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The moon sat low on the horizon, a waning quarter slowly fading into the night with each passing day. It was already dark despite it only being 6 pm, an annual sign that the long and dreary months of winter were approaching. But the moon seemed to counteract this, fighting against the cold with all of its might by glowing a warm yellow, the kind that was painted in the background of children’s picture books and post-impressionist paintings. Opuntia stared out at the sky and at the moon, once again losing herself to her own thoughts.
Thanksgiving had come and gone, leaving tonight her very last night at home, and also the night of the aforementioned party, something she had waited for with bated breath ever since she had been invited to it. Her mother had of course said yes to the idea, just glad she had a chance to see her friends outside of school since she was always alone the entire summer. She had even helped her get ready, picking out a dress and helping her with her hair and makeup. She felt strange wearing something so formal, or even just clothes that weren’t her school uniform.
She stood there in a knee-length pinafore dress coloured a deep magenta, with a black knit turtleneck underneath and a thick magenta headband to match. Her mother had painted her eyelids with warm browns and black eyeliner, with the perfect touch of drawn-on lower lashes, typical for the days’ fashion that Opuntia only knew about from magazines. She had even tried to give her hair volume by teasing it in the back feverishly with a comb, but in minutes it had already resumed its natural state, which was straight and lank, with her rounded bangs flopped in front of her headband. She now looked at her reflection in the window, studying herself like an artifact on display and playing with the string of pearls she wore around her neck. She sometimes wished she could look like this all the time, feeling feminine and put-together for the first time in ages, but she doubted Arison would even allow something like makeup, especially with all of the new rules implemented. Redwood would probably come up with a reason for why wearing rouge on her cheeks was disrespecting their ‘core value’ of honesty. And her father…well, she was just glad that he wouldn’t be seeing her like this.
The truth was, Mordred was none the wiser that his daughter was headed off to a friend’s party, since she had not realized he would be at work all day today, never giving her a chance to ask him. Her mother told her again and again that she was allowed, but she still had that fear in the back of her mind that he would not be happy to find out about it, especially after a long day of hiring new security staff and reviewing the transcripts for graduating students, since college applications were coming closer and closer.
But before Opuntia could fret any longer she spotted a sleek black car pull up to the front gate from her bedroom window.
“Tia, dearie, I think the valet is here, her mother called from down the stairs as Opuntia leaped up from her bed and began making her way to the front door.
“Why does she get to go to a party with a valet?” Holly huffed from her own room as Opuntia passed her open door.
“No one’s stopping you,” Opuntia called back to her, trotting down the wooden stairs.
“Dad is…” Holly muttered to herself, turning back to sorting her Beatles vinyl collection. Opuntia reached the front door where their maid, Diana, and her mother were waiting for her, Diana with Opuntia’s coat in hand.
“Thanks, Di,” Opuntia said as her mother kissed her goodbye.
“Have a good time!” She exclaimed as Opuntia headed out the front door, her shoes clacking on the porch.
“Oh, I hope she dances with someone tonight,” Diana said, playfully nudging Adelaide, as soon as Opuntia was out of earshot, “she knows all those boys and she’s still going to be a spinster like me,”
The car was being driven by a serious-looking man somewhere in his mid-thirties who sported a neatly trimmed goatee. From outside the car, she couldn’t see any of the passengers, but as soon as she opened the door she saw who was inside.
“I can’t believe you could make it!” Teddy greeted her from the backseat, moving over to make room for her. He also looked more formal than she was used to, wearing a dark brown business suit and wine-coloured tie, complimenting his auburn head of hair that was now parted perfectly in place.
“I could say the same to you,” she grinned at him, taking her seat and buckling her seatbelt. It was at that moment she noticed Casimir, who was sitting in the passenger seat and had turned around to face them. He was also wearing a suit, a charcoal grey one with a black tie, though it looked slightly oversized on him, most likely a hand-me-down. His hair was still greased back perfectly, as usual, and his round glasses were perched on his flat nose.
