Saving Slumberland

by Bananaretsuko

Camille, Princess of Slumberland, is turning 18. Her father, King Morpheus, has just revealed to her that he will take a leave of absence, meaning Camille will soon be Queen for the jolly kingdom. But she doesn't feel ready to take her father's place yet, and what's worst, she makes a grave mistake that changes everything.

11. Giggle Juice

11 Giggle Juice

"Wish me luck," Vince muttered sarcastically before taking steps into the palace. Bonbon waved charismatically, smiling wide.

"Good luck!"

Vince glared at her over his shoulder, a look that no one wanted, and Bonbon stiffened from it. As soon as Vince passed the guards and in between the grand doors, she exhaled with a wipe of sweat from her wrinkled forehead.

"I'm on his target list now. I better hide. No! Runway. No! Wait!" She squeezed her cheeks while spiraling in a twister of fears, entertaining both Nemo and me when we chuckled lightly at her erratic behavior as an awkward dance beside the fountain. Birds bathed in the water, chirping pleasantly as they watched with their little marble eyes, eager to pick up more gossip to spread. What's better at spreading rumors around the kingdom besides the servants; are birds. I pressed my lips together as I eyed a dozen fluffing their feathers in the water, pretending not to notice us loitering at the foot of the grand stairway entry.

Bonbon is on Vince's target list. Vince is getting punishment for almost killing Nemo. Camille is about to give Nemo a palace tour. I can see the news pile in their little minds, eager to fly away to spread the word.

Bonbon finally calmed down, her hands still glued to her face when she gasped. She pulled out a small, golden compact mirror and snapped it open to check her face. Her eyes bugged.

"Oh! I look terrible!"

I rolled my eyes, whereas Nemo shrugged, arms out. "What? You look..." he hesitated with an uneasy look at me as though afraid that calling another girl besides me "beautiful" would be offensive. I didn't care if he fell in love with her.

"Fine without makeup," He decided, smiling wide.

Bonbon sniffled, a fake tear ready to roll down her dark cheek. Her watery eyes enlarged at Nemo in her adorable fashion.

"Really? You're so sweet." She was using her false, flattery voice. I almost wished she would be straight up as before, but Bonbon can switch like a light regarding her glamour. She snapped her compact shut and began to dance up the steps while smiling apologetically at me.

"I gotta freshen up!"

I curled my fist in the air while throwing Bonbon a desperate look ahead of Nemo so he wouldn't see it.

"Bonbon..." Please don't leave us alone, I wanted to beg, but I trailed off to silence as I watched her disappear into the palace after Vince. More birds chirped. In two minutes, their numbers increased until the fountain was full of them. Intermeddling creatures!

I huffed, crossing my arms. Nemo stepped cautiously around me, arms wide, and gave me a soft smile.

"Hey, it looks like it's just going to be us for the palace tour. Wouldn't that be a great way to know each other?"

I still couldn't take him seriously enough with his hideous dress. My eyes lingered on his outfit long and hard until he was uncomfortable from such a stare.

"Could you at least change your clothes first?"

He shrugged, cheeks red.

"Well, where do I go do that?"

I blinked at him and held my hips.

"Didn't they show you your apartment?" I wasn't in the mood to show him around the place, and on top of that, being alone with him. To my disappointment, Nemo shook his head.

"Not yet."

I sighed long from the depths of my throat.

"Fiiiiine."

He beamed, giving me an arm to take. I ignored it, eyes up at the doors.

"This way," I muttered.

Before Nemo had time to go through the doors, I stopped at the top of the steps and lifted a hand to gesture to all out in the courtyard.

"This is our grand courtyard. During large parties, everyone enters the palace through here, just so you know," I informed, half joking. It was apparent, but Nemo being too polite to match my demeanor, smiled wide at the large fountain, the many birds looking at him, the rose bushes, cherry trees, and white marble columns glistening through his fresh set of eyes.

"Wow," he dragged, playing along. I twirled and moved on. He followed like a happy puppy.

"This is the library. Get used to it. You will spend much time here studying," I warned, my arms crossed like they were glued that way. Nemo spun around the expansive five-floor library, his arms out.

"Holly smokes! It's enormous!" His eyes never shrunk, his mouth never closed, too busy with ooohing and aaahing at everything. I envied him.

Between the many volumes' high shelves stood floor-to-ceiling windows and marble columns. Curtains were pulled back to let in the late sun, its glow still yellow but slowly turning more orange by the minute.

When Nemo got dizzy from spinning around, his face had lifted to the high ceiling with a painted moral of angels reading books around a chandelier.

"This is even nicer than my school's library," he pointed out.

