The mist turned into a downpour. Thunder growled politely across the capital, a forgivable boom to appease anyone who enjoyed the sounds of a storm instead of suffering in pounding fear. Birds hid away in the thickest part of trees and hollow trunks to escape the sleet. Some animals scurried into the forests, while others took to the garden gazebos for shelter, cramming together without an inch of room to breathe.
I strolled through the palace walls with my head down. Cold air slipped through the airy corridors, curtains blowing in to try and brush me. The storm dipped its toe inside the palace, heavy wind aiding in spilling water on parts of the floor closest to the windows before servants could slam the crystal screens shut. Even if every window was now sealed, I could still hear the echoes of the rain, more like a constant, dull murmuring. The air carried that lovely smell after it's been sunny for several days before the first rainfall, though it made the hallways feel damp.
I felt a chill as I passed a window, rain sputtering between its shutters.
Because it's necessary. For Slumberland's future.
Father's ironic words rang inside me, and my whole body vibrated with its ever-lasting jingle until I whimpered with exhaustion. I carried guilt for not asking a more crucial question, one that could've popped out a better answer. If Nemo's presence was necessary, then the next question I should've fired was; Why?
Why was he necessary?
I didn't understand it and thought of Father's reply as a way to shut me up for good. But why-!
A piano began to play out of nowhere.
Suddenly, my exhaustion was replaced with curiosity, wondering who played the mellow song. It came from beyond the corridor, initially distant as a whisper.
I stopped at the main staircase and listened carefully, hearing how the keys were played with care, each note with purpose, no mistakes.
Drawn to its melancholic magic, I followed, slightly believing it was the perfect melody for my sour mood. A fine picture came to mind: Well, long fingers touching the piano keys. Only a few at first, but as time rolled on, more notes were added, turning a soft, simple piece into something busier. The player was building momentum, but then it settled again, gentle once more.
The music grew louder when I climbed the stairs until I discovered it was coming from my garden.
Someone was playing my piano without my permission.
I wanted to be upset, but I couldn't, too curious as to who was playing the beautiful melody. I stopped in front of the double doors into my garden and hovered there because they were slightly open enough to have a peek.
The faux sun in the room glowed in my face when I poked my head between the open crack and searched with my eyes. Nothing but my bundles of white flowers took up the space of the large reception. Behind the floral-covered columns and waterfalls, balconies along the high walls stood out where dozens of servant girls collected, gushing over the piano player below them. I couldn't see beyond the spread of flowers when I decided to slip through the crack and pad my way around the garden.
One pair of eyes among the girls spotted me until they all noticed. Whispers traveled, and with haste, all the girls skittered away, afraid of my presence.
I tiptoed through the tall vases of white roses, passed the trees of jasmine, and brushed against the hydrangeas. Pulling back a thick curtain of wisteria, I was ready to interrupt, but I stopped short.
Nemo was facing me, but he couldn't see me. His eyes were scrunched shut, concentrating on his inner world of music as his hands were busy on the piano's keys. He was lost, back to that place that was better than Slumberland. I envied him all the more, but at how he played, not at the nuisance of his existence. By feeling the keys, he became a part of the piano, his fingers merging with its long, glossy black and white limbs until he was lost in an enchanting embrace. Each key he played helped me loosen the hardened shells of my corrupted anger until it chipped away. It was challenging to feel furious over someone who played beautiful music.
It wasn't fair.
I observed Nemo's face to find a bruise swelling up on his left cheek, a part of his lips caught in its color, and I pressed my lips together. I didn't know I would leave a mark; it may glare at me for a week with constant reminders of my short temper. I inhaled sharply when another thought crossed my mind: I'm like Father. It's no wonder he laughed about it.
Seeing Nemo's battered face, a horde of uncomfortable feelings boomed in my chest, heavy enough to drop my head and look at single petals neat my slippers.
Without creating a disturbance, I stood there to listen to him play for as long as he did. Occasionally, I glanced at him. He didn't once open his eyes, but eventually, he licked his busted lip and muttered, "What are you doing here?"
I gasped softly, unaware that he knew I was there. Even so, he continued to play while I shifted uneasily, my hands together over my tightening chest.
"I heard you playing," I replied, thinking how lame it was that I had little more to say.
Nemo was quiet for a while, playing the same depressing melody. His eyes opened only to look down at his fingers when they slowed to a stop, but after a drag of an ending, he played again. The boy was on repeat; the notes were memorized from playing this piece thousands of times. His feelings were put into it, his fingers stroking each key with longing effort, his arms made of stone.
After a long, uncomfortable pause, he said, "Yeah?" And let that drag as his fingers slowed to a crawl.
I walked around the piano quietly, eying Nemo's change of attire—a dark blue military jacket with matching trousers. Silver feathers of wings took flight from his shoulders, one holding a dark blue velvet half cape that lay limp on the floor. His morning outfit must've been covered with stains from our earlier fickle.
Should I apologize?
My fingers pressed hard, their bones aching, and I cleared my throat.
"What song is this?" I tried. The melody he played was unrecognizable, too bleak for something of Slumberland.
Nemo lifted his head slightly, his swept bangs brushing over his distant eyes.
"None but the Lonely Heart."
That's when he stopped playing.
The piano keys froze, filling the air with the sounds of the world around us. There was the tall fountain bubbling, drops falling over the silent koi. The chirping of birds bouncing around the white wonderland of blossoms. They hopped from branch to branch, trembling them enough to have a few petals fall. Some petals fell over Nemo's head, but he didn't seem to notice them when he had a faraway look.
"Tchaikovsky…" he said suddenly, though I didn't know what that word meant.
I twisted my mouth. "Huh?"
With a tired smile, Nemo sighed over the piano keys.
"He was a brilliant pianist and composer. My favorite. His music is like poems," he explained.
Sitting on the bench, he leaned back to look at the sunlamp. He muttered, "None but the lonely heart knows what I suffer. Alone and parted from all joy. I see the firmament in that direction. Alas…" he sat up straight again and let his fingers drop on the keys to play a tiny portion of that song. "Who loves me and knows me is far away…." He stopped, fluttered his eyes, and took in a deep breath.
I also glanced up at the sunlamp, wondering if it was working because the room felt chilly, and I quoted, "Who loves you and knows you is far away." It led me to ask gingerly, "Is there someone at home who loves you?"