“Nice place, Arison,” He said, referring to the outside of her house, but only looking directly at her.
“Oh, uh, thanks, I mean it’s a century old, so I guess if you like spooky haunted houses then yeah,” she replied as the valet began rolling down the road and towards their destination. She turned back to Teddy, still slightly surprised to see him there.
“How did you convince your dad to let you go?” She asked him curiously.
“Welllll, I started by getting on his good side all of Thanksgiving. I did all the dishes, cleaned my room without being asked, finished all my homework, and most importantly, didn’t goof off with Alan,” he explained, referring to his older brother who was four years their senior. “Then I asked him while family was over so he wouldn’t at least start a screaming match like he sometimes does.”
Cas had a slightly shocked expression at this point, probably being used to his mostly understanding parents.
“And I told him everything about the networking and how it would be good for my future, you know, basically what he tells me all the time. So, he eventually caved.”
“Consider me impressed,” Opuntia laughed but still felt slightly bad that her friend had to go through that at all. Teddy was usually only comfortable talking about his home life with her since she already knew what he dealt with. But even then, it was always in a light-hearted tone. She didn’t think he had a depressed bone in his body.
“Well, I think Wilfred and Engelbart should already be at Sampson’s house if they’re coming,” Cas changed the subject, slightly uncomfortable.
“Yes, Mr. Laurier and your friends are already at his Worcester residence,” the valet driver spoke for the first time the entire car ride, startling the other three passengers and leaving them silent.
By the time the car had arrived at Sampson’s house, the sky was pitch black and the moon had risen to take almost the centre stage of the nautical twilight scene. But no one was paying attention to that, since all eyes were intently focused on the behemoth of a building that greeted them. It was dazzlingly white, with Doric pillars guarding the front entrance and a row of balconied windows on every floor. It stretched outward into the landscape, seeming never-ending before being cut off by huddles of maple trees. But the piece de resistance was the fountain in the middle of the wrap-around driveway, spouting impossibly blue water that reflected the many lights of the house.
“Holy Macro,” Teddy said in disbelief.
“Money…” Cas whispered, impressed at the sight of it. Opuntia agreed that it looked much more modern and even chic than her house, being built in the 1950s vs 1890s. But it somehow looked more than that. It looked like Sampson, in a way, like seeing a place where he resided could explain so much. The valet guided them out of the car and to the front door of the mansion. Before they could even knock, the door flew open and low and behold, there was Sampson Laurier. He was not in a typical blazer like her other friends, but had on a slim white waistcoat perfectly tailored to his torso, with a puffy blue collar and sleeves peaking out from under it. Unlike Teddy and Cas, he had not bothered to make his hair any more neat, and instead let it rest in its usual dirty blonde curls.
“Cas, Dodgers, Arison, you all made it,” he grinned at them with pure glee in his eyes. “How do you like the place?”
He let them inside as the valet went to park the car in their spacious garage. The three of them had to fully take in the house before they could give a proper answer to Sampson. It was just as white on the inside as the outside, complete with a glittering chandelier probably as big as her room at Arison, and a grand piano next to a towering window.
“It’s definitely the biggest house I’ve seen,” Cas said, spinning around in a circle to capture every detail.”
“Really? Then you should see my house in Maryland,” Sampson said casually, taking them through the layout of the main floor and down into their sunken living room, where a fire was already roaring in the hearth.
Also perched in the living room, looking out of place with all the white and gold, were Wilfred and Eng, both politely sitting on an embroidered couch. Wilfred was wearing a pinstriped suit in classic black and white, with a bowtie sticking out from under his jacket. Eng, on the other hand, was dressed in a dark blue that delicately complimented his light grey eyes that had silver buttons and cuff links. But they weren’t normal spheres or squares, as Opuntia studied them she realized they were in the shape of a caduceus: the dual snakes coiled around the staff that represented the study of medicine.
