Prologue Orion, Age 15 #2
But even if I wasn’t allowed to show the feelings, they were still there. Way down deep beneath the lake’s surface, dark and murky and confusing.
Was this part of having ADHD?
Was I broken? Was something wrong with me?
A tap came on my shoulder, and I nearly toppled the vase. Odin, my fifteen-year-old big brother, caught it. He grinned and motioned me away from the living room.
“Spying on Mum and Father? What gives? And hey, how did your appointment—?”
I threw my arms around his waist.
“What’s this all about?” He laughed and knelt in front of me.
“I don’t want you to go away to school,” I whispered. “I’m…scared.”
Odin’s brows came together. “Honestly? So am I,” he whispered back.
My eyes widened. “You are?”
“But what can I do? It’s always been the plan.” He waved a hand. “Anyway, what did the doctor say?”
“I have ADHD.”
Odin frowned. “Oh. Okay. Well…I’m sure he’ll help you. He give you medication?”
I nodded tearfully. “But Odin—”
Voices grew louder. Our parents were seeing the doctor out. Odin gave me a quick hug.
“You’re going to be okay, Orion. Promise.”
I wanted to tell him that I’d miss him too much, and that I was scared that I was broken. But Odin was going out with friends and I couldn’t tell him. I didn’t want to bother him about it anyway.
Better to keep it to myself.
At dinner that night, I sat at the table with my family, while servants moved between the kitchen and dining room. Odin sat across from me, Octavian next to me. He was twelve and very serious and quiet. Basically, the opposite of me.
I waited for Mum or Father to ask me about my evaluation with Dr. Billings, but they never did.
“So, Odin,” Mum said. “Are you getting excited for Castle Hill?”
“Yes,” Odin said, not looking at me. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
Not scared, not nervous, not anything but fine.
Everything was always fine in our house. Just how they liked it.
The next morning, our housekeeper dosed out my medication. Almost immediately, my heart started to race, I couldn’t breathe very well, and I felt jumpy and jittery. Whatever this stuff was, wasn’t it supposed to make me the opposite of jumpy and jittery?
Maybe it was just excitement. I was psyched to get to school for once. Finally, I’d be able to read short chapters. The meds would make me focus and everything would make sense.
During history, Mr. Mooney asked me to read a passage about the daily life of the first Anglo-Saxons in Britain. But the words still had holes in them. The paragraph wasn’t long enough for me to get the gist.
“Sorry, Mr. Mooney,” I said, squinting and making funny faces. “I think I need glasses.”
The class laughed. I made a lot of jokes in class. Making my friends laugh was the part of school I liked best.
Mr. Mooney frowned but tried not to smile. I could see that all the way from my seat because my vision was perfect. “Orion, you do not need glasses.”
“I think I do. Everything looks blurry.” I turned to the girl beside me. “Asha? Is that you?”
She laughed while Mr. Mooney rolled his eyes. “Today it’s glasses. Last week, you left your book at home. Two days before that, you had a stomachache.” He crossed his arms. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I don’t know, Mr. Mooney,” I said. “Maybe I’m allergic to the daily life of the Anglo-Saxons.”
Everyone laughed, fooled again, but I was right back where I’d always been. The doctor hadn’t helped. The medicine didn’t work. My parents didn’t want to hear it. Down below, in Loch Ness, the monsters of sadness and anger were boiling up.
I raised my hand. “May I use the restroom, please?”
“If you can see your way there, yes,” Mooney said.
I held my hands out in front of me, pretending to feel my way out of the room. The laughter roared in my ears while the blood was pounding in my head. My skin was hot, my smile stiff on my face like it was nailed on.
The boys’ room was empty. I gripped the sink and took deep breaths, trying to remember what my brothers and I had been taught. We were Mercers. We were practically royalty. We were always calm and in control. We didn’t embarrass ourselves. Ever.
The glass in front of me cracked like a spiderweb, and pain radiated out of my fist the same way. I stared at my reflection; my own face was fractured like my mind. Then I looked down at the droplets of blood staining the white porcelain sink. Instantly, my anger was replaced by fear.
I’d punched the mirror. I’d damaged school property.
I’d rocked the boat.
Panicked, I ran water in the sink, rinsing the blood down the drain.
Then I wrapped my hand in paper towels, pressing hard on the little cuts.
From knuckles to wrist, it stung and ached.
I might’ve ruined my fingers for piano forever, but what if someone saw what I’d done?
Any second now, the door would open, and they’d see…
I tucked my hand into my jumper pocket. Put my smile back in place. Then quickly left the bathroom.
No one would know I broke the mirror.
No one would know I’d rocked the boat.
I’d go home tonight and have my text reader read the chapter to me. I’d memorize it and tomorrow recite the whole thing word for word. Mr. Mooney would be impressed, and no one would know how hard it had been.
I’d done it before. I could do it again.
***
“Orion?” Mum smiled and linked her arm through mine. “Ready?”
As the entourage filed inside the school, I flashed Mum my trademark smile—the one that charmed teachers, disarmed girls, made me popular and untouchable.
I was last to go through the doors, gazing up as the building loomed up high. I was a Mercer prince, groomed to be a king, facing this dragon of a building with nothing but wit, jokes, tricks, and charisma.
My hand sought the brass coin in my pocket. A parting gift from Odin before I left, hurriedly pressed into my hand at the airport. It was engraved with the constellation, Orion, on its smooth surface.
“So you never lose your way.”
I’d taken the coin with me and left piano behind.
It was a hobby, nothing more. My parents had told me I was good at it, but I wasn’t made for it.
I was a Mercer, made to join the dynasty.
Over and over, they told me, and the music faded as the effort I had to put into keeping up at school and not be an embarrassment to the family took all of my energy.
Drained me. Exhausted me, until I had nothing left.
I rubbed my thumb over the three stars on my namesake’s belt and heaved a breath.
Four more years.
I’d done it before. I could do it again.