Far away from Onett Boarding School, there stands a mighty skyscraper.
To many, it is the centrepiece of New Pork City. A magnificent spire, stretching gloriously above rows upon rows of marble buildings. A pillar, reaching infinitely upwards, shrouded in cloudy mystique. The entrance, elusive to all but a select few. By day, it casts a great shadow, like a thick line of ink spilt across a page. By night, it looms incessantly, bearing down on even the bravest man, a ferocious needle, dark and huge.
Up on the top floor, Porky Minch can look down at his works with a sense of great satisfaction. The circular room is panelled with glass, displaying the sprawling city in a glorious panoramic view. Months of designing, years of construction, sitting at that desk and sketching night and day, building, commanding, reaping profits... it has all led to this moment. His creation stands before him. Everything the light touches is his. He has everything he could ever want.
Except for one thing.
Grumbling, he pores over a lengthy piece of documentation. What is the point of documentation, he thinks irritably to himself, when you can pay upfront? When you can build of your own accord? But he consoles himself with a click of his tongue. It will be worth it, in the very end...
He has all the tools at his disposal. Men, grovelling on their hands and knees for him. Those who will put their very lives in his hands. And money, flooding endlessly into his pockets from investors, from businesses, all the hard work paying off at long, long last.
Everyone is weak, compared to him. The plan will work, it cannot fail — people are already piling into New Pork City to escape the war. The thought makes Porky smile a great, self-indulgent smile. Compared to the most powerful inventor of the modern age, people are nothing. He is like a god, he reasons, looking over ants. He is Paul Charles Morphy, and the others are his chess pieces, waiting patiently to be moved. Waiting patiently to do as they are told.
The documentation drones on another dozen pages or so. Giving it up as a bad job, Porky throws it down on a pile of blueprints. He'll come back to it later, he decides, looking loathsomely at the text. Or he could just have the contractor disposed of... he allows himself an evil grin. That could certainly be an option.
But that must come later. As for now, he has important business to attend to. Business far away.
Business in Onett City Centre.
Praise him.
.
.
.
~~o00o~~
Chapter 11: Talk
(Ness)
~~o00o~~
.
.
.
I stagger from the bathroom, my arms looped around Lucas's tender sides. His body drags like a sack along the floor, and I hoist it up, shaking. This is the second time this term he's been out of sorts, and this, this...
I bring my hand from his head, seeing a mass of sticky, dark red. Fear boils in my gut. Driven, I haul him forwards, practically hurling myself down the stairs. Help. He needs help.
I swear on all things sacred, I will find who did this. Nobody touches Lucas. Nobody hurts my Lucas, least of all in the damned shower. I got the assailant with the showerhead — he ran outside — but I hadn't seen their face. I curse myself again, trying desperately to stem the bleeding.
The others. They'll be in the games room. I quickly wrangle Lucas in, but to my utmost dismay, it's deserted. Which means there's nothing for it.
It's all up to me.
I lay him across the nearest armchair, my heart thumping in my chest. Swiftly, I turn him over — his scalp — there's a nasty gash where he hit the pump. Dread courses through me. What the hell am I supposed to do? I quickly pull off my jumper, tying it in a desperate bandanna around the wound. I check Lucas's pulse, which is mercifully still beating. I hug him tight, whispering to him. Praying to the gods I don't believe in.
And somehow, by some miracle, it works. The bleeding seems to slow. The panic subsides. A small sort of sigh escapes him, and he falls back against the armchair. I touch his soft cheek, and I know he'll be all right. He looks almost peaceful lying there, and I envy his sleep, sleep without knowledge of graves and disappearances. Sleep without Bowser, Olimar and Meta Knight. I wonder if I should tell the others about the disappearances when they appear, but I know I cannot drag them into it. Not unless I want them to disappear, too.
The door swings open. My gaze is torn in its direction.
It's them.
"And I said, 'You know what they say about a big gong!' Oh, fancy that, it's Ness. Where've you bee—" Toon Link stops in his tracks, seeing Lucas. His face visibly pales.
"Hello." I wave. "Uh, showering, I suppose."
"Lucas!" Villager rushes to the armchair. "What happened?"
"Somebody attacked him," I say. "He got pushed back against the wall, and his head…" My voice trails off, worry seeping back into my thoughts.
"Oh, Christ." Villager checks his pulse. "Who did it, d'you know?"
"I don't. I chased them off, but…"
"They hurt Lucas, they hurt us," Toon Link says, balling his fists. "It wasn't Meta Knight or Olimar, was it?"
"No. They're the wrong shape…"
Just at that moment, the door swings open. Link and Zelda sidle in, an unusual pair to see in public. Often, they resign themselves to making out in their dormitory.
"Hello, Toonie!" Link says merrily.
"Oh, great," Toon Link sighs. "Don't call me that."
"How impolite." Link raises his eyebrows. "Now, my oh my, what on earth are you doing with these children?"
"They're our age," Toon Link says.
"Really? They don't look it." He points to Lucas, seemingly blind to the blood on his scalp. "That one, he's five feet at most."
"Yes, and—"
He points to me. "That one could pass as a toddler."
"I could not!" I say hotly, and Link laughs.
"Temper of one, too. Come on, Toon Link. You are better than these sorts."
But Zelda simpers, giving her boyfriend a chiding expression. "Let's not start any more fights, Linky."
"Of course," Link says, bowing. "Anything for you, my love."
