Toya is on her seventh home and she’s only 16 years old. Next stop, a residential treatment facility. Toya has no clue what a residential treatment facility is, but she knows she wants know parts of one. So she has to clean up her act. No more cussing, no more drinking, no more fighting and no more internet videos—the kind that got her kicked out of her last two foster homes. She’s just been moved to a new foster home—possibly her last foster home—and all is well. A new home in a new town, but her old ways seem to follow her wherever she goes. Not only that, but one of her fiercest demons has just stalked out of the darkness of her past and threatens to drag her down once again. In order to survive, Toya must do something she hasn’t dared to do in a very long time…trust. Boy Toy is the story of one girl’s journey from the lost to the loved.
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Want to start your own Boy Toy book club?
Click here for Discussion Questions |
Many thanks to Lisa W. Tetting - author of The Mistreatment of Zora Langston, who interviewed me about Boy Toy in her blog at lisawtetting.com. Want to read it? Click here.
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sample chapterAt this point in the story, Toya has been working hard to take advantage of her clean slate. She's in new school where no one knows about her past. Until her arch nemesis, Jenelle, humiliates her by exposing to the whole class, the internet video that seemed to haunt Toya everywhere she went. Score one for Jenelle. Now it's payback time. Back in the day, when the Old Toya sought revenge, she took no prisoners. But this isn't the Old Toya anymore...
Chapter 9 You take my rep and I’ll take your man. That was my new motto. I had made my choice. The “clean slate” experiment was officially over. The whole thing was just too hard. It was much easier being the old Toya. I was good at being low down, devious and scandalous. And I was an expert at paybacks. Which is why as soon as my suspension was over, I was busy launching my attack on Jenelle. The cost of destroying my clean slate? One boyfriend. Luckily, Jenelle’s suspension was twice as long as mine, so I had three more days to lay the groundwork on Devon. Not that I needed the extra time. A few minutes of flirting, telling Devon how his T-shirt really showed off the muscles in his back, and I had his phone number. We spoke on the phone that night and every night after. Apparently Devon’s mom didn’t have a problem with girls calling her son after eleven o’clock at night. Then one night, when we had been on the phone for three hours, Jenelle was on the other line. Devon did not click over. I knew I had him hooked. He was all mine. And tonight, he was all mine in my bedroom. Miss Angie and Chelsea were off at Chelsea’s dance recital. I was invited to go, but I told Miss Angie I had some homework to catch up on due to my suspension. It wasn’t a complete lie. I did have work to catch up on, but I wouldn’t dare ask Devon for help. The boy must have taken too many hits to the head while playing football, because he was clueless. The only things he knew anything about was football, girls and TV. So, we sat on the floor in my room watching TV. The Simpsons. Devon loved cartoons–but apparently he loved kissing on me more. He barely even glanced at the TV, too busy kissing and nibbling my neck, his wider receiver-sized hands pawing at me like I was a football. And I was into it. At least, I tried to be into it. But something was missing. Devon was kissable. His lips were full, soft like pillows. Just like the last boy–and the one before that, and the one before that. The same old same old. There was nothing special here. And strangely, I was feeling a strong desire for something special. I kissed Devon harder, trying to lose myself in the moment. This wasn’t about special. It wasn’t about love. It was about revenge. Who cared if my heart wasn’t in it? I did, apparently. As hard as I tried to push out Miss Angie’s words, they kept creeping back into my head. All that mumbo jumbo about planting seeds and watering flowers had really gotten to me. I didn’t think it had. I tried to blow it off. But every time I looked at my window sill and saw my little African violet in a cup, struggling to live, it moved me. I found myself rooting for the poor thing–almost as if I was rooting for myself. I did want that pretty garden. I did want the good seeds to take root and flourish in my life, but I wasn’t sure I could really have it. Was I destined to be every