The Famoux

Chapter 6

emilee

"What?" The word comes out of my mouth involuntarily, before I can even register what Norax has just asked me. Directly proceeding my expurgation of overwhelmed query, the very option I've been presented with begins to sink in.

She just asked me if I wanted to be a part of the Famoux.

My heart stops, and I swear it won't start again anytime soon. My skin erupts into chills all over my arms and legs. My cheeks feel so red-hot that I'm relieved we're in a Darkening, and that Norax can only barely see my face.

I do what any person in my situation would do: I sputter. "D-did you just ask me to be a part of the Famoux? Or did that not actually just happen right now?"

Norax lets out a little laugh. "Yes, you heard me correctly."

"W-w-why?"

"Why what, Em?"

I don't know how to put it into words. I wouldn't know how to speak of this sanely, and I'm especially muddled now, my mind enclosed by a frenzy. All that comes out is the same singular question.

"W-why?" I repeat.

"Is something wrong?"

"I'm just--I don't know--I just--"

"Here," she says. "I think we should discuss this seated. And perhaps with a little bit of light so we can see each other."

Norax gently takes my hand and leads me down the empty street to the bench she can find. She sits me down, and before joining me she pulls something out of her pocket, striking it against the concrete of the bench's finish. A flame ignites, and with the match in her hand she plunks down beside me.

"Thought you'd like to sit down while we talk," she says. "Makes everything more comfortable. Now continue, Em. What is it that's the matter?"

"Well, I just--" Again, I can't figure out how to put it without putting it bluntly. When I take so long trying to formulate a softer question to no avail, I decide to go right out and ask it like it is. "You want me to replace Bree Arch?"

It doesn't seem right. Bree was the most glamorous girl in the Famoux. I, on the other hand, am so repulsive to the people around me that Carstan van Horne has made it his withstanding duty to punish me every day without fail for it. How is this happening right now?

"Well, I wouldn't say that'replace' is the proper word for this." Norax glances over her shoulder. To who or what, I don't know. "People are too original to ever be replaced. We could try our very best, but we'd never mold a new Bree out of you."

"Mold?"

"Oh, we'll get to that later. Of course, that's only if you accept the offer."

I swallow, and a piece of me fumes, wondering what's holding me back like this. But I know what is. I know it. "I don't--I just--"

"I know, it's a lot to take in," says Norax. "I understand that. But the world needs another bright young face to fawn over, and I think it should be yours."

"But nobody here would be a fan of me," I say. "Plus, my family would never let me do this in a million years."

She crinkles an eyebrow, hazel eyes stirring with slight confusion. "Didn't you tell me they wouldn't need you if you ever were to leave?"

"Well . . ." I falter, feeling like a rabbit or a deer who's just been seen by the predator. "I-I just, I don't think they would want my reason for leaving to be that I'm going to join the Famoux."