I feel rather nauseous as he kisses her. I glance at Villager, who is very deliberately looking away.
"We'll be going now," Link announces mightily. "But if you find the strength for someone of a higher class… I'm here, Toonie."
"Again, don't call me Toonie."
"Of course, Toonie."
"Are you going, then?" Toon Link takes a pool cue, setting up the table, only partially managing to appear disinterested.
"I did not know you were so keen for us to remain," Link says.
"Believe me, I'm not."
"Sure, pal." Link gives him a brotherly shoulder pat. "But I shall depart, for I don't want to stay too long... I cannot risk tarnishing my reputation! Au revoir."
Link and Zelda sweep majestically from the room, but they are almost immediately replaced by some first-year students coming in.
"Aw, there's big boys on the pool table," one of them says.
"Right you are, midgets!" Toon Link raises his cue like a lance. "Stand and fight for it!"
The first-years run away screaming, and Toon Link laughs. Villager prods him.
"We've talked about terrorising children."
"Oh, whatever." He sticks out his tongue. "I cannot believe we were that small, once."
"You were the smallest of us all," I remind him.
"Listen here, Nessie—"
"Okay, that's enough!" Red intercedes. "Calm down!"
"Whatever, Reddy—"
"I told you not to call me that."
"Too bad."
Thankfully, the unexpected tension is lifted almost immediately when Lucas opens a drowsy eye, shifting on the armchair.
"Lucas!" I cheer, rushing over to help him to his feet. "Are you all right? Are you dying? Do you need some Laudanum?"
"I'm — ow." Lucas grips my shoulder for support. "Head killing me... everything... dizzy..."
"I've got you." I support his side. "You must stop getting hurt, Lucas, I should watch over you…"
"I was in the shower — please don't watch over me when I'm in the shower—"
"Desperate times call for desperate measures!"
"No, you goof," he says, and I'm glad to see him smile a little bit.
"Really, are you all right?" I ask, and he leans against me with a groan. I suppose that's enough of an answer.
A few minutes later, he seems to be faring better, at least capable of standing on his own two feet. But my stomach lurches each time I catch a glimpse of his head, the blood in his hair. Whoever did this, I won't forget them. I'll get revenge, I'll be sure of it.
"How about we explore upstairs, like we planned?" Villager says. "It might help us take our mind off things."
We acquiesce, though I secretly long to take Lucas to the medical ward instead, where he may be inside a bubble, away from phantom faces and shower demons. But we climb the spiral staircase, making our way into unchartered territory.
"Behold!" Villager says when we arrive. "Floor three."
I look from left to right. It's just a load of dormitories.
"Isn't there more than this?" I complain.
"Patience is a virtue," Toon Link chides. "We only just arrived."
We pass a lot more dorms, including the ones occupied by the first years. I remember our first year, and Toon Link being quite disappointed when he found he wasn't dormed with the two of us. Often, I wondered if rooming with strangers, among everything else, was what led to him maturing faster than us. I'm not sure if I'd have survived it — without Inkling, we had to rely on each other a lot in that first term.
It takes another few minutes of walking before our efforts are rewarded. Tucked away in the corner of a bend is a door that leads into an unfamiliar sitting-room. The walls are high, painted a gentle cream, then there are armchairs, quilts… it's a welcome surprise, and I have no idea what purpose this room has. There's not even anyone else inside.
Lucas falls onto a settee, and I sit down next to him. He leans against my shoulder, which surprises me a little. Then again, it's just like him to undersell his head pain.
"I reckon this counts as success," Villager says, sitting in between Toon Link and Red.
"Do you think anyone else knows about this?" Toon Link asks.
"No chance." Villager pulls a stray blanket over himself. "It's been deserted for years, look. There's dust on the carpet."
"Wonderful."
But Red sits rigidly in place. "Don't we have schoolwork to do?"
"Not any that's important." Toon Link waves a hand. "You don't need schoolwork for — what is it you want to be when you are older?"
"A mathematician."
"Of course. But yes, you don't need to do schoolwork to be a mathematician. Except, well, doing Arithmetic, but—"
"You are digging yourself into a hole," Villager says. "What about you? What d'you wanna be?"
"Good question." Toon Link thinks. "I fancy something in performance, I think. I like Theatre, certainly my favourite class… I'm not sure Onett's theatre is too popular with the businessmen, though. What about you, Ness?"
It's a challenging question. I suppose Father wants me to be one of those very businessmen, with a wife and heir in the Fourth Residential District. Unfortunately, I'm uncertain if I want that at the moment.
"Perhaps… a historian?" I say eventually. "Or a musician. I'm not too good at much. Lucas is the skilful one."
"I wanna be a scientist," Lucas says sleepily.
"Now that's a thought…" Villager perks up. "Though, I've always liked Trades. Y'know, building, architecture. I love that stuff, it's the future, right?"
"For sure. Wait," Toon Link says suddenly. "You said nobody knows about this place?"
"Yes?"
"Then I declare this our new hideout."
"Hideout?" Red stares at him.
"We can form a secret society!" Toon Link spins around. "You know, Ness, like with Inkling, Lucas, you and me, back in primary school..."
I raise my eyebrows. I'd almost forgotten about that. We called ourselves The Four Musketeers. I'd read a similar name in a book and thought it sounded classy. Looking back, it was not classy.
"That sounds nice," I say. "What would we be a society of?"
