There was a boy I’d never seen before, standing in my beloved courtyard.
“Hey,” I called out.
With a jolt, the boy turned to face me. He seemed to be around my age, and based on what he was wearing, it was obvious he wasn’t from the orphanage.
“Who are you?” I asked. “Where did you come from?”
“It’s none of your business,” he replied.
“I live here, so it’s totally my business,” I retorted.
The boy fell silent. He just sat down and glared at the ground.
“You’re so gloomy,” I told him. I mean, he was just sitting there fuming at the grass!
“What?” he snapped, frowning huffily.
“Something’s bothering you, right?”
“Why do you think that?”
“You’re a little rich kid in fancy clothes, but you walked into this run-down orphanage. If you were just lost, you’d have asked someone for help and left, right?”
Silence again. As I wondered what to do, other kids began to approach.
“Hey, Anna, who’s that?” one asked.
“Hmm,” I mused. “He’s my friend.”
“What?!” the boy exclaimed. Maybe he was upset I’d called him a friend?
I approached him and whispered, “If I don’t tell them you’re my friend, you’ll get kicked out of here real quick.”
Once again he stopped talking, but I took it as acknowledgment this time. I clasped the boy’s hand in mine and pulled him to his feet.
“H-Hey!” he protested.
“Look, I dunno what you’re all hung up about,” I said, “but sitting around like a lump won’t help! You should exercise, so you don’t have time to think about stuff! Which is to say...you’re ‘it’!”
“Huh?!”
“Everyone run!”
I told the boy to count to ten, and scattered with the other children. Behind me, I could hear him go, “What?!” and “Hey!” but I just ignored him. Eventually, I heard him start counting.
Apparently, he knew about tag, but had never played it. He joined us awkwardly at first, but after some guidance, he soon fit right in. The gloomy clouds lifted from his face, replaced by a smile.
“That was fun!”
It was already evening, and the boy had to return home. “U-Um,” he began, his gaze downcast.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Thanks for today. I feel better.” Apparently, he didn’t think I’d stuck my nose where it didn’t belong.
I beamed at him. “You’re welcome!”
“Um,” he mumbled, his cheeks growing red as he looked at me.
“Hmm?”
“Do you...have someone you like...?”
“Someone I like?” I echoed, taking a moment to think before saying the first thing that came to mind. “Ooh! A prince!”
“A prince?”
“Yeah! Like, from a story!” I said, grinning. “They’re so cool! They’re rich and live in huge castles, and they’re handsome! So if I was gonna get married, I’d want it to be to a prince!”
The blush vanished from the boy’s face, and his expression turned sour.
“There’s no way you can marry a prince,” he said.
“I totally can!” I protested, puffing up my cheeks. “One’s totally gonna come for me!”
“No way,” he interjected flatly. “A prince would never choose a commoner.”
“They marry village girls in the stories!”
“It cannot happen!”
“Yes it can!”
“It can’t!”
“It can!”
We went on arguing for a while until we were both out of breath, glaring at one another.
He broke eye contact first, and said, “I’ll come for you.”
“What?”
“I’m not a prince, but I’ll be kind of like one,” he said. “Wait for me.”
With that, he ran away, red as a tomato. And once my brain finished processing what he’d just said, my own face burned bright red.
Brianna. Age seven. Proposed to for the very first time.
✦ ✦ ✦
“And that was my first crush.”
Ah, the bittersweet memories.
I hadn’t been proposed to since. Not genuinely, anyway. All I’d gotten were offers to be a second wife, or a mistress. Apparently my popularity had peaked when I was seven. A tragedy, I tell you.
Nadir had listened to my story quietly, without interrupting. Finally, he spoke. “What would you do if you were to meet that boy again?”
“If I were to meet him...”
Hm. I hadn’t actually considered this. What would I do?
“I’d probably ask if he remembers me,” I mused.
“And then?”
“Huh? That’s all.”
Nadir seemed taken aback by my answer. Shock wasn’t something I saw on his features very often. “You wouldn’t want to marry him?”
“Huh? Oh, no, no! All we did was play one time as children. I’m sure it’s a fond memory for both of us, but based on how well-dressed he was, he had to be from a well-off family. He’d be out of my league. And he’s probably already married, or at least engaged, by now.”
Unfortunately for me, I’d grown older. I understood the difference between dreams and reality now. Princes on white horses only existed in storybooks.
“You...” Nadir began. He seemed to want to say more, but after opening and closing his mouth a few times, he settled on letting out a sigh. “Right. That’s very like you.”
“Why am I under the impression I’m being insulted?” I said.
How had the conversation taken this turn? I’d just been reminiscing!
Looking disappointed, Nadir stood. He brushed the grass off his clothes and walked off on his own. Uh, why? Had I done anything wrong? I didn’t think I had...
As I tried to decide whether to follow him or leave him be, I was caught off guard by a sudden impact from behind.
“Whoa!” Ben yelped. “I’m sorry, Brianna! Are you okay?”
He’d been playing with the children and hadn’t noticed me, apparently.
“Ow! That hurt!” I protested.
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” he said. “I didn’t mean to, okay?! People can’t just stop all of a sudden!”
“That goes for carriages, not people!”
Ben held out a hand to help me to my feet. Despite the strength of the impact, I wasn’t badly injured. At most, I’d get a bruise on my back.
“Be more careful,” I muttered.
“I really am sorry. I got carried away,” he said, shrinking his shoulders dejectedly. “I used to live at this orphanage, so being here is very nostalgic.”
What?
“You used to live...here?” I asked.
Ben was seventeen years old. Which meant twelve years ago, he’d have been five. Had I known a five-year-old named Ben?
I gasped. “Snot-nosed Ben!”
Before I knew it, the words had slipped out of my mouth. Ben stared at me blankly at first, then let out a surprised yelp.
“A-Anna!”