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ler-lair · 3 months ago

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You Can Lie.

Ryan leans away from his crayon-crafted plan. He swats his locks of golden hair away from his determined face. He looks off to the wall beside him, the large and detailed blueprint of the DuPont Manoir towering above his small stature. He grabs his favorite Dandelion Crayola and starts to sketch a pathway that leads from the window of this room, Salle de Musique, to La Bibliothèque Rouge, and draws in the compass on the front of the library. He adds another pathway to the secret servant hallways throughout the house, drawing in all the turns needed to get to the North exit right beside the gardens. Or as Maman calls them, Jardin d'Amour. Ryan always thought it was a dumb name because it's just red roses and not even carnations or dandelions in the garden. Carnations… Jake once said that he liked carnations. Ryan draws a circle on the flower boxes on the windows. The specific boxes that are filled with carnations. He then drew a path winding down along the side of the meadow then a straight line to the stables with a large smiley face beside the name Jake.

Ryan puts his Dandelion Crayola behind his ear and runs to the other side of the room to the grand piano he was supposed to be practicing on. He gets his cassette player from the nearby T.V. and puts in a recording of what he practiced earlier that day. He adjusts the speakers on it to the loudest volume and gets a large blanket and a couple of pillows to make a dummy to stand in for him. Ryan stands back, his hands on the clasps of his suspenders, and smiles to himself. He even gives himself a small pat on the back. He takes a hair tie from his wrist and ties up his long golden hair and opens the door out to the hallway.

He puffs his cheeks, taking in air and keeping it in his mouth to not make a sound. He peeks his head out of the large and ornate white door and surveys the area for anything. No servant, no security guards, no Maman to ask him why he wasn’t practicing, and he’s all clear to go. He sneaks around the door and when he closes the door a loud click accompanies it. Sweat covers his forehead as his large eyes dart around the room. Still on his tiptoes and no one around, he tries to run to the library at the end of the hall. His goal was the two towering doors of dark wood and golden carvings of books and scrolls and globes and old bearded men that Ryan doesn’t know. He grabs the golden doorknobs and runs in. He shuts the door and it felt like he was announcing to the entire manor where he was. He lets out the mouthful of air he kept in his mouth and turns around.

Large, looming bookshelves surround him in the circular room. A giant stained glass of a heart lined with silver showered the room in yellows, reds, and pinks, thanks to the midday sun. On an ancient table were books and coffee stains and a small golden compass with a chain. Ryan jumps onto a nearby chair and hesitates. He stares at the golden compass and the lights that bounce off its reflective surface as his small hand hovers above it. He grabs the compass. Opening it up, a red arrow pointed at him. He hops off the chair and turns around, watching the little red arrow stay still. He turns and turns until the little red arrow points at the large letter N in the compass. Ryan looks up and decides to move onto the next step of the plan: navigate the servant pathways without getting caught.

He turns around and pushes the chair into the table. His eyes stay focused on the little red arrow turning around and didn’t even notice the world around him. Didn’t see anything else but the little red arrow until the collision.

“Jeune Maître Ryan!” Exclaimed the elderly woman in charge of the library. Her gray hair hides away in a bun, her droopy eyes brighten into a smile and her lips climb up in a kind and toothless grin. “Pourquoi es-tu seul ici?” She asks, looking around for an adult who should be working as Ryan’s supervisor. “Je peux vous aider à trouver quelque chose?” She continues, kneeling down to match Ryan’s eye level despite her groans of joint pain.

“No, ma’am. I don’t need a book.” Ryan answers honestly.

“Alors pourquoi êtes-vous ici dans la bibliothèque?”

“I’m here because…because…” Ryan is hesitating. He looks down at the compass in his hands. The little red arrow is steadily pointing to the left, his eyes follow its point and see a shelf full of music sheets. Should he lie? He looks up at the kindly old librarian and the library door behind her. He looks down at the compass in his small hands. Can he lie?

“I needed new music to read for practice.” Ryan lies to the kindly librarian.

“Oh! Je vois, jeune maître! L'étagère juste là a une musique amusante.” She points to the shelf full of music sheets. “Au revoir, Jeune Maître.” She sings as she waves goodbye to Ryan.

Ryan is walking to the music shelf. He’s going faster. He’s jogging to the shelf. He is running. He jumps behind a bookshelf beside the directed music section. A light sweat dampens his face, his ears are hot, and his heart is beating loudly.