"Of fun?"
"Isn't that rather childish?" Red cuts in.
"Excuse me?"
"It's something children would do."
"But I miss being a child." Toon Link sits back down, looking rather defeated.
"...So do I," Red mumbles, suddenly unsure of himself.
There's a small quiet, and then Toon Link stands again.
"Great! So we can have our own secret society."
"Sure," Villager says softly.
"What do we call ourselves?" Toon Link presses, and I notice he's a lot more enthusiastic than the rest of us. It's actually quite uncomfortable.
"T.V.R.N.L?" I say, to save face. "It stands for all of our names."
"Yes! Except, let's have it stand for something else, so it doesn't seem quite so pompous."
"All right," I say. As Villager and Red strike up light conversation in the background, Toon Link looks a little put out.
Lucas snores lightly against my chest. He must've fallen right back to sleep. I hope his head is healing… I do worry, probably too much, about him. As I move Lucas's hair out of his eyes, Toon Link comes and sits beside me.
"So," I say quietly, spotting his unhappy expression. "You miss the old times?"
"I suppose." Toon Link averts his gaze, suddenly seeming uncomfortable.
"I mean, a secret society? Red's right. It's a bit… childish."
"I miss Inkling," he says sheepishly. "I want to know what happened to her."
"She just — went to another school, did she not?"
"Everyone says that." Toon Link looks at the floor. "Everyone's forgotten."
"Forgotten what?"
"She was gonna go to a different school, but in the last week of term, she vanished. She did not come in, Ness."
"That cannot be right!" I'm taken aback, and yet...
"Has she ever written to us?"
"Well, no, but—"
"She promised she would. She did not break her promises."
"So — what, the secret society — you want to remember her? Is that it?"
"Oh. No." Toon Link buries his face in his hands. "You don't understand."
"Then tell me."
"I shouldn't."
"Why not?"
"It's idiotic."
I move to hug him, but he brushes me aside. I frown.
"This isn't the Toon Link I know."
"Ness." He looks up, his face paler than before. "What is the Toon Link you know?"
"Good-natured. Intelligent. You are kind." I try to smile. "You don't trouble yourself with what others think."
"You think I don't care what others think?" Toon Link asks, and there's an unpleasant feeling in my stomach.
"Well, I always thought—"
"I care, Ness. Almost too much. I don't know what the hell I am, or what people even think of me. It's miserable."
"Then tell me what's the matter."
He looks up, weak. There's something hollow in his eyes, something I haven't seen before.
"I don't know, Ness. It's just a mess. I don't know who I am, sometimes I feel like that loud, confident boy, but sometimes I feel like I'm just the quiet, childish Toon Link. From before."
"But did you not — you taught yourself to be more confident?"
"I did not teach myself to be more confident," he says. "I taught myself to put on a show."
"You don't have to put on a show."
"But - but who would ever want that awful, cowardly side of me?" Toon Link looks wretched, all of a sudden. I look over to Villager and Red. Villager gives me a look. He's noticed. "Cowards end up on the streets!" Toon Link says. "Then all I can hope for is pity, who'd give a damn about that?"
"I wou—"
"But would you? You always preferred Lucas!"
"I—"
"You two are all over each other. I became the afterthought. Red and Villager are counterparts. This group is a carriage — and I'm the spare wheel!"
"I'm sorry—"
"Don't be." He looks at the ground. "I was the one who wasn't worthy of your attention."
"You are worthy!" I try again to hug him, but he shakes me off. I frown, worried he's been overcome with some sort of sickness; these ideas are appearing from nowhere. But I realise that's rather hypocritical of me, and I sigh. "It's just - it's different with Lucas, you understand? There's some sort of connection — I cannot explain it. It's not describable."
He rolls his eyes. "That's called love, Ness. You are smitten for him, and it will work out perfectly."
I frown. "I'm not smitten."
"Fine, then you don't understand that yet. Either way, you two are perfect as you are, and there's no place for me anymore."
"I'm sorry," I mumble, because now I feel thoroughly disarmed.
"Don't be. Nobody sees it — nobody sees the real me. I'm torn between two minds, the loud and the quiet. I don't know which I prefer, I don't know what might make people like me, I—"
"Toon Li—"
"And I miss when it was just the four of us, and it was simple, and I was me, and all this class stuff never mattered, and — and it was us against the world."
There's a moment of pause.
"So," I say, trying to put it all together. "That's the idea of the secret society?"
"Yes. No! I — argh!"
"Toon Link, I don't know what to tell you," I admit helplessly, staring into my lap. "I don't know how to sort this. I don't know what to do."
"It's fine. I'm beyond any sorting."
"But you hide it so well."
"Because I've learnt to," he says, and bitterness enters his voice. "I push it down until it burns, forcing it to become confidence. It's all I know how to do."
I'm lost. Toon Link has never fallen apart like this before. He's always seemed so sturdy, so there, so easy… I don't know what to do. I should've noticed something. I mentally kick myself for being blind.
"Why did you not tell anyone?" I ask.
"Are you serious? People like me are sent to asylums. They call it a nervous breakdown. They say I'm afflicted."
"Do you want to know a secret, then?" I lower my voice, just like Lucas does when it's me who's miserable. "I cry. Sometimes."
"And I haven't cried since primary school."
"Is that a good thing?" I ask. I'm not sure what his point is.