“We’ve still got about half an hour until the rest of the guests get here,” Sampson explained to them, checking his massive golden watch. “So in the meantime…”
He parked the rest of his newly arrived guests next to Wilfred and Eng on various couches and armchairs, and the discussion immediately delved into everything they were forbidden from talking about for the past week since the flooding incident. Opuntia talked at a quick pace, explaining over and over again what she saw, what she heard, and what she thought. She also was able to relay some of Ida’s new thoughts that she had remembered since she had gotten another letter back from her yesterday.
“And she asked whether or not there was a possibility that Roger could be working with Michael, and he could’ve gone there to hide something that could’ve incriminated him more, or reveal the identity of the ender.” She explained to the five of them and received a variety of responses.
“Vorhees? But he’s rosary Rog!” Teddy exclaimed, baffled. “He was their whole opposition. How could he agree to work for them?”
“Michael and Roger were once best friends,” Wilfred said thoughtfully. “It could be possible for him to be blackmailing Roger to do something for him, or else maybe he would reveal something to the headmaster.”
“But wouldn’t that be a big risk, in spilling the identity of the ender to Roger?” Sampson asked, only half paying attention. As they talked, several more staff members from Sampson’s house were walking around and preparing for the party. Men dressed in waiter’s outfits prepared small platters of food and tall glasses of champagne.
“It’s anyone’s guess what that thing could’ve been,” Cas cut in, being skeptical of the whole situation. “It could have been a toothpick for Christ’s sake, there’s no point arguing over it.”
“But it brings the question of whose side he is really on,” Wilfred defended, which only made Cas dismiss it even more.
Opuntia had to admit that Cas had a point. With her missing what exactly he was retrieving, it was impossible to know his true intentions.
“It’s just fishy of him, that’s all,” she clarified, wanting to move on to something else Ida had mentioned. “But she also brought up something we can do tonight. I mean, I know we all want to make connections and everything but I think we could also be asking these other private school kids about if something similar has happened at their school. Who knows, if the ender is a part of the staff or even a student, they could’ve been inspired by something that happened at another school. I think she has a point.”
Her friends seemed to agree, all nodding their heads at the idea, though some seemed somewhat reluctant.
“Alright, if that’s the case, then I need everyone’s hands on deck,” Sampson declared, standing up and walking to the centre of the living room. “No grouping together, we are going to socialize. We have about 23 different schools attending, so we need conversations with ALL of them.” He was speaking like a commanding officer ordering around his troops, likely from being so used to being in charge at home.
Opuntia sighed but obliged, Teddy gave an eager thumbs-up, Cas rolled his eyes at the exaggeration, Wilfred nodded and Eng shrank back at the thought of it.
“Especially you,” Sampson whipped his arm around to point at Eng, whose eyes suddenly became as round as saucers.
“Me, why me?” He asked, bewildered.
“Mr. Laurier, what record would you like me to put on for the start of the party?” One of Sampson’s servants suddenly called from up the stairs. “Should I play Strangers in the Night, your favourite?”
Sampson was suddenly distracted as his friends were still left confused on the couch.
“Uhhh, no Eduardo, play the World We Knew record, we need to save Strangers in the Night for when the party reaches its peak.” He called back to him, dodging another servant dusting the coffee table. He turned back to the Caesar Six.
“Sinatra, of course. Best musician of all time, if you guys ask me. Did you guys know I met him when I—“
“Sampson,” Teddy cut in, impatiently.
“Why are you targeting Eng, you know I can just take on the extra weight if he doesn’t want to be social.”
“Because you guys just don’t get it,” Sampson tutted, walking up the stairs from the sunken living room to take a glass of champagne from a platter.
“I’ve spent my whole life around these people. And they only care about the superficial, shallow stuff. Looks.” He sipped his drink and winced at the taste of alcohol. Opuntia raised her eyebrows at him, waiting for him to finish his sentence.
