Bellarose Part 5

This time, I ran into a young boy crouched in the shadows. I struggled to right myself, but he turned and tackled me to the ground, right into a giant mud puddle. He yanked out a knife and held it against my bare throat.I gasped for a moment, trying to regain my breath as he leaned down close to my face and whispered.

"What's yer name?" he growled in a low voice, pushing the knife into my neck and drawing a tiny amount of blood.

"Bellarose," I managed to gasp out, though it probably sounded more like "yellow nose". It was hard to breath. He was heavier than he looked.

"You live 'ere?"

"Yes." I was running out of air, so it came out more as a breath than a word.

"You work for these rich folks, these scum who cain't do nothin' wi'out some 'elp from some'un else? You let yerself be bossed 'round an' let 'em keep livin' like the blasted fools they are? Answer me!" That knife was getting dangerously close to cutting something vital.

No matter what anyone else might say, I wasn't stupid. There was no way I was going to tell this maniac with a knife that I didn't work for the rich people who he seemed to despise so much, I actually was one of the rich people who was running back to her mansion because she couldn't stand life in the city. No way.

"Get offa me!" I said instead. I twisted my body and managed to roll over and dump him into the mud. "My mum works 'ere, an' she makes me stay wi' 'er. She don't want me runnin' off somewheres she don't know 'bout, but I ain't one to stay at home. I don't like bein' here, bein' bossed 'round by all those prissy li'l girls in their prissy li'l dresses, orderin' me 'round like nothin' else. I like to get away, an' I don't 'preciate you jumpin' me jus' when I'm gonna go back to my mum."

The boy stared at me for a moment, then he laughed. "Hey, yer not so bad. I'm Pan. Short for Panther, which is what I am." He grinned a saucy grin at me and tried to stand up, but he fell back into the slippery mud with a gentle thud. "What's yer name 'gain?" he asked.

I tried to stand up with the same results. "Bellarose," I said. "Bellarose, but you can call me Lisa."

"What? That don't make no sense." He stood up again and this time managed to gain a little bit of balance before I tried to use him to pull myself up. We both crashed into the mud.

"I jus' like 'Lisa' better than 'Bellarose'." Like I was going to admit that I hoped I was the true heir to the throne, destined to become a beautiful princess who was loved by everyone.

I was startled from my daydreams about ruling the kingdom when Pan said, "'Ere, go ahead an' lean on my shoulder, then when yer up you gotta help me." I jerked back to reality and remembered that I was sitting in a giant mud puddle.

Working together, we managed to work ourselves into a standing position again, but both of us were completely caked in mud. I started to walk back towards the gate that would let me back into my mansion, my wealth, my old life.

"Hey!" I heard Pan call from behind me. "When're you comin' out again? We could go 'round an' I could show you where I live." He shyly smiled at me and glanced at the ground, his blue eyes darting towards me and all around me.

"I'll think about it," I said with a frown, but with no real intention of ever stepping outside again without a chaperone. I didn't notice that I had forgotten to use the accent again. Luckily, neither did he.

"Okay, well, see you," he said quietly.

"Yeah," I said, turning back to go inside. Just before I walked in, I saw him fall once more into the giant mud puddle, and I smiled hugely.

I slipped right in without anyone noticing. I started to walk back to the front doors. I planned to let myself in, wash up, and get changed before anyone noticed. Before I took two steps, though, I heard someone call out.

"Bellarose! Where are you hiding now?"

I froze. I'd been found out! A servant came around the corner of the house. It was a boy I didn't recognize.

"Is she over here?" he asked me.

I shook my head carefully, too scared to speak. The boy sighed and walked off. Suddenly, I knew how to get in.

I started calling out "Bellarose!" as I made my way towad the house. A few people glanced at me, but they saw my shabby atire and realized I was of no importance. I walked into the house and up the stairs to my room. Anyone who saw me mistook me for a servant because my most distinguishing feature--my fiery hair--was bundled up in a kerchief. The only other thing that really distinguished me from a servant was the mole under my right eye, a trait passed to all my sisters and me through our mother. I kept my head down as I walked into my empty bedroom, sighing with relief.

I hurriedly pulled off the kerchief, shook out my hair, and dragged a wet brush through it to get rid of some of the dust. I took off the shift and leggings and tried to wash the dirt off. I gave up and just put on my nightgown. I glanced in the mirror and realized I was still wearing the makeshift bandage Ms. Baroleen had put on it. I ripped it off, too, wincing as the beginnings of a new scab came off with it. I sighed as I fingered the bruise around my eye. I tried to wash off some of the blood around the knife mark on my neck. Then I walked back into the hallway.

I went partway down the stairs and turned around. I started to walk back up on my tiptoes.

"I found her!" I heard someone call out behind me. "Stay put, Bella. Don't move. I've found her!"

I ran up the stairs to my room, though I was happy to have been found. I yanked the covers up to my chin and closed my eyes, pretending to snore. I heard the door bang open and I squeezed my eyes shut tighter.

"Bellarose, get up. We know you're awake. Come on now." I opened my eyes. It was my maid, the woman who helped me most and would get in the most trouble for my disappearance. I looked harder and saw that her chin was trembling and there were tears in the corners of her brown eyes. Whether this was from relief or fury I could not have said. If it was fury, I didn't want to push my luck.

I slowly climbed out of bed, clutching a blanket around my shoulders. I looked up at her with what I hoped was a beeseeching face.

"No, don't try to get out of it," my maid said. "your father wants to see you, and he is not willing to wait any longer. Now, move!"

Ordinarily, I would not have let her push me around, but I knew I was in massive trouble. I allowed myself to be led to my father's study. I was flanked by servants, and so I could not run my hands along the wall. My bad day kept getting worse.


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