I dropped my gaze to watch Nemo pout, and he tapped more keys and replied, "It doesn't matter." He quickly pulled the cover and slapped it over the keys like they were about to burst into flames. Silence swirled around us after that. Nemo in his place. Me in mine. Trying to figure out what to say was uncomfortable, my head thickening with ways to apologize about earlier.
I swallowed, ready to make my first attempt.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, beating me to the punch.
I held my breath, and there was a distant boom of thunder.
Nemo sighed and looked at the piano with thirst, but he didn't open it. Instead, he looked over his shoulder slightly, his words floating over to me.
"I'm sorry for what I said to you this morning," he clarified. When his hands fell to his lap, his shoulders drooped along with his gaze.
"I don't know what came over me."
That was all he said and left it at that. No explanation or digging deep into his behavior. He either didn't want to talk about it or already knew the workings behind his actions and refused to talk about it. Maybe I already knew why and didn't feel the need to press him for a backstory.
Instead of saying anything, I walked closer and sat next to him. I played a few notes of something too cheerful, a sudden break in the air that appeared as loud as glass breaking, and immediately paused.
"Father told me why you were chosen," I decided, wondering if it pleased him. A few too-cheerful notes melted under my fingers.
Nemo lifted, light in his eyes while hope morphed around his droopy grin.
"Really? What did he say?" He cocked his head to read every feature on my face, searching for my secrets.
I shook my head to obscure his scan, my long, diamond earrings dancing around my jaw.
"He said..." I sighed, suddenly feeling shameful for getting Nemo's hopes up. He was expecting a great answer. That he had something special about him, a glorious key to what Slumberland was missing that couldn't be found anywhere else.
"That you were necessary for Slumberland's future," I answered softly and turned my head to read his reaction. His smile curved into a wrinkled frown as his eyes faded, the light gone from them.
"For Slumberland's future," Nemo echoed bitterly, and he shook his head. He forced a smile and shrugged.
"If he says so."
"Nemo, if my Father specifically picked you, isn't that enough?" When I asked that, I immediately thought how silly of a question. Nemo even jerked his head to give me a dumbfounded look like I should be the one getting punched at. But then he made a dry smile that made me grow paler.
"Does it even matter?"
His words were like a fallen chandelier, crashing at my belief that, yes, I thought it did matter as to why Nemo was picked. But as soon as he asked me that simple question, I understood.
It didn't matter.
Suppose Nemo was chosen because he had a rare gift, or if he was carrying something special in the grand scheme of plans behind closed doors, or his blood or upbringings, his family ties, whatever, it made no difference. He wouldn't suddenly shift into a cookie cutter of Prince Charming and announce his serious determination to handle the kingdom of Slumberland with courageous effort. He will still bring remnants of his world into this one by throwing parties, giggle juice, smoking cigarettes, and being a child without shame. I had hoped he might have taken his role more seriously if he had found the correct answer to his purpose here. Bring more of his piano self into my world, the Nemo hiding behind false smiles and cigarette smoke.
Right on queue, he pulled a cigarette from his inner coat liner and stuck it to his lips. I snapped my fingers only to point a stiff finger at his habit.
"No. Not in my garden," I pressed firmly.
Nemo was about to flick his lighter, but then he looked at me, his cold cigarette jerking up and down his lips like his jumpy thoughts. His dark honeyed eyes warmed, and then half his lips lifted.
"Fair enough," he gobbled and returned his cigarette to where it came from.
"That's a hard habit to break, I hope you know," he chuckled and sighed, returning to his smiling self. He thought to mention, "Well, you missed your morning classes. Professor G is looking everywhere for you."
I completely forgot and felt like a hypocrite for giving Nemo a hard time for wanting to skip, only to have committed the crime myself. My eyes grew at my behavior, oblivious until now.
"Oh dear, you're right. I was so upset, I just..."
"Hey."
Nemo looked at my limp hand and thought of taking it, but at the last moment, he touched my shoulder.
"It's okay. I get it. You don't have to explain," he assured.
I looked up at him, and we held each other's gaze for a moment quietly. He seemed to have shifted, the visitor holding in many personalities, which only a certain smile could hint at where he was next. His lips opened slightly, inhaling the air around me and exhaling a little heavier. His breath was a mix of coffee, sweetness, and cigarettes. Blowing all that in my face, I almost recoiled, but his eyes kept me staying, seeing how they softened until they glimmered under the sunlamp. His hand was warm over my bare shoulder, a friendly gesture, yet I was oddly eager for more. I wanted to know what it was like to have a warm hand explore me, to do what Galof was bold enough to try. If Nemo was to be my fiancee, would it be okay to ask him?
How could I despise this boy and desire him at the same time? I hated him, remember? He's stealing my throne. My Kingdom.
Vince came to mind, and that hunger was replaced with a deep ache.
He's stealing my freedom.
I cut our bridge of connection by looking away and brushed Nemo's hand off my shoulder.
"Thank you," I whispered heavily, uncertain what else to add. I was back to hating Nemo, but my tone didn't push him away. He only scooted closer, looking down at me with lingering curiosity. He leaned in, his lips close to my shoulder.
"I know we've started on the wrong foot here," he began, his breath tickling my skin. He swallowed and looked down at my hand on my lap.
"Why don't we start over?" he whispered. I stared, his eyes flashing a hint of admiration.
"Okay?" I quipped, skeptical.
Nemo smiled at my tone, heaving a chuckle, and he licked his lips before glancing at mine. He looked away quickly.
"We're engaged. Let's get that out of our system. There's no beating around the bush here. I am marrying you after my coronation," he confirmed grimly.
I nodded and blinked to register the hard truth about those words, but they still felt like harmless, floating petals falling to the floor.
"Yes," I whispered, playing along.
"I need to hear you say it," Nemo demanded softly.
I flickered annoyance his way. "What?"
"You have to say it. It's a way to feel the truth by admitting it. Say it," he requested.
"What do you want me to say?"
"That you're marrying me."
I swallowed, a lump starting to get in the way of my breathing.
Why did I have to say it? I knew the truth, at least; I thought I did. Maybe I've been a fool, still processing since time has barely passed. Instead of dodging the truth, will saying it out loud finally put weight on me? I could feel those words turning the rain of petals into a crashing of mighty hail. All my flowers would droop, their stems bent and petals wet and bruised from impact. It seemed my world was fluctuating. My garden didn't feel safe anymore. There were no corners to hide. No lying to myself. No pretending. Since Nemo's arrival, he brought a storm that I refused to acknowledge. Now that I could feel the truth bulge in my throat, I felt myself standing in the middle of that storm he dragged in, a mix of rain and hail, and it followed me wherever I went.
