#Envy - 2

“How long do I keep this up?” Honey lazily glides across the sidewalk.

Elias continues to drag her along, farther from home and from the skating rink, her two places of peace. She thought she could leave once the Cavalier students were out of sight, but the two of them are heading in what seems like an aimless direction.

“I’ve got a few errands to run,” He says with a smile.

Honey feels like she’s looking at a mirror seeing how his grin glitters so flamboyantly.

He promised her Cavalier followers. By the numbers on his own Sinstagram, despite only having one picture of himself and one of food, she’s convinced he’ll keep his word. Now for how long she has to keep her end of the bargain she doesn’t know.

Honey thinks of threatening him, but she’d be getting on Misha’s bad side.

Not like she wasn’t already.

And there’s really no good that comes out of bullying someone with a face like that. Too sweet and too trusting despite having already seen her pummel a few teenagers with a malicious face.

She looks back at Elias.

Honey’s taking the smallest strides she can with her skates, but he trails so far behind her.

His strange walk was more of a limp, one leg seemingly dragging the other and taking a lot more effort than necessary for a single step. It looked uncomfortable, but he doesn’t show any signs of being particularly bothered by it so she doesn’t ask.

“Why does Misha want to end the Midnight Fights?” She asks instead.

If there was a reason why she didn’t ask about Elias’ limp, it would be so that she wouldn’t have to see the expression he makes now, like he’s remembering something bad.

Honey can’t help but pity him.

“That’s,” He lets out a slow breath, “that’s something you should probably ask him yourself.”

Secrets. Again. Honey’s anger flares up again, but it’s dull. With a face as gentle as Elias’, she can’t find the will to argue with him. He doesn’t look like he’s fought a day in his life.

She huffs when he changes the subject.

Elias first stops at an elementary school.

Honey, who’s been too engrossed in thinking of ways to circumvent her current problems, hasn't noticed they’ve made it all the way there. Her skates catch on the uneven pavement and she flails her arms around to catch her balance again.

The school looks just about as run-down as Godforsaken High, though with a touch more hope and innocence. The gates were painted a weathered red and there were chalk drawings along the cracked asphalt of the front courtyard.

A couple of kids kick around a ball or sit in circles on the floor around someone’s new toy or a favored snack. Even the teachers, in their frayed sweaters and thrift shop slacks, make sure to give each child a warm smile.

One particular kid, with vaguely familiar straight black hair and a variety of polka-dot scrunchies around their wrist, spots Elias and waves.

The gesture is the same. The look is the same. The out of place accessories are the same.

“This is Misha’s sibling,” Elias introduces and Honey still isn’t quite sure why she’s here.

The little boy looks at her with big eyes, much larger than Misha’s, blinking like they’re analyzing her before she even gets a word out. Honey, ever mature, glares back.

He tugs at his black shorts, which seem a bit too small for him and then points a finger at Honey’s hair.

“Is that a SPROUTS limited edition hair clip?” He asks.

Kids have a way of putting someone on the spot without meaning too, but for some reason it makes Honey itch. She doesn’t expect to be pressured by a kid.

“...It is,” Honey says carefully.

His face lights up in a flash of an exuberant smile and a missing canine.

“I like that brand! My name is Gray, I’m nine!”

And Gray takes her hand although Honey didn’t offer it.

“Honey Bun,” She withholds the Sinstagram mention this time. There’s an unfamiliar desire to give her clip to him and his smiling face. She withholds that too.

“I also like the PrettyGirl collection and the Sweet Tea bracelet charms from Gardenia and..”

Honey listens to him rattle off more accessory brands than she even knows of as the three of them take off in another direction. Mindlessly, she follows. Every so often he’ll ask for her opinion and she’ll be caught off guard.

She hates to admit it, but she’s impressed. Reluctantly, she also must admit it’s not entirely terrible talking with the little kid and even learns a few things herself.

Where to buy good hair clips for cheap, to pre-order popular ones online instead of waiting at the store, and which ones match with which.

Gray talks so much Honey’s inclined to listen.

She forgets that they are not in fact heading towards her home and she really has no purpose being here other than a certain redhead who roped her into errands.

It’s only after Gray’s fourth tip to organizing your hair clip collection does Honey realize where they’re heading.

She should’ve gone home.

The three of them come upon a long strip of stores, restaurants, and entertainment, all neatly organized by a tiled road made for pedestrian traffic. Five different school districts converge on this one street making it excessively crowded and teeming with high schoolers.

The rows of businesses all lead in a straight line to the old run-down warehouse just at the end. Standing like a monument amongst the modern urban setting. Its tiny windows looking almost like eyes watching the bustling crowd below.

Royale Street.

Honey’s stomach does flips, she’d been here many times with her so-called friends, enjoying shopping and coffee breaks, sharing fake smiles, and pretending to like each other. Honey can’t remember a single face she used to know.

It makes her uncharacteristically nervous.

However, she does swell at the attention their little trio attracts. One goddess of a girl, a princely boy, and a kid with an overabundance of accessories, would surely turn some heads.