“And, at least for the guys, we got to send our best soldier out there. That’s all I’m saying,”
“Sampson…” Cas shook his head, astonished at just how awkward he could make the conversation.
Opuntia looked at Eng, wondering how he was reacting to Sampson pretty much complimenting him. He was usually prone to picking on him, so it came as no surprise to her that Eng had turned beet red and was looking down, seemingly lost in thought. She had never really spent time analyzing the beauty of the people around her like Sampson apparently did, but she supposed she would agree with him. With nothing really to say or make his presence known, she hardly found herself looking at Engelbart. Still, now that she did, she realized more and more that he resembled something she would find in a museum, a marble statue from the Renaissance that would’ve taken a master years to perfect. But she quickly looked away after remembering she was staring.
“Look,” Sampson held his hands up and sat back down next to Opuntia. “I’m just trying to strategize. And don’t take it the wrong way, Arison, I wasn’t talking about you.” He smirked, after noticing her expression.
It was safe to say that everyone was somewhat glad to be separated from each other that night, with the stiff tension that was formed between them from Sampson’s comments. Guests soon arrived, each in cars polished to sparkle driven by valets paid for by Daddy’s money. Boys in suits and ties and girls in pinafore or button-up dresses climbed out of them, and soon the white house was bustling with people from all over the country, though it was mostly New England.
Her friends immediately got to work, spreading out among the two massive floors the party would take place in, while Sampson began catching up with old friends and offering drinks, though everyone there must have been underage.
Opuntia had a job to do, a new goal for herself set about by Ida’s latest letter. She knew there wasn’t much of a point trying to network herself since she was so unsure of her future that it made her queasy just thinking about it. So, she wandered around, drifting through conversations and cigarette smoke while Frank Sinatra sang soulfully about why you shouldn’t sleep on the subway. She targeted mainly the girls at the party to socialize with, partly because she had dealt with enough boys for the rest of her life, and also because she was curious about what life was like for them at a girl’s private school. It was never even an option for her and her sister since her father would refuse in sending them off to a rival academy (despite the completely different demographic, it was still competition in his eyes). She wondered what it would be like to be in the complete opposite situation as her, to be surrounded by people of her own gender all day instead of the opposite. She figured it would probably smell better, at least.
She talked to a few girls gathered in groups, coming from the same private schools like Blair Academy in Connecticut and Hinsdale South in Illinois. A few of them connected with her, but most didn’t seem that interested in discussing their inner school politics with her and scandals that their school faced in the past.
“Half of our school got food poisoning in ‘68,” a short plump girl with braids suggested.
“Oh yeah, and everyone at school called it Barf Academy for the next two months until the nuns banned it,” another girl added, lost in remembrance. This was obviously not the information that Opuntia wanted. She just hoped that her friends were having better luck. She looked around and could see Teddy halfway down the stairs with a group of three other boys wearing St. Eustace pins. They were all laughing at something he had said and playfully hitting his shoulder. Across the room by the record player, Sampson was talking to another dark-haired girl wearing pink, his fingers moving in time with the music as he lit a cigarette. Opuntia knew he was glad that Cas or Wilfred wasn’t seeing him do this, or else they would be lecturing him on the dangers of smoking for hours on end. Cas and Wilfred must have been downstairs but Eng was in the corner, talking, or more like listening, to a boy half his height and very red in the face. He talked animatedly to Eng while he nodded and watched him steadily in turn. ‘At least he’s talking to someone’ Opuntia thought, as she realized the group of girls she was targeting had moved away to converse with other people. She swiftly moved on and walked up the grand marble staircase, scouting out someone to talk to, as she was constantly bombarded with waiters asking her if she wanted to drink or smoke. ‘I think I’ve gotten enough second-hand smoke to give me cancer already,’ she thought wistfully. She finally spotted a girl by herself on the couch, with shoulder-length strawberry blonde hair, that was curled upwards at the ends, much like how Holly styled it. She had on wide square spectacles that in turn made her face look very small.
