The ride home on Groffnovia's banana bike is silent. We have to use that, since Lin totaled his pontoon boat. The sky is pitch black. Joffrey didn't die, but he could have.
I hear a scratchy, tired voice. It's Lin. "I'm not mad at you. You did what you thought was right."
Groffpoona is sitting in the back with me, arm around my shoulders, hand over my mouth, one finger in each nostril. I have never been more comfortable. I have never felt more loved. We are quiet for the rest of the ride to the theater, but I can smell Lin's thoughts. They are dark.
Once we get back, we make sleeping arrangements. Begonia claims the lockers. She squeezes her bulbous body inside. She is scared. Lin and Groffacopia find a spot in the audience between the chairs. With nowhere else to go, I climb to the top of the catwalk. I crawl through the rafters. The curtains are enticing me to roll myself in them. I do. I hang by my feet, like cherries. Cherries. Grofferries. I have never felt this way.
The stage is 846 feet below me. The air vents spew hot air onto thyself. I am comfortable.
It takes me a while to fall asleep, but while I sniff my tongue, I think about all that has happened to me. I ran away from Joffrey. I joined the Entire Original Broadway cast of Hamilton. I found a male counterpart. I found me. Joffrey found me. Joffrey. Joffrey is in critical condition. Zachary's tears made my heart snivel. Zachary. Do I love him? Do I hate him? Is Groffelle over him? No. I must quench these thoughts. Without a second thought, my eyelids sink into my dreams.
I dream about scooping ice cream for Lin. He would eat it. I know he would. In the dream I am wearing Begonia's outfits, not heavy black robes. I dream of employing my friends. Me and Lin. Lin and Groffchuchka . Groffchuchka and Begonia. Beegonia and the doctor. The doctor and-- I can't quite tell. Something from many, many moons ago.
I hear voices. Drumbeats, perhaps? The noise jolts me out of my cocoon. I feel the curtains unraveling, slithering around my being. What is happening? My dreams sto--
YOU ARE READING
Adopted by Lin Manuel Miranda
أدب المراهقينMidge Jorbyn is eleven years old, living with her evil foster dad Joffrey. Everything seems fine from the outside, but she walks to school with the lunch she packed. Nobody knows what she's holdin' back. Wearin' the same dress she wore yesterday, sh...
