Towers Page 2

  Romy rolled her eyes. “Wishing on stars is for babies, Papa.”

  Papa grunted and shooed her outside.

  Once Romy was out on the porch, she settled into the swing that Papa had made and began to rock. The night was clear, and the sky lit with thousands of twinkling lights.

  As she looked into the sky, Romy asked, “Is it too much to want someone of my very own to play with? Someone that will not look at me with disgust. If anyone is listening out there, hear my wish—I wish to have a friend of my very own.”

  Romy rubbed her arms. The night had gotten chilly and she didn’t bring her sweater out with her. What she really needed to do was to get some rest. Things would feel better in the morning; they always did. Getting to her feet, Romy turned and entered the house.

  Behind her, a tiny star shot across the night sky, leaving a faint trail of hope behind it.

  Chapter 3

  FIVE YEARS LATER.

  Romy was careful not to yank on her fishing line as she attempted to reel in her catch. Sitting on the bank of a stream, Romy was barefoot, allowing her toes to cool in the water. She had been sitting there for nearly three hours and had almost given up.

  “Come on, fish,” she whispered softly to herself as she reeled again, tipping the pole up and leaning back onto her elbow.

  It seemed that the fish she had nabbed wasn’t going to give up easily. Looking at the way her pole was bending, Romy wondered who would win their battle. The last thing she wanted to do was fix another pole. Papa hated when she used magic, even for little things.

  With determination, Romy continued to reel in her catch. Just when she could see the slippery scales underneath the fast current, Romy heard the sound of someone crying.

  It surprised her so much that she dropped the pole.

  “No!” Romy screamed as the fish took off down the stream, her pole bobbing along behind it.

  The crying sound abruptly stopped, but it no longer mattered. Romy was now without a fish and a pole. Crankily, she got her stockings and shoved her wet feet inside of them, not even bothering to dry off.

  If this was one of the city dweller’s tricks, Romy would be giving them a piece of her mind. It was bad enough to bother her in town, but to come into the woods? That was going way too far.

  Once her boots were on, Romy went in search of the interloper, her uneven gait hardly slowing her down as she searched.

  “Where are you?” she called out angrily.

  “Shh,” came the reply. It wasn’t far from where Romy was standing.

  Tipping her head to the side, Romy saw that something—no someone—was inside of the rotten log near the stream. Getting down on her haunches, Romy gazed straight into the eyes of a blonde-haired, green-eyed girl about her age.

  “Who are you?” Romy demanded.

  The girl shrank back into her hiding place. “You must be quiet! He will hear you!”

  Romy frowned. “Who? I am the only one here.”

  “No,” the girl insisted. “My father was chasing me. He was angry. You must be careful!”

  Romy wondered if the girl was telling the truth or if she was part of an elaborate ruse to humiliate her. The latter seemed the most likely.

  “Look, whoever you are, you can’t stay here. This is my father’s farm. Go find somewhere else to play your games.”

  Just as Romy finished demanding the girl leave, she heard a far-off cry.

  “Frieda! When I get my hands on you!”

  Romy looked at the girl whose face had gone from white to ashen. “I take it you are Frieda?”

  The girl nodded. “Please, you need to leave before he gets here. My father, he’s not a nice man.”

  Romy could hear the man coming closer to where Frieda was hiding. Deciding that the girl couldn’t be that good of an actress, Romy climbed into the hiding place next to her.

  “What are you doing?” Frieda cried impatiently.

  Romy rolled her eyes. “Look, my left leg is longer than my right. I could never hope to outrun your father if he’s the monster you make him out to be. I don’t want to meet him on the path.”

  Frieda nodded. “Of course, I’m sorry.”

  Romy rarely heard anyone agree with her, let alone apologize to her. “Where are you from?”

  The crunch of boots alerted the girls that he was near. Silence descended as the man shouted angrily for his daughter. “You will be sorry, Frieda! You might as well stay away, because when I get my hands on you, you won’t be sitting for a week! Do you hear me?”

