have been told that when you were little. You should have had someone tell you they loved you."

I tilted my head back to look at him. "I'm okay. I didn't turn out too terribly, all things considered."

"No, you're pretty fantastic."

Word Count: 1,198