My chest began to hurt, and I had to hold it in for a few counts before taking a deep breath.
"I'm..." I cleared my throat and licked my dry lips. Lifting my head to look at Nemo, I imagined him surrounded by a curtain of ice shards, and all he did was smile over it, oblivious to my inner turmoil.
"I'm going to marry..."
Nemo's face was too close as I ended with, "...you."
He finally frowned, taking in my misery, but he would make the best of it while I fell back, dodging his hand when he tried to lay his over mine. It happened like instinct, not meaning to offend him. Whether he noticed or not, that didn't stop him from asking the one question I dreaded.
"Can I kiss you?"
I ducked my face, buried it into my shoulder, and looked down, hardly breathing.
"No," I gasped, my face heating. What an obnoxious question!
Nemo settled his hand gently over my shoulder and let his fingers fall down my arm. More shivers coiled into the back of my neck.
"Why not?" he whispered, his lips edging closer to touch anything of me. I froze, breathing too shallowly to come up with a single word.
"I told you I was sorry. As your fiancee, I want to know what it's like to kiss you," he justified, his words gushing with desire.
Half my face hid under my arm, only my eyes poking out to watch as Nemo dared to plant a kiss on my shoulder. I sucked in a breath, his wet lips ticklish on my skin. They stayed there, his eyes closed.
"I need to know you," I bargained, logic feeling fuzzy. We've just met. I'm still mad at him, I think.
"Applesauce," he murmured against my skin, his words vibrating little waves across my body.
I feared we weren't alone, stealing glances at the balconies around the reception. Many colorful perms and bobs bolted, hiding in the shadows. Were there that many birds before? There seemed to be dozens sitting on branches of my cherry trees, with all their little dark eyes on us. Not even a chirp.
"We're being watched," I warned, hoping that was enough to stop Nemo, but he touched my skin once more and shyly did another up toward my neck.
"Let them watch," he breathed, lost someplace I couldn't reach. Wherever he was, I didn't know how to get there; too many excuses flooded my head.
"Nemo, please stop," I requested, my voice shy above a whisper. I liked how his lips felt, how they made feathery, lovely touches, but something didn't feel aligned.
Vince flashed. My hands on his chest returned, and my longing for him became the roadblock to Nemo's temptations. Was there no way around this?
Nemo's hand stroked up my arm and reached my jaw, holding my face there to pull me closer to him. I pressed my lips together, not knowing what to do.
Suddenly, all the birds fluttered away.
"Princess! Are you in here?!"
There was tapping on the doors before one creaked open. It sounded like Professor Genius.
I gasped, instantly bolting off the bench with dread. He's here to drag me into his class!
Nemo tugged on my wrist.
"Come on," he whispered. I gawked as he tried pulling me around the piano to half crawl, half squat.
"What?" I gasped.
Professor Genius's giant footsteps echoed around the room, hidden from all the tall vases and flowers.
"Princess, you're late for literature," he scowled. I could picture the tall man sizzling in his suit, his hat bobbing up and down through the white forest.
Nemo ducked and pulled me down to kneel to his level, sneaking around the vases.
"What are we doing?" I whispered.
"Playing hooky," Nemo replied.
"What's that?"
He didn't answer, only smiling more expansive as he held my wrist and led me through the garden to zip around Professor Genius before he could find us. He was close, his voice almost over my head, when he growled, "Your father will hear about this!"
Nemo suppressed a giggle, cracking from his throat while air sucked into my cheeks.
We snuck away, cutting through the doors quietly, and made for a run.
I was still being dragged, Nemo pulling me down the stairs.
"Wait, where are we going?" I asked.
He turned around and tossed me a smile of fun ideas.
"The city."
I stopped in the middle of a step and yanked from his hold, our hands apart. That made him pause a few steps below, and he turned around, alarmed.
"What?"
My fists settled at my sides.
"I told you! I can't go into the city," I grilled.
Nemo blinked, not understanding.
"Why not?"
"It's dangerous," I simplified. That seemed to fly over his head, the boy shrugging and confidently smiling.
"Don't worry. You got me," he promised as he jammed a thumb over his chest.
He then climbed a step below mine to get close to my face, for which I leaned back to have some room between us. Abruptly, his hand took mine.
"I promise, I won't let anything bad happen to you," Nemo pledged; he even had a hand to his heart like a sworn knight ready to protect his princess. But I have yet to learn of Nemo and his ways with promises. Does he blow them off his lips like cigarette smoke? Or is it a glimpse of his no-nonsense side, a rare gift to consider?
I suppose there was only one way to find out…
My eyebrows lifted before I bargained, "We can't stay out too long."
Nemo squeezed my hand.
"Of course! One hour, tops!" His eyes grew when he added, "Hey, why don't we bring your Bonbon friend, too? Would that make you feel better?"
It would make me feel a little better. No doubt, Bonbon was just as sheltered as I, but she was more open to exploring the wonders of Slumberland outside the palace limits without a chaperone. Plus, she could probably kick more butt than Nemo any day. I would put my life in her hands.
I smiled timidly at him and replied, "Sure. She'd love that."
"And my new friend, Vince?"
I like how Nemo referred to Vince as his "new friend" and instantly heard his hidden sarcasm, though that may not have been his intention. Butterflies flew around in my stomach at the thought of asking Vince to tag along.
"He may not want to go," I admitted, already picturing the knight's usual stern expression when displeased with an idea.
Nightmares are easy. You can kill them all. But as for Dreamers? They are all over the city, and they're annoying. You can't tell which ones to worry about, and they can hurt you. So, stay away from the city. It's all an annoying charade anyway; you aren't missing anything but a bloody headache.
That's what he warned me once when I asked him why we never went to the city.
It was still Slumberland, but it had its oddities that even Father refused to explain to me. He only warned me that I wasn't allowed to go there. The city was meant for the older Middle Land folk to dream, not children. Vince would reinforce that rule if we tried asking him to join us on our forbidden one-hour self-tour of the adult place. Though, I would argue that I'm not a child anymore.
Nemo didn't need much persuasion to agree to leave Vince out.