I moved on. My slippers clicked across the marble as I approached the doors, servants opening them silently.

"We don't have time to dance around," I plucked Nemo from his joy, and he scampered behind me.

I showed him much of the first floor, all while many eyes stayed hidden behind columns or curtains. Servants whispered, and birds flew in and out of the rooms, but Nemo didn't seem to care. He noticed a couple of giggly girl servants watching us from behind a bend in a hallway, and he waved. They giggled even more and hurried away to give us privacy.

He smiled at their departure. "They all seem excited."

I tried to listen but got easily distracted when I discovered where I had unintentionally dragged us to.

I looked up, that same moral painting of Slumberland high over us. It feels like years since I've last lifted my eyes to it. Nemo followed my troubled gaze and looked up.

His mouth expanded, head pulling back even further to get a glimpse across the entire ceiling.

"Wow! What a lovely painting," he gasped. I wanted to match his marveling over it, but the horrid nightmarish image still haunted my thoughts, flashing that painting back to what I'd dreamt. Nemo saw the beauty of the castle and all its bright colors. But all I saw were goblins and dead trees devouring Slumberland's folk without remorse, the sky as black as ink, and trees like claws. I shivered and peeled away from the imagery with more distraction. The corridor was entirely lit by old daylight, all the curtains open, only a scant amount of shadows around to not even consider a threat. All lanterns were off, awaiting the shadows of night to come alive. Which lantern was the correct one to trigger the secret door?

"What are you looking for?" Nemo caught my wandering eyes until I stopped and fluttered them to the end of the hall to where we should be going.

"Nothing," I muttered.

"You certain?"

I held my breath, reconsidering, and looked at Nemo for the first time since the lake. His smile stayed, and I swallowed. Nervously, I rubbed my arm up and down and searched among the many lanterns planted at each stone column.

"I had a dream…." I began, still unclear if I wanted to share, and I decided to make light of it by adding, "About a secret door here."

Nemo lifted a thick eyebrow.

"A dream? So folk here in Dreamland actually dream? That's reassuring. Say, if your world makes dreams for mine, then who makes dreams for yours?"

I spun to gawk at him.

"No one. They are just always good dreams. They are our memories with even more pleasantries," I put it. Nemo blinked and asked, "What about nightmares? Do people have those here?"

I silenced him with a finger over my lips.

"Don't say that word," I hissed.

One of his eyebrows jerked up.

"Why not?"

"It's not a good word to say around here. We have nothing to do with the other land," I tried, even though I've mentioned 'Nightmare' plenty of times. I didn't want Nemo to gallop to Father while shouting "Nightmare" over and over and putting the blame on me.

"So, no one gets BAD dreams here?" Nemo reeled in more questions in his eyes.

I shook my head.

"No."

"What if they do?"

"Then that could mean agents are lurking about, dark creatures in places where they shouldn't be. Or..."

I swallowed and clasped my hands up my sternum.

"Or...?" Nemo dragged, waiting eagerly.

Or you could be infected with the Nightmare.

I avoided his big, eager eyes and shrugged.

"It just shouldn't happen!" I spat. Flashes of nightmares raced across my vision. Briefly, my heart went irregular, as though aware of sneaky shadows swirling around the bottoms of columns, mocking me with their choking hold. I must've stood there in fright, paralyzed with my eyes stuck to nothing. Nemo turned around to have a look, but he scratched his head.

"What is it? You see something?"

I stepped out of my trance with a shake of my head.

"No, nothing," I sighed, wanting to move again.

Nemo fluttered his eyes and changed topics quickly.

"You say something about a secret door here?"

I hugged myself. Why did he have to go back to that?

"But it was only a dream," I tried, hoping to dismiss it.

A nightmare.

Nemo looked around the corridor, a finger rubbing his chin while a playful smile lay across his lips. He looked like a kid about to get into trouble.

He suggested, "Why don't we see if it's real?!"

I immediately slapped my heart and shook my head.

"I don't know…."

He took my other hand and squeezed. His hand was warm; his eyes lit up.

"Yeah! Come on! I like secret doors! What did it look like?"

I bit my lower lip while searching Nemo's bright honeyed eyes, reminding me of a child. His smile didn't make me nervous anymore and helped me relax, which meant I would give in easily.

"Well, a tug of a lantern opened a part of the floor."

Nemo spun on his heel like a ballerina and zipped toward a lantern. He didn't even have to be on his toes to reach it.

"Tug on a lantern. Got it!"

He pulled. Nothing. He beelined to the next one across from the other and tugged, but still nothing.

"I can do this all day," he chuckled, jumping from one lantern to the other while I just stood there, bewildered at his energy. Why did I feel a hundred times older than him?