"No, not good! It's terrible. I cannot cry."
"Physically?"
"Oh, Christ! No, you still don't understand."
"I'm sorry." Guilt shifts inside of me. "I don't know what to say."
"Stop apologising! Ness, I'm secretly — just one big calamity. I have a big dark secret that makes me miserable, I have all these thoughts — it's a mess, and I cannot tell anyone."
"Don't be miserable," I say, testing the waters again. "How bad is this secret?"
"I don't want to talk about it. The point is, I don't know what to do, there's nowhere to let this out, or I'll be sent away, laughed at—"
"I wouldn't laugh!"
"Why do you think I'm telling you this?"
"Oh," I say, feeling stupid.
"I know you wouldn't laugh. You are the only one who doesn't care for being proper, all that pretence. You see through it. You understand."
"I'm sor—"
"No. Don't apologise again, or I'll — I don't even know." He plunges his face into his hands. "I'm the one who should be apologising."
"Look, Toon Link." I prepare myself. I've heard enough. "Seriously, You are a remarkable friend, whether you are quiet and shy or causing mayhem. You care about people, and that's wonderful, I think. Your soul is kind — there's no reason to dislike yourself so much. I don't know what you need me to tell you, but there's nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing at all."
"Oh, Ness..." Toon Link pulls me into a sudden hug, shaking. "Thank you. You are remarkable, too. And Inkling."
"No problem." I hug him back, relieved and a little bit pleased with myself. "Thank you, too."
"Sorry." Toon Link looks up, wiping his eyes. "For, uh, unleashing that. I had to, I think. I might've gone insane otherwise."
"Anytime."
I glance across at Villager and Red, who are laughing about something, perhaps hiding their awareness of Toon Link's sadness. Why is it so common to pretend that everything's normal, that everything's in order? Lucas, afraid to be honest because I'm a higher class. Toon Link, afraid to be upset lest he be sent to an asylum. It's not right — this past week has revealed that, I think — the system is ugly, it makes me feel ill.
At least Toon Link trusts me. That means a hell of a lot, actually. I wonder vaguely what his 'dark secret' may be, but I decide it's not my place to know. All I know is that I feel awful for him.
At that thought, Lucas stirs again.
Toon Link's voice rings through my mind. You are smitten for him.
The thought sounded ridiculous at the time. But now, thinking about it harder… no. No, that's insane. Definitely not.
...But what if he's right? It would go against biology, against everything that constitutes proper society —it's forbidden for a boy to have those thoughts another boy — I could be sentenced to death! My heart suddenly pounds, and I find myself trembling. I refuse it. I refuse to believe that I like Lucas of all people like that. Lucas and I are just close friends. I will start finding girls attractive soon. It's only a matter of time.
What if they think you are sodomites? What if Lucas dies because of you?
But that voice in my head is not helping. Who even would think that?
Toon Link thought that.
But that's — no! I cannot be like those people. I cannot think that way. I'm, I...
Your father wouldn't talk to you again.
I draw my arms around myself. I don't care about my father.
You wanted to cry when you read his letter.
Well, that's reasonable, it was cruel—
Weak.
No, I—
Outcast.
I glance up. Toon Link is talking to Villager now. He cannot see me. I quickly pull a quilt over myself, pretending to sleep.
You deserve to be punished.
I'm scared. I'm so scared. I'm shaking. I feel my thumping heart, horrified by the ideas that are suddenly filling my mind.
"Ness!"
Oh no, I forgot. Lucas.
"Ness, what are you doing?" He pulls my hand away from my arm, and to my surprise, it's red. I shake. No — he'll get the wrong idea — he's going to be angry, I know it, another person I've upset. I stare into Lucas's beautiful eyes — NO! They are not beautiful. I cannot think like that about my friend — I cannot think like that about my friend!
"Ness!" Lucas chokes out. "What is happening?
You upset Toon Link and now you've upset Lucas. You are awful.
I'm awful.
You are awful. You deserve Hell.
I deserve Hell.
Lucas pushes me down against the armchair. He's furious, I'm sure of it. What have I done?
I realise I'm making loud, hiccupping noises. Lucas grips onto me, holding me, and everyone, Red, Toon Link, Villager, they've all heard. I'm broken. I'm malfunctioning. Why can't I go a day without falling into disrepair? But Lucas doesn't let go. He warms me. The furious cries in my head grow quieter. Rationality begins to trickle in. Lucas squeezes out all the grimness from my veins; why am I so fragile? I broke so easily, over something that one person said, something that isn't true, that cannot be true; I simply cannot be smitten with Lucas. It's ridiculous to think that. And I have bigger worries, don't I? The grave, keeping Lucas safe... but can I trust myself to do that? When I'm so volatile?
The others aren't sure what to say, staring at my disfigured form. I must look like insane, like some sort of convict. I hold tighter onto Lucas, my anchor.
The clocktower chimes for dinner.
"We'll leave you two to uh... talk," Villager says, uncomfortable. Toon Link flashes me a slight glance of concern, and Red doesn't even meet my eyes as they file out of the room.
"Ness," Lucas chokes out, once they're gone. "Are you all right?"
"Does it look like it?" I snarl, in an awful voice that is not my own. Lucas tumbles to the floor with alarm. Horrified, I clap my hands over my mouth, burying myself deeper into my darkness, drawing my knees up to my chest. What the hell was that?
"What's wrong?" Lucas squeaks. He's afraid of me.
