Royal Havoc

18. Dimples

eighteen

Dimples

Tulip: 2011 Age: 14

T hank goodness B was right, and I didn’t die. I’ve got so many things I want to do first. Although, getting my period wasn’t one of them.

I finish braiding my long blonde hair using the little mirror Dr. Bolton let me have. My cheeks are starting to hurt from the constant smile I’ve been wearing since my eyeballs opened this morning.

Today’s my fourteenth birthday, and Dr. Bolton told me he had a special surprise for me.

Things changed after that awful night a few months ago. Once I spilled the beans about Hazel’s lies and Dr. Bolton saw how she treated us, he got rid of her. He even let me help.

My promise to B came true, and we never have to go back to those filthy cells again. Instead, we get to stay in the pretty white hall, in our very own rooms, with comfy beds and a window. Fine, the window has bars, but at least we can see outside.

“Happy Birthday, Tulip,” Dan tells me from outside the door.

Dan’s much nicer than Tobias, but he’s bigger, and his muscles and beard kind of freak me out. I was told Tobias got moved to another part of The Row after everything went down with Hazel.

“Thank you, Dan.” I smile, hurrying to the middle of the room, holding my arms out to my sides before turning in a circle slowly. Once I’m facing him again, I pull out my pockets so he can see they’re empty.

“All clear,” he announces, opening the door, then waits while I step into the hall and slip on my cheap white canvas shoes. “Brock’s in the lounge,” he tells me as we walk down the shiny hall together.

Clapping my hands. “Yay.” I giggle.

I’ve recently decided boys don’t have cooties after all if I’m telling the truth, which I am because Dr. Bolton expects the truth. No matter what. Anyway, I think I got a crush on B, which is gross but awesome at the same time.

The lounge is the visitor’s room for those with families and friends. Brock and I have gained the privilege of getting to visit each other since we don’t have anyone else.

Blue walls decorate the room, reminding me of B’s eyes. Chairs and small sofas are for guests, and my favorite spot is the wall of windows with small tables and chairs. From the top of the hill where we are, you can see all the way down to the river. Not to mention there are tons of pretty trees and flowers.

He’s sitting at our usual table towards the back, staring outside. I swear, every time I see him, his muscles get bigger, and he looks taller today for some reason.

He stands when he sees me. “Happy Birthday, princess.”

I smile up at Dan and wait until he nods down at me. I scurry around the table, giving B a huge hug. Butterflies immediately start flapping their wings against my tummy.

Once we’re both seated across from each other, our hands laced on our own sides of the table, Dan leaves us alone.

“You look pretty today,” B compliments me, making my pale cheeks heat. “Bolton let you have a purple jumper?”

I glance down, then back up at him. “I’m too pale to wear ugly orange,” I groan, hating the stupid orange shirts and pants.

He laughs, shaking his head. “I know you hate orange. Are you eating?” he asks seriously.

Rolling my eyes dramatically. “Yes,” I sigh. “Pretty soon, our rooms will be together. I promise. Then you won’t have to ask so many questions.”

“Boys and girls are separated,” he reminds me, flexing his hands.

That was the worst. I cried for days after they moved us apart. B’s the only reason I started sleeping again. He makes me feel safe.

“I haven’t broken a promise yet.” I wink, giggling at his mean face.

“Happy Birthday, princess,” Dr. Bolton greets me, appearing beside our table.

I notice B’s cheeks flex every time someone else calls me princess. I don’t know why, though.

The doctor sets a birthday bag on the table in front of B. “Just like you asked for,” he tells him. “You’ve got a few minutes. Then I’d like to see you in my office, princess.”

“Okay.” I smile.

“But —”

“Don’t,” Dr. Bolton warns B. “Don’t ruin her day. I’ll let you visit more, after,” he assures B calmly.

“Fine,” he grits, turning to stare out the window.

I’ve got no clue what’s going on between them, but I don’t like it.

Once we’re alone again. “Sorry. Here, Happy Birthday.” B smiles, showing off his dimples, pushing the gift over to me.

I rush to stand, ripping the tissue paper from the bag. Tears instantly fill my eyes before I’ve even processed what I’m looking at.

“B,” I gasp, trying not to choke on my tears. “You remembered,” I whisper, reaching into the bag.

“I wasn’t allowed to get you the right size. But, he said you could have a small one.”

The purple teddy bear is perfect. It’s just big enough to hug and soft under my fingers. “It’s perfect, B. Thank you so much,” I sniff, staring at his gift.

“Now you’ll be able to sleep,” he whispers, watching me closely. “Please don’t be sad.”

Swiping at the tears on my cheeks. “I’m happy. These are happy tears,” I tell him softly, squeezing the teddy bear to my chest. “I love it. I’m going to name him Dimples, after you.”

I sit back down when he moves the bag, both of us smiling, studying each other. For some reason, he makes me nervous in a good way, and I wonder if he feels the same.

B’s eyes glance over my head, and his smile disappears, making me turn around to see what he’s looking at. Unfortunately, it’s Sasha sitting alone like usual, a couple of tables behind us. She’s sixteen, like B, with short dark hair.

“Still hanging out with babies, Brock?” She laughs, shaking her head.

I hate her. She thinks because she has big boobs that she’s prettier than me.

“Shut up, Sasha,” B warns quietly, squeezing his hands together until his knuckles turn white. “Don’t pay attention to her. Tell me about your dream,” he orders, trying to gain my attention.

Since they’ve split us up, I couldn’t sleep. Dr. Bolton said that wasn’t good and started making me take pills to help me get tired. They make me have the funkiest dreams.

“When you’re done playing with toys, you know where to find me,” Sasha taunts, winking at him.

I leave Dimples on the table and slide from my chair, gracefully walking the few steps it takes to get to her. Mommy always said to hold your head high and never slouch.

Sasha watches me, and I think I hear B whispering my name. When I reach her table, she turns her head to look at me.

“What?” she sneers as I smile at her ugly face.

My nails scratch down her face, drawing blood, making me laugh when she screams. Her dirty hair wraps around my thin fingers perfectly as I slam her face on the table. The blood gushing from her nose quickly turns into a puddle of red beneath her face.

I raise her head, getting closer to her face so she hears me over her stupid crying. “Call me a baby again, and I’ll cut out your tongue.” I giggle, smiling at her sweetly.

Her eyes grow wide when I dip my fingertip in her blood and use it to draw a heart on the table before I wink.

Suddenly, the room turns loud.