Nemo got to about half the lanterns before a guard came wandering in and cleared his thick throat.

"Ahem! I came to remind you two dinner will be ready shortly."

Nemo paused before he could pull on a lantern and rubbed his hands anxiously across his dress.

"Oh yeah, s-sorry!" He used the sleeve of his robe to rub at the lantern and smiled nervously at the guard.

"Gee whiz, these lanterns are just so darn dusty." Big smile.

The guard straightened, his face red. "I will make sure someone dusts them right away, sir!" He spun and zipped back the way he came to find someone to clean the "dust."

I suppressed a giggle at Nemo's silly cover-up, and he glowed at that as he hid his chuckle behind a hand.

"Next time," he promised and winked at me.

I don't know why that wink warmed my cheeks, but I swallowed my smile and huffed a frown, my arms crossed.

"Well then, we better find your quarters," I suggested, struggling to stay serious.

"Right. I don't want to go to dinner in this dress," Nemo chimed, and he wrinkled his nose at me with a glint in his boyish eyes.

I couldn't help but smirk, and he took pride in it, able to soften me and nudged my arm with his elbow.

"Ha, I got you to smile."

I rolled my eyes.

"Whatever."

"Hmmm, you sound like Vince. Let me guess: you stuck on the sheik?"

Again with the terms. We walked again as I asked, "What's 'the sheik'"?

Nemo chuckled lightly and rubbed his lips once with his thumb.

"Never mind." He paused, contemplating his next set of words, and shrugged.

"I don't see what's so special about him. He seems like a flat tire to me."

My hands politely collected behind me, but I scrunched my eyebrows together at his choice of words.

"Flat tire? You mean he has no air?" I didn't follow. Nemo's face reddened as his smile widened.

"Ah, don't know that either? That's fair."

"Tell me!"

"Hmmm…"

He avoided answering by letting his eyes wander down the corridor of many doors to apartments. A servant rolled a silver cart out of one in particular, for which Nemo tapped her shoulder. Her clown face perked up at him.

"So, Doll, which one is these rooms is mine?" He asked.

The servant tapped her painted cheek while blushing at the two of us. I avoided her sparkling "Happy-ending" eyes by pretending to be distracted by the turquoise wallpaper.

"Just down this way and take a left to the West Corridor," she replied.

"Thanks."

Nemo continued while I, for once, followed, anxious. We made for the turn, and I became more unsettled, my steps slowing down.

"Are you good from here?" I stopped in the middle of the hall when Nemo was about to open the double doors to his room. Surprised, he had his hands on the golden knobs and paused to turn his head at me.

"You don't want to see what my room looks like?"

I shook my head while my knuckles rubbed up and down my sternum. Being alone with him was the last thing I wanted; plus, I didn't care what his room looked like.

"It probably looks like mine, honestly," I tried. Nemo looked me up and down before making a sour face.

"I hope not."

I clenched my teeth as he opened the double doors, and his face was lit up by the beam of the sun.

"Wow! This is all for me?!"

He stepped inside, leaving the doors wide open. A rush of copper light leaked into the hall, catching a chunk of a wall with fire. It beckoned me to walk into it and bask in its warmth. Just hover outside, look as I adore the sunset from afar, and be on my merry way. I came closer until I pulled a hand to touch the light. Nemo's shadow appeared before his head popped out, causing me to gasp.

"Hey! Check out the view!"

Before I could say no, he grabbed my hovering hand in the sunlight and pulled me into the heat. I was ready to resist but stumbled into a massive room swallowed by the sunset. Everything the light touched glimmered into gold. Nemo was pleased with my expression, confident enough to let go of me when he knew I wouldn't run away. Not when the entirety of his room held a balcony facing West.

What perfect timing.

I got lost in the view, walking absently across the room filled with wrapped gifts to stumble onto a balcony more prominent than mine. I gripped the marble edge and let the winds lift my hair away from my eyes while I bathed in the glow of the sleepy sun. The city's skyline stood like a stack of mountainous shadows while the gold bled between each tower, slipping across the land with long, stretched fingers.

Nemo joined, taking it with a comfortable space between us, and leaned his chin in one hand to have his eyes fall romantically at the scenery.

"It's beautiful," he sighed. "I would never get a view like this at home. Not in a million years."

I blinked, the magic broken and looked down at my hands with well-polished fingernails and glimmering rings.

"Well, lucky you will be king here, then," I droned, ready to leave. I slipped away from the railing and muttered, "Well, see you at din-!"

"Why do you treat me differently after finding out I was your guest of honor?" Nemo interrupted.

I froze, knowing precisely what he meant, but with the tiny chance that I didn't, I turned slightly, not daring to look at him. I eyed North instead, more shimmering towers of the colorful city basking in copper glitter.