  Giant tears filled Frieda’s eyes and one by one they slipped over onto her cheeks. Romy stared in wonder at it. When she cried, her face turned blotchy and her nose turned into a red beacon.

  When Frieda cried, it seemed as if she were looking through luminous pools of green. Nobody should be that pretty, Romy decided.

  At long last, the man began to retreat from where the girls were hiding. Neither one said a word until it was clear that he had left the area. Romy was the first to move, slipping out of her hiding spot and checking that they were indeed safe.

  “He’s gone.” Romy leaned down and motioned Frieda to come out.

  Frieda gasped when she saw the stains on her pink gown.

  Romy, who was wearing a gunny sack dress she had sown herself, looked down to see similar mud stains staining her clothes. The difference was that Romy could magic them away in the privacy of her loft. It was obvious that whoever Frieda was, she wasn’t magic.

  “What is your story?” Romy asked coldly.

  Frieda rubbed her arms. “Are you always like this?”

  Romy raised a brow. “I have looked like this my entire life.”

  “I was not referring to your looks, which are perfectly acceptable,” Frieda snapped. “I was talking about your prickly personality.”

  Romy, for once in her life, was taken aback. Nobody had ever called her prickly. Nobody really called her anything. She stopped going near the village a long time ago. Maybe she was prickly? “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

  Frieda shook her head, saying, “It doesn’t matter. I need to find a place to sleep tonight. Thank you for hiding with me.”

  “Wait.” Romy reached out and caught her wrist before Frieda could leave. “What do you mean?”

  Frieda looked away, not meeting her eyes. “Isn’t it obvious? I can’t go home until my father has slept off his drink. Don’t worry about me. This is nothing I haven’t done a hundred times before.”

  “You can’t just sleep in these woods. You aren’t forest folk.”

  Frieda stepped back, breaking their contact. “Oh, is that how it is? I can’t stay here because I am just a city dweller?”

  “No! Yes—I mean, listen. There are things out there, animals that will sense you are not part of the forest. They will attack first; it’s what they do. Where are you from? How do you not know this?”

  Frieda’s bravado seemed to fade from her like a balloon losing air. “We are from the capital. There, I could usually find a place to hide away. I’ve never met anyone from the forest folk before. Will the animals really come for me?”

  Romy nodded. She didn’t add that she could place a protection spell on the girl. The last thing she wanted to do was share her magical abilities.

  “Romy! Romy!”

  They both turned to see Papa coming up the path.

  ‘There you are. I was wondering if you caught any...oh!”

  Frieda moved to cower, but Romy stopped her with a look.

  “Papa, this is Frieda. She’s from the capital.”

  Papa clearly wasn’t thrilled with the knowledge that they had a city dweller in their woods.

  “Her father was drunk and threatened to hurt her,” Romy said in that forthright way of hers.

  Papa’s face softened. “I see.”

  “She wanted to stay in the woods tonight,” Romy added.

  Papa shook his head, saying, “No, it’s too dangerous.”

  Frieda looked
like she was about to cry again.

  Papa let out a resigned sigh. “I suppose she can stay in the loft with you, Romy. But one night only. We can’t get involved in city dwellers’ business.”

  “Even when they are wrong?” Romy challenged.

  Papa stared at his daughter. A look came over him—pride?

  “Come on,” he said, “Let’s get some super. We don’t want to miss the stars.”

  As they started back along the path, Frieda whispered to Romy, “Thank you.”

  Romy, not knowing quite how to respond, merely nodded. The fishing pole and fish were long forgotten.

  Chapter 4

  THE POUNDING ON THE door roused Romy from her dreams. Blearily, she opened her eyes and looked out the small attic window. Hints of the sun were starting to show in burnt oranges and deep pinks.

  Knock.

  Knock.

  Knock.

  “Romy? Are you home?” The urgency in Frieda’s voice had Romy’s eyes popping open. Not pausing to dress, Romy scrambled down the stairs and wrenched the door open.