man’s amusement park ride? The girl every boy wanted to screw and no one wanted to take out to dinner and a movie? Would I never be a “decent girl?” “I want you so bad, girl. Man! I can’t wait to…” Huge drops of sweat were dripping off of Devon’s forehead. He had slipped off his T-shirt and was now working on the buttons of my shirt. I barely noticed all of his exertions. The wheels of my mind were churning faster than Devon’s fingers could unbutton. I never really had a boyfriend before, just sex buddies. Devon would be another buddy. A clean slate? Who was I fooling? My slate was so dirty, even when I tried to clean it, it got splashed with something else. I did enjoy that time, though –those few days when my slate was clean. I had felt good about myself—nervous at first, but I was starting to get my confidence back. Another thing I noticed was the quality of people I had started to draw to me. Positive people. Kids who were about something: Terry and Emily, of course. But then there was Shay and Sharita from the church –who read to kids at the homeless shelter once a week, because they wanted to, not because some judge ordered them to. Dominic, from my gym class who was involved in every club, group, organization and society the school had to offer. He was always inviting me to meetings, but I never got that vibe that he was doing so because he was trying to get in my pants. He said I had excellent leadership skills. Me? Excellent? Leader? Skills? Of course, it wasn’t all positive. Jenelle was definitely the rotten apple in the bunch–a dirty, stinking, rotten apple, with fuzzy mold growing all over her. I couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when I popped up at the school with Devon’s arms around me. Sweet satisfaction. Sweet revenge! But would it really be sweet? Sure sleeping with Devon would hurt Jenelle, but so what? This was strange. These thoughts running through my mind. For the first time I was really starting to think about the “C” word. Consequences. Jenelle may be hurt, but she wouldn’t be surprised. If I was being honest with myself, it would be the kind of thing everyone expected a girl like me to do—use my body to get revenge. What would Terry think of me if he found out–when he found out? I would never, ever, ever, ever have a shot at being his girlfriend. If I had a shot at all, that would destroy it all together. And then what about Chelsea? The girl was annoying, but she had been growing on me. What would I tell her? Girl, you gotta use what you got to get what you want. No way. I didn’t want to corrupt that sweet, innocent child. Miss Angie would be disappointed, of course. It saddened me to think about the look on Miss Angie’s face when she picked me up at the school that day. I didn’t want to disappoint her again–especially after all the personal stuff she had just shared with me. I noticed Devon had taken a break from groping me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him dig in the pocket of his jeans and pull out a condom. He snickered, “Always come prepared. That’s what they told me in the boy scouts.” The look of excitement in his eyes. Like a kid waiting in line to get on the roller coaster. I had invited him over to watch TV, but in Devon’s mind I had invited him over for a freak-fest. That’s what he expected from me and I was about to give him no less. What would he say if I said no? If I told him the roller coaster ride would be closed until further notice. He’d be pissed, but who cared? I still might have a shot with Terry. Miss Angie wouldn’t be disappointed. And there would be one less stain on my slate. Then what about Jenelle? No big payback? No sweet revenge. I remembered my grandmother once saying, “Sometimes the best revenge is living well.” Pay Jenelle back by not stooping to her level but by rising above it? It sounded like something I might have heard in Sunday school, but maybe there was some truth to it. Jenelle had pulled that stunt to drag me down, to make me look bad in front of my classmates. What if I came back to school better than ever? Smiled more, laughed louder, showed off some of those “excellent leadership skills” by joining a couple of Dominic’s clubs? Show Jenelle, and everybody else, that no matter what they threw my way, I was coming back bigger, bolder, better than ever! Ah…Sweet Revenge! “What the…” Devon must have been having trouble with my bra, because he stared at the lacey, blue contraption with a puzzled look on his face. The same look he got when the Mr. Chamberlain asked him to