you expecting?” Katrina asks, plopping down on Battle’s bed without a second thought.
My ankle only twinges a little when I sit down in the same spot on the floor as last time. “They said they were leaving, but I wasn’t sure I believed them,” Battle says.
“Your parents?” I ask. She nods.
“What was up with you this morning?” Katrina demands.
Battle shakes her head, and gives me a “don’t say anything” glare.
I wasn’t going to.
“They broke another promise,” she says. “I don’t know why I was even surprised. And then when Mom put my hair up—well, that’s the way she wants me to be, all the time. Perfectly in order, and completely confined.”
“What promise?” Katrina asks.
Battle shakes her head again. “They said it cost too much. I told them weeks ago that I’d pay. I told them how important it was to me. Money was just their excuse. It was really that it was inconvenient for them.”
“What was? Oh, by the way, Mom and Dad took me to this bookstore and, uh, I thought you might like this.” I hand the book to Battle.
“Thank—oh my god. How did you know?”
I gesture toward the dog-picture-covered wall.
“I mean about today—you didn’t know about today?” She flips through the pages, then closes the book.
“Spit it out, Battle. We need some nouns here,” says Katrina.
“The noun is dog. Plural, dogs. My parents promised they would bring Dante and Beatrice, and they didn’t. Instead, they brought that dress.”
The dress, I notice, is on the floor in a heap. It’s the only piece of clothing I have ever seen on her floor.
“And not only that.” Battle gets up and walks over to her dresser. “Mom happened to let it slip that since I’ve been gone, they’ve been boarding them. Dante and Beatrice aren’t even home.”
She puts the book down on the dresser, opens the top drawer and digs around in it. “I’m glad y’all are here, because I might need help with this.”
Something metal flashes in her hand. “Battle?”
A wisp of her hair floats to the floor. Scissors, she’s holding scissors—
“I’m shaving my head.” Another wisp.
“Stop it!” I hear myself say.
“I want to do this, Nic, I’ve thought about it a lot,” says Battle, cutting off a third wisp.
I go over to her, grab her wrist with my left hand, and take away the scissors with my right. “It can’t be all random like that,” I say, realizing that I’m using my stage manager voice. “You need to braid your hair first. Then you cut off the braid.”
Battle rubs her wrist. “That hurt,” she says.
Katrina jumps up from the bed and says, “Rock on, Nic! I wish we had a camcorder so we could capture it all on the magic of videotape! She’s right, Battle—don’t you think she’s right?”
Battle nods, slowly. “Yes—but there’s a problem.” She seems embarrassed. “I can’t braid my hair myself. You’d have to do it, Nic.”
Katrina starts to say, “I can—” and I interrupt, “Fine. Get me a brush and a rubber band.”
Battle hurries over to her dresser again, grabs the brush from on top of it, snaps open a small square tin and extracts a rubber band. She hands them to me like she’s the nurse and I’m the surgeon.
“Sit at your desk chair,” Stage Manager Nic commands. Battle does.
I move to stand behind her. There’s her lavender scent again. Keep it together, Nic.
Her hair is silk. Heavy silk. Silk you could weave into a rope to cling to while you climbed a mountain.
The lavender makes me dizzy. No more stage manager. No more surgeon.
I am a lady-in waiting, and she is the princess. No, the empress. The empress of the world.
“Your Imperial Highness,” Lady-in-Waiting Nic says, “do you truly think that shearing your golden tresses will foil the evil schemes of your deceitful parents, may they reign for a thousand years?”
“Nay, I fear not,” the Empress Battle responds, picking it up immediately. “I wish only for them to see
My ankle only twinges a little when I sit down in the same spot on the floor as last time. “They said they were leaving, but I wasn’t sure I believed them,” Battle says.
“Your parents?” I ask. She nods.
“What was up with you this morning?” Katrina demands.
Battle shakes her head, and gives me a “don’t say anything” glare.
I wasn’t going to.
“They broke another promise,” she says. “I don’t know why I was even surprised. And then when Mom put my hair up—well, that’s the way she wants me to be, all the time. Perfectly in order, and completely confined.”
“What promise?” Katrina asks.
Battle shakes her head again. “They said it cost too much. I told them weeks ago that I’d pay. I told them how important it was to me. Money was just their excuse. It was really that it was inconvenient for them.”
“What was? Oh, by the way, Mom and Dad took me to this bookstore and, uh, I thought you might like this.” I hand the book to Battle.
“Thank—oh my god. How did you know?”
I gesture toward the dog-picture-covered wall.
“I mean about today—you didn’t know about today?” She flips through the pages, then closes the book.
“Spit it out, Battle. We need some nouns here,” says Katrina.
“The noun is dog. Plural, dogs. My parents promised they would bring Dante and Beatrice, and they didn’t. Instead, they brought that dress.”
The dress, I notice, is on the floor in a heap. It’s the only piece of clothing I have ever seen on her floor.
“And not only that.” Battle gets up and walks over to her dresser. “Mom happened to let it slip that since I’ve been gone, they’ve been boarding them. Dante and Beatrice aren’t even home.”
She puts the book down on the dresser, opens the top drawer and digs around in it. “I’m glad y’all are here, because I might need help with this.”
Something metal flashes in her hand. “Battle?”
A wisp of her hair floats to the floor. Scissors, she’s holding scissors—
“I’m shaving my head.” Another wisp.
“Stop it!” I hear myself say.
“I want to do this, Nic, I’ve thought about it a lot,” says Battle, cutting off a third wisp.
I go over to her, grab her wrist with my left hand, and take away the scissors with my right. “It can’t be all random like that,” I say, realizing that I’m using my stage manager voice. “You need to braid your hair first. Then you cut off the braid.”
Battle rubs her wrist. “That hurt,” she says.
Katrina jumps up from the bed and says, “Rock on, Nic! I wish we had a camcorder so we could capture it all on the magic of videotape! She’s right, Battle—don’t you think she’s right?”
Battle nods, slowly. “Yes—but there’s a problem.” She seems embarrassed. “I can’t braid my hair myself. You’d have to do it, Nic.”
Katrina starts to say, “I can—” and I interrupt, “Fine. Get me a brush and a rubber band.”
Battle hurries over to her dresser again, grabs the brush from on top of it, snaps open a small square tin and extracts a rubber band. She hands them to me like she’s the nurse and I’m the surgeon.
“Sit at your desk chair,” Stage Manager Nic commands. Battle does.
I move to stand behind her. There’s her lavender scent again. Keep it together, Nic.
Her hair is silk. Heavy silk. Silk you could weave into a rope to cling to while you climbed a mountain.
The lavender makes me dizzy. No more stage manager. No more surgeon.
I am a lady-in waiting, and she is the princess. No, the empress. The empress of the world.
“Your Imperial Highness,” Lady-in-Waiting Nic says, “do you truly think that shearing your golden tresses will foil the evil schemes of your deceitful parents, may they reign for a thousand years?”
“Nay, I fear not,” the Empress Battle responds, picking it up immediately. “I wish only for them to see
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