DISTRICT ONE // moira ann dempsey [fin]

"Yeah, yeah, I'll get it!'

It amazes me; the laziness of some people. I can hear the phone ringing on the ground floor from my room and yet my two of my sisters and my father refuse to pick it up despite the fact that I know they're down there. I skip down the steps, crossing my legs in a hopscotch way a few times before jumping off the last few stairs. Lifting the phone out of the receiver, I push it toward my face and try to mask my heavy breathing.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Kiera?"

"Nope. You've got the wrong sister. Guess again."

"A guessing game, huh? Games can be... fun."

"Yeah, yeah they can..."

"Do you have red hair?"

"Nope."

"Brown then?"

"Bingo."

"Is your skin pale, your cheekbones well defined, your lips plump, and your eyes slightly sunken in?"

"Yes..."

"Are they also brown?"

"Yeah, they're brown too."

"So you're one of the sisters?"

"Correct again."

"Are you thin, stick-like?"

"Not necessarily how I want to be described, but yes."

"Average height, around five feet six inches?"

"Last time I checked."

"Are you drab and dull looking?"

"Hey, that's not-"

"Are you old?"

"I resent tha-"

"It was nice talking to you Moira. We should play games more often."

"Climbing in the window wasn't your smartest idea, especially when it was broken."

"Probably not. Adventure is adventure though."

"Yeah, keep saying that when you get necrotizing fasciitis and die."

"Your condescension and sarcasm are not necessary."

"Who said I was kidding?"

I enjoy games and adventure. Games are my refuge from the world, past and present. My fixation with them has been present for years. If there's one thing that's always bothered me about my favorite activity though is that there are rules everywhere. I am confined by them. Rules limit me and squish my creativity. Move only to the next color you draw. Don't you dare skip a square unless your card tells you to. Ensure Jolly that she's loved. Always. Don't forget to stroke Queen Frostine's ego a bit. Keep Princess Lolly in your eyesight. She is the youngest after all. Most importantly, be wary of Lord Licorice, even if he is your cousin. Just because he's your cousin does not mean you should necessarily trust him instantaneously.

"Your parents don't even know you're coming over here every week, do they?"

"Nope, and they don't need to."

"Whatever you say, princess."

"Shut your trap, Dempsey."

"Really scary coming from you, Dempsey."

It's hard not to trust him though. He's so frank and honest that I can't dislike him. That's the thing I admire about Lord Licorice, despite his mystery and vexing habits. He has balance. He's honest and refined, but he plays games. Word games, board games, hand games, card games. Think of any game, and he'll play it without reserve. He's my partner in playing. None of my sisters are interested in the games. They've all got bigger and better things to do with their lives. I, however, never had the time to play games much before. It's not very fun to play by yourself. I'm the oldest, the most set apart. Don't get me wrong, I love my family. I just wish I'd been given that chance to be a child. I'd give anything to frolic in the Lollipop Woods. I wish I could climb the Gumdrop Mountain. Most of all, I wish King Kandy wouldn't spoil all of my fun. I understand that he's my father and that he's trying to raise me properly, but I just want the chance to play.

"Aren't you prohibited from coming here? Is this another game for us to play? "

"A game? Oh, I like games..."

"That was possibly the stupidest move you could have ever made in all of the years we've been playing."

"Would you shut up? The game isn't over yet."

"If you keep making moves like that, it will be."

My eyes flit up to Prof. Plum's, narrowing in annoyance at the self-satisfied, smug smirk resting on his lips. It really makes his entire face ugly, to be honest. He's as cool as can be. That's what really bothers me. His facade is seamless, down to the perfectly smudged black eyeliner that rims his cold eyes. There's not even a hint of emotion on his face, not even when he looks up to stare right back at my judging eyes. An eyebrow raises. Without even looking at me, he moves his rook diagonal, lining up perfectly with the hole I'd just created in my previous move.

"Check."

"Ass."

"Flinging words will get you nowhere in life, Moira. You should know that by now. In this game, words don't matter. It's your actions that determine your worth, your usefulness."

Again, those emotionless eyes are boring into me. There's something more just beyond is pallid surface of indifference. There's a cloudy film to his eyes, a covering of wisdom beyond his years. He's a mystery, constantly causing me to question everything I've ever done or plan to do. Today though, something is different. There's a slight shift in the summer air, a mild change in mood. Prof. Plum has always been serious when it comes to our chess matches (especially when I'm having a good day and I'm filled with a rage over something that has happened over the course of the day and there's no stopping me until, y'know, he does) but today there is a calm in him. There's a set tone, a decided action waiting just beyond our match. It frightens me beyond comprehension. Change. I don't like change unless I am the one making and mandating it. I've lived a consistent life up until now, my pacifist parents setting their guidelines and me walking within them, and I'd rather other people not change that settled lifestyle of mine, no matter how unfulfilling it is. I slip my king to the left, out of reach, always evading.

"We play games a lot, don't we, Moira? No one really has an appreciation for games around here anymore, not even Kiera or Cora or Aurora."

"I love games. You of all people should know that..."

"You grew up too fast, even before I met you. You look so much older than twenty. You look like a boring old spinster."

"You really know how to charm the ladies don't you, Kae?"

"I'm serious, Moira. Play your games. Have your fun. Make your own rules."

His voice is gruffer than I've ever heard it, deeper and rumbling with force. He's stoic, holding my gaze evenly as I cock my head slowly to the side. That calm is still there, unsettlingly still and unnervingly silent. He lets his eyes drop to the board for a moment before glancing back up at me. With careful precision, he lifts his right hand and slips his fingers around the top of his king. Resolutely, he tips him over, the crystal clattering against the board and rolling off into the grass of the field we sit in. Never once in our near five years of chess games had he ever done that. Never once in our near five years of chess games had I ever won. I blink silently before looking up at him again, an uneasy pit dropping into my stomach. He smiles almost gently (if any smile of Prof. Plum's can be considered gentle) and stands, brushing off his pants. He begins to walk away wordlessly before stopping just at the edge of the small clearing. Spinning in his spot, he fixes me with a more recognizable expression, a mischievous smirk. He bows mockingly before speaking for the last time.

"Your kingdom awaits, your majesty. Do with it what you will."