"Excuse me?"

Nemo leaned back on the rail to face me, arms out, and relaxed on the stone with little fear of falling backward.

"You treated me well until you found out I was…" he cleared his throat, the last part challenging to say. I didn't want him to finish.

"Your special guest," he ended up saying. "Fiancee, future husband, future king," those words just seemed too heavy, so I didn't blame Nemo for wording it differently. His smile froze, eyes not on anything, when he added, "Who did you think I was?"

I finally gave in and turned around, squinting at the sunset. The same sun gave heat to dry me earlier, hot and abundant like a happy child. Now it dipped slowly with a different kind of heat that didn't act so innocent. I thought I'd step into a different world for a moment there, bathing in another sun.

"A servant," I exclaimed.

Nemo's smile wrinkled. "Do I intimidate you?"

I blinked multiple times at him, fists out with my knuckles turning red.

"Intimidate me?!" I shrieked. If anything, he irritated me.

Nemo didn't budge.

"Yeah. I've been known to be a cake eater, but I'm harmless."

"What does the act of eating cake have to do with this?!" I swear, I think he uses the funny phrases on purpose to smite me. He was enjoying himself, making me upset and even resentful. I clenched my teeth behind my hard-pressed lips and glared at him despite the sunset burning my face. Nemo's eye twinkled again when he looked at me with calm.

"I had a dream about this palace once, a long time ago."

I took a deep breath to settle, distracted by his jumping around on subjects again. Did he have an angle here? Was he trying to simmer me down?

My fists loosened, stuck standing there on the balcony.

"As makers of dreams for Middle Land, I'm not surprised, but a visit to the palace is strictly a royal invitation. Are you certain it was here?" I challenged dryly. How long has Nemo been on my father's watch?

Nemo twirled around to smile at the sun slipping farther behind the city.

"Probably. I thought it was just a dream, but now that I'm here, I wonder if I visited this place as a kid."

"I don't remember you," I quipped. I didn't mean to sound rude, but I was only being truthful. Nemo chuckled at my bluntness. His brown hair's outline glowed like a copper halo around his head. His robe drooped a little off his shoulders, letting the sun place its copper hands there.

"You weren't in it. If you were, I would have remembered you," he sighed. Heat rushed up my cheeks. When he wasn't using his silly slang, he certainly had those moments of saying something that excited my insides, and I hated myself for it. My hands pressed into my chest, telling my heart to calm down. Nothing was happening here.

"I know you don't know me, but…." Nemo scratched his cheek, smiling nervously when he gave me his profile. The last of the sun leaked red, contouring his figure in a chilling but beautiful bloody lantern state.

"But I hope to see the piano playing Camille again. She was sad but real," he put out there openly. The way he said it didn't ask for my opinion; he just wanted to tell me as Slumberland bled behind him. I tried to protest, to point to him I wasn't "sad," and that word shouldn't be used freely here like the servants chew gum. I should tell this visitor he's wrong. This is who I am, of course. I'm not wearing armor here. I'm just as jolly as the rest of them.

My body must've thought it exhausting before I realized it, my lips unable to waste the energy on false things such as wide, thin smiles; fatigue hit me deeply. I felt old again and let out a long sigh. In that sigh, angry and tough Camille evaporated in the red light, burning. My invisible armor fell, rattling around my feet.

Neither of us said anything for a long time, stuck on the uncomfortable blood-red light slipping into the sky's edge until the stars came out. I was glad the red was fading; it was too gruesome over the rose gardens and tulips.

Nemo seemed to love the crimson heat, smiling at it with squinted eyes and arms folded over the stone rail.

"Why did he pick me anyway?" He blurted. I couldn't tell if that was intentional or not. I stared at how his smile lifted more, yet his eyes gleamed, burning from the sunset's glare to make it seem like he was holding in his tears.

I was too dumbfounded to answer, which wasn't the reply he wanted because he said next, "You don't know either? That's too bad." He closed his eyes; his inhale was shaky.

"You don't want me here. I don't want to be here. Why me, of all people? Doesn't Morpheus know these things through my dreams?" He threw it out there, but I couldn't catch any; not one answer on my lips when I was too stuck on Nemo's first sentence to proceed.

"Well..." True, I didn't want him here, but I didn't wish to tell him that.

"Does Morpheus control everyone's dreams?"

Another question, and yet, I haven't had time to process the previous one.

"Umm..."

And then…

"Camille, will I ever go back to Middle Land?"

Nemo turned fully to show me how the sun melted his smile away, exposing a raw depression that could've been buried secretly in his skull. It was a glimpse of what he truly felt, and I didn't know whether to savor it as a mental picture. He reached out to me not as a future fiancée but as a real friend.