"You wouldn't understand." My voice sounds normal again. I'm painfully aware of how I'm mirroring Toon Link's episode only minutes ago. I suppose we're taking it in turns to be sad today.
"I would," Lucas says.
"You wouldn't."
"Ness, it's not good to lie. That won't make you happier."
"Good. I don't need to be happy."
"That's ridiculous, Ness. Why wouldn't you need to be happy?"
"Do I look like I deserve happiness?"
"Of course you do." He crawls back onto the armchair. "You look like my best friend, who is wonderful and deserves all the happiness in the world."
For goodness' sake. His kindness won't work on me. I stand.
"I don't deserve you!"
I run. Lucas calls as I leave, but I cannot — I need to get away. I don't want to upset him any more.
So, I charge into our temporary dormitory. This is the right thing to do, I tell myself… though, do I even know what I'm doing?
What brought me to this place?
I throw myself down onto my new bed, burying my face into the pillow. I can skip dinner; hopefully, Lucas is going down and not worrying. Yet the selfish side of me wants him to come in and hold me, to call me precious, to tell me it'll be okay, that everything's going to be all right. This is what happened to Toon Link, burying everything. This is what happens to me when I start to think. It all rises up and explodes all over everyone… what will Villager and Red and Toon Link say? I never crumble in front of them. I breathe in and out, trying to prevent the wall of darkness from crushing me completely. Dr Mario has told me how to overcome this hysteria so many times, but the roaring sound in my ears isn't helping me think…
Think.
Think about something good, something nice. Okay. Steak. Steak is delicious. Steak is nice. We don't have steak often. All right, I feel, sort of calmer, perhaps...?
Worthless, unacceptable, detestable, sodomite—
Or not. I don't know why I have this awful voice in my head. I wish it were gone. I wish it were dead.
Do you wish you were dead?
No, I don't. I am fortunate, I am lucky, I have much to live for. People would grieve if I died. Lucas would grieve if I died. I think Lucas needs me like I need him, and I know how I'd feel if Lucas were gone.
I breathe in and out some more. What was I thinking? I shiver with a sort of uneasy dread. I don't think I'm ready to face anyone else, not in this terrible state. I lie down flat on my bed, pulling the covers over my body. I shamelessly hold my teddy bear close to my chest; I'm secretly very glad it survived the fire, along with the books Lucas bought me for Christmas. That's a thought, actually, I suppose I have time to kill... I may as well read one, since it seems Lucas has gone to dinner after all. I run my damp eyes along some of the spines of the books.
The Mystery of Magic byWiz. Ard
Magical Monsters and Mythical Creatures by Mr Manchini
Spells 'n' Stuff by Balbus Numbledoor
At random, I pick out The Mystery Of Magic, opening it to the first page.
Magical Conspiracies blares the title. Chapter 1: Onett Library Bombing.
I frown. The infamous Onett Library bombing was when some maniac called Crazy Hand — Headmaster Hand's brother — blew up the Onett Library. I suppose I shouldn't expect anything less from conspiracy theories, but still. This cannot be good.
In 1874, famous criminal Crazy Hand exploded the Onett
Library. But DID YOU KNOW, he actually used magic to do
it? Yes, Crazy Hand used spells and wizardry to kill twenty
people! Isn't that epic and cool? For years, the truth has been
covered up, but now it's all coming out. Crazy Hand is a
magician, folks. You heard it here first...
I blink in disbelief. It's so informally written that there's no way anyone could believe this. I flick ahead to another section — Magical Branches — and it's equally ridiculous, filled with tellings of fire and ice and thunder powers, and then out of nowhere, mind-reading and fabrication. Someone must have been really creative to come up with all this stuff, I think to myself. It's the sort of thing that would manifest in one of those modern board games. I close the book, sighing. If only it were real. Perhaps I could magic away my thoughts…
I roll over, and to my surprise, something crunches in my trousers. I dig around, and I'm surprised to find Tracy's letter still there. I'd forgotten it amid the chaos of the fire and Lucas almost dying. Eager, I pop the wax seal.
Hello, Ness!
I know it's not been long since my last letter, and I know you don't want your embarrassing little sister getting in the way of your life of crime, but I'm writing anyway, 'cause I'm bored. And I have to make it look like I'm working.
So, I failed an Arithmetic test. I had to wear the stupid dunce cap for the rest of the day, and Father hit me when I got home, but I don't care. Pissing Father off is almost too funny. And he keeps asking me why I don't have a boyfriend, so I tell him I don't want one. I don't think he understands. I'm quite sure I'm not gonna get married ever at this point. I might become a Nun, just to escape all of this.
For the sake of honesty, I'd like to say I've been going through a poetry phase, like the one you went through. I found some of your old poems, as it happens! I never thought you were so dark, Ness. I bet you thought you were not like other boys. Also, I've been sneaking outdoors whenever Mother isn't home to climb trees and terrorise the locals. It's great fun.
Father's calling me to cook a trout, so you'd better send your reply fast, or I'll read more of your poems. I found your letters from Lucas, too. They're fucking adorable. When are you gonna get gay married?
Miss you (slightly),
Tracy.
Immediately, I set about replying.
Tracy,
You are not my embarrassing little sister, don't be silly. You are my embarrassing little baby sister.