"Yeah, you're right. He's too hard-boiled for a night of fun. Leave him out." He rolled his eyes to the high ceiling where many large ornaments of glass clouds hung, and he opened his lips to say something else, but then he threw a sideways glance at me and clammed. He quickly cleared his throat and pulled my hand lightly.
"Let's go find Bonbon and have a night out in Slumberland's Big City!"
I didn't have a say; Nemo hurriedly pulled me along the stairs, his eyes sparkling enthusiastically. Despite feeling uneasy about it, the worst part was that I wanted to go, too.
...
Evening fell.
The rainstorm rolled away, leaving the streets slick and clean. They were reflective as mirrors to the street lamps, casting a yellow, hazy glow to the warm air. Scanning at the view from a high hill, I thought the big city was under a yellow bubble, its many lights merging as foggy hands towards the many stars above. The crescent moon peered down, watchful of the commotion that occurred at night for privileged Dreamers. I could've sworn she had me in her sight, her lips twisting with disapproval, but she could do nothing but hang up there as a thin lantern with judging eyes.
"Yippee!" Nemo cried, his arms high in the air. Our carriage rocked up and down, driven by enthusiastic mountain goats with enough jump to propel us twenty feet high. Feeling free as a bird, I screamed happily, my hands up as one would do with a roller coaster, and closed my eyes to the wind blowing my hair back.
"Yay!" Bonbon cheered, sitting up front to steer. Her long, green hair whirled in the back seat, tickling my legs and leaving a scent of bubble gum.
"I'm glad you guys made up," she said, steering our four goats to hop left off the main road. Beacons of lights waved at us down the hill, hitting through the dark sky as dancing white rods. The closer we got to downtown, the louder the festivities were until they boomed up to our ears. The air buzzed with parties happening at every corner, each block representing parts of Middle Land as stages. I caught sight of a section with red paper lanterns and fireworks buzzing over a wingless, red dragon prowling the street. Smoke hissed from its nostrils, grinning its sharp teeth at us as we passed. Another section held a carnival, and another had a haunted house.
The city was like an enormous amusement park!
I gawked at all the activity outside our carriage, my hands curling over my door.
"Wow, there's so much happening here! So much to do! It's amazing!" I gasped, unable to look away from all the lights and many fun things happening.
"I know! This is my first time, too! We should've done this sooner!" Bonbon concurred.
Slumberland folk waved at us, some holding sparklers or confetti poppers. In his seat, Nemo twirled around and pulled open the carriage's back chest to snatch pieces of his giveaway.
"Here! To celebrate my arrival!"
He handed out golden champagne bottles like tokens to passers in their Fords, carriages, and mounts. They opened their jaws at the rare gifts, waving thanks before opening their bottles with exciting noise and fizz.
We rode up to a couple strolling down a street when Nemo startled them with a pop of his champagne bottle. I couldn't help but laugh, holding my stomach in as Nemo chuckled and handed the bottle to them; it spilled sparkling foam at their feet.
"A gift from your Prince of Slumberland," he hailed.
Bonbon drank from her bottle, lifting it high in the air every time our carriage did another high jump, and she did a loud "Whooo!"
The bottles clattered loudly in the trunk when we landed on the street again.
"I love the unlimited supply in the chest," Nemo chuckled, sitting beside me. He swooped an arm around my shoulders to pull me closer to him, forcing me to mash into his luxury black suit with a matching tie. I clutched to him or my seat belt to keep from flying out of the carriage, my stomach flipping and flopping. After a while, the excitement of our ride dwindled, and my enthusiasm was replaced with irritation.
As we launched into the air, I screamed quickly, "Maybe we should…!" We landed, and after another jump, I urgently finished, "...ride-something-smoother-next-time?!"
Bonbon and Nemo laughed at our vehicle's nauseating ups and downs.
"Just hold on to me. You'll be fine," Nemo promised, and he squeezed me tighter. His champagne breath filled my nose when he looked down at me, his face lit by the bright billboards.
Another leap, and he raised his lips to the sky, one arm around me and the other holding his bottle, and he sang to the twinkling stars, "Chicago! Chicago, that toddling town! Chicago, Chicago, I'll show you around!"
I haven't drunk anything yet, unable to understand how that was possible during a bumpy ride. My insides pushed up into my throat, trying to come out. Drinking anything would just come back up. My hair was loose and falling everywhere, tangling in knots. My dress skirt constantly lifted to display what was underneath, and I had already lost one slipper.
"We could get in trouble for this!" I shrieked in the middle of another gallop, my stomach back in my mouth.
"What for?" Nemo chirped. "I'm bringing what Slumberland was missing!"
"And what is that?" I pried, trying to sit up straighter instead of my face flopping over his lap.
Bubbly fizz drizzled out of his bottle, half already on the street, but Nemo only laughed, making rain with his champagne.
"Alcohol," he rang. Bonbon agreed with a loud whoop. I rolled my eyes.
"Oh, stop that. Don't play me. You enjoyed being out on the roof last night. Admit it," Nemo challenged, smiling at me with a glint. I lifted a brow. "Out on the roof? We didn't-!"
"It means being drunk, Camille," he interrupted—finally, some translation of his nonsense.
I gripped hard on Bonbon's leather seat in front of us, and I glared at him.
"Well, how was I supposed to know THAT?!" I snapped, giving him attitude.
Nemo smiled.
"I like you mad."
I shrank back a little, almost losing what he said.
"What?"
"But no more socking me, okay?" He pointed to his damaged cheek.
Were we having an honest conversation about earlier? It seemed random, but I nodded anyway.
"I'll try," I replied honestly, old guilt returning.
That was enough to get Nemo to strangely laugh even though I wasn't intended to be funny. His arms sank over Bonbon's seat to shout over her shoulder, "Can you believe the princess knocked my lights out?"
Bonbon cracked, her cheeks puffed.
"Yeah, I believe it! You two are an interesting combination. First punching, and now kissing-!"
"We weren't kissing!" I screamed, my face red and nails digging into the leather seat.
"Uh-huh." Bonbon didn't believe me, and she did a hard right. Nemo rolled on me; our bodies squished together. I pushed against his chest, flushed, and screamed for him to get off me. His laughter shook the heavens.
"You did that on purpose," he cackled to Bonbon. Over her shoulder, she flashed him a wicked smile.
"Just having fun," she purred.
Our four goats jumped high over a busy sidewalk and landed us in the middle of a parade.
Nemo leaned over the carriage to gawk at all the floats under waving beams of lights and stars.