Like how Nemo saw me playing that piano, listening to how my voice whimpered and the increased crawl of my fingers along the heavy keys, I saw him without a smile.

I was dumbfounded, stammering only a bland reply, "I don't know," under my breath. The smoldering heat burned half my face and body off until I thought I was half skeleton, my bones dark red like blood. Nemo appeared half in red and shadow, which, to me, was frightful. He shook his head to toss away my lame answer, and that smile was there again.

"I'm nothing special," he muttered, his voice not matching his smile. His fingers curved over the stone, nails bright red. He leaned his cheek on his other hand.

"Well, I'm going to miss home. It was swell there. All the parties, the giggly juice, and jazz," he sighed, eyes dreamy. In his pleasant thoughts of Middle Land, Nemo melted.

I scooted closer, desperate to get some of that melted fantasy.

"What's it like? Middle Land?" I pried. My hands squeezed the stone tightly, sweat soaking between each knuckle.

Nemo sighed dreamily, his toes tapping in a forced, upbeat manner.

"There's always parties. Every weekend! With champagne glass towers..." he stepped back and spread his arms up. "This tall! And the gin is, oh!" he slapped his chest and licked his lips, eyes closed.

"Mmmmm. The gin is worth the smuggling. Say," he finally looked at me after getting lost for a minute.

"You got giggle juice here?"

"What's that?" I asked, picturing fruity candy drops or juice to make someone ticklish.

Nemo's mouth fell open, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Uh, booze. You got liquor here?"

"Only at parties," I chirped.

This seems to please him, grinning wide from ear to ear.

"We're going to have fun tonight!" He raised his arms with a loud wooo. His ecstatic cry traveled across the heavens, and he slapped his hands down on the rail with a musical smack.

I've been rejected by Vince for so long, every single time, that it blew me away to hear something about Middle Land without a grumble or vague response. Each little thing Nemo spilled only added more curiosity.

"Wow, your smile is dazzling when it's real," Nemo poked, and he gave me a friendly wink.

I twirled to face the sunset and giggled, "It's just so nice to hear something about Middle Land," I replied.

The wind gently threw my long hair back, lifting it high. The end of my skirt followed, and I thought I was flying. It's been a long day.

Nemo scooted an inch closer, his elbow barely touching mine.

"Doesn't Vince tell you things?"

A flash of the scars on Vince's back took my breath away. The dark secrets he refused to share.

You still want to go?

I shook my head and dropped my gaze along the small hedge maze far below, red light slipping through the archways and cracks.

"No. He doesn't tell me anything," I muttered.

"That's too bad." Nemo didn't dwell on it. He seemed to have sparkled, glad to take over the reins of showing me Middle Land's wonders. He smiled sheepishly at the sun, like a red runny egg yolk along the hump of the horizon, disappearing.

At that moment, something clicked inside Nemo. I could tell by his smile of broken dreams; Dreams Slumberland couldn't manifest, no matter how much King Morpheus tried. No one could exactly embody Nemo's mother and father, friends, school, or home inside the land of dreams. As his eyes gleamed on that bloody sunlight, I thought he was having a serious conversation with that sun. His eyes told me he was saying Good Bye to Middle Land.

"Does Slumberland always get sunsets like this? It's nothing I've ever seen before," Nemo softly gasped, adoring the fading light. He sees it as beautiful, but I saw it as another sign of something improper, thinking about Father and where his emotions were.

I swallowed.

"No. This is unusual," I replied gloomily.

A bloody sunset is never a good sign.

…..

At Dinner, Nemo poured a glass and handed it to me.

"Here. Gin!"

I blinked as I curled my fingers around the cool, glassy stem and peered over its sparkling gold rim.

It looked just like water.

The way Nemo described this "Gin," being jiggy juice, or giggle juice, whatever, I thought the drink would be colorful or have some more splendor to it. I didn't even bother to hide my disappointment and wrinkled my nose.

"It looks boring," I mumbled.

Nemo laughed.

"It's not how it looks that gets you excited." He laughed some more, cradling his stomach.

I set the glass down and glanced at Father across the table to see how he felt about all of this. He smiled, his cheeks pink and laughing at something he was muttering with Professor Genius. They snuck looks at Nemo and me like we were an exhibit. Other Slumberland guests, my instructors, Theodor from the Trine Council, and Father's friends seemed to enjoy Middle Land imports and savory dishes. No one paid much attention to the two of us, just a couple of eyes here and there. I was shoved into a little bubble with Nemo, the two of us stuck together and far away from the table. I felt like I was on an island with Nemo, standing there as I flatly stared at everyone else sailing away on a grand ship.