work out a geometry problem on the board. Finally, he said: “Can you help me out here?...Toya?” I finally looked at him, really looked at him, as if meeting him for the first time. That smooth, dark chocolate skin. His muscle bound chest, rising and falling with anticipation. I felt his enormous hand on my bra and I saw the look in his eyes–that Yay! I’m-about-to-get-me-some look. I saw his jaw drop when I finally said the words, “I can’t do this.” “I know, man, this bra is crazy.” “No.” I knocked his hand away and started re-buttoning my shirt. “I’m not talking about the bra, I’m talking about this. Having sex with you.” He looked stunned. “What? Why? Is it my breath?” “No, it’s not your--” “I’ve got gum.” “I didn’t say it was--” “It’s okay. Jenelle makes me keep gum with me all the time.” Devon started rummaging through his pockets for the gum, until I grabbed his arm. “Devon, stop. Your breath is fine. It’s me.” “You? Your breath smells good.” “Will you stop talking about bad breath!” I snapped. “I’m trying to tell you something.” “What?” Devon slipped into smooth operator mode and slid his arm around me. “What is it, baby?” “It’s me. I can’t do it with you Devon. It’s wrong.” “Wrong?” “Yeah. I mean, you and I both know the only reason I’d be doing it is to get back at Jenelle.” Devon tipped his head back and let out a loud cackle. “Is that what this is about? It’s okay, baby. You can use me. I don’t mind.” He leaned in to kiss my ear. I pulled away. “No, it’s not fair to you. Or to me. I don’t need any more drama in my life.” “There don’t have to be no drama, girl. Jenelle don’t have to know what we do.” I buried my head in my hands. I could tell this was going nowhere. Saying no to Devon was like giving him a shot of Viagra. Now he was massaging my shoulders. And he smelled so good. Calvin Klein's Eternity for Men. I could feel myself weakening. If I was ever going to take a stand, I had to do it now. It was time for drastic measures. I held Devon’s hands in mine and looked deeply into his eyes. |
“I love you, Devon,” I said, and could immediately feel Devon’s hands turn ice cold. It was working already. In addition to the tips, another thing I picked up while working in Miss Angie’s salon was relationship advice. The best way to cool off a man who wants to have sex is to talk about love or religion. If that didn’t work, cry. I hadn’t been listening enough in church to talk about religion, so I thought I’d give love a try. “I didn’t plan for this to happen, Devon,” I said. “But I really do love you. I want us to spend every moment together.” “Toya I-I…I mean, J-Jenelle and--” Devon stumbled over his words, barely remembering how to speak. “I know. I know. You’re with her. It’s my loss.” I tried to say with a straight face. “But can’t you see? How can I make love to you then watch you walking down the hallway with her, holding hands and stuff, on Monday morning? It would break my heart.” Devon let out a deep sigh, speechless. Then he jumped up so quickly, I thought he was going to bolt for the door. He paced the floor, scratching his head—as if it would bring the right words to surface in his mind. “Listen, I--” “You don’t have to say it. I know you don’t feel the same way.” I rested my head in my knees so he couldn’t see me laughing.” “Aw, don’t cry.” “No, I’m okay. I’ll be okay.” My voice was muffled by my knees. I lifted my head and whimpered, “You’d better go now.” Devon’s head hung low as he turned and slowly walked to the door. He put his hand on the door knob and my heart leapt. It had worked. It had actually worked. Then he stopped. Devon rested his head against the door then sighed. “I can’t.” “You can’t what?” “I can’t leave you like this.” Uh oh. I quickly straightened up. “No, no. You go on. I’m fine. See, I’m better already.” I flashed him a big cheesy grin. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Toya. I can see right through you.” “No, really…I’m not pretending.” Devon walked back to my side, with a look of determination. “Truth is…I love you too, Toya.” “You what?” “I love you, girl.” Now it was my turn to forget how to speak. I sputtered. “Huh?