  Frieda was standing there, shivering from the cold, tears running down her face.

  “Come in,” Romy grabbed Frieda’s arm and yanked her inside.

  “Is everything alright?” Papa called out from his bedroom.

  “Yes, Papa,” Romy called out.

  Frieda was still shaking. Romy wasn’t certain if it was from the cold or from shock. It was clear that something was dreadfully wrong.

  “What did he do?”

  In the weeks since they had become friends, Frieda’s father had gotten progressively more dangerous to be around. Romy couldn’t even fathom what he had done, but she knew things had to stop.

  “Frieda, listen to me. You need to tell me if you are okay.”

  Frieda nodded jerkily.

  Romy let out a sigh of relief that she hadn’t even known she was hiding.

  “I got away,” Frieda managed to say. “But he’s coming for me. I think he knows where you live. He’s been asking around town.”

  Romy bit her lip. Indecision roiled around inside of her as she contemplated breaking Papa’s only rule. Nobody was ever to know that Romy had magic. But if she could help her friend—save her life—wouldn’t that be worth it?

  “There is a plant called devil’s breath.”

  “A plant. How would that work?” Frieda sniffed.

  “We would have to grow it. I can show you how much you need to put in,” Romy whispered. “But you can’t tell anyone, Frieda. It’s important that you promise me.”

  “We don’t have time to wait and grow a plant, Romy.” Frieda walked back and forth, wringing her hands.

  “Promise me,” Romy insisted.

  “Alright, I promise,” Frieda replied.

  A spark of light illuminated both of the girls' faces when Romy opened her hand. Frieda gasped as a seed appeared from thin air.

  Frieda gasped, “What?”

  “Shush, I need to concentrate.”

  For a moment the light flickered, but then it came back even brighter. A shoot erupted from the seed, and then another. As if trailing up an invisible line, the sprout went from white to green. Leaves appeared as the plant developed, and then an elongated bloom like the horn of a trumpet began to grow.

  The bells were a creamy white color and hung facing down. Frieda reached out to touch the plant.

  “Stop,” Romy cried out. “The spell isn’t completely cast. Once the nightshade plant is stable, I will tell you what to do.”

  “Romy, I don’t understand.” Frieda’s wide eyes shifted from Romy’s face to the plant and back again. “I thought you were part of the forest folk. How are you performing this magic?”

  The knot in Romy’s stomach squeezed impossibly tight. “I am a forest folk. I don’t know how or why I can do this. But you can’t tell anyone, Frieda.”

  “Romy, I promise you. I will not tell anyone. But I don’t see how you growing plants is going to help me.”

  “This plant is also called borrachero. Just one dose causes the person to do whatever you say—like a small child. People have done some really terrible things with this plant. It makes the victim do whatever you want without them remembering anything about it when they awaken. The effects last about twelve hours, and when the person awakes, they feel like they have drunk too much the night before.”

  “What if I get it on me?” Frieda asked, leaning back.

  “I will show you how to get the drug; it’s inside the seeds. It shouldn’t affect you if you only touch it briefly. It’s taken in food or drink—completely odorless and tasteless. But Frieda, if you give them too much they will die.”

  “Die!” This time Frieda did take a step back and then another. “What if I make a mistake?”

  “You won’t,” Romy replied with more confidence than she really felt.

  The girls worked on deriving the seeds from the bloom and then cutting them open and getting the white powder.

  “This plant is magical, Frieda, I have made it strong enough that if you blow it in his face, he will do whatever you tell him to. I want you to tell him that he doesn’t want to drink anymore. Tell him that he is the same kind father from when you were small and tell him that he would never hurt you. The last thing I want you to tell him is that he needs to get some rest so that he can better take care of you. We don’t want anyone else getting to him and making him do something terrible. Promise me you will be careful.”

  Frieda nodded. “I promise.”

  The girls went out of the cottage and down the trail leading toward town. They weren’t even halfway there before they heard him stumbling into the brush, screaming Frieda’s name.

