Queens and Ruby Gems

"I am two inches tall. Two inches tall, half a voice loud, a dance step between half-way and full."

I pause for a moment, my breath held and reluctant. Three pairs of expectant eyes are on me, waiting for the last sentence. The last sentence is always the most important. I think they finally understand that.

"And I am your worst nightmare."

Four released sighs come, and the paper slides out of my hands to settle alone on the floor. There's a fake relief pressing against the back of my throat, because they don't understand how immensely pleased with myself I am right now. They don't understand.

Jack gets up and picked up the paper on the floor. He gives it a once-over, acknowledges that I didn't write the last sentence on the page, and throws it away. Frankie is pretending to sleep, her arm resting over her eyes, a sign of irritation. Royal is watching me, and I imagine his eyes to be drowning in disappointment. I swallow my hurt and encourage indignance to burn a little brighter.

"You don't understand," I say, angrily, but with the acute feeling that I wouldn't be taken seriously.

"We understand," Frankie said from the couch. "We understand, sweetie, and that's why we're trying to help."

"I don't want you to help. I'm happy this way."

"I know you don't want our help. But you're not happy." Frankie flings her arm from her face and stands up, forcing a weak smile. "You were doing good, sweets. You can do it. Just keep trying."

I avoid her eyes so she doesn't know that I don't try. I never really try.

"Write us another one, will you?" Jack looks cheerful, but I am almost sure he's faking it. He was hoping that I'd come through and do things their way, but I won't. I like my way. My way helps me feel better.

"Yes."

"Thanks." He hugs me and plants a brief kiss on the side of my head.

***

They don't understand.

I have taped all my past speeches onto the wall of my room. I don't sleep here, but it's my room nonetheless. It's the room I'd like to have as my bedroom, but there was always some obscure reason I couldn't. It doesn't matter. It has everything I need: bright colored walls, too many pillows and bean bag chairs, crayons and an endless supply of paper, a laptop and a printer, cupboards for junk food, and an old ratty couch that I absolutely love. My room has the perfected form of cliche, and that's where I go with Jack and Frankie and Royal when I read my speeches.

I practically live in my room, but no one needs to know that.

All my speeches end the same way. "I'm your worst nightmare." "I fall and shatter like china." "I am a shadow and a lie." They all end that way. Frankie first found out when I sent her a letter. She told Royal and Royal told Jack... and Jack...

I suppose I should love them for it.

I smash my fist into a pillow and wait heatedly until the clock says 11:11pm. And then I start to write.

"I am a queen. A queen, a queen of words and of expression. I know how to love. I know how to be... I know I am real. I am a walking masterpiece, a ruby gem, a candle floating on the ocean. I am... I am."

The keys are muffled, the sound pounding against my ears, but I can't stop to think. Jack will be able to tell; Frankie and Royal, probably not. Sarcasm has always been a strong point of mine.

Ruby gem. Ha.

The hours flash by and I know that I will regret my late nights, but Mom doesn't care when I get home and there's no school over the weekends. At least Jack cares about me. Really only one person need have concern, and I don't have the time. So Jack nominated himself. I'm not complaining. He's better at it than I am.

The paper ends. Of course I am pleased with it. I am always pleased with my work. I have to be pleased with it, because that keeps the horrible drug of insecurity from burning my hair off. Insecurity makes me do funny things.

I'm lost and wandering in circles, and writing is a long delayed detour that brings me out of repetition for awhile.

I don't put the last sentence in, because that's a spur-of-the-moment necessity that comes with a sacrifice. Everything comes with a sacrifice.

I print my paper, turn off the lights, jerk my boots on and tramp outside. The walk to my house is a short one, but it's four in the morning and even my anger can't keep that little bit of fear from stiffening my back.

Mom's already asleep. I knew she didn't care.

***

"Hey, sweetie," Frankie says, throwing her thin arms around my neck. I hug her back tentatively; it always unnerves me when they're here before I am. I gave Jack a key so I suppose it makes sense. Jack's on the old couch, and I go sit by him while Frankie goes to make some sort of snack that I shouldn't eat.

"Royal's coming," she calls back. I'm already half asleep on Jack's shoulder.