…B-but, what…what about J-Jenelle.” “She’s gonna kill me. She’s gonna kill us both. But I don’t care. You’re so much nicer than she is. And when we talk on the phone, we talk about real stuff–football and X-box. Jenelle only wants to talk about shopping.” Devon rushed over and took my hand in his. “And you never yell at me or call me names like Jenelle. Last week when I forgot it was our eleven month anniversary, she called me a big, dumb Jock-a-saurus” “That’s a pet name! She only does that to show you that she loves you.” I couldn’t believe I was actually defending my arch enemy. “Nah. That’s not love. What we have…it’s true love.” This was not going well. I almost wanted to have sex with him just to get him to shut up. I didn’t want to mess with the boy’s head. Maybe the truth would come in handy here. “Listen, Devon…I’m not really--” A thud interrupted me. “What was that?” Me and Devon whispered in unison. Next came the unmistakable jangle of Miss Angie’s keys. “My foster mom. She’s home,” I hissed. “I thought you said she wouldn’t be home--” “I know what I said. I guess she changed her mind.” The thump, thump, thump, of Chelsea’s lead feet on the stairs followed. “You gotta get out of here.” “I can hide in the closet.” “Uh-uh…with my luck, she’ll come up here and head right for the closet looking for her tennis racket or something.” I gripped Devon’s arm and dragged him to the window. “Trust me you do not want to mess with Miss Angie. You think Jenelle is scary?” “Okay, okay…” Devon’s body was dangling half out the window, half in. “Hey. Aren’t you going to kiss me goodnight?” Suddenly Chelsea burst through the door, saying, “Don’t laugh, I got stage fright. Threw up before I--” Panicked, I shoved Devon out the window with one hard push. A yell, tree branches crackled, then a clunk. I peeked out the window just in time to see Devon climbing back to his feet. “Oooh!” Chelsea howled like a siren. “You had a--” “Shhhh!” I slapped my hand over Chelsea’s mouth, just as Miss Angie barged in the room. “What in the world is going on up here?” “Nothing,” we replied, innocently. Miss Angie stood there with her hands on her hips and I realized how it must look: Me standing there holding Chelsea in a headlock, my hand clamped over her mouth. I slowly released the girl. “Um…Chelsea was about to throw up and I was helping her hold it in.” Chelsea nodded her head vigorously. “Uh huh. But, I think I’m okay now.” She breathed out an exaggerated sigh of relief. “Whew! Thanks Toya. That was a close one.” Miss Angie folded her arms and said, “I thought I heard someone yell.” “It was a cat,” we answered, a little too quickly. It freaked me out, a little, that me and Chelsea were so different, but in the heat of the moment came up with the same lie. Chelsea added, “Uh…there was a cat outside, howling. I think it was in heat.” Miss Angie stared at the two of us as if reading our minds. We looked guilty. Though, of what, she couldn’t even imagine. Chelsea had only been in the house for thirty seconds. Not nearly enough time to get into trouble. Finally, Miss Angie gave up on the mind reading. “Well, whatever… Chelsea, I put a glass of ginger ale on your night stand. Drink it and then go take your shower.” “Yes Mommy,” Chelsea said then disappeared. Miss Angie turned her eyes to me. “You get your homework done?” “Most of it. How was the recital?” “Fine. What we could see of it. Chelsea got sick just before she was about to walk on stage.” “That’s a shame.” “Well, last year she threw up in the car on the way to the recital. So, at least we’re making progress.” Miss Angie walked over to the window and peeked outside. Nothing but trees and houses. “I’m going to check on Chelsea. Goodnight, Toya.” “Goodnight.” As soon as Miss Angie left, I flopped on the bed and exhaled. That was a close one. It was a good thing Devon played football. Any other boy falling out of that window would have still been laying there with a broken leg, just waiting for Miss Angie to come down and break his neck too. My cell phone chirped and I nearly leaped off of her bed, startled. Clutching my chest with one hand, I picked up the phone with the other. A text message. Devon: “I luv u, gurl!” 
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Book Club Questions
Want to start a Boy Toy Book Club? Here are some questions to get you started.
1. When we first meet Toya, she has just arrived at her seventh foster home in five years. What kinds of adjustments has she had to make in her life in having to move from house to house to house over those five years? How has it affected her?
2. We know that Toya was attracted to Terry from the moment she first laid eyes on him. Yet when she had to chance to hang out with him for the first time and braid his hair, she ended “stabbing him in the head with a comb?” What did Terry do to upset Toya that day? In spite of that rough beginning, why do you think Toya and Terry became friends so quickly?