“I lied. I stole!” He whispers to himself as he looks down at the compass in his hands. The light from the window doused the compass in red light as the arrow trembles ever so slightly as it points North. He tears his eyes away from the golden compass and up at the towering bookshelf. It was full with music ledgers and piano books that he should be reading and studying and practicing but here he is: lying and stealing.

He remembers the plan. He remembers the map and turns his face to the left and there is a door waiting to greet him. It was slim and just wide enough for a serving platter to fit through. It was hiding with the help of looming bookshelves and old appearance; the dents and a door handle that is more rust than handle make the door ancient in Ryan’s mind. It was also the next step in Ryan’s plan.

“Wow!” Ryan sighs as he opens the door. This was the servant’s pathways that wind around each room, each floor, and every nook and cranny. He looks to the side and at the end of this hall is another door. On the opposite, was a window. The air was heavy with dust and Ryan desperately wants to cough. He covers his mouth and tries to cough quietly but it echoes in the empty room. He starts to walk to the window but he hears something in the distance.

Clack… clack… clack… clack…

Someone is approaching. “Oh no. Oh no. Oh no!” Ryan whispers, his voice not even leaving his throat only air as he shouts with no voice. He put his hands on his head, the cool press of the yellow compass pressing to his temple as he paces the tiny hallway. He considers just coming out clean. Let someone find him and just turn himself in so that when Maman finds out–and she will–he won’t be in too much trouble. But then he thinks of Jake. Surely his best friend will be at blamed for this, he’s sneaking out, skipping his piano practice, and he even stole something just for an hour with Jake! He should turn himself in. He should come out clean and make sure that this is his own decision and not Jake’s.

He’s running to the nearest column, taking long steps with his short legs to press himself into the shadows. He covers the shiny compass, the bright clasps of his suspenders, and held his breath.

Clack…Clack…Clack…

Ryan closes his eyes. The slow steps were like the ticking of a dying clock.

Clack…Clack…Clack…

Ryan can’t hold his breath any longer and the dust is scratching at his eyes.

Clack…Clack… … Clack… clack… clack… CREAK! Creak. Click.

“PHEW!” Ryan slumps against the wall. His compass fell to the floor and so did he. His beating heart was the only sound in the room other than his deep breathing. He looks at the compass, the window at the end of the hall shining on half of the compass in the dark hallway. The light fell on Ryan’s face and he hides himself from the light. He quickly snatches the compass and open it. The little red arrow points to the left, at the window at the end of the hall. He stood up, pats himself down, and he watches the dust dance in the lines of light.

He takes a long and deep breath and walks to the light. The little red arrow points forward and Ryan keeps ahead. He reaches the window and the pathway intersects a hall with candles on one side and windows on the other. He looks at the compass, the reflection of the glass protecting the little red arrow pointing ahead, shows himself. His golden hair hides from his face in a ponytail that rests on his back, his favorite Dandelion crayon rests behind his ear, and chubby cheeks that his Maman loved to pinch. He sees past his reflection and watches at the little red arrow lightly sway, following its point and staring at the window.

THUMP!

“I jumped out a window.” Ryan whispers to no one but himself. He is on the ground, head between his shoulders and his knees and hands dirty from the soil beneath them. In his hand was the compass kissing the dirt and beside it was his Dandelion crayon. Jake gave him a Dandelion crayon when they first met. In Maman’s office, Ryan was on the floor with a colored pencil, Jake’s dad was trying to get hired for the stables, and Jake was swinging his feet in the chair beside his dad. Jake snuck away from the interview and popped up beside Ryan, scaring him. Ryan jumped, Jake said sorry, and Ryan had accidentally broken his colored pencil. Jake reached into his pocket and pulled out his own Dandelion crayon. Jake asked Ryan if he wanted it and Ryan cried.

That was such a long time ago now. Maybe even a full year. Ryan can’t believe so much time has passed since then. He takes his crayon, tucking it behind his ear and stands up.

“...I snuck out of the house.” Ryan takes deep breaths. “A-and I lied to Mrs. Augier.” He dusts soil off his shirt and pants. “Then I stole a compass.” He continues as he turns to the window and takes a red carnelian from the flower box. “I skipped practice.” He recounts as he opens the dim yellow compass and stares at the shaking red arrow. “All so I could see Jake.”

He starts to walk North; straight north. He’s ignoring his earlier plans of going along the side of the house so that he could sneak using the shadows of the greenery surrounding the estate. He’s ignoring the fact that he was out in the open in this meadow that connects the manor and the stables. The grass is starting to become longer and longer. At