A lot has happened at Onett Boarding School. We found some strange passages, we snuck out into the forest and found a gravestone with my name on it, and we're being haunted by a freakish face. The usual. Nothing compared to my poetry, though. I'm quite sure I mentioned something to do with demonic souls in most of them. Don't touch them... please...
The dunce cap is horrid. We don't have it here. I wish you could come here as well, though we still have the cane. My friend got hit last night for sneaking out of bed, and apparently, it was his 80th time.
Father's on my case about not having a girlfriend, but it's complicated. Girls just aren't that great, to be honest. You know? I haven't told many people this (Lucas knows, I suppose) but they don't seem to be all they're cracked up to be. No offence, of course, given you are a girl and all.
Lucas and I tried to start that poetry club, do you remember that? Also, do not touch my letters or I will steal all of your money when I come back. I mean it!
Your least favourite brother,
Ness.
But my heart pounds faster as I fold it up, slipping it into an envelope. They're fucking adorable. When are you gonna get gay married? Now, even my own sister thinks I'm a sodomite. How many people have seen, have wondered…?
It doesn't bear thinking about. I collapse on my back, desperately trying to stop myself from thinking about that word, marriage.
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A few dozen minutes and a weak attempt at Wario's Business Plan later, I'm feeling rather exhausted. I stare sleepily at the roof of this pretty room, all the patterns and spirals, the beautiful view of the forest. I think back to my rather small dorm downstairs, wondering vaguely if we'll be allowed to stay up here forever, just me and Lucas. It would be nice, I think.
I cannot believe we're so far through the week already. And coming up, there's so much, Bayonetta's party, whatever play Headmaster Hand planned, the Arithmetic competition, and then the week after, Wilderness Survival Week. These are good things, hopeful things.
I curl up, these happy thoughts lifting me out of any residual gloom. The duvet is warm, and I can see my constellation out of the window, amici optimi. I suppose I'm still tired from our forest endeavour… was that only yesterday?
It doesn't really matter. My eyes close.
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"Ness!" Father calls. "Your school report is here!"
I gulp. Here it is, the thing I've been dreading for weeks.
"I expect the highest grades," Father says. "Is that understood?"
I nod, but I know I've failed. Father opens the envelope so easily, drawing out the horror within. As his eyes scan over the letters, his visage grows steadily more purple.
"What the hell is this?"
He stands. I shrink back in place, anxiety thrumming in my chest.
"What the hell is this?"
But before he can strike, the memory shifts into a dream.
I'm in a city of sorts. Marble buildings rise from the ground, tall, angry, and white. In the middle is a mighty tower, commanding silently over the empty streets. The city gates aren't far behind me, and outside of them is a vibrant green marsh. I make my way towards it, but as soon as I've opened the gate, a man in steel grabs my arm.
"You may not leave."
"Why not?" I demand. "Where am I?"
"New Pork City."
A chill floods through me.
"Enter the city, Ness."
I rush back inside the gates, afraid of the steel man. He seemed not to be altogether there, somehow empty. I stare up at the grand central building, wondering if Porky's in there now. What if he sees me? But no, he wouldn't. He doesn't know who I am, wouldn't remember me. I'm a mere pawn to him. And yet, I cannot help but wonder why he's built himself this place...
Suddenly, the dream spins into darkness, a cage collapsing upon me, and out of the shadows leers Porky's face. It's a grotesque countenance of evil intent, like a potato half-peeled, complete with beaded pinprick eyes and mangled hair.
"I've got you!" he shouts. "I've got you all under my thumb! And there will NEVER be any escape!"
And I drown in his cackling visage, his face surrounding me, immersing me in a cold, clammy black.
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I wake, shivering. The dormitory door stands open, and there's a figure in the doorway. I jump up, sharply alert.
"Ness?"
It's Lucas. Thank goodness.
I can just about make out his shadow. It must be late. The gas lamps are no longer lit.
"Can I..." He advances slightly. "Are you—"
I nod as if to say it's all right. Memories of all that happened before come crashing back to me, and I shrink back under my covers. What if he's angry? But Lucas comes into the room and joins me, sitting on my bed. I can just make out his eyes, reflecting the moonlight coming in through the window. I look away, suddenly feeling extremely shy.
"Ness." His voice is soft as he lays a hand on my back. "What's the matter?"
I look up at him. I'm lost for words. I don't know what to say, what to tell him.
"It's all right." He gently comes down next to my shivering form, sliding under the covers. "You'll be all right."
"I don't know what is happening to me," I murmur.
"We'll work it out."
"I lashed out… I shouldn't have."
"You were hurt. I understand."
"I was cruel."
"Well." Lucas shrugs. "What happened, happened. Cannot change that now."
There's a gentle silence as I process his words.
He continues, "But if something's wrong, I want to talk with you about it. You are right — what you said earlier. It doesn't matter if it's not proper to speak about these things. I always thought…" He trails off. "I didn't know if I deserved to be your equal, when it came to all this. But we're quite similar, I think."
I smile a little bit, but then I frown again. "I don't know what is wrong," I say. "I don't know what is the matter with me. I think I'm sick. I keep feeling — overcome. With hysteria."
"Then… what are your thoughts when that happens?"
"There's this awful voice." I screw my eyes shut tight. "It's inside my head, telling me things. Terrible things. About myself, about others…" I trail off. It sounds insane. Lucas will send me away, I'm almost sure of it.
But Lucas touches my shoulder. "Okay. It sounds like we need to get rid of this voice. Make it less powerful, perhaps."