3. When Toya called Terry for the first time, she encountered his mother—who was not pleased that Toya had called her son so late at night. Before hanging up on Toya, she told Toya “…you are not a decent girl.” Those words seemed to haunt Toya throughout the book. Why do you think those words stuck with Toya for so long, even though others had said far worse things to her?
4. What was it about the Toya’s fight with Jenelle and the video that had upset Miss Angie so much? In what way did Miss Angie see a part of herself in Toya? What significance did the African violet plant have for Miss Angie?
5. Toya had the perfect opportunity to get revenge against Jenelle by stealing her boyfriend. At the last moment, however, she couldn’t go through with it. Why not? What affect would it have had if Toya had actually gone through with her plan to get revenge on Jenelle?
6. Why do you think Toya agreed to see her mother, Tamika, after she had been out of her life for so long? How did running help Toya get through the stress she was feeling in the days leading up to her visit with her mother?
7. Through the photo albums that Tamika gives to Toya, we get a glimpse of Toya’s family and what her life had been like before foster care. How would you describe Toya’s natural family?
8. What motivated Mr. Rick to approach Toya that day as she walked home from school? Why do you think Toya decided not to tell anyone about her encounter with Mr. Rick?
9. Toya never seemed to be a shy person at any point in this story, so why do you think chose to go through the pretense of the “mystery date” with Terry instead of just telling him she wanted to go out with him? Why did Emily’s suggestion that Terry might not be excited about the thought of Toya as his mystery date cause her to freak out?
10. Toya finally revealed the truth to Miss Angie about being stalked by Mr. Rick. In what way was the response different this time than years earlier when Toya first told the truth about Mr. Rick? How was the response the same?
11. Toya had just experienced a great victory in the courtroom, celebrated with a fabulous dinner and experienced the excitement of seeing Miss Angie and Mr. Kevin finally becoming a couple, but that night all she could do was think about her mother. Why was she so worried about her mother? What did the decision to start calling Miss Angie now Mom-Angie say about her feelings about her mother?
12. Everything was perfect for Toya’s first official date with Terry, so why was she so unhappy? Why did Terry’s gift make her feel worse instead of better? What was it about her conversation with her Mom-Angie that calmed her down?
13. After reading the letter from Granny Jean, do you think it’s possible for Toya to have a relationship with her new little brother? With her mother?
1. When we first meet Toya, she has just arrived at her seventh foster home in five years. What kinds of adjustments has she had to make in her life in having to move from house to house to house over those five years? How has it affected her?
2. We know that Toya was attracted to Terry from the moment she first laid eyes on him. Yet when she had to chance to hang out with him for the first time and braid his hair, she ended “stabbing him in the head with a comb?” What did Terry do to upset Toya that day? In spite of that rough beginning, why do you think Toya and Terry became friends so quickly?
3. When Toya called Terry for the first time, she encountered his mother—who was not pleased that Toya had called her son so late at night. Before hanging up on Toya, she told Toya “…you are not a decent girl.” Those words seemed to haunt Toya throughout the book. Why do you think those words stuck with Toya for so long, even though others had said far worse things to her?
4. What was it about the Toya’s fight with Jenelle and the video that had upset Miss Angie so much? In what way did Miss Angie see a part of herself in Toya? What significance did the African violet plant have for Miss Angie?
5. Toya had the perfect opportunity to get revenge against Jenelle by stealing her boyfriend. At the last moment, however, she couldn’t go through with it. Why not? What affect would it have had if Toya had actually gone through with her plan to get revenge on Jenelle?
6. Why do you think Toya agreed to see her mother, Tamika, after she had been out of her life for so long? How did running help Toya get through the stress she was feeling in the days leading up to her visit with her mother?
7. Through the photo albums that Tamika gives to Toya, we get a glimpse of Toya’s family and what her life had been like before foster care. How would you describe Toya’s natural family?
8. What motivated Mr. Rick to approach Toya that day as she walked home from school? Why do you think Toya decided not to tell anyone about her encounter with Mr. Rick?
