I dropped envelopes on the table one by one. Today it was all RSVPs to the coming ball. It had been a few weeks after it had been announced, and the whole household had pretty much gotten over it. My parents were annoyed but accepting of the first major event to happen at the palace in years, at least since I could remember. But the mail lacked what I was looking for.
Disappointed, I headed up to my room. I had been waiting several days for a particular letter so far, and it hadn't yet arrived, even though I was sure it was supposed to come today.
When I opened the door I immediately saw the pink envelope sitting on my nightstand and ran across the room. This was it, what I had been waiting for, for better or worse. They had to have some kind of magical spell to send the letter right to you. I crossed the room quickly and tore open the envelope, quickly running my eyes over the first lines of the letter.
Dear Princess Stephania of Eraklyon,
We here at Alfea, College for Fairies, are pleased to accept you
YES!
I continued reading.
to our freshman class starting this fall. Packing lists, residence information, and tuition requirements to follow shortly by electronic message...
My interest and energy dwindled after that first rush of excitement. When I had applied to Alfea shortly after hearing Lord Brandon's words, it had been almost an experiment, a bet with myself. I was so sure I wouldn't get in. Alfea only took the most talented fairies, and I wasn't that great with magic. I didn't even have my Winx transformation yet.
But I had gotten in.
It didn't change anything. I had proven to myself that I was a good fairy, kind of, but there was always the chance they let me in because I was a princess, or a daughter of Bloom of Sparx, or both. I couldn't pay the tuition, which was pretty astronomical, and if I was skating by as it was there was no chance of getting a scholarship. Not to mention the fact that Mom hated things that reminded her of her past, and my going to the school where she first learned magic was a pretty big reminder. And I couldn't leave my family. It wasn't that I wasn't willing, or that I was too loyal, it was just...it didn't seem possible. I wasn't sure how to live without being annoyed and lonely and isolated, and I couldn't imagine a world where all of that was gone. How could that be?
I couldn't live that life. I had to live this life. As much as I wanted to change that, it just wasn't possible. I didn't have the resources or the cooperation.
I should just throw this away, I thought. Throw it away and don't think about it again. I had gotten what I wanted, whatever that was, but this was as far as it could go.
I didn't throw it away. Instead, I folded up the letter and placed it gently under my pillow, where I knew it wouldn't be disturbed because we didn't have a maid. I wasn't sure why I was keeping it. Maybe I just wanted the reminder, or maybe I wanted to imagine that there was some kind of alternate universe where I had gotten in.
"You're late," Anastasia said when I came downstairs for dinner that evening.
I ignored her. She couldn't be so mean in front of everyone, and it was a full house tonight: Mom, who usually came down but sometimes preferred to eat in her room, Emily, who was a rarity at the table and nearly always in her room, Anastasia, and me. Dad was pretty much always in his room.
"Hi, Emily," I said instead, because this was the first I'd seen her all day. Maybe it made me a bad sister but I couldn't deal with how pathetic she was, all day, every day. It was better this way—I could still harbor affection for Emily when I saw her in small doses. If I had to be around her too much I was sure I'd hate her.
"Hi," Emily replied, picking at her food. "I hate carrots."
"Don't eat the carrots then," Anastasia briskly. "Pick them off."
We continued in silence for a while. Alfea nagged my brain, and I wasn't even sure why or how. Hesitantly, I turned to my mom.
She sat at the head of the table, which we all gathered around the far end of: Anastasia on her right, Emily on her left, and me next to Emily because she was generally more tolerable. There was a blank look in her eyes that she nearly always seemed to have nowadays. Still, I chanced it and opened my mouth. "Mom, you went to Alfea. What was it like?"
It was a dumb question. Mostly I just wanted her to talk about Alfea in general. She never did, and I knew it was a taboo topic, but I wasn't prepared for her reaction.
Mom's dazed expression turned bitter and angry, as though I'd said the worst possible thing. Always hyper aware of conflict, Anastasia's head shot up, her mouth pressing into a line, like it did when she got upset. Emily, less observant but totally dependent on our parents' moods, looked at me, troubled.
"I don't know what that means, Stepha," my mother said, in a clipped tone. In fact it was the first thing I had heard from her in months that she sounded sure of. Sometimes I felt like I hated her dazed, confused way, but I didn't prefer when she got angry. "Why do you want to know." It didn't sound like a question.
I wasn't sure if there was any answer that I could get out of trouble with, so I decided I might as well be frank. "Well, everyone knows that Alfea was where you found out you were a fairy, and the lost princess. And where you fought the Trix. And where you met Dad. So I just wondered what it was like."
"It was a school. I don't really have anything else to say about it." Mom suddenly grew very interested in the motion of her fork and knife. "There isn't anything else to say."
So no one else said anything.
Mom didn't really care for subtlety and stood up, her chair scraping behind her. "I have a headache. I'm going upstairs." She turned and left the room.
At Mom's obvious anger, Emily's fear increased and it showed on her face. "I'm going up too," she said, her voice catching, and I knew she was about to cry. She always cried when our parents were mad.
Even though Mom and Emily both annoyed me sometimes I didn't like to see them go. That left me alone with Anastasia, and—
"Why would you do that?" Anastasia asked, still sitting across the table. I stood up to go but her glare followed me and she too stood up and walked over. "Why do you destroy every single thing? Why do you have to ruin...everything? I know, I know, I ask too much of you," her voice got louder and shrilled with every word, and I wanted to leave, but at the same time I just stood there. I just stood there. "But how hard is it to not do something? How hard is it to not talk?"
"I didn't do anything," I said, trying to be calm. I knew I was right. I really hadn't done anything. "It's not my fault that Mom got so upset—"
"Yes, yes it is your fault! Because you know this! You know we aren't to talk about that in this household and you still have to bring it up, because you're selfish!" Anastasia smacked me on the forehead with the heel of her hand. It stung, but only for a moment, reminding me of her displeasure. I shoved her away.
"What household? We're four people and three servants! Two of those are parttime! You're crazy, Emily's crazy, Mom never talks about anything cause she's so miserable and Dad's not a real king, and he's—"
"Shut up!" A rush of anger made me lose focus and I missed Anastasia's hand until it connected hard with my cheek. My face burned and I brought my cold fingers to it, feeling tears come to my eyes involuntarily. Her hand shook. "Shut up! You don't care that you've ruined the whole rest of the day and maybe tomorrow. You don't care about anyone but yourself. You make life hard for all of us just because you're a bitch. I ask you to do one thing, one thing, and it's try not to ruin the day...!"
Giving free range to her anger, she brought the heel of her hand down on my head several times, then shoved me roughly away.
I stumbled back for a moment and watched her crumple into herself and a chair, the spirit seeming to melt out of her. She sagged under the weight of her own head, covering her face with her pale arms. She looked a hundred years old. She began to cry.
"Go away," she said, her voice as hard as the marble statues in the dark, unused throne room.
I did. I wished I could go farther.