"Wow! A parade! It's like New Year's Eve!" he exclaimed. He pointed at a giant green dinosaur floating over us, blocking the sky briefly.
"Yowza! Look at that!"
I looked up, seeing the large stomach of a balloon dinosaur. Party clowns walked around our carriage, waving at us while stringing along more balloons. It rained golden confetti, littering our seats. There was a booming of drums that made my insides jump.
Loving the scene, Nemo stood up and began waving at the crowd surrounding the grand street, lit skyscrapers looming over us on both sides.
"Let's be a part of the parade," he announced. Our goats began to trot lightly, making the ride easier as we blended into the crowd of floats, dancers, marching bands, and balloons. I sunk low in my seat, not wanting to be seen, whereas Nemo proudly displayed himself in any way he could. He flaunted bottles of champagne to anyone who rushed up to him for grabs. He blew kisses, waved, and winked.
"Hello, from Middle Land! I'm Nemo! My coronation is next week! I hope to see you all there!"
Many folks crowded around our carriage to touch Nemo's hand or to grab a bottle, marveling at his looks and dashing smile. Cameras flashed with bulbs bursting and adding snippets of lightning in our car. More confetti sprinkled over us until some fell in my mouth. I spat it out, rubbing my tongue, when, unexpectedly, Nemo clutched at my wrist hard, and he yanked me out of my seat. I yelped, wobbling next to him.
"We shouldn't be out in the open like this," I warned.
Nemo rolled his eyes.
"Why? This place is great! Come on, stand up with me! We're going to be king and queen, after all!" he encouraged, taking my waist and mashing it against his. I smiled nervously and played along, waving politely at hundreds of faces down the line.
"This wasn't part of the plan," I said through my teeth. Nemo continued to smile, more lights on his face.
"That makes this fun! Now they know who I am," he said directly in my ear. He squeezed me more into him until I didn't know where to put my hand, left being crushed between us.
Bonbon leaned back in her seat and took another swig of her bottle.
"King Morpheus is overprotective. I don't see why he never wanted us to come here," she thought aloud.
"Probably because we would never want to leave! The palace is a snooze fest," Nemo quipped, and they cackled.
I disagreed, knowing at least one reason why Father didn't allow us to visit the city, but I stayed quiet on the manner, busy scanning the sardine-packed crowd on the sidelines. A few Dreamers stopped to marvel at the parade, standing there with their mouths open. They contrasted Slumberland's vibrant colors, appearing like dull, lonesome grey ghosts in a world of rainbows. Their skin stayed translucent, often wearing pajamas or boring clothes. Did Nemo notice them?
I looked at him and saw the delight in his eyes, his energy still high. The boy was lost in the moment, surrounded by only what he chose to see; the glamour of Slumberland. He didn't see how we could intrude on the Dreamers, interfering with their dreams, for Father manifested a tight system. Was he aware we were here now? Will coppers come after us?
I took deep breaths, trying not to hyperventilate, whereas Nemo enjoyed the highs of being the parade's main event. Pretty soon, he started dancing on top of his seat, his polished cap-toe oxfords stomping on the leather, and he sang another song at the top of his lungs.
"I've been away from you for a long time. I never thought I'd miss you so! Somehow I feel your love is real. Near you, I want to beeeee!"
I was free from his arms, his need to dramatize his singing growing with much arm movement and swaying like he was trying to make a big show of himself. Watching him made me feel tired.
Grateful to sit again, I slithered close to Bonbon. Her hands were still on the wheel, but she looked over her shoulder at me and smiled tiredly.
"He loves attention, doesn't he?"
I gave her my extensive bug-eyed look and hissed sarcastically, "You think?"
Perfect for a future king. Why should I appear when Nemo would throw me under the rug anyway? I could see it now; me as Queen, always standing next to or behind Nemo. They will all ask, "What's her name again? Oh, who cares? Nemo is brilliant! He's handsome and fun! Nemo this. Nemo that. Why do we have a queen again?
Bonbon gasped, caught in Nemo's hook to dance with him on top of the trunk. She hardly put up a fight, already entranced by Nemo's aura, and let herself get twirled and tangled in his arms. I took advantage of the opportunity to sink into my seat again, leaned my cheek into my hand, elbow on the door, and looked out at the crowd. During all the marching band music, the annoying confetti tickling my scalp, and the cheering out there in the world, I couldn't help but retreat into my head.
I was thinking about Mother.
Ruling Slumberland with Father, she didn't seem impaired standing beside him. She had her beauty and gentle nature to visit her selected few Dreamers and bring them wisdom and premonitions. She had her magic to banish the nightmares. Her smile made Father happy.
I sighed long and hard, looking up to the sky to hopefully find stars: only more parade balloons and confetti.
After a while, Nemo collapsed in his seat, his face glistening with sweat.
"Man, I'm beat," he sighed.
Bonbon jumped in her seat and fanned herself.
"I've never been adored so much in my life," she gushed. She took out her compact to check her makeup. "So many cuties out there!" She applied a thick layer of gloss over her pink lips and blew a kiss at her reflection.
I snapped out of my dreary mood and turned to Nemo.
"Okay. You said an hour. We should head back to the palace now," I suggested. But Nemo waved me off.
"Naaaaahh! The fun just got started!"
He loosened his tie, draped an arm over his door, and told Bonbon, "Take us out of here, will ya, Bonbon girl?"
"Sure thing!"
I glared at the back of her head.
"Bonbon!"
She shrugged. "What? We're already here," she argued timidly. She steered, and the goats picked up the pace, their little hooves clicking over the street in a galloping manner. They jumped, helping us arch over the bustling crowd watching the parade, and landed us on a clear road.
"Where to?" Bonbon rang.
Nemo thought momentarily, leaning back to look up at the many stars now that we were out of the parade scene.
"Hmmm. How about dancing? You got that here? A dance club?"
"I overheard about a place where many Dreamers go to dance," she replied.
"Yeah. Let's go there."
"Roger!"
Our vehicle moved again, bouncing along the busy streets, jumping over taxis and fords until traffic thinned. Our ride smoothed out; the goats were tired but still swift at a steady pace, their hooves clattering softly.
I fidgeted in my seat, hanging onto my seatbelt, and watched the city pass us by. Its awkward splendor of living would roll by me in a flash: Music poured out onto the street from a club or party, and it would come and go in a blur. Laughter coming and fading. People dressed in long dresses or short skirts and tuxedos. Near the pier, a Ferris wheel dazzled us with a light show along its rims, changing shapes and colors of the rainbow.