9. Toya never seemed to be a shy person at any point in this story, so why do you think chose to go through the pretense of the “mystery date” with Terry instead of just telling him she wanted to go out with him? Why did Emily’s suggestion that Terry might not be excited about the thought of Toya as his mystery date cause her to freak out?
10. Toya finally revealed the truth to Miss Angie about being stalked by Mr. Rick. In what way was the response different this time than years earlier when Toya first told the truth about Mr. Rick? How was the response the same?
11. Toya had just experienced a great victory in the courtroom, celebrated with a fabulous dinner and experienced the excitement of seeing Miss Angie and Mr. Kevin finally becoming a couple, but that night all she could do was think about her mother. Why was she so worried about her mother? What did the decision to start calling Miss Angie now Mom-Angie say about her feelings about her mother?
12. Everything was perfect for Toya’s first official date with Terry, so why was she so unhappy? Why did Terry’s gift make her feel worse instead of better? What was it about her conversation with her Mom-Angie that calmed her down?
13. After reading the letter from Granny Jean, do you think it’s possible for Toya to have a relationship with her new little brother? With her mother?
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Book Excerpt:
Chapter 1
A Bad Feeling
A Bad Feeling
All alone in the bowels of the palace, Edgar Laurence had plenty of time to reevaluate his life choices. He did not deserve this. None of this. Ten years ago, he was the trusted personal assistant to the king—King Callum of the House of Beaumont. He did such a stellar job that the king appointed him to be the assistant to his sole living heir, Princess Vega.
“She’s lost her mother,” the king said. “I’m too busy to teach her these things,” he said. “Teach her to be a royal, Edgar. Serve her as faithfully as you did me,” he insisted. And the payment Edgar received for his faithful service? A death sentence. He had served his princess faithfully and was rewarded with a swift ticket to the dungeons. And a date with the firing squad.
Some of his coconspirators—as labeled by the king—had already kissed the gun. Palace guards, Stone and Silver, and interrogators Oaks and the Duchess, whose only crime had been serving the princess and dutifully keeping her secret. Edgar would be joining them soon.
He patiently awaited his turn, even now, as he remembered that faithful night when Princess Vega came to him, tears streaming down her delicate cheeks. “She’s alive, Edgar! What am I going to do?”
“Who’s alive, Princess?”
“My sister. Astrid’s alive, Edgar. What am I going to do?”
“Who’s been telling you these lies, Highness? You know your sister was murdered with your mother.”
“No!” The princess grabbed his shoulders and shook him. “That’s the lie. She was not murdered. I saw her with my own two eyes on that island. She’s one of them.”
“One of who?”
“The Underground. All this time, she’s been living on that…that island of freaks. Mother must have arranged it before she died,” Vega said. “She’s probably up in heaven laughing at me, right now. She always hated me.”
“Your mother loved you, child,” Edgar replied, even more confused by the direction of this conversation.
“Then why is she still punishing me all these years later.” Vega whirled around. “Did I tell you she has a voice now?”
“Who does?”
Vega nearly blew her stack. “Keep up, you idiot!...Astrid! Astrid has her voice.”
“That’s impossible. How could that be?”
“It could be because she’s been living on that island of freaks, with their witchcraft.”
Freaks? Witchcraft? Little girls coming back from the dead? He was afraid some sort of fever had overtaken the princess while she was on that island. But when Vega brought him to that room, that little room on the lower level of the palace, Edgar nearly fainted. There she was. Lying unconscious on that sliver of a mattress. The spitting image of Princess Vega—except this unconscious girl’s hair had not been dyed candy red like Princess Vega.
“Believe me now?”
“Unbelievable!” Edgar replied, in a state of shock. He reached down to touch her, but caught himself, as it was forbidden to touch royalty without permission. “Is she alive?”
“For now. I didn’t know what to do with her. She could ruin me, Edgar?”
He tore his eyes away from the unconscious twin and fixed them on the frantic twin. “How?”
“How?…B-sh-she…because she has a claim to the throne,” Vega sputtered.
“Hardly. She’s deficient.”
“I told you she can speak.”