My stomach folded. Suddenly, the savior pies and steamed vegetables were unappetizing. I wish Bonbon were here, but Father may have told her to sit this meal out to have me and Nemo bond like it was a requirement. She has been absent. My stomach folded even tighter after not seeing her in any of the seats. In the corner of the dining hall, a soft string quartet played, bouncy and cheery like Nemo when he wiggled in his chair to sit closer to me, eager to know how I felt about his stupid gin.

I looked back to my boring glass, uncertain how to explain the truth to him.

"I never drank before," I informed. Nemo's jaw fell. It was difficult not to laugh at how he looked, the young man still in his pajamas, his legs wide as he leaned forward in his seat, elbows on the table.

"What?!"

"Middle Land imports just never crossed my mind," I scoffed, shrugging with my nose high in the air. What was the big deal?

"Okay, now you have to drink with me," Nemo begged.

I looked away from him and pushed my glass away.

"No, thank you."

"Each time you take a sip, I will tell you something about Middle Land."

"What?!"

I spun in my seat and gaped at Nemo. He smiled wickedly, holding his glass close to his lips. His dark honeyed eyes had a secretive glint, one eyebrow raised.

"Yep. One sip. One fact. It will be a hoot!"

"No!"

Nemo shrugged and put his glass to his lips.

"All right, then. No Middle Land secrets," he waved off, then closed his eyes before taking a small sip. A green olive in his glass rolled along the bottom until it kissed his lips. He held it steadily, his fingers holding the stem with a peculiar fashion, glamorous when his long lashes touched his clean skin like tiny black feathers, loose bangs out of place to colloid and brush between his eyes. Watching Nemo drink his gin made me feel small and far away.

He pulled back his glass. "Ahh!" He sighed with a wiggly grin and set it down steadily.

I stared at my drink and shrank even more.

"Okay, I'll try it. But only because I want to hear more about Middle Land," I eased, retaking my glass and tapping my fingers on its stem.

"That's the spirit!" Nemo cheered, and he watched just in case I were to throw it over my shoulder instead.

I brought the gin up to my nose and took a whiff.

I coughed, shaking the glass to splash on my white dress accidentally. Icy, cold drink sloshed on my tight bodice, dampening my bows.

"You aren't supposed to smell it. Never smell the giggly juice," Nemo advised. "Just drink it. That's it."

"How much?"

"As much as you want."

I remembered seeing Vince with his drink, the orange stuff in his heavy glass. When I got close to his face that time, my hands on his chest, his breath had a smoky, bitter scent, leftovers from another giggly juice. What was he drinking?

I stared down at the liquid again and tipped my glass. Eyes closed as Nemo did, I tried to imitate him, my fingers fumbling with where to go and how much to taste. The cold ran across my tongue and poured into the back of my throat. It tasted awful. I coughed and smacked my glass down.

"You aren't supposed to drink it that fast. Just sip it. Tiny sips," Nemo mentioned with suppressed laughter. I coughed and made a sour face. That stuff tasted terrible. Awful. Why did adults drink it?

"Ugh! It burns!" I squeaked, hating the intense heat stuck in my throat. I traveled in my belly with a trail of small fires left behind.

"Chase it with something. A lot of gals do that," Nemo hinted. I gulped cranberry juice until only a hint of the gin stuck in my mouth.

"Okay, tell me something about Middle Land," I demanded, feeling smaller. Nemo put a finger on his chin, humming a tune I didn't recognize.

"We have this music called Jazz. You got jazz here?"

I lifted a brow.

"Jazz? No. What's that?"

"A type of music. Not as classy as Moonlight Sonata, but it's fun. I'll play it for you sometime!"

He waved at a servant, and she neared, holding a tray of drinks. Nemo leaned into her ear.

"Any butts around here?"

I choked on my juice. What did he just ask?

The servant's elegant make-up face drew a blank.

"A what?"

"Cigs."

"What's that?"

"Cig-arr-ettes," he drew out long and simple.

She shook her head and frowned apologetically.

"Not here. Sorry, Sir. Anything else?"

Nemo rubbed his chin, thinking. Eventually, a lightbulb came off, and he snapped his fingers.

"Yeah. Some champagne and lemon juice. You got that?"

She nodded, her fluffy pink hair bouncy.

"Yes, Sir. I'll bring some." She darted away in her high heels. Nemo cocked his head, watching her leave for far longer than necessary. His eyes were glued to her short tutu.

I rolled my eyes and muttered with distaste, "You smoke?" Only Nightmare Land folk smoked.

Nemo smiled sheepishly at me with a shrug.

