Page 19 of Don’t Look Down

They squeal and take off toward the table of supplies. Moments later, they come back with handfuls of colorful gems, mosaic tiles, and marbles. They spread them on the ground and wait eagerly for me to ask for their help.

I look at the lines of stones around me, trying to figure out what to do with my own, before turning back to them. “Why don’t you girls help me decorate this? Yours all turned out so beautiful that I really think I could use your help.”

They practically burst with excitement as their little hands reach for the supplies and begin placing them in the cement. I help here and there, with Beau chiming in with his unwanted opinions on whatever I place, but soon almost every inch of free space surrounding my handprint is full of makeshift flowers and stars.

We all stand back to admire our work. I barely even notice the ache in my legs from crouching for so long, or the scrap of dried cement caked under my fingernails as I push my hair behind my ears.

All I can focus on is the smiles on their faces and the feeling of the matching one I wear. And Beau. Beau grins at me, too. Approval is written all over his handsome face.

I stand, skirt ruffled, hand messy, and buzzing from head to toe, and it has absolutely nothing to do with the networking and photo ops from earlier today.

Seven

Ten Years Ago

The King and Queen have invited us over for dinner. The first time I’ve been included since Beatrice died. As I walk between my parents down the hall toward the dining room, her absence is so loud I want to cover my ears and run away screaming.

It only gets worse when we’re escorted into the dining room and instead of being sat where I usually have been across from Beauford, I’m directed to sit where Beatrice used to, across from Lockwood. No one seems to think anything of it, but as I settle myself into the chair, it feels so utterly wrong. Like the chair is already full and I’m being squeezed in its clutches anyways.

My mother taps my leg under the table, and I immediately check my posture, pushing my shoulders back.

My parents and the King and Queen catch up while the first course is served. It’s some sort of salad with berries on it. Not usually something I’d prefer to mix, but I know not to be rude. I chew thoroughly while sneaking glances at Lockwood, who I haven’t seen in years, and the empty chair next to him. The King looked mildly annoyed about Beauford’s absence when we arrived, and said we’d begin without him.

Lockwood appears much older than I last remember. Not a boy anymore, but a seventeen-year-old heir. Familiar yet, because his face is everywhere, but it’s different seeing him in person versus photos online. His jaw is more defined and brown hair cut shorter than he used to wear it. His face is perfectly calm, if not a little bored, but he’s polite to the staff as they pour him more water and clear away the first course before bringing out the main dish.

As I cut up the chicken into small bites, I muster up the courage to speak to him while our parents chatter on either side of us. “I saw you on television at the celebrity football charity match for the children’s hospital. It looked like a cool event.”

Lockwood meets my eye as he cuts into his chicken with delicate precision. “It was.” He smiles. “Fortunately the rain held out for us. It looked like it could’ve been a downfall.”

“I’m sure people would’ve still been happy to watch that game rain or shine.”

“Yes, but people are much more apt to open up their checkbooks when the sun is putting them into a good mood.”

We chuckle, and I eat a few more bites before I ask, “Did you get to play at all?”

He shakes his head. “They offered me to go onto the field for warm-ups, but I was there as a representative. Better for me, and for my own pride, to stick on the sidelines.”

“It looked like a great turnout.” The newscasters couldn’t stop gushing about the sold-out event.

“It was, and all in support of a great cause. I hope they make it a tradition and do it each year. Both the fans, and the celebrities, enjoyed themselves.”

“Do you like doing things like that?”

“Football games?”

I hide a giggle behind my hand. “No, charity events.”

“Oh.” Lockwood looks slightly embarrassed. “Yes, I suppose so. It’s a part of my duty, and an honor to attend on behalf of our family.” His chest puffs out. “It’s important to give back, so yes, I enjoy them.”

I push around my green beans, hoping no one will notice if I don’t eat them. “I think I’d like to do that someday. Give back,” I clarify. My father always talks about what it was like for him growing up with little, and yet I’ve grown up with everything I need. It’d be nice to be able to do something important like that.

“That’s a good quality,” Lockwood says. “And a good goal to keep in sight.”

As our conversation dies down, I feel eyes watching us. I glance to see all four adults watching us with various shades of interest, approval, and hope. And it’s those looks right there, combined with sitting in Beatrice’s chair, that everything I’ve been thinking is confirmed.

I’m meant to take her place now. She told me when we were little that she was going to marry Lockwood one day and become queen, just like Mother and Father promised her.

And now, it’s me they’re all looking to. The chicken in my stomach turns sour as nerves take over. I’m only thirteen. Surely they’re not trying to marry me off yet, right?