“Hi,” Opuntia started, sitting down next to the girl. She knew she was rusty on her conversation-starting skills since she had spent years around the same group of people. But the girl had no problem talking to her.
“Hi, I’m Amelia,” the girl shook her hand vigorously, causing her glasses to slip down her face.
“I’ve never seen you at SSAO parties before,” the girl said, studying Opuntia’s face to see if she looked familiar.
“Uhh, first time,” Opuntia explained simply, not wanting to go into the whole backstory of why she was there. “So, did you come far for this party? Blair Academy? Hinsdale?”
“St. Theresa,” Amelia explained. “It’s in Virginia, so, pretty far but it’s no Kelters,” she laughed lightly, a high-pitched noise that sounded like a bell. Opuntia knew Kelters was a famous boarding school on the west coast, somewhere in Utah.
“Where are you from?” The girl asked tentatively. Opuntia thought about lying for a moment, considering the idea of just saying she was from Blair. But that might put her in an awkward situation if she was caught right away, so she sighed and summed up the courage to say the thing she knew would earn a gawk from Amelia.
“Arison….” She said, waiting for the question.
“Oh…Arison! Then I’ve heard of you.” Amelia replied casually.
“You—what?” Opuntia said, taken aback. She had no idea that people would know who she was from outside of her school. Had word seriously gotten around about her existence and her reputation for being the only girl?
“You’re the only girl who’s ever been in Arison, aren’t you? My great uncle is a teacher there and has mentioned you once, I think it’s…Olivia, right?” Amelia asked her, once again studying her face.
“Opuntia,” she answered, becoming more curious about this girl. “Who is your uncle, exactly?”
“You’d probably know him as Mr. Martin, he teaches English,” Amelia grinned, and Opuntia’s mouth nearly fell open. This was a potential jackpot of information. Mr.Martin was their possible suspect for the ender and was the victim of their second act. Opuntia wildly tried to think of how to address this fact in their conversation.
“Has your uncle…recently talked about what’s going on at the school?” Opuntia asked slowly, hoping for the best.
“Yeah,” Amelia replied darkly, her voice becoming more sombre. “He rambled on and on about it at Thanksgiving dinner. He’s retiring next year because of it, and he’s paying someone a lot of money to install a private safe for the rest of his old books and valuables. He never really was a dramatic man, you know, I’ve never seen him so distraught.”
Opuntia pondered these points Amelia had just mentioned. She doubted that a person doing it for the money would pay extra to install something that would keep the rest of his things safe, and by the looks of it, Martin was never really capable of putting up that much of a show if he was faking.
“I’m so sorry,” Opuntia said, not really knowing what else to say. “I mean, our entire school is basically on lockdown now because of it, so I hope we’ll be able to find who’s behind it soon enough.” She felt sorry for Mr. Martin and partly regretted suspecting him.
“Yeah…” Amelia said awkwardly, before then quickly blurting out in a much happier tone, “So what’s it like to go to an all-boys school?”
Opuntia thought about it for a moment, trying to sum up all of her 6 years of experience in one sentence. The looks, the taunts, the teasing, the questions, and the assumption that she would never fit in. “…interloping,” she professed. “You kind of stand out most of the time.”
But Amelia didn’t seem to mind that at all, she almost seemed smitten at the idea of being seen as the centre of attention around boys. It made sense since she had spent her life surrounded by girls with never a chance to explore her presumed romantic interests.
“I mean, at least an upside is that you have tons of options for a rich husband. How many are at your school, 500? It was probably easy for you to pick out who’s the best, while my parents are still breathing down my neck about who I’m going to marry.”