"Camille," Nemo asked. He's been quiet for a while, and I didn't even think much of it, not noticing until now that he wasn't cheering or handing out champagne. I turned and found him settled in his seat, his face blank. He looked straight ahead, one of his hands fidgeting over his knee.
"What are Dreamers?"
I didn't know he was unaware of the term, finally in my place in the crashing of his odd slang. It was tempting to let him ponder over it, but it was an essential detail to Slumberland, and I looked out to the sidewalks to see if I could catch sight of any more of them.
"Their Middle Land folk, sleeping," I replied.
"And they come here?"
"They are free to come here, yes. Slumberland likes to play out their dreams and do so anywhere outside the royal capital," I explained.
Nemo looked at me. "Why not around the palace?"
I twisted my lips at him. "Because that's by invitation only." Didn't I already tell him that?
"And you aren't allowed out here because it's dangerous? Does it have to do with those Dreamers?"
I nodded.
"Dreamers can be unstable. Father forbids me to step outside the capital to encounter them. But that's not the only reason. He keeps a careful hand over Slumberland to ensure that Dreamers don't fall out of line. Us being here could disturb that balance."
Nemo frowned. "He should be thanking us for being here. We're just adding more fun! What's wrong with that?"
I shrugged, not knowing how to answer, and looked out again to catch more grey blobs in the blurry world of color. Dreamers were everywhere, escorted by Slumberland Folk with orders from Father: To give lessons, grant wishes, fulfill desires, to help repress their difficult Middle Land lives to name a few.
Nemo didn't stop looking at me, lost in thought, until he said, "I'm sorry you can't leave the Capital."
I shrugged again. "I don't mind it. I have places to go. The Lake, the Gardens, the Palace, and the Royal Guard are all free of Dreamers."
Explaining something so natural in Slumberland felt strange, yet the look on Nemo's face told me I was telling him a sad story. He pitied me.
"I see," he sighed and looked away, caught in the flashing scenes of many billboards and shop displays.
"I didn't know you couldn't go anywhere," he added.
"That's why she loved going on those Nightmare hunts with Vince and the royal guard. It got her away for a while, though King Morpheus forbids it now because he doesn't want her to end up like her mom," Bonbon giggled.
I was so shocked by her brutal report of my drama that I could only crane my head and lay my ghastly eyes at the back of her skull, speechless. Was it the giggle juice making her loose and blunt? I still wanted to smack her.
Nemo looked at me again with a lifted dark brow.
"With Vince?"
So many details in Bonbon's spill, and all Nemo cared about was my time spent with Vince.
Before I answered, Bonbon chirped, "Of course!"
I growled through my clenched teeth, "Bonbon! Enough."
The wind blew Nemo's bangs away from his eyes, their steely gaze continuously studying me.
"Anyway..." I dragged, feeling uneasy. "After dancing, why don't we visit the pier? There are games and-!"
"How long have you and Vince known each other?" he hunted.
Finally, Bonbon was catching on, her mouth probably caught open when she tried to speak, but she could only expel a long "aaaaaaaaaah" in the background.
I crossed my arms and saw another Dreamer stumble out of a bar, a woman in a nightgown. She appeared tousled and upset, with mascara running down her cheeks.
"Nine years," I answered flatly.
"Hey! We're almost there," Bonbon tried, pointing ahead at a small building wedged between others. It flashed with large, bright letters, "The Cotton Club." It must've lit up the entire city block.
"Nine years?!" Nemo cried, not caring about the club. He almost stumbled into me, one of his knees jabbing into my thigh.
I gave him a warning glare.
"Yes. That's how long we've been friends," I clarified with a tone that told him I was done with this conversation.
Nemo chuckled and rubbed his face roughly before tossing it to the street to spit, "Friends," with so much loathing. He suddenly seemed to be in a different mood, no longer the bubbly, smiling, dancing Nemo type but a bitter, almost possessive type. He reached into the trunk to pull out another bottle of champagne, popped its lid naturally without trouble, and started to drink. I pointed at the bottle.
"How many of those have you drank?"
"What's it matter?"
I reeled back a little from his bark.
"Maybe we should go home? What do you think, Bonbon?" If she could listen between my words, Bonbon knew I was trying to tell her we should go back. Now. The bouncy goats grew tired, leaving us to crawl awhile.
"Well, our goats can't go much longer. We need to feed them or find some other ride," she explained nervously and turned around in her seat to give me a hidden, worried look.
Nemo pointed ahead and popped his bottle out of his mouth.
"Look, there it is!"
We got caught in the traffic; many vehicles and carriages were stuck on the curve near the flashy building to drop off guests. I held my breath when our ride came to a stop, nobody moving. Nemo almost fell out of his seat, finally noticing our destination.
"No way! You got the Cotton Club here?!"
Before we could answer, he looped a leg over his door and stumbled onto the street, a bottle in his hand.
"I gotta see this! It's like the Big Apple!" He started to skip ahead without us.
Bonbon and I shared a look, trying to read each other's thoughts or send a hidden message, but we both knew what we were thinking: This was getting out of hand. We didn't waste another second. Like lighting, we got out of the carriage and ran after Nemo before we lost sight of him.
"We need to get home now!" I shrieked at her. Slumberland folks blurred in with the Dreamers, too crowded to notice us power-walking down the busy street.
"Well," Bonbon puffed, her arms swinging back and forth. "I didn't know he would jump out of the car!"
"Why did we use goats?!" I cried.
"I don't know! Goats are cute!" she screeched, her lovely silver nails out as though she was ready to claw someone who disagreed with her.
I grabbed my hair near my scalp. "Ugh!"
Our fun consisted of fetching a drunk Nemo before we disrupted any Dreamers. Unfortunately, he was too quick on his feet, already lost in the crowd. Urgently, Bonbon and I followed, heading up the crowded sidewalk and cutting in line to get into the club where we hoped he stumbled.
Bonbon suddenly gasped, a ghostly hand caught on her arm.
"Hey, where's the fire?"
She and I paused, caught in a Dreamer's eyesight. He was plump in a grey suit, matching hat, and a cigar hanging from his mouth. He looked at the two of us up and down and smiled sheepishly.
"What are two dishes like you doing here, alone?"
