AnyaKimlin
Confuddled
This is just the start of the chapter - Angus goes on to antagonize his school master (and his brother) by hacking into the school systems. It's a day before the fight and the scene in the cupboard which I have also tried to start with. Hopefully it grounds the reader better in the world and characters.
Call me now!!! A.
Zombie-like, I send the text. It's the fourth I've sent her in five minutes. Can you stalk your wife? Probably. She doesn't usually take this long to respond. Why is she ignoring me?
A copy of today's Covesea International News (CIN) is causing my current consternation – that's a bit of a tame description. Irate, inflamed and incandescent would fit the moment better. Yet again, I've come to the attention of the country's favourite cartoonist, Archie, probably not his real name, Drawembad. The he could be a she as the coward has never faced me directly. He's spent the almost eighteen years of my life anonymously destroying my confidence and self image, and at six-feet-eleven with a rather clumsy demeanour I'm an easy target. As a prince with no intention of inheriting the throne I refused to read the papers but now I am king I need to know what they are saying about me.
It's a crèche full of babies wearing nothing but nappies. In the centre is a monstrous blond toddler, sucking hard on a big gold dummy. I know it's me because of the eye patch and the ridiculously ostentatious crown on its head. At least the dummy covers the grotesque lumpy nose he usually gives me.The caption reads: A source close to Queen Beatrice reveals that our Baby King will father an heir before he finishes school.
Will he? Nobody told me. Who is this source?
I type out: B. Please!!!! Call me. NOW!!!! A. But then I delete it, because five texts so close together would be ridiculous. She promised me that when we were bullied into marrying that we would wait until I'd finished school to start a family. Accidents do happen though. Wouldn't she have told me first?
Still there is no response. I stare at the screen of my PC Pocket phone. Watched phones never receive messages.
B. We need to talk? A.
This one I send. I need an answer. For the first time, I agree with Archie Drawembad that King Angus is too young to father a child. I tear the page from the paper, screw it up and chuck it. It flies through the intricate arch of the ancient cloisters and lands on the snow covered courtyard.
“Your Mighty Elephantness. What's got on your trunk?” My so called friend, Jack, smiles and performs a bow obscene in its elaborateness. Being so cheerful this early in the morning should be illegal. He picks up the cartoon and unravels it. “What do we have here?”
“Get lost, Jack.” I'm not in the mood for company. Bea still hasn't sent me a text. Jack's grinning like a cat with a mouse. One or two of my ancestors, including my grandfather, would have wiped that smile from his face with a cold steel blade. Fortunately for Jack, right now, The Abbot won't let me wear my sword to school.
“Wow is this true?” Not only does he not show any sign of leaving he's making it obvious he wants the gossip. He sits down next to me and straightens out the cartoon in his lap. “Nice likeness. Just guessing the black baby with the gun on the left is me and the one with the pad and quill is Matt? Shun's not going to be happy that Archie left him out again. He probably doesn't have a pen bright enough red to do his hair.”
In spite of myself, I grin. “Or enough brown to cover him in freckles.”
“Admit it if you were drawing Shun you'd just draw a prick with freckles on.”
“I've drawn him many times and never once as a prick.” My finger hovers between the send and delete button as I once more ask Bea to phone me. “Wish Archie Drawembad would forget I exist.”
With his head cocked to one side Jack observes me in a manner that reminds me of a bird looking for seed. Feline in his movements but avian in brain he is a mass of contradictions. Most of them irritatingly comical. “Well is it… you know… is Bea...”
“No idea. Go away.” All I want to do is stare at the screen until Bea acknowledges my existence. Why is Jack annoying me so much? He didn't get her pregnant. Although… maybe that is why she hasn't told me… Now you're getting paranoid. She finds him childish and even more irritating than you do, Angus. But then it would be a good cover if she is cheating.
“She was absolutely volcanic this morning – could be hormones.” He takes a sandwich from the box with my neglected breakfast in it.
“I don't know.” Bea's still not answered my texts. Until she does all his comment does is present me with more questions. Have I ignored signs others have noticed? With everything in my life I've not had much time for her recently. At least I know when it happened if it did. We don't get much time for sex so the only time this month was memorable.
“She threw her fan at me. Nearly gave me a new haircut.” He runs his hand through his dark curls. “Good job she missed.”
“If Bea wanted you to have a new haircut you'd have it. She never misses.” Come on, Bea. I need to know before school starts.
“Oh yuck!” With only one large bite taken from it, he drops my sandwich back in the box and rubs his hands together to rid himself of crumbs. “What on Litae is in that?”
I shrug. “No idea. Haven't had any. Probably bean paste.”
“Needs more bacon.”
“You know I don't eat meat.” The thought of the poor pig that gave its life for his breakfast makes me feel queasy. “Since I murdered the general last year I just can't face flesh...”
“You executed him when the courts told you to. You didn't murder him.” His voice is hard but I know that it's because that incident affected him as much as myself. It was a shared horror that gave us a strong bond. We both still have nightmares. A silence filled with pain sits between us on the bench; it's not the comfortable silence of old friends who have nothing to say but an uncomfortable one full of things we know we can't bring ourselves to talk about.
Bea. Where are you???? A. Two minutes have gone past since the last text so I send this one.
“Dad said when Mum was pregnant he got morning sickness too. Is that why you're off your food?”
His attempts to make me feel better and lighten the mood are not working. I've not got any tits but somehow he is still getting on them. “Jack, please. I don't know if she's pregnant.” I take a deep breath and say what has been bothering me since I saw the cartoon. “And I don't want a baby. How can I say that to her? How can I tell Bea that I can barely cope with everything else I have to do?”
Call me now!!! A.