"Just when I'm out with good company. Everyone in Middle Land smokes. We drink and smoke and dance all at once. No big deal." He made it sound as harmless as breathing, but I only felt more uneasy. I hope he doesn't encourage me to smoke just for Middle Land facts. I have to make a line somewhere.

"And that's fun? Please, tell me what else the folks do for fun."

Nemo wagged his finger.

"Nah ah, you need to sip before I tell you more," he toyed.

I stopped breathing through my nose and took the smallest of sips. Even so, the gin still burned my throat. I sucked in my cheeks to create a vacuum, preventing the taste from settling.

"Okay. Tell me," I gasped, breathing out gin breath. I chased it with extra cranberry juice.

Nemo chuckled at my submissive state, and I had never felt more desperate in my life.

"We drive on Sundays. To brunch, after brunch, all day. Sometimes to see the ocean or visit at the pier," he shared and gulped some of his gin down quickly like it was nothing to him. Half his glass was already empty.

Driving sounds too mundane to consider fun to me. You just sit in a moving box and see the world through a window. How was that enjoyable?

"How lazy," I commented.

The servant girl brought a pitcher of lemon juice and a bottle of Champagne. Immediately, Nemo took one leg on his chair, hoisted the big bottle with foil, and cheered, "All right! Now it's a party! Who wants some bubbly?!"

Glasses were raised.

"Here!"

He propped the bottle on his bent knee, peeled the foil off, and wizard his thumbs along the round lid.

"Ready?"

I covered my ears to muffle the loud "pop" sound, and a gush of golden, bubbly champagne poured out all over the table. Speckles of sparkling drink sprinkled on roasted salmon and crispy, savory pies. Laughter poured out of Nemo just like that champagne, his trembling stomach shaking the skirt of his pajamas against the table.

Champagne was poured carelessly into tall, slim glasses, passed around, and spilled. I had never tasted champagne before. The drink bubbled as I'd imagined a giggly drink, and I reached for a glass before they were all gone, but Nemo pulled it away with a wag of his finger. He sat back in his seat and took my gin drink with a shake of his head.

"Oh no. Not you. I got a special drink in mind for you." And he poured the bubbly into the gin. I watched how he worked, like a chemist with his eye for how much to spill and a drizzle of lemon juice. When he was done, he brought me a fuzzy yellow drink with triumph.

"The French 75," Nemo declared and winked behind his creation.

It definitely seemed more exciting, no longer flat and dull like water but fuzzy like baby bubbles in orange juice. I took the cocktail this time without much debate and watched tiny bubbles dance along the surface.

"Ohhh," I gasped, marveling at his potion. One sip and the drink tickled my lips before cooling my mouth. There wasn't much of a burn for a start, only a sweet, tangy lemon taste with a punch of gin. After a swallow, the burn caught up in my belly. I think I grew a little.

"Tell me another thing about Middle Land," I jabbed. Nemo beamed at me.

"I'll show you."

Suddenly, he jumped out of his chair and snatched my wrist to pull me out of mine.

"Nemo, wait!" I gasped, tugging away, but his hand gripped hard, and I was dragged across the marble floor, my long white skirt tailing behind my slippers. There was a snap of fingers, Nemo muttering to the band, "More trumpets and drums, with a two-beat rhythm."

The air shifted, lighter. Too light. I thought I was walking on air, trying to balance, when a wave suddenly whooshed over my head, casting a thin silly curtain to the room. The music became more lively, zipping with trumpets, tapping of drums, and trombones. I thought I was floating from atop a parading elephant, dizzy when Nemo gave me a spin. He was doing all the work, moving like water, smooth and daring, when he pulled me close, chest to chest.

"This is the Charleston!"

He did a funny thing with his legs, tapping with almost a plie fashion, tapping front and back, and kicking his leg up while swinging his arms. I stifled a laugh because he looked ridiculous.

I showed him a few ballet moves, my feet gliding up to meet his face. I toyed with the idea of kicking him.

Nemo shook his head, hands waving.

"No, no, no, no, no."

He shut me down and got in the center.

He tapped his feet, smiling at me to compete with him. I did so with a soft spin. He counter-attacked with a skip and kicked his feet in the air.

I pictured Nemo telling me all of Middle Land in a song and dance number like they do in musicals. He's taping on his feet, singing about the ladies with their frilly skirts and men with their top hats and cigs. He boasted about the stocks going high and everyone feeling rich. There were theaters, dance clubs, and booze smuggling like it was all a playful game.

"They smack your wrist if ya get caught. I swear it!"