"We aren't alone," I butted in, taking Bonbon's other arm. "Our men are inside," I quickly lied. But this seemed to please the Dreamer instead of having him back off.
"Swell! Take me along, then. I love playing checkers."
Bonbon and I scrunched our faces at each other, not knowing what "checkers" meant.
"Did he mean the board game?" I asked her as we walked into a crowded lobby.
"What else did he mean?" she asked, just as clueless.
There were mobs of men dressed in suits, merging with women in frilly short dresses and long cigarettes. There was so much smoke and perfume in the air; I started to cough. My eyes began to water, blurring chandeliers into a dreamy mist of lights.
"Why is it so crowded?" I cried, hating to be squished between other bodies. Bonbon took a tight hold of my hand to keep us close.
"I don't know, but I don't like it," she wailed, overwhelmed.
We got caught in the flow of the crowd, dragging us into a large ballroom that was more like a zoo squeezing in hundreds of energetic people. Too many round tables occupied every inch of space around the dance floor. We had to shuffle behind chairs and brush between standing groups of talking and laughing, many stories being shared.
A far-off stage flashed a row of dancers in short skirts. I gawked at the short length of their dresses, seeing flashes of glittery underwear, but no one seemed to care. The ladies just smiled, lifted their long, stocking legs, and moved with the rhythm of a jazz band playing at the back of the stage.
The club was loud, jam-packed, and smelt of cigars, perfume, and sour drinks. I wanted to plug my ears, but being stalked by a Dreamer, he had a firm hand on my arm, his other holding Bonbon hostage. I leaned into her and asked, "How do we wake them up?"
She shrugged.
"I don't know! Punch him!"
I gritted my teeth, wondering if she was bringing up my temper at brunch earlier or if she was serious. Either way, I was getting ready to try her suggestion, growing impatient when the Dreamer dragged us to a magically empty table.
"Hey, there we go! A nice table for the three of us. Sit down, sit down!"
He patted a hand over Bonbon's thigh to keep her glued in her chair, and his other hand stayed tight around my arm.
"How about we get started before your men show up? I've always liked doing it in public," he shared. Did he mean checkers?
Bonbon puffed her cheeks; her face twisted as she squirmed in her seat. On the other hand, I yanked my arm free from the Dreamer, stood up, and shouted, "We don't have time for this!"
I spun around and smacked his cheek.
But that did nothing but make his head turn, and then all his teeth fell out.
I screamed, watching the many teeth fall over the floor. The Dreamer got on all fours, chasing after his teeth like rolling white pebbles under shoes and tables.
"My teeth!"
That was our chance. Bonbon and I scrambled away, hiding in the standing crowd. I bumped into another Dreamer, and a drink spilled on her dress. She scowled and snapped at me, "Hey! Watch where you goin, you ritzy dumb Dora!"
Was I supposed to take that as an insult?
"That was weird," Bonbon said, still creeped out over that Dreamer that wanted to play checkers.
"I want out of this place," she added, breathing fast. She stood on her toes to get a better view of the dancing crowd on the floor.
"See Nemo anywhere?!" I asked, relying on her height to scout for our missing Prince-To-Be. My long dress had been stepped on many times, jerking me to almost fall backward. I collected it in my hands and wished for a short dress like the other women in the club. So many long and short legs. With stockings. Without. High heels. Ankle boots. Pearls. They all stood confident, one hand on their hips, many with cigarettes, others holding drinks and kissing multiple men. I froze, gazing at a group of Dreamers getting too cozy in a hazy corner.
Bonbon squinted around, too busy to notice. "No! I don't see him. He kind of blends in with his crowd. What era is this in Middle Land again?"
"1924," I mumbled.
"What a strange time," she sighed.
"Yeah," I agreed, yet I became entranced by the many adults around us. I wanted to look away but couldn't. Hands explored places where they shouldn't. The dancers on the stage began to take off their tops. Breasts bounced behind the smoke. Many eyes ogled at them, tongues hanging out. Shouts of dog howls almost broke my ear drums.
Bonbon stood next to me, frozen stiff as she watched.
"Whoa," she blabbed, her mouth hanging open.
I watched with her, our two little frozen forms in the middle of the active dance floor.
Should I look away?
Too late, another Dreamer snatched my hand, and I spun in his arms. I gasped, strung along like a ball, bouncing from dancer to dancer.
"Bonbon!" I cried, getting swept away. She vanished in the crowd. Only her voice carried, though easily swallowed up by the music.
"Camille!"
A Dreamer pinned me into him, his ghostly hands cold on my wrists, and he looked down at me with large, curious eyes.
"I must be dreaming," he sighed, swaying his hips and pulling me to follow.
I slipped out of his grasp, only to fall into another Dreamer.
They're everywhere!
The dance floor turned into a whirlpool, its swirling current trying to pull me under and drown me in a world of smoke, tuxedos, and giggle juice. I kept bumping into someone, apologizing each time. More hands came after me. I twisted and smacked them away, trying to break free. I bumped into another fellow and stumbled back a step.
"Sorry."
Dizzy from his drink, the fellow turned clumsily and grumbled, "Huh?" It was Nemo, standing there with his champagne bottle about to fall out of his hand. His eyes drooped at me, and he blinked before turning away to take another swig of his drink. Desperate not to lose him again, I yanked on his half cape.
"Nemo! Enough! We have to go!"
"NO!"
He pulled his cape out of my grip and bore irritated eyes at me.
"I'm staying here!"
I stood up on my tippy toes and glared at him mightily.
"NOW!" I pointed to the exit.
"And what if I don't?" He dared.
I made a fist.
"I'll sock you again," I sizzled, dead serious. Then, out of the blue, Nemo dropped three words that tickled my insides.
"Vince loves you."
I deflated. A dancer bumped into me, but I didn't notice, too stuck staring at Nemo for his random burst of the announcement in the middle of the dance floor. The music was loud. The laughter, the chatter, and shrieks of play were like hundreds of arrows whizzing past me, but Nemo's words rang clearly, and I snatched his arrow of noise effortlessly with a death grip.
Ultimately, my mouth shook, only capable of uttering, "What?"
Nemo's head jiggled back and forth, the boy topsy-turvy on his giggle juice, but he took another long drink anyway until the bottle was empty. He rubbed his mouth with his hand and smiled loosely at me.
"I'm not a fool, Camille. I've seen the way he looks at you!" He had to shout to be heard through the 1920s chaos around us.