“But her birth record still says deficient. Once deficient always deficient. Do you seriously think the Citizen’s Council would want a deficient ruling over them? That would be scandalous!”
“I don’t put anything past that council. They’ve never liked me. And what about the Underground?…They’re all sorcerers. They could use their witchcraft to influence the council.”
“Princess, I think you’re being a little—"
“I’m not being dramatic, Edgar.” Why was everyone always accusing her of being dramatic? “I saw it with my own eyes. She had us under her spell. There was a room filled with her friends right before our eyes and we couldn’t see them. Until we shot her with that serum…”
“Serum?”
Vega rambled on. “…And I think she even had Chance under her spell while he was there too.”
“Is the lieutenant all right?”
“He is now. Now that he’s with me. But you see now, Edgar, don’t you? I need your help. Please?”
What else could he do? He helped. With the assistance of his most trusted guards, Silver and Stone and a few others, they hid Princess Astrid—right there in the palace, right under the king’s nose. Edgar knew it was dangerous, but his responsibility was to Princess Vega. And he was hoping to buy some time to come up with a better solution—one that didn’t involve the murder of a royal. At the same time, Vega was not just interested in keeping her sister a secret, but also to get her hands on that magical elixir that had restored Astrid’s voice. Apparently, Princess Vega detested magic, unless it benefitted her. This healing water, Vega hoped, would make her military unstoppable. Chance had told her about it, and she was desperate to find it.
But time ran out. Chance, apparently still under Astrid’s spell, had helped her and her friends escape, somehow the king got wind of it, and now here Edgar sits, biding his final hours in this black hole at the bottom of the palace. He would have it no other way. He had done his job. And if the reward for doing his job well was a death, he would proudly accept his trophy.
“You’d think they’d at least give me a final meal,” he said to no one. His stomach growled so loudly that it echoed through the dark empty chamber.
The growl lasted a little too long. Edgar realized the sound he heard wasn’t his stomach at all. It was the scraping of a heavy metal door.
They were coming for him.
His heart started racing. He wasn’t ready to die. Even at sixty-three, he was too young. He had so much to live for.
Footsteps grew closer, as did the clanking of the keys. There was another loud scraping sound as second heavy door was yanked open. Next came the ultrabright light from a flashlight that flooded the cell.
Edgar cowered in the corner with his eyes shut tight. “Don’t!...Please, don’t kill me,” he whined. “I throw myself on the mercy of the king!...Mercy! Mercy!!!”
“Are you finished?”
He recognized that voice. “Highness?”
“Yes, you whimpering coward, it’s me.”
“How did you…”
“I’ll explain when we get upstairs. It reeks down here.”
That was all Edgar needed to hear. He scrambled out of his cell door on his knees then struggled to get on his feet. His back had stiffened while being stuck in that cold, cramped cell. He rocked side to side, hoping to roll himself onto his feet.
“For the love of God! Here.” Vega reached down and helped hoist him up.
“Thank you, Princess. Thank you, so much. Thank—”
She waved him off. “You can thank me later. We’ve got a coronation to plan,” she said, leading him out of the dungeon. “And a body to dispose of.”
*****
The stench of rotting garbage was the first clue that Astrid was entering Oceali waters. Just three miles off the coast rested the enormous barge that held the bulk of the nation’s refuse. A few minutes later, the cruiser washed up on the southern shore of Oceali. All of the ports were closed due to the king’s memorial. The southern coast was the most remote, only inhabited by a few wealthy families who owned stately homes that dotted along the coast.
Mitsi docked the boat near the home of a family that was very loyal to the Underground. They could be counted on for a closed mouth and an open dock—as well as a storage shed full of food and other supplies. The boat made a dull thud, bobbing against the dock, while Misti tied it to the post. The thud was enough to wake Astrid, but Alfred was still sound asleep.
She didn’t realize how tired she was. Astrid barely slept the night before, waiting for the perfect opportunity to sneak away from the hideout and hijack this boat—hijack Mitsi to hijack this boat. Alfred must not have had any sleep either, because he slept like a rock, even as Astrid lifted him out of the boat and laid him down on the dock.
