BENCHED (27 page)

Emblazoned on the chest of each shirt is a big blue outline of a heart. Inside the heart, it reads:

JASON

* * *

A
NA

I grit my teeth and storm into the lecture hall. When I make it to the front row, I find all the seats filled with flowers, with my customary place in the center of the row stacked with boxes of candy and wrapped gifts.

My face turns beet-red. All this, for me? I can't let everyone else see these. If Grandolf finds me standing over a pile of gifts from Jason….

"Hurry," I tell Thorlief and Bjorn. "Clear it away."

I join in, dragging a garbage can from the corner of the room to dispose of all of it. Behind me, dozens of students file in wearing the shirts. Not all, but most.

Jason finally walks in and looks right at me, waving a shirt.

"Want one?"

I stick my tongue out at him.

I finally take my seat, with a pile of still-wrapped gifts at my feet. The other students are murmuring to each other, looking at me, looking at him. I sit up straight and stare forward, arms folded over my chest.

The professor walks through the hallway door at the bottom of the lecture hall, by the lectern and whiteboard. She sips coffee from a paper cup and begins setting up.

Then she glances at me and her eyes to wide. She stands straighter and looks at the t-shirts, the gifts at my feet, at Jason, at nothing in particular. A vein throbs on her forehead, and I swear I see a capillary burst into a little red spot in her twitching eye.

"What… what…?" she starts, then grits her teeth. "Let me be well understood. Any antics like this in my class tomorrow, and I will dock a full letter grade from the midterm of anyone who participates. Jason, see me after class."

Then she turns and begins her lecture. She delivers most of it to the blackboard, and one out of every three times she writes something, the chalk snaps in her hand and she goes to get another one.

The lecture ends twenty minutes early and concludes with, "Hand your papers to the assistants and get out."

Her fleet of young, male teacher’s assistants collect the papers. As soon as mine leaves my hand, I grab everything and rush to depart the hall. The way Grandolf was looking at me, I'm lucky I'm not smoldering. Thorlief and Bjorn gather up the presents and carry them in big armfuls.

"Get rid of those," I command. "Bjorn, take them back to the house."

"As my princess commands."

Thorlief piles his fellow guard's arms up with all the gifts and sends him shakily on his way, hanging close to me as I walk to my next class.

Thankfully, there are no antics there. I keep my head down and focus, and it passes quickly enough.

Until I'm on my way out.

Jason: Study tonight?

Anastasia: No

Jason: Please?

Anastasia: Go away.

Jason: Grandolf is going to be hard on you on the midterm.

Anastasia: Whose fault is that?

Jason: I won't let you fail.

Anastasia: I can take care of myself.

Jason: You don't have to.

Groaning, I find a quiet spot to sit with Thorlief and eat my packed lunch that Mavra made for me. I fear if I go outside, Jason will have another stunt waiting for me. It fills me up well enough, and then on I go to class again.

By the end of the day, I have gotten used to the t-shirts. It seems like half of campus is wearing them. Over the last two years, I had thought the student body had grown used to me. The stares became fewer and fewer until it seemed they had forgotten about me. I was happy enough with that.

Now everyone is staring me again, whispering to each other. It seems everywhere I go, I am the topic of conversation.

"There you are," Jason yells, running up to me. "Let's grab a bite to eat and go study, huh?"

Thorlief glares at him. Bjorn has rejoined us, and the two flank me with their massive arms crossed over their broad chests.

Jason is undeterred. He strides right up, grinning. "Did you open your presents?"

"No. I threw them away."

Why won't he listen? If he keeps pursuing me like this, he's going to get hurt. Can't he see the bodyguards staring him down?

"You're lying. What's your favorite flower?"

"I hate flowers."

"Right." He rolls his eyes. "Come on, you have to have one. Tell me."

"No."

"Favorite food?"

"Cod."

"Eww, really?"

"Yes, really. It's better than some disgusting cheeseburger."

"Have you ever had a cheeseburger?"

"Yes, they serve them in the cafeteria."

"Ah," he says, "so you haven't." He offers his hand. "Come on, I'll go get you one before we go study."

"We're not going to go study, and I'm not eating dinner with you. I can't."

"You can't or you don't want to?"

Damn him, I do want to. Doesn't he listen?

"I told you, it's not you. I can't go out with you."

I stride past him, turning up my nose.

For a moment. Then I look back. He stands in place, watching me walk away, a sad look on his face. Part of me wants to run back and apologize, of all things. When he spots me looking, he locks gazes with me and smiles.

I can feel myself blushing. Damn him.

I brace myself for whatever surprise awaits me when I return to the house. There is nothing on the sidewalk this time, or posted to the door.

Instead, after I close the door behind me and start trudging up to my study, past the pile of unopened presents, the doorbell rings.

Thorlief looks at me and I nod. He opens the door.

Standing on the porch is one of Jason's gargantuan twin housemates, dressed in a red uniform with an absurdly small hat perched on his head.

"Candygram for Anastasia."

"What?" Thorlief snaps.

"Candygram for Anastasia."

He thrusts out his hands, holding another heart-shaped box of candy in his sausage-sized fingers. Thorlief tries to take it, and he snatches it back.

"Candygram for Anastasia."

"Tell him I've had enough," I say, yanking the box from his hands. I nod, and Thorlief slams the door shut.

"This is beginning to annoy me," Thorlief says.

"You?" I say wryly.

I peel the box open and look inside. More candy, with a note. On it is inscribed a poem, in gold lettering.