He's in a good mood today. I open my eyes uncomfortably; he's probably expecting today's speech to end well. He always expects that. He expects too much of me. I'm not that perfect. Anger bubbles in my stomach for awhile, and my eyes sting, but it's not hard to remember that he's still here with me and hasn't disappeared because I wasn't good enough...

Royal bursts in, his eyes alive and brisk. He's probably been up since five in the morning, milking cows or some other ridiculous task -- for the fun of it. He's a strange boy. Sometimes I wonder what Frankie sees in him.

"Morning," he booms. He nods to me, but I pretend to be asleep again.

Jack smiles against my hair. "Sleep well, girl?"

"I didn't sleep," I reply.

"Writing?"

"Always."

"How was it?"

"Wonderful."

"I'm sorry, love."

"Me too."

"You okay now?"

"I'm a ruby gem."

He knows me too well to say anything to that.

Frankie brings cocoa and crackers and Jack pushes me off his shoulder and tells me to eat. I do only out of irritation. I want to go back to pretending to sleep. Royal is chattering about his wonderfully fantastic morning, and Frankie is laughing because she's so beautiful and I am silent because I am angry.

"It's unfair to be angry," I blurt, interrupting Royal's story about some stupid goat giving birth.

Jack and Royal are quiet; Jack because he knows me and Royal because he doesn't. Frankie doesn't even look at me. "Why's that, sweets?"

Why does she have to call me that?

"I'm angry," I say.

"I can see." She eyes me. I hate how beautiful she is.

"It's not fair."

"Why's that?"

I glare at her.

There are no words, and I lean against the couch back stiffly. Jack is eating and doesn't pay any attention to me. Part of me is glad he's not patronizing my fit of irritation, and part of me wishes he'd treat me like he loves me more than anything on earth.

Really, though, that's what he's doing. Even if I won't admit it.

Royal goes back to talking, Frankie back to laughing, and I close my eyes and pretend I'm sleeping. I listen to Royal's voice without hearing his words, and pretend that Frankie is as ugly as I am, and pretend Jack isn't here and that's why he's not holding me.

"Hey," Jack says. Quietly. Royal and Frankie are gone, happily ignorant in their bubble of Royal-and-Frankie.

"Hello," I say. My voice is hard. I am still angry. It's unfair.

"Will you read what you wrote?"

"Gladly."

Jack squeezes my hand once and I stop being angry. It's kind of funny how it works that way.

The paper slides off the printer into my hands, and I don't read over what I've written. It's better if I just start. My heart fell onto this page last night, and the only four people in the world who understand that are sitting in this room.

I meet Jack's eyes briefly.

"I am a queen..."

It flows. It breathes. I created life, life with this piece of paper and ink. I am the words. I am words. I am what makes the words, I am words. I am. That is who I am. I am...

It comes to a close, and I enjoy the short second of suspense as I draw my breath.

"...I am a queen, as a queen is a chess piece, as a chess piece is broken when the game is over."

And I drop the paper.

Oh, it was beautiful. It was my most beautiful yet. Pride burns against my throat, but I know they will be disappointed. They wanted me to end with a lie. They wanted me to say I was still a queen, a ruby gem, a candle... that's what they want me to say. That's what they want me to believe.

Frankie stands up. Her eyes have lost some of that glow, and she crosses the room to hug me. "Good attempt, sweets."

I don't say anything.

Royal looks down, looks up, looks away. He's such an awkward person for being so smart. He also gets up, comes over, gives me an uncertain clap on the shoulder. I want to laugh in his face. Don't touch me.

Frankie is mad. She says they have to go. Royal is an obedient puppy and he follows her out the door.

Jack hasn't looked up yet.

"I'm sorry, Jack." My voice lies. I am not sorry. I am glad. I am glad I made Frankie mad, and I am glad I made Royal unsure. I am glad. I am...

He gets up and picks up the paper from the floor. He gives it a once over, again taking note that I did not write the last sentence on the paper. His mouth curves in a funny little smile.

"Hey, love..."

I watch him warily as he throws the paper away and comes near me. My face is suddenly wet. I don't know when I started crying. He puts his arms around me and holds me close and I hide against him, safe, safe, so very safe now...

The game doesn't have to be over yet.