She abuses the looks of admiration by striking the hearts of strangers with timid smiles. It does little to distract her from the tug in her gut.

She wants this. Doesn’t she? Reveling in everyone’s adoration like some sort of idol, a kingdom of followers and fans, people willing to bend to her every whim just to get her number. The power she had her first year.

The belief that she was better than everyone else because of these few things.

It’s eating her alive.

She fixes her bangs and forces her shoulders to stand a little taller. Yes, this is what she wants.

It has to be.

Gray abruptly yanks on her sleeve and she stumbles back, narrowly avoiding a blur of movement that proceeds to crash onto the floor.

It’s two teenagers, fighting like their lives depended on it.

Their limbs are so entangled that she can’t tell where one boy ends and another starts. Fists are flying, blood splatters on the gum-stained pavement, and hoots of encouragement rise from the growing crowd.

Honey instinctively moves in front of Gray.

She surprises herself. She’d never tried to protect anyone like this before. It could just be her subconscious mind telling her to look good for the people watching.

Although no one has their eyes on her anymore.

The two brawlers don’t care about their surroundings, toppling public trash cans, knocking over outdoor tables, slamming each other into the walls of a small boutique shop, and even getting other innocent bystanders caught up in their brutal attacks.

A random girl is thrown carelessly to the side, an uninvolved boy is elbowed right in the face.

And people do nothing but cheer and watch.

With a final violent stomp, one of them, face swollen and bloody, claims victory. He doesn’t acknowledge how many people are injured from one fight. Or the mess of the street. Or even the other boy possibly dying right at his feet.

His blood stains Royale Street a vivid color.

The victor just welcomes the wishes of congratulations.

“They’re part of the rankings,” Elias explains out of nowhere. “You beat someone with a higher ranking and you take their place. It’s like some sick game to them.”

So he does know about the Midnight Fights, Honey frowns. She should have negotiated information rather than clout.

Not that she’s regretted the extra social media boost.

Then the champion takes a phone out of the unconscious student’s pocket and taps his own phone against it. A chess pawn appears on his screen.

Just like the vulture kid from earlier.

“So it’s that simple? Beating up people for the sake of a number ranking?” She asks Elias.

He says nothing, but it’s more than enough confirmation.

Gray, hand still on her sleeve, drags her away from the brutal display of violence and because she’s on her skates, Honey glides along with him. Gray’s wearing a face that doesn’t suit a nine year old.

“They’re bad people,” Gray says with a tinge of disgust. Like an adult’s cynical bitterness.

Elias shifts his weight from foot to foot like watching this brawl has made him abruptly aware of his limp. He too walks away from the scene, not even taking a look back as the crowd erupts in a second wave of cheers.

Honey wants to know more. She wants to pry, but both of them have gone quiet.

Gray pulls her along like a dog on a leash as Honey tries to catch a glimpse over the dispersing audience to get one last look at the victorious winner. Arms raised like he’s won the lottery.

A group of fans reached to get his attention.

Envy. The second time that afternoon.

Elias and Gray bring her to a cafe situated far from the center of Royale Street.

It’s down an adjacent alley with a couple other small businesses around it. The walkway is laden with pink tiles, turning brown with age, and at every interval there are potted flowers leaning into the last patches of sunlight.

It’s quieter, but there are still students from various schools roaming through the alley. A group of girls giggle as they pass Elias, probably using it as a shortcut to get to Royale Street.

The cafe front is made of red brick, outlining a large window with decorative curly font that reads, ‘Reverie Tea’. Some of the letters’ paint chips off and there are a few scratches in the window that hint the damage wasn’t by natural causes.

It’s cute. Chique even, just in need of some repairs, starting with the gutter attached to the eaves that dips on one end, almost detached.

Great.

So why is she still here?

“Nice to meet you Honey,” Gray abruptly lets go of her sleeve and takes off towards the establishment. She feels some sort of loss, but brushes it off.

“Can I leave now?”

Elias smiles almost mischievously, but his face is too sweet to look like he means any harm.

“Just look,” Elias motions for her to come by the window.

Fine, she’ll play along.

She peers in. The interior of the cafe was in about the same condition as the outside, tables and chairs looking too well used and a floor that was in need of refurbishing.

Despite the appearance, the desserts displayed in the window were in complete contrast. Cakes frosted so smooth, there wasn’t a wrinkle on them, cookies with colorful patterns hand-painted on, a full tray of tarts with fresh berries and cream, even pink macaroons with white filling.

Every dessert is beautifully and perfectly handcrafted by someone who obviously poured their heart and soul into it.

Then Honey sees why Elias brought her here.

Misha stands behind the counter, piping frosted flowers onto a small cake, turning around every so often to respond to Gray’s animated chatter.

She watches Elias, waiting for him to explain or talk or even just let her go home, but his eyes are fixed on the cafe window like it’s a cinema screen.

The soft indoor lighting emanating from inside makes his freckles glow.

Finally, he speaks.

And Honey, although spending a whole afternoon waiting for an explanation, isn’t ready for the one he gives.

“I was the Midnight King two years ago.”