“…right, yeah, I have,” Opuntia mumbled, entirely perplexed at the point she had just made. Marriage? But she was only seventeen! She had not even finished secondary school and now was already supposed to be thinking about which man she would settle down with for the rest of her life. Opuntia began to panic slightly, wondering if she was indeed supposed to be thinking about this the entire time she was at Arison. It had never even crossed her mind. But Amelia was slightly wrong. Out of everyone at Arison, she felt there were only five people she would even consider ‘getting with’ on her own volition. Her friends. And even then, she had never thought about that possibility, so she couldn’t even determine who she would prefer over the other. But what if she was too late? What if that was her father’s plan, and after she graduated she would be forced to elope with someone like Jeremy McCain or Dorian Dalloway? She didn’t like the sound of that. She just wanted to escape Arison, she didn’t want to think about her looming unknown future. She didn’t know what was coming, and she hated that, but she didn’t want to find out either.
Opuntia quickly finished the conversation, saying something about going to the bathroom before wandering up the stairs. She didn’t want to talk to anyone else. The music was pounding against her ears and the smell of smoke and drink was making her sick. She felt that feeling of hopeless defeat again that she was left with after going to New Versine High. A pit in her stomach told her that she had not gotten what she wanted. She was supposed to be searching for answers about the ender, for anyone that could give her clues on who it could be but instead, she just brought about more questions about herself that she wanted to get out. She stumbled around, looking for a place she could escape from everyone else and spotted the door to a balcony in a secluded corner. She took her chance and opened it, feeling the chill November air on her face. She immediately began to calm down a bit.
Suddenly, she heard a rustling in the shadows behind the open door. She turned around to find Engelbart also on the balcony, moving as if to leave.
“Sorry, I’ll get back to the party now, just please don’t tell Sampson I’m slacking off.” He said quietly, looking through the glass door for a sign of him.
“Don’t worry,” she told him calmly, her magenta dress standing out against the indigo sky and yellow glow from inside. “I wasn’t going to snitch. You can stay.” At these words, Eng sighed a breath of relief and sat back down in his hiding spot, blending in with the night. Opuntia hesitated for a moment, watching him. She did feel like being alone and was sure he wanted to be as well, but she also was curious to see if he had gathered any information from the other students. She sighed and sat down next to him, closing the door so that the buzz from the party had been entirely blocked out.
“So,” she started awkwardly. “Any luck so far?”
Eng answered without looking up at her, taking the time to adjust his cufflinks.
“Uhh, yeah, kind of. I talked to a few people, one from my old school, too.” Opuntia suddenly remembered he himself had gone to St. Eustace. “And, well, I was able to talk to someone who said they would recommend me for Harvard Law.” He continued but then realized what she really meant by the question. “But--oh, you meant about the ender stuff…I’m sorry but I uh, I haven’t gotten the chance.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said quickly, feeling her spirits sink but not wanting to put pressure on him. She tried to steer the conversation back to what he had said previously. “Anyways, I didn’t know you were interested in Harvard Law. Do you want to be a lawyer?” She asked him. Although the answer was kind of obvious, she was honestly taken aback that Eng wanted to be in a profession that usually required being…well, confident and outspoken.
“Yeah,” he mumbled, and even in the dim moonlight she could see him growing red again. “It’s stupid, I know.”
“Why would it be stupid?” she asked him, though she already knew the answer.
“Because,” he said, screwing his eyes shut and shaking his head as if trying to rid himself of the shame. “Well, you know me. I can hardly even talk to people at a party, how am I supposed to speak in court and help people?”
Opuntia felt out of place in this situation. She knew she wasn’t very good at helping people with her problems, since she herself was a catastrophizing ball of worry that had a bad habit of sinking into despair whenever bad things seemed to come her way, but she wanted to at least say something to him. They were friends, after all, and she hated seeing him in distress.
“Well…is this goal something you want, or is it something your parents want?” She asked him sagely. So many people at Arison, including some of her friends, had their futures already made for them by their parents, expecting only the most successful careers for them with perfect grades and excellent behaviour, she assumed Eng’s parents might be the same way.
