The Wonderful Adventures of Bea Andrews (EDITING, IN PROGRESS)

Chapter 3

We sit at the sturdy wooden table on equally sturdy wooden chairs with high backs. Margret has several behemoth volumes before her, writing down page numbers and details as she sips her purple-looking tea. I glance down at my own purple tea, and shudder.

Dad told me stories about this tea: It's called Süße Lila Blume tea. It's an ancient rare export from an island far from the mainland. It's both expensive and dangerous to ship, as it's highly explosive when packed dry and it doesn't keep long enough fresh to ship. Therefore, the ships' entire crew is paid quadruple to ship it on their boats or seamounts. It's so combustible that attempting to take off with it has resulted from explosion due to the G-force. Sea spray can help it not explode, but even that isn't guaranteed and if it gets too wet it rots within a few days. And then it's almost a definite explosion hazard, as the gasses from fermentation are even more flammable. So why do the riders drink it? Dad says it's a prestige thing, but Mom says it has some kind of secret benefits that the elite riders keep to themselves. I say it's all hogwash and they just like the taste and need an excuse.

I take a sip and am hit with a subtle tang of vanilla and cinnamon. I check the teas' colour again. It's indeed purple. But Dad said it's a bitter and revolting tea, not a sweet tea. I ask, holding my teacup in both hands for warmth, "Ms. Margret, is this the Süße Lila Blume tea?" Margret smiles softly and glances up at me over her glasses. She puts down her pencil and sits up straight from her hunched, scholarly position.

She says, staring directly at me, "Why yes, you are quite observant aren't you. What do you notice about it, Bea?"

I take another small sip and explain, swirling the tea gently, "It's sweet, like vanilla and cinnamon. I quite enjoy it. How did you get a puck?" Margret's face lights up and she happily goes back to work without a word. I frown and return to tasting the tea, noting how sweet and elegant the taste is. I close my eyes to savour the taste, setting my cup on the table. An image of a strange brown beast, a bit like River, flashes through my mind. It has large, bat-like wings with three tendrils and a thick ruff of fur around its' neck. It's body, upon closer inspection, is marked by black stripes. It makes a deep rumbling sound and I open my eyes. Images can't make noise. IMAGES CAN'T MAKE NOISE. I try to leap from my chair, but my legs are tangled in the chair legs. I make an ungraceful, goose-like "WAAAAAAAAAAAH" sound and fall into a heap. My heart pounds as I lay in a heap. My head swims and I scramble away from the table.

Uncle Brady walks in and says something I don't understand, and I push myself into a sitting position. My head spins and I cling to the fallen chair like an anchor in a storm.

I spit, heart pounding, "What the fuck was in that?" Brady glances at Margret and grabs the tea from my cup. He dumps it into his mouth, and he glances down at me with a grimace.

He states, eyes cold, "What did it taste like to you?"

I reply, the world slowly righting itself as I draw in a deep breath, "Vanilla and Cinnamon." He winces and Margret buries herself deeper into her books. She hands Uncle Brady a book and scribbles something down furiously.

Brady reads it and turns several shades of red before coldly stating, "What's done is done, you'll be alright. Sometimes Lila tea causes some... undesirable effects if you aren't used to it. Want help to your room for the night?"

*

I lay in bed, shaking slightly as I stare at the ceiling. The image of the strange beast flash through my mind. So beautiful and free... and dangerous. If River is as dangerous as Margret says... then this beast is probably even more so. I should keep an eye out for cats when I go to school... I wouldn't want to be on the bad side of someone with one. Sleep creeps up on me, closing in around me until darkness fills my vision.