Breathe

Chapter 2 - Kings and Clothes of Flour

After a few miles, we arrived at our humble abode. Rushing in front of me, Phil took the integrity to unlock the locks and unlatch the latches for us. Within seconds, we could hear the familiar low creak of the door cracking open with the clanging of dishes in the distance and see the dim light within.

Entering first, Phil formed a megaphone with his hands and yelled, "We're home!"

In the distance, the clanging ceased and soon, another voice yelled back. "Man, took you guys long enough!" Esmae shouted.

"What can we say? We like paying respect to the dead," he replied, still shouting on the top of his lungs. He then sat on the arm of a sofa and began to take his shoes off carelessly, letting the dried mud flake onto the dull, dusty wood paneled-floors.

"Uh huh, yeah... whatever you say," she said mockingly, leaning back to look at us from behind the arch of the kitchen. "By the way, you're gonna be cleaning the floors tomorrow!"

He huffed. "But why?" he whined. "I did nothing wrong!"

She rolled her eyes and pointed at the floor. "Trust me—you've done something wrong." Following her finger, Phil saw what she was referring to.

"Oh." He looked up and forced a smile in her direction. "Whoops."

"Yeah, 'whoops.' I hope you don't leave any remains tomorrow. Also, once you're done taking off your shoes, go get everyone down from upstairs. Dinner's ready." Without another word, she rolled herself up and backed into the kitchen.

Sighing, the boy slumped back onto the couch, falling into the seat. With his lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed, he lay there and looked at the ceiling in disbelief, as if he thought God had betrayed him.

I took off my shoes and towered over him. "Is that punishment that bad?"

"Of course it is!" he said exasperatedly. "I hate cleaning! Especially this floor—it's the worst!"

"I think you're being melodramatic," I commented. "Cleaning isn't as awful as you make it out to be."

Quickly, he sat up and looked in my direction. "'Melodramatic'? I don't think I'm making it out to be as bad as it is! I swear Mae is always out to get me."

"You're being dramatic."

"No, I'm not!" he disagreed. "Al, you don't know the half of it—she's always giving me hell. She always wants to make my life hell. And honestly, I don't appreciate it! She's always giving me stupid chores to do and making me do things that I hate. I mean, what is she? My mom? Ugh, why do I have to clean the floor? Why can't she clean the floor? I'm always busy! Anyway, how am I supposed to clean the floor..."

Rolling my eyes at the melodramatic king, I began to walk towards the stairs. "Well, I wish you the best; I'm certain you'll figure it out. And while you reflect and contemplate on it, I'll go get everyone from upstairs." Before he could whine some more, I ran up the stairs.

Once I was upstairs, I went to everyone's room, knocked on their doors, and told them that dinner was ready. They'd respond with a variation of "okay" and then shuffling could be heard from beyond the door. After I was finished with my chore, I ran back downstairs and into the kitchen.

Peeking in, I saw Esmae and Chris hard at work and screaming at each other for 'messing up'. Looking around, I noticed that only one area—the area where they kept a small batch of cooked beans and rice—was void of grease or grime or some sort of questionable substance.

"Do you need any help?"

Chris turned to me. "We need—"

"No help. We don't need any help," Esmae said, cutting the other off. She beamed. "We're fine—believe me. Did you call everyone down already?"

I nodded. Unconsciously, my gaze fell on their powdered clothes. "New trend?"

"Yeah, definitely," Chris said, "newest trend to reach the city—it's called les vêtements de farine. Came straight from the runway in Promène."

"It's from Xadille?"

"You mean Za-di?" Esmae corrected.

"No, I mean Xadille," I replied. "'X' as in the letter, 'ah' as in 'apple,' and 'deh-leh' as in 'delivery.' Xadille. Looks like Za-di, but it's pronounced like 'ex-ah-deh-leh.' Xadille."

"That's not what we learned in history class," Chris said.

"Well, your history class wasn't taught by Xadille's prince."

"Which one?" Mae asked.

"The one named..." Crap, what was his name? "Jarvis."

Looking at me with a deadpan face, she replied in a monotone voice, "There's no Prince Jarvis of Xadille."

"How would you know?"

With some sass to her voice, she said, "Celebrity gossip. Duh."

"...Arvis?"

"Nope."

"Dallis?"

"Nada."

"Ellis?"

"There you go," she said, proceeding to pat me hard on the back, "you just named one of the six Princes of Xadille. To be precise, the second oldest—ranked first in 'Hottest Princes in the World'! Not that he has much competition, but still; his face and abs are worthy of it."

Why does that...? Deciding to not question it, I continued with the topic. "Prince Ellis told me that the proper way to pronounce Xadille is 'ex-ah-deh-leh.' Since he's the prince of said country, I'd like to think that he's correct."

She shrugged. "Sure, that's what they call it, but here, we call it Zadi. Makes sense since the royal family's surname is Jadille. Anyway, it rolls off the tongue better." Changing the subject, she said, "Anyway, why don't you go to the dining room? We'll be fine."

"Are you certain?"

Once more, she rolled her eyes. "Oh my gosh, Al, how many times do I have to tell you? Do I seriously need to spell it out for you?" Breaking back to a smile, she said, "Really, we're fine without help. Just go wait with the others, okay?"

"Alright," I said, finally obliging.

As I made my way towards the dining room, she called out once more. "And please make sure the conversation stays positive!"

I turned around. "Positive?"

She had a hesitant look on her face. "I... just have a feeling. Don't test anyone, please." Stammering, she added, "N-Not that I think you do. Just don't do say anything bad, okay? After Funeral talks are usually not happy talks."

"I'll try my best," I said and then turned around once more.

~.:.~~.:.~~.:.~

08/15/17: And it's done! Though not much happened this chapter, I thought it would be an okay idea to highlight Al's relationship with Phil and Mae in this chapter; after all, in my mind, their relationships have slightly changed compared to books before. Mae and Al have mellowed out a little, while Phil is still... well, Phil. He hasn't changed since the beginning. Also, I included Chris because I felt like I didn't use him that much in "Exhale". Then again, I didn't use many of the Liberalists in the previous book. This time, however, everyone will have a more frequent, slightly important presence!

Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter! If you did, please vote, comment—anything and everything helps. Thanks for reading, and I hope you continue!