"How?"
He thinks. "Perhaps you could name it?"
"Name it?"
"If you call it something nonsensical, it may be harder to take it seriously."
It makes some sense, I suppose. "I'll call it Buttercup," I decide.
"That's a silly name," Lucas laughs.
"Yes." I smile. "Hear that, Buttercup? You are silly."
There's no response.
"All right, so," Lucas says, taking my hand. "That's good. When does this voice speak? Is it… do you think it's a demon? A spirit?"
"It depends..." I think, hard. "It appears when I think about how I've let down my parents, when I think about me, when I think about what I'm like. When I'm troubled, it reminds me of what is wrong with me, and…"
"...and it makes you sad," Lucas whispers. "Oh, Ness!"
I bite my lip, nodding, and Lucas pulls me close.
"Ness, whatever this is, I'll do everything I can to get rid of it. Buttercup will be gone. Whatever it takes."
"You are so wonderful," I say, sniffling, holding onto him. "Thank you."
"I'm about to get even better," he says, and he sits up. "I saved you food from dinner."
"Lucas," I moan. "Thank you so much."
"Don't mention it." He smiles, producing a plate of fish pie. "Did you sleep all right?"
"It wasn't great," I say, hungrily consuming the food. "I had some strange dreams…"
I tell him about them. His eyebrows furrow.
"That's weird... but it was probably your mind making things up. Because you were upset."
"I suppose," I say.
We carry on talking until I finish the meal. Full of food, I feel a lot more at ease, and Lucas suggests we should go down and see the others.
"They're worried about you," he tells me. I nod, resigned. I cannot avoid them forever. Lucas leads me downstairs, but before we enter the games room, I remember something.
"Lucas, how's your head?"
"It's not as bad anymore," he reassures me. "It still hurts, but I think I'm less dizzy. I can think straight."
"Good," I say, and we enter.
"Ness!" Toon Link is quick out of his seat to hug me. "What happened?"
"Just… had a fit of anxiety. About the grave," I say, embellishing the truth.
"Understandable," Villager says grimly. "That thing would scare me half to death."
"Likewise," Red says, before dramatically shifting the topic. "We should do our homework."
"Homework!" Toon Link scoffs. "Well, I never. I cannot imagine anyone has any homework due for tomorrow..."
"The business plan!" Lucas says suddenly. "Ah, Wario's gonna kill me—"
"Guess what," I say.
"What?"
"I did it."
"All four pages?" Lucas exhales, smiling at me. "See, Ness, that's why you are wonderful too."
"Thank you. By the way," I say, remembering something else. "We've all been invited to Bayonetta's birthday party."
"You were invited too?" A pair of voices come from behind me. It's Pit and Dark Pit.
"Hello," Toon Link says. "Long time no see."
"It's been—" Pit begins.
"Just a few hours—" Dark Pit finishes.
"You two are creepy," Red says loudly. I internally die.
"Thanks," Pit laughs.
Dark Pit laughs too. "That's very—"
"—Kind of you!"
"But at least we have a personality."
"Unlike this one." Pit prods Villager, who folds his arms.
"You hold a grudge, then?"
"Forever will, you fool," Pit growls. "You called us jesters!"
"So what? It was a good analogy."
Dark Pit pokes him. "I'll have you know—"
Pit pokes him too. "We'll have you know—"
"Shut up, Dark Pit, stop cutting me off—"
"No, you!"
"No, you!"
"What is your point?" Villager interrupts.
"Villager… you are not coming to my birthday party!" Dark Pit proclaims.
"Cruel!" Pit says. "Well, it's our party, so actually, that's not your decision—"
"Then we'll have a different party!"
"You idiot! We were born on the same day, we cannot have two different parties."
"We weren't born on the same day!"
"Yes, we were — we're twins!"
"No, we're not!"
"Well, I don't know!"
"I'll duel you!"
"You are on! Swimming pool?"
"Swimming pool!"
Just like that, the Pit twins — or perhaps they're not twins — run away, leaving us all in stunned silence.
"They're unique," Toon Link says cheerily.
"You don't say," Red huffs. "Weren't they taught how to behave?"
"They mean well," Lucas says. "But what was that about a party, Ness?"
"Bayonetta's hosting one," I explain, and Toon Link frowns.
"But I was going to do that... it was going to be the gathering of the year."
"I pity your dorm mate," Villager says.
"Link doesn't mind one bit."
I splutter. "Link is your dorm mate?"
"He has been for the last four years, did you not know?"
"I thought you didn't like him," Lucas says.
"Oh, he has pictures of weapons on the walls… he constantly exercises… the room reeks of sweat… we get on like a house on fire."
"It must be uncomfortable," Red says.
"We don't talk at all. Absolute dead silence, aside from the constant threat of him punching me in the face."
There's a pause, and we soon burst out laughing. It's a relief.
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An hour or so later, it's time for bed. It's been another insane day. The fire, the assault in the shower… I'm exhausted, despite my nap earlier. Tomorrow is the last school day of the week, and it's Friday, which means it's the day that Lucas is supposed to be watching out for. I'm suddenly dreading it.
"Are you nervous about tomorrow?" I ask.
"A little…" Lucas makes a small sound, practically inaudible from the other side of the room.
"We'll be unpredictable," I say. "They won't be able to do anything to you."
"Yes." Lucas curls up under his covers.