He talked of radios, cars, the countryside, beaches, carnivals, and picnics. Lustrous pearls, flappers, short hair, and dark lipstick. Long cigarettes, high heels, eating caviar, and sneaking into hidden bars to drink the giggly juice. I got lost in his world, taking in his words to imagine what beach parties on a place called Long Island was like. The sparkling lights and large billboards on Broadway.

"There are small parties. Large parties. Casual. Formal. The whole lot! I've got lots of friends at the Egg," Nemo shared.

More sips of his potion, more dancing. Nemo turned into a siren, hypnotizing me with his song of Middle Land and its indulgences. I was spinning in his arms until my bones softened into smoke. Chandeliers blurred. The laughing faded. The fuzzy gin drink grew tastier with each sip. I was dancing without control, one hand swinging around and the other holding my glass until it spilled in my mouth or on my dress.

I came in this as a tight rubber band and ended up loose as a noodle in Nemo's arms, laughing at something he said, but I couldn't remember what it was. He practically carried me, my feet dragging until I became a doll, mashing my face in his chest to nap.

"Don't go soft on me now," Nemo chuckled. His chest shook under my cheek. His heart was pounding fast in my ear. Why did it feel so easy to fall asleep in the middle of the room? I didn't care how I looked, forgetting who was there and who wasn't.

"I'm sleepy," I muffled, my lips squeezed together over his fabric.

"Uh oh," and he laughed, mouth open and high to the ceiling of gold, glass, light, and stars.

"The Princess is zozzled!"

"Don't worry. I got her."

Father's thick arms were warm when they held me easily. I squeezed under his beard to embrace his neck and nuzzle my nose over his broad shoulder like a pillow, smiling wildly at nothing in particular.

"Good Job, my boy! I've never seen Camille this happy!" Father gushed at Nemo. I'd like to blame it on the giggle juice. They spoke of how fun the first night turned out, their voices muffled. I thought I had cotton candy in my ears because their words faded with the music. I blinked sleepily, opening my eyes until they drooped like melted chocolate, and stared absently at the windows. Darkness stood behind the paneled glass. I saw shadows of trees and a moon laying a hint of silver lining to the outside world. There was a spark or a firecracker.

I blinked to clear my vision. Maybe it was the cocktail, but I could've sworn I saw a shadow. Perhaps I was already being swallowed in the nightmare, kicking in Father's arms. Upon more extended inspection, the spark floated around until I knew what it was.

A cigar.

Its end burned like its owner's eyes. That's all I saw: burning eyes and a burning end of a cigar. As though not wanting to be found, the figure slipped into the darkness. Nothing more than rattling dark trees and shivering rose bushes.

Galof?

I pointed to the window.

"Therez Gooloff," I slurred, but there were only fuzzy giggles around my head. I guess Galof didn't want to stay for the party. He's shy.

I shut my eyes again and took advantage of being floated upstairs.

Not even the giggly juice could take away the nightmares. My mushy brain hardened, the giggling and music gone. If only the effects had stayed, but the drink went away, stripping me of my rare, calm mood. What followed were the hisses and claws. Sharp teeth gnawed on my arms until I screamed awake, sweating in bed. My stomach was suddenly in my throat. I sat up gasping, still in my evening gown. Everything was either itchy or hot.

Desperate to look at my arm, I jumped out of bed and slithered out of my dress, and slip, wobbling as I did. I'd expected red marks or blood along my arm, but upon inspection, it was fine. Nothing was wrong with it. I was still breathing fast, blinking at my pale arm, and just stood there in my room, almost naked.

I wanted to eat, sleep and bathe all at once, exhausted yet hyper. My body wanted to slump on the bed, but my heart wanted me to race outside for fresh air. What time was it?

My eyes lay upon my antique ceramic clock on the nightstand. Tiny, golden hands told me it was close to three. Everyone would be asleep at this hour; it's the least favorable time for Slumberland. While everyone slept peacefully in their beds, their enchanting thoughts manifesting their dreams into pleasantries, I wobbled awake, groaning as I held my curdling stomach and stepped out into the cool night.

The moon was close to the hills, spilling the last of its milky silver beauty across the sleepy land. A breeze gave me goosebumps, urging me to slip on my sheer satin robe. Barefoot, I tiptoed to the balcony's edge and let the wind brush worry off my face.

Even though the night was slim, I'd expected to hear crickets and frogs. Night noises of life should be bursting from the gardens and lake. It was solidly quiet like I was still dreaming, and the dream forgot to add those extra details.

"I didn't expect you to be up at this hour."

His voice turned my blood cold, and I immediately spun to track him. Glowing gold eyes peeked over the edge, and they dropped to burn holes at my luminous pink robe. He grinned until his fangs glinted under the fading moonlight.

"Nice robe," Galof commented.

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