Zombie-like, I send the text. It's the fourth I've sent her in five minutes. Can you stalk your wife? Probably. She doesn't usually take this long to respond. Why is she ignoring me?
A copy of today's Covesea International News (CIN) is causing my current consternation – that's a bit of a tame description. Irate, inflamed and incandescent would fit the moment better. Yet again, I've come to the attention of the country's favourite cartoonist, Archie, probably not his real name, Drawembad. The he could be a she as the coward has never faced me directly. He's spent the almost eighteen years of my life anonymously destroying my confidence and self image, and at six-feet-eleven with a rather clumsy demeanour I'm an easy target. As a prince with no intention of inheriting the throne I refused to read the papers but now I am king I need to know what they are saying about me.
It's a crèche full of babies wearing nothing but nappies. In the centre is a monstrous blond toddler, sucking hard on a big gold dummy. I know it's me because of the eye patch and the ridiculously ostentatious crown on its head. At least the dummy covers the grotesque lumpy nose he usually gives me.The caption reads: A source close to Queen Beatrice reveals that our Baby King will father an heir before he finishes school.
Will he? Nobody told me. Who is this source?
I type out: B. Please!!!! Call me. NOW!!!! A. But then I delete it, because five texts so close together would be ridiculous. She promised me that when we were bullied into marrying that we would wait until I'd finished school to start a family. Accidents do happen though. Wouldn't she have told me first?
Still there is no response. I stare at the screen of my PC Pocket phone. Watched phones never receive messages.
B. We need to talk? A.
This one I send. I need an answer. For the first time, I agree with Archie Drawembad that King Angus is too young to father a child. I tear the page from the paper, screw it up and chuck it. It flies through the intricate arch of the ancient cloisters and lands on the snow covered courtyard.
“Your Mighty Elephantness. What's got on your trunk?” My so called friend, Jack, smiles and performs a bow obscene in its elaborateness. Being so cheerful this early in the morning should be illegal. He picks up the cartoon and unravels it. “What do we have here?”
“Get lost, Jack.” I'm not in the mood for company. Bea still hasn't sent me a text. Jack's grinning like a cat with a mouse. One or two of my ancestors, including my grandfather, would have wiped that smile from his face with a cold steel blade. Fortunately for Jack, right now, The Abbot won't let me wear my sword to school.
“Wow is this true?” Not only does he not show any sign of leaving he's making it obvious he wants the gossip. He sits down next to me and straightens out the cartoon in his lap. “Nice likeness. Just guessing the black baby with the gun on the left is me and the one with the pad and quill is Matt? Shun's not going to be happy that Archie left him out again. He probably doesn't have a pen bright enough red to do his hair.”
In spite of myself, I grin. “Or enough brown to cover him in freckles.”
“Admit it if you were drawing Shun you'd just draw a prick with freckles on.”
“I've drawn him many times and never once as a prick.” My finger hovers between the send and delete button as I once more ask Bea to phone me. “Wish Archie Drawembad would forget I exist.”
With his head cocked to one side Jack observes me in a manner that reminds me of a bird looking for seed. Feline in his movements but avian in brain he is a mass of contradictions. Most of them irritatingly comical. “Well is it… you know… is Bea...”
“No idea. Go away.” All I want to do is stare at the screen until Bea acknowledges my existence. Why is Jack annoying me so much? He didn't get her pregnant. Although… maybe that is why she hasn't told me… Now you're getting paranoid. She finds him childish and even more irritating than you do, Angus. But then it would be a good cover if she is cheating.
“She was absolutely volcanic this morning – could be hormones.” He takes a sandwich from the box with my neglected breakfast in it.
“I don't know.” Bea's still not answered my texts. Until she does all his comment does is present me with more questions. Have I ignored signs others have noticed? With everything in my life I've not had much time for her recently. At least I know when it happened if it did. We don't get much time for sex so the only time this month was memorable.
“She threw her fan at me. Nearly gave me a new haircut.” He runs his hand through his dark curls. “Good job she missed.”
“If Bea wanted you to have a new haircut you'd have it. She never misses.” Come on, Bea. I need to know before school starts.
“Oh yuck!” With only one large bite taken from it, he drops my sandwich back in the box and rubs his hands together to rid himself of crumbs. “What on Litae is in that?”
I shrug. “No idea. Haven't had any. Probably bean paste.”
“Needs more bacon.”
“You know I don't eat meat.” The thought of the poor pig that gave its life for his breakfast makes me feel queasy. “Since I murdered the general last year I just can't face flesh...”
“You executed him when the courts told you to. You didn't murder him.” His voice is hard but I know that it's because that incident affected him as much as myself. It was a shared horror that gave us a strong bond. We both still have nightmares. A silence filled with pain sits between us on the bench; it's not the comfortable silence of old friends who have nothing to say but an uncomfortable one full of things we know we can't bring ourselves to talk about.
Bea. Where are you???? A. Two minutes have gone past since the last text so I send this one.
“Dad said when Mum was pregnant he got morning sickness too. Is that why you're off your food?”
His attempts to make me feel better and lighten the mood are not working. I've not got any tits but somehow he is still getting on them. “Jack, please. I don't know if she's pregnant.” I take a deep breath and say what has been bothering me since I saw the cartoon. “And I don't want a baby. How can I say that to her? How can I tell Bea that I can barely cope with everything else I have to do?”
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Until she does all his comment does is present me with more questions. Have I ignored signs others have noticed? With everything in my life I've not had much time for her recently. At least I know when it happened if it did. We don't get much time for sex so the only time this month was memorable.That's a bit sad in a young one - will your YA readers like that? I think he's coming across as a bit too wet here, actually - she hasn't texted, but does he need to be so passive?
