Young Writers Society

Lekan held his breath, studying a Velodian text. He recognized some words, but it was mainly gibberish. Fear was a roiling mass in his stomach, but he ignored it, trying to repress it when he could. He hadn’t left his room all day even though his sleeping clothes were getting vaguely irritating as they only can when they’ve been worn for too many hours. He was too aware he hadn’t bathed. Too aware of the dampness hovering around any touching skin on his body. Too aware that his sheets were collecting his sweat and hair and skin which should be spread across wherever he could have been wondering today. Aware of the laziness that hung like a cloud over him.

If he didn’t face the world, maybe it would all go away.

Goddess, couldn’t it all go away?

He still turned pages as if he were reading, but now, he wasn’t even looking for words he thought he knew. He just stared at the pages and thought.

He had red wall paper, and it was starting to distract him. The brightness of it drew his eye until he was brushing a single finger along the textured wall.

Qui’in had told him nothing about meeting again. He assumed she would find him when she wanted him. Obi hadn’t bothered him in a while either.

Three times the maids walked in to make his bed, backing out as they murmured apologies. “Stay,” he wanted to say, “You’re a normal fixture of this house. You represent what’s not changing when I feel like everything is moving out from under me. Let’s talk about your mundane life.”

With his luck, he would get a maid who held a fascinating life. Not what he wanted, to say the least.

Flopping over in an attempt to get comfortable again with his book, his tangled sheets tangling more around him. The top of his four poster bed was draped in a canopy. Staring at it made him claustrophobic, as if it was pushing against his chest. He preferred having his nose shoved in a pillow.He had just quieted his mind in an attempt to focus on the Velodian script again when the door banged open.

Obi stood in the doorway, hands on hips, glaring at Lekan in a way the boy wished was unrecognized. “Why,” he asked, his voice a welcome disturbance despite how little Lekan liked the tone, “haven’t you gotten started on the day? You don’t have time to waste any longer.”

Briefly wondering how Obi had known he was in here and why it had taken so long for him to yell at him, Lekan shrugged. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Start with getting up.” The phrase sounded like it was supposed to be sarcastic, but from Obi’s mouth it was no laughing matter.

Lekan swung his feet out of bed, resting them on the plush carpet protecting them from the cold stone floor. He stood slowly like he was afraid of making sudden moves for fear of inciting the wrath of his uncle who was still glaring at him. They looked at each other in silence for a few heartbeats. The electric lights seemed to do strange things to Obi’s face. It looked almost like it had been pulled tight, and his eyes were pink and glassy as if he had just finished crying.

“I’m leaving for seven minutes on the dot. You will change into practical clothes, and we’re going to seize the day. You have so much left to do. We’ll get started as soon as you’re ready.”

Frowning, Lekan crossed his arms. “And if I don’t want to?”

Obi merely left, saying nothing at all in reply, leaving Lekan smiling wryly.

Lekan took his time getting dressed, making sure to milk the seven minutes for all they were worth. He wasn’t disappointed. Obi was fuming with impatience when Lekan finally opened his door, smiling easily into his uncle’s face.

He appreciated his uncle more than he had in the beginning. Obi had stuck around when a lesser man would have distanced himself from a nephew that found himself on the wrong side of the throne’s opinion. In his gruff, blunt way, Obi was helping, and that was more than most people would do. However, making Obi annoyed made Lekan feel like everything could possibly be normal. It wasn’t a good lie, and it didn’t truly fool Lekan, but he wanted it to. He wanted it to so badly.

“Having trouble deciding what to where?” Obi asked, words short and precise as if he was afraid of wasting any.

Lekan shrugged, letting Obi take what he would out of the gesture. “So what are we doing?” He was following Obi down the stairs, his steps light as Obi’s snapped against the floor.

Glancing at him, Obi opened the dining room door where Conya sat primly at an empty table. “We decided that we could work on your small talk. Sometimes it’s the best way to root out information.”