“No, it’s me,” he told her, still with his eyes closed. “I want to be the one who can help people in the face of the law, and serve justice and all that, I just--I’m just--scared.”
Opuntia was learning more about the way Eng’s mind worked by the second. At last, she could finally understand the inner workings of his brain, and by the looks of it, it was more of a prison than a safe haven.
“But what are you afraid of?” She asked him gingerly, still peering at him like he was a painting in a museum, full of delicate symbolism and metaphors that she had to analyze.
“I don’t know, looking stupid, being judged,” he professed, now looking up at the night sky. His eyes were focused on the yellow moon, and he looked more like he was speaking to it than to her. But she understood him. She knew what it was like to be hesitant to speak her mind, even with her closest friends. So much of her was buried inside that wondered if it would ever escape.
“I mean, ok, I’m not quite sure how to help you with that,” she told him since she couldn’t even help herself. “I guess it wouldn’t mean much if I told you to just be more confident. But, a really big part about being a lawyer is stuff like being smart, detail-oriented, professional,” she listed off on her fingers everything she could think of. “And you already have all of those things, so I think you still have a good chance at being an amazing lawyer.”
Engelbart turned to look at her for the first time in their conversation, his brow furrowed and a look of skepticism etched across his face. “Do you really mean that? Or are you just saying that to make me less sorry for myself?” He asked her.
“Dude, listen,” she retorted, mustering up her most sincere tone of voice. “This is the most I’ve ever heard you talk, probably ever, and I haven’t heard you say anything stupid so far, so I think you’re doing a great job.” And she did really mean it. She would much rather him be talkative, even if he did make mistakes, rather than remain a stoic enigma.
And then…he smiled, and she watched as his entire face changed. He was no longer carved from stone, but so warm, so lit from within, he could’ve replaced the moon in the sky. And she felt that small sense of achievement, that she was the one responsible for it. She then found herself grinning back at him, becoming aware of her shallow breathing. There was a long moment of silence before she realized she should probably say something.
“Uh, anyways,” she started, looking back inside to see what was happening without them.
“I think Sampson is getting out his Strangers in the Night record, so we should probably go.”
“Oh, right, of course,” Engelbart said, climbing to his feet and offering her his hand to get up.
The rest of the party went as well as the first half. Opuntia was still talking to girls, having dry conversations with people she would never see again, learning nothing new and instead being bombarded with questions about her life. But it was okay. She was okay. For the first time in what felt like forever, she wasn’t intimidated by the fact that she didn’t know everything. Watching all of her friends from across the room, she didn’t mind that they probably weren’t going to find out who the ender was. They were all still there. Even with Redwood breathing down their necks and restricting them from communicating, simply the knowledge of them supporting her was enough for her at that moment. Teddy, Sampson, Wilfred, Cas and even Engelbart, all of them cared.
Snow began to fall for the first time all year as the valet dropped Opuntia back at home, waving goodbye to Teddy and Cas. It fell softly in wistful crystals around her, landing in her black hair like stars in the sky. Normally, she would groan at the indication that winter was coming, but tonight she just breathed a deep sigh, and closed the door to her house.
She wrote a poem that night for the first time in weeks, finally feeling that spark of creativity she had been lacking since Michael had flooded the bathroom. As she rubbed her eyes, smudging her makeup away, she also began to write.
169Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8Pn87hSbQ0
“Gold is better than pearls,”
I used to agree with you,
For gold is worth a million
And pearls crowd the deep blue.
169Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOXLgKNaWOq
But when I went looking for gold
And came up for breath with none,
My pearl is all I cradled
But I still think I’ve won.169Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpBrUNLJpqH
169Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsR2d7TXGP2
You see, in that great black sky
Dying stars form gold all the time
But pearls are born from life
And life only.169Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdOBQ8HaWnJ
169Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbNRAKse3pJ
So gold is worth a million
But pearls are one in a billion,
So that I will take
And cherish lovingly.
-O.M.A
169Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9zW1SCsSOI
