No, it’s not alright. I hate this thrax Prince guy so much I can’t stand it. I take a deep breath. “Everything’s fine, Mom. I just have a lot of homework to do.”
“Do you want to eat in your room?”
“That would be awesome.”
I march into my room and settle onto my bed. Pulling a textbook out of my backpack, I toss it open to a random page.
Mom steps up to my bedside. “Here you go.” She sets a tray of greenish-orange goop onto my nightstand. I glance at the ‘food’ and wince. Even for our house, this is disgusting stuff. Note to self: learn how to cook.
I force a smile. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Don’t stay up too late doing homework.” She gives me a peck on the cheek and walks out the door.
I shovel some frozen dinner into my head and stare at the same random chapter in my textbook. An hour ticks by. None of the words on the page sink into my brain. My eyes flutter shut while the book’s still open on my lap.
The moment my lids close, I dream of the Gray Sea. Once again, I stand barefoot on the dark sand, a wall of black stone looming nearby. Dark thunderclouds roll overhead. The stench of sulphur makes me wince. I crouch, setting my hands onto the charcoal-colored earth. A circle of white fire erupts before me. In the center, the sand rises into a familiar form.
My mother.
All breath leaves my body. Verus said she would send me visions of Mom’s past. Is it finally starting?
The figure before me takes on more definition. Even though her body is still made of sand, I can tell Mom’s wearing toga-style robes, the same kind of garment she held when crying in her room. I suck in a shaky breath. Those must be Senate robes.
My skin prickles with the chilly touch of unexpected understanding. That’s why Mom got upset: she found her old Senate robes while looking for sewing stuff. How awful. One day you’re a toga-wearing Senator, the next you’re sewing dark robes for a bunch of ghouls. A weight settles into my bones. When she asked me, I didn’t even know what the robes were. Her own daughter. That gives the whole interaction a new level of suck.
I return my attention to the desert floor. More sand rises inside the circle of flame. This time the granules form different shapes around Mom. I squint, seeing the sand transform into the Ryder mansion’s East Wing staircase.
Okay, that makes sense. I figured Mom worked on the mansion’s diplomatic floor. Why else would she have maps hidden away?
A grin curls the edges of my mouth. I’m on the right track.
Before me, the circle of flame flares brighter, and then vanishes. The scene, once made of sand, is now flesh and blood.
I let out a low whistle. That’s pretty cool dreamscaping, Verus.
A ghoul rushes up the stairs to hike along at Mom’s side, his black robes swaying as he moves. “You’ll be late, Senator Lewis.” He stands less than six feet tall, which is super-short for a ghoul. Pulling back his hood, he reveals a bald head covered with light gray skin. As ghouls go, he’s pretty handsome with huge black eyes, a straight nose, and full mouth.
Mom turns to him, her face winding into a dazzling smile. “I won’t be late, Tim. And I’m not Senator Lewis yet.” Her chestnut hair falls in perfect waves over her shoulders; her eyes are brown and bright. An aura of energy and power surrounds her. I can’t stop staring at her, questions flooding my mind: How can this woman be the same one who collapses into a puddle when I’m called to the Arena?
Tim pulls an old-fashioned stopwatch from the folds of his robe. “You’ll never be a Senator if you miss your swearing-in ceremony.” He clicks the metal cover open, glances at the watch-face, and then sides the instrument back into his robes. “And that starts in precisely twenty-two minutes.” His forehead creases with worry. “Why must you visit the staff at this time?”
“You’ll understand once you meet them.” Mom pauses at the door to the second floor and turns the handle. Nothing happens. “That’s strange.”
I take a good hard look at the door. Yup, that’s the exact same one I walked by on my way to the fourth floor library at the Walker mansion. Next time I’m there, I am for sure finding a way into that room.
“We usually leave this unlocked.” Mom pulls a silver chain from around her neck. A tiny key hangs at the end. She slips it into the knob, twists the handle, and slowly pushes the door open.
Mom and Tim step inside. Rows of desks and chairs line the long space, all of them empty. The room is quiet and dark. Mom sets her hands on her hips.
“Where is everybody?” Her chocolate eyes narrow.
I know that look. It’s the one that happens right before I’m grounded for forgetting to do something really important. Somebody’s in trouble, that’s for sure.
The lights flash on. Dozens of bodies appear from behind desks and chairs. “Surprise!”
Mom’s face bursts into a wide grin. She scans all the faces, clapping her hands with joy. She knows all these people. More than that, she cares about them.