Dearest Ana,

Roses are red

Violets are blue

I want to date you

I crumple the paper and throw it in the trash bin. I keep the candy. He buys good candy. I turn to the giant pile of presents. I should just throw them all in the trash, but I think of the sad look in his eyes and sit down on the sofa to peel off the wrapping paper anyway.

The first box is full of more candy. The second contains one of the t-shirts. The third holds a pair of matching lounge pants with "Jason" printed down one leg and "Anastasia" printed down the other. In the fourth box, I find a pair of socks with one of our names printed on each. Then a hoodie. Then in the last box, a pair of underwear. Printed on the seat is the same heart logo and
JASON + ANA
as the t-shirts.

I throw the boxes aside and storm upstairs. My phone buzzes on the way up. I yank it out of my pocket, expecting another text.

It's Mother. She must be angry, Jyvaslka is twelve hours behind the East Coast.

I sit at the computer to take her call.

Her scowling face fills my screen, and she folds her arms over her chest. I can see she has just woken up from her puffy eyes and the fact she's wearing a pink leopard-print dressing gown.

"Anastasia," she says, her voice dull with fatigue, "what is the meaning of this?"

I swallow hard as she holds up her iPad and shows me the cover story of
The Royal Exposé
.

Quarterback's Quest
, it reads.

"'Can Jason Powell melt the ice princess's frozen heart'?" Mother reads, glaring at me. "'Get the inside scoop on Princess Anastasia's newest suitor. Are the lesbian rumors true? Could she be bi?'"

"I'm not a lesbian," I shout.

"I know that, but apparently the entire Western world isn't so sure!"

"Mother, it's just a newspaper."

"Your minder Bjorn spoke to me about this. This absurd spectacle must end, Anastasia. I won't have some American jock"—she says the word like a curse— "making a joke of my daughter and heir."

"He's not a jock," I shout, clenching my fists at my sides. "Don't talk about him that way!"

She blinks and jerks back from the camera. "What did you say?"

My chest freezes, and I feel like I'm twelve again, trying to sink through the floor and disappear to avoid her wrath.

"Anastasia, do not dare contradict me. I am your queen, not merely your mother. One word from me and you will be on a plane home by daybreak. Is that clear?"

"He's not doing anything wrong—"

"He hired an airplane! Where did he get an airplane?"

"I don't know," I whimper. "Mother, please—"

"I don't want you tarnishing yourself with this boy or any boy, is that understood? You're going to finish your studies and return home to marry a man of your station to be your prince consort and father your heirs, and that is final."

"Mother—"

"If I learn you're even humoring this peasant, I'll have you brought home immediately. Is that understood?"

"Yes," I say sullenly.

"I didn't hear you."

"Yes," I repeat louder, sitting up.

"Good."

The call ends. I calmly stand up, walk downstairs, and retrieve a potato peeler from the drawer in the kitchen.

"Princess?" Mavra says.

"Be quiet," I snap at her.

I walk into the living room, where Bjorn is watching
Storage Wars
on television and stand in front of him. I hold up the potato peeler.

"If you ever call my mother behind my back again, I'll skin you alive with this."

I drop it in his lap and stomp back upstairs.

I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry.

I will not—

My phone again. Ringing.

Jason.

I answer. "What do you want?"

"You."

I let out a strangled cry of frustration. "Just leave me alone!"

"I can't."

"Jason, I can't date you, do you understand? I can't study with you again. I can't be seen with you again. Mother will have me taken home if I do."

"You don't have to go if you don't want to."

"You don't understand," I almost scream at him. "I want to but—"

"If you want to, then come on. I'm out in front of the library. Just come."

"I can't, Jason. The picture people will see me and I'll be on a plane home by morning. You have to understand. It has to be this way."

"That's not what you want?"

"No."

"What do you want?"

I bite my lip. A tear burns hot on my cheek.

"I want to be like everyone else. My entire life it's been 'Ana do this, Ana do that, Ana go here, Ana study that, Ana talk to this person, Ana don't talk, Ana wear this, Ana wear that.' I'm sick of it. I've never made a single decision for myself since I've been born, and I can't, don't you understand? I'm royalty. I live for my people."

"Who lives for you?"

I blink a few times, and my eyes blur. "Nobody. I can't, Jason. Go home. I'm not coming. One more time and they'll take me away and I'll never see you again."

He's quiet for a moment.

"Nobody locks a princess in a tower when I'm around, sweetheart."

I drop onto the bed and whimper, holding the phone to my ear.

"I'm going to call you in an hour and read the book to you some more. Nobody has to know."

"I'd like that, but, Jason—"

"An hour," he says.

I trudge downstairs. I look at Mavra.

"Dinner. Please."

"What—?"

"I don't care, choose something."

She brings it fifteen minutes later: broiled fish, rice, and stewed plums. Stewed plums are my favorite, but I barely eat, set the plate on the floor outside my room, and lock my door. She can take it. I don't want it.

Curled up on my side, I wait.

Fifty-nine minutes and forty-seven seconds after he hung up, my phone rings. I set it to my ear and listen.

"Ana?"

"Yes."

He starts reading. Slowly, clearly. I listen, my eyes drifting closed as his voice carries me away, into the story. The longer I listen, the more engrossed I become. My breathing becomes even again, and the constant battle to keep my eyes dry begins to wind down. I sniffle and snuff a while.

He doesn't stop. I end up plugging my phone in to keep it charged while I listen.

By four in the morning he says, very softly, "So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."

I say nothing for a time.

Finally he says, "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair."

"What?"

I can almost hear him smiling.

Rapunzel? I remember that story. The princess locked in the tower with the long hair. She would let it down, and her prince would….

Rising, I pull up the blinds and lift open the window. I jump back as Jason swings his legs in and stands up in my bedroom.