“Thank you,” was all she could say to Mitsi, because she wasn’t sure what else to say to someone she had just used her power on to coerce into stealing a boat and bringing her and Alfred to Oceali. “Go back now and—” she started to give Mitsi a new command, but Mitsi put up her hand and silenced her.
“For the record, kid, your powers stopped working on me two hours ago.”
“They did? Then why did you…But you brought us here anyway. Why?”
Mitsi smirked, as she made her way to the shed at the other end of the dock, “Let’s just say, it wasn’t just the children who were cheering you on during your little speech, yesterday.”
A fact that Astrid had not been aware of. Her little speech. As Dr. Grace, the interim head of the Underground, laid out the plan for them to abandon the Isle of the Never Mind and search for a new home, that plan didn’t sit well with Astrid.
“Why should we remain in the dark?” she demanded of Dr. Grace. “Why keep running? Aren’t you all tired of hiding? We’ve done nothing wrong. Why should we have to live in fear all the time?”
Dr. Grace wasn’t at all bothered by Astrid’s outburst. She actually seemed to welcome it. Dr. Grace said nonchalantly, “Sounds good. What are you suggesting?”
“I’m suggesting we fight.”
Astrid’s words were met with a raucous cheer by the other kids. She thought it was only kids. But apparently, at least one other adult in the room quietly supported her opinion.
Even if Mitsi and the other children supported Astrid, Dr. Grace shot her down immediately with four words. “Queen’s Order Number One.” Vega’s plan to destroy the Underground after obliterating the Never Mind. They had no choice but to flee their home, even Astrid had to admit that. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t return to Oceali and fight on her own. Which is what she fully intended to do.
She had a plan. Steal a few vials of healing waters. Hi-jack a boat. Hi-jack Mitsi to drive that boat. Sneak into Oceali with her sidekick Alfred—well Alfred wasn’t part of her plan, but he came along anyway, so Astrid incorporated him into the plan.
“So, what’s your plan?” Misti asked. She had retrieved a couple of canisters of fuel from the shed and was now in the middle of refueling the cruiser. “I’m assuming there is an actual plan.”
“Oh, there’s a plan, all right,” Astrid replied, trying to sound more confident than she felt. “But it’s probably best if I don’t tell you…For your protection.”
Mitsi’s eyes lit up. “My protection? But the kid, here, can handle it.” She gestured toward Alfred, who was now awake and highly offended.
“Hey!” he said, mid-yawn.
“Take care of her, little flea…” Mitsi reached down and patted Alfred on the head. “…And yourself.” She popped the top on the empty fuel canister and set it back inside the shed. When Mitsi returned, she announced, “Well, since I’m not needed here, I guess I’ll head back to my post.”
“Thanks again for your help.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Mitsi hopped back into the cruiser.
“Hey! One more thing…” Astrid reached into her knapsack and pulled out Dr. Grace’s fancy tech-watch. “Can you show me which number belongs to Russell Bitters?”
“Where did you get this?”
Astrid grinned at her, proud at how she easily she was able to lift that watch off of Dr. Grace under the pretense of an apologetic hug.
“Forget I asked.” Misti snatched the watch from Astrid’s hand and scrolled through a series of four-digit numbers. “This one. 0415. Everyone picks their own number. I forget what Russ’ number—”
“It’s his son’s birthday.” Russ—Uncle Russ to Astrid—the man who had cared for Astrid after her mother was killed, during the failed escape. He too had lost everything that was dear to him because of the Royal Proclamation—the decree that required all deficient, including Astrid, to be sent to the dreaded facilities at the age of six. As a longtime member of the Underground, Russ was no friend to the royals—except for Astrid. She knew she could count on his help. “Thank you,” she said again to Mitsi, taking the watch back from her.
“Sure thing.” She tugged on the loose wires of the hotwired cruiser and the motor sprang to back to life.
“One more thing,” Astrid said, raising her voice to be heard over the motor.
“Yeah?” Mitsi yelled back.
“Do you have any money?”