"If I hadn't shown up at the lake…" Nemo carelessly threw his empty bottle high over the air, flying above heads until it smashed somewhere. There were a few screams, but he hissed and was ready to light a cigarette. There was that look again, his smile of winning a game I didn't know I was playing.
"Looks like you and I are in the same boat," he mumbled, flicking his lighter.
What did he mean? I was about to ask, but the music faded, and the lights died.
I gasped, sensing the room's mood shifting from chaotic to mellow. Hyper movement melted into slow, swaying. Arms wrapped around dance partners. Feet stayed in place or only made little steps, and many couples stayed in a tight circle.
The fast-paced music flipped on its head, a clarinet and a cello swirling through the crowd lazily.
Nemo and I stood awkwardly in the middle of the ocean of couples. I rubbed my sternum, whereas Nemo brushed his arm up and down, our eyes on the floor.
On stage, the topless dancers dispersed, opening for a Dreamer who hopped up there and began to play the piano with little prep.
That's when Nemo lifted his gaze, and his eyes lit up more bewildered than I'd seen before. Slowly, his jaw dropped, the cigarette gone, and his eyes instantly moistened.
"Will," he gasped, losing his breath. He eased a hand over his heart.
Did he know that Dreamer?
"Will?" I pried, hinting to know more, but Nemo was already gone, staring at that Dreamer like he was the most crucial thing in the world.
I jerked my head and stared at that Dreamer on stage, a young man dressed in a tuxedo with perfect teeth smiling at the crowd and shiny black hair. His bangs carried gel to help create that little squiggle dark line between his dazzling eyes, his face as polished as an angel statue. He played a slow, dreamy melody that had the power to melt all of the high energy in the room; hyper dancing had eased into a crawling sway, shrieks and laughter faded into whispering, many bashful smiles taking the place of cocky grins. Hands came together, feet shuffled slowly, and the lights dimmed.
"There you two are!"
Bonbon bumped into us, her arms crossed, and huffed, "Hey! Let's go while it's mellow!"
I looked at her and pressed my lips uneasily. She didn't have to read me long to steal a glance at Nemo, and her fury softened slightly, curious over his lost look.
"Nemo, what is it?"
But Nemo stepped forward, his eyes glued to the piano player.
"Will," he breathed again. His open mouth slowly closed into a smile of disbelief, hypnotized. "Is that really you?"
He made his way through the crowd gently, heading for the stage. He was hypnotized; this Will character the ticking pendulum to his only existence.
Bonbon and I stayed put and eyed each other; she looked just as confused.
"Does he know that guy?" she asked.
I shrugged, still shaken over Nemo's earlier quarrel about Vince being in love with me when I didn't see it. I've been around Vince for nine years. The boy has been here for two days.
As the Dreamer played the piano, eyes closed, he began to sing.
"Why do I do just as you say? Why must I just give you your way? Why do I sigh? Why don't I try to forget?"
He paused, smiling to the ceiling as a wave of cello added a romantic aura around the break.
"It must have been that something lovers call faith. Kept me saying I had to wait. I saw them all. Just couldn't fall till we met."
Another break and someone strung a harp gently.
Will opened his eyes and turned slightly towards us, appearing shy, when he finally noticed he was singing to a crowd.
"It had to be youuuu." A trombone joined as he sang. "It had to be youuuu. I wandered arouuuund and I finally fouuuund the somebody whoooo. Could make me be truuuue. And could make me be bluuuuue."
His eyes swerved through the crowd.
"And even be glad, just to be sad. Thinking of you-!"
He stopped midway through his song, and the whole room froze. His eyes bulged at someone in the crowd, and from his seat, he sprung.
"Nemo?"
The music stopped. The dancing paused, many puzzled.
"This wasn't supposed to happen," someone in a bright purple suit whispered urgently.
"What do we do?" a lady in a lime green dress hissed.
Dreamers began muttering with annoyance.
"Hey, why did we stop dancing!" One of them shouted.
A spotlight appeared and landed on Nemo, glorifying him as a bright yellow figure in the middle of the dark crowd, and he walked to the stage to gaze up at the heavens where this piano player stood. They couldn't stop looking at each other.
Bonbon took my hand and whispered, "Let's go."
We snuck a little behind Nemo, watching how his friend, Will, was also encased in a spotlight, and he jumped off the stage, almost losing his footing. They never steered their gazes away, stuck in place as Will came closer, and their spotlights merged, encasing them both as beautiful, glowing angels in the middle of a dark, hellish place. They stood at the end of the dance floor, Nemo's dark blue colors too vibrant for his friend's grey skin, but in the light, they turned into the sun.
Nemo couldn't stop looking at the Dreamer with melancholic longing. I've only seen that look when he was playing the piano.
"Will? Is that you?" he uttered in a shaky breath.
The Dreamer lifted a trembling hand and touched Nemo's glowing cheek with long, beautiful tanned fingers.
"Nemo," he breathed, his eyes searching all over Nemo's face.
Bonbon leaned into my ear to whisper, "Is he his friend? A brother?"
But that was soon answered.
The two boys seemed to be emitting the same language, the same thoughts, breathing in the same air when their hands held each other's cheeks, and then, just like their spotlights, their faces blurred together.
They kissed deeply.
Along with Bonbon, I inhaled sharply, and we blinked at the display with open mouths.
"No, Bonbon. Not a friend or brother," I gasped when it was apparent.
Tingles danced on my hands and up my spine to see how Nemo melted into his friend, the love for him easily shown in how he let his hands drop to wrap his arms around him and pull him closer. He leaned over Will's shoulder and shuddered, "I never thought I'd see you again."
"Likewise," Will whispered, and they held each other tight, no air to slip between them ever again.
Someone played a gentle song to bring the ambiance to match the boys' reunion. There were a few claps, but some Dreamers hissed, their noses in the air.
"The nerve! Coming in our club!" one of them growled.
Nemo and Will broke free but kept their hands close, smiling endlessly at each other.
"Where did you go?" Will asked, chuckling uneasily at his long-time lover.
Nemo heaved a giggle.
"You won't believe it if I told you," he chuckled.
They were lost in their world, unaware of the tension growing inside the club. Another Dreamer in a suit stepped on the dance floor and whipped out a gun.
"Not in my club," he hissed.
I squeezed Bonbon's arm and turned around, ready to shout at Nemo.
"Nemo-!"
The first gunshot went off.
1