  “Are you ready?” Romy asked.

  Frieda turned to Romy. Her eyes filled with fear. “I can’t do this.”

  “Then we need to hide,” Romy replied, looking around for a place to slip into.

  “There you are!” Her father broke through the brush and snatched Frieda’s arm cruelly.

  From the way she winced, Romy knew there were bruises that hadn’t quite healed.

  His words dripped off his tongue like venom. Romy wanted to step in; she hated this man more than anyone else in the world.

  Before he could say or do anything else, Frieda blew the white dust into her father’s face. Immediately his angry expression softened. His tight grasp loosened and eventually his arms hung at his sides.

  The three of them stood in an awkward silence.

  “Frieda,” Romy prodded.

  “Right, um, you are not going to hurt me anymore.”

  He nodded, and so it went. On and on Frieda repeated everything that Romy said. When her father turned and walked back down the path, Frieda turned to Romy and enveloped her in a tight embrace.

  “You are my best friend, Romy. I promise that I will never reveal your secret.”

  Romy hugged her tighter. “You are my best friend. Frieda, I promise to always be your friend. I want you to remember. You can’t use this magic on anyone else. The wrong person could do terrible things with it. Also, please remember that magic can’t be used on someone who has magic.”

  When they broke apart, Frieda bravely held out her hand for her father to take so that she could lead him home. Without question, the man slipped his hand into Frieda’s. As she walked away, Frieda called back to Romy, “I’ll never forget this Romy—never.”

  Romy only hoped that she hadn’t made the wrong decision.

  Chapter 5

  “THIS IS WHERE YOU HAVE been running off to?”

  Frieda and Romy looked over to see Leon, from the village, had followed them into the woods.

  The look of disgust on his face spoke volumes. “You know that she is retarded?”

  “That is a foul word, Leon,” Frieda replied, eyes flashing. “I hadn’t taken you for a bully.”

  Romy choked on plain air.

  Leon snorted. “See?”

  Romy raised her chin. Clearing her throat,
she said, “I don’t see how it’s any of your business what Frieda does.”

  Leon’s jaw tightened.

  It was obvious to Romy that the boy had a crush on Frieda. What he hadn’t known was that Frieda had become Romy’s champion. Romy could see the indecision on Leon’s face. It was more than obvious that Leon wanted to spout something nasty toward Romy.

  But his desire to impress the lovely Frieda won the day.

  “I didn’t mean any harm by it.”

  Romy nearly choked again.

  Frieda eyed him warily. While Romy hadn’t named any of the children in town specifically as her tormentors, it was plain to see that Leon had been one to call her names.

  “Romy is my friend, Leon.”

  Leon looked from Frieda to Romy and then back again before saying, “Maybe she could be my friend too.”

  Romy’s jaw dropped to somewhere around her knees.

  Frieda laughed at her expression. “Well, Romy, what do you say?”

  Romy knew that Frieda had a kind heart; after all, she had befriended her. The last thing Romy wanted was to be friends with the likes of Leon. But if she said no, would Frieda wash her hands of her?

  “I suppose we could give it a try,” Romy said slowly.

  Leon beamed. “Fantastic. Frieda, I just got some new coloring pencils. Would you like to see them?”

  Frieda’s face brightened. “Oh! I love to draw! Can we Romy?”

  Romy’s stomach twisted with anxiety.

  Leon turned to look at Romy with eyes that were pleading. She could have almost believed him if she hadn’t had seen the traitorous smirk threatening to emerge.

  His words mimicked Frieda’s. “Yeah Romy, can we?”

  Romy nodded her assent, the weight of her decision causing her shoulders to slump.

  “Come along!” Leon yelled as he started to run toward the village, laughter trailing behind him.

  Frieda was close on his heels, her lighter giggles wearing for the first time on Romy’s soul. She followed them at a slower pace, forcing her feet to take the steps one in front of the other, every inch closer to where she had been ridiculed and humiliated.