He must be tired, because there's soon a gentle snoring coming from his side of the room, leaving me to stare up at the ceiling, thinking... but Buttercup's voice snakes from the darkness.
A cold, dark grave, coated in moss. Half-buried in a pile of leaves, standing in the middle of the forest. The words are muddled, but on it, clear to see, are the names.
No…
Ness.
Lucas.
...Not that, anything but that...
The stone of death, it waits to be satisfied, but what will bring it sustenance? When?
I don't want this...
I dig away the leaves. I scramble to know more, but I cannot quite see.
It's not right...
There's a ringing noise. The lettering on the grave twists and forms, and then...
Something crashes, and I wake, lurching to attention. The room is ice cold.
My thoughts grind. The gravestone. How can it be there? What does it say? I must know, I must look, to read it for once and for all. I have to. I cannot leave that question unanswered.
But I mustn't. Once I see it, it's fixed in place. It's risky, too risky...
...Unless I just read the date, make sure it's from the past. It could be a different Ness and Lucas, could just be a trick...
But it's late, it's cold. I shouldn't go outside. I should go back to sleep. I think of something nice, something good. Lucas. Being with Lucas…
Being with Lucas in a coffin. Buried six feet deep beneath the gravestone.
No, agh, shut up, Buttercup. I'll think of food. That's a better idea…
Dying of starvation. Sustenance so close, and yet so far.
I toss, torn, in two minds. My bed is warm. I don't want to leave it, but… the grave. I can almost hear it calling. I can almost hear a slight music, ringing far away, calling my name. Tempting me onwards. I try to close my eyes, but it gets louder, teasing me, glimmering at my fingertips.
That's it. I won't be able to sleep like this. I have to see it, have to quench this hunger for information. Do I wake Lucas? No. He wouldn't approve. I sit up, and the music grows a little louder. In delirium, I slide to the door. Red said they'd found an exit to the passages up here... perhaps I could use that. Unlike Lucas, I'm not afraid of the dark.
The music twinkles louder. At the end of a dorm corridor. With any luck, it'll be ours. I creep forward, opening the door.
I'm met with a painting of a king, hanging at the end of the corridor. I instinctively poke it, and it swings a little. Pleased, I pivot it upwards, and it reveals a ladder, pointing into the gloom. Another glimmer of music plays — whether in my mind or in reality I do not know — but it comforts me. I slide myself onto the ladder, letting the painting swing back into place, and I climb down, confident, shrouded in pitch black.
I soon reach the bottom. It's more spacious down here, and I can feel the girth of the passage around me. There's a peaceful hum. I'm alone. Brimming with security, I stride down the passage, unsure where I'll find myself, but trusting my instincts to bring me somewhere good. I take a left fork, then a right one, following the music. It's all perfect.
Crunch.
The music sharply stops. The noise is jarring; did I step on something by mistake? I feel the ground with my hands. There's just dirt there. I stand up again, my confident aura wavering slightly. It was probably just… something above?
That makes sense. The music shimmers once more. I continue, feeling as though I've done this many times before. Left, right, left again at a fork, ignoring a lit-up route to the right. It vaguely occurs to me that when I'm out of these passages, I'm not sure how to find the grave. Ah, well. I'll figure it out. Easily.
Crunch.
The music stops again — okay, that definitely wasn't me. That was louder... but it wasn't the noise of footsteps, I remind myself. Footsteps go thud, not crunch.
Thud.
Of course. What are the chances? Who would be down here at this time? Who would know about this place — why did I think this was a good idea!?
There is no more music. No more peace. No more aura of security. Panicked, I run forward, suddenly feeling very alone, yet very, very watched. I bolt. Left. Right! The path slopes slowly upwards… there has to be an exit somewhere around here! Right. Left!
Thud.
My heart thunders, my body colliding with dirt walls as I blindly sprint, up, up and out! Out, into the forest.
The dark, sinister forest.
I turn all around. Help. Help me. I don't know where I am.
An icy, winter gale whips my hair, and I struggle against the chaotic night. The weather is demonic, like I've come out in the middle of a hurricane. I could've sworn it was calm before. Where is the grave? I look around me, and there are just trees, trees, and more trees. It's hopeless.
But another glimmer of music sounds to the left. Courage marginally restored, I take a chance and run in its direction. There's a distant rumble, thunder, perhaps.
Then, out of nowhere, comes a voice.
"Ness!"
And any remaining confidence vanishes.
I hurtle forward, praying I'm going the right way, unable to see through the wind that blasts my eyes. I dodge trees. I dodge everything, hoping to find one stone, one singular, irrelevant gravestone out here among the trees. It occurs to me in a horrifying instant that I don't even know my way back to the school.
I feel my legs beginning to ache, not daring to look behind me. Why couldn't I have been born a good runner?
Crunch. Crash.
Rain starts hurtling down as I turn, and I see the dark silhouette of something, lit by a blinding flash.
Terror consumes me. My legs scream with force, the rain plastering my hair to my forehead. Why did I come here? Why am I so foolish? How could this happen?
I look down. The gravestone! But I'm going too fast. I trip over it, tumbling onto the sodden ground.
Crunch. Crash.
They're near, whoever it is, whatever it is, it's coming. And then, it's here, and there's nothing I can do. It collapses on me, consuming me in its entirety. By the stone that marks my body, this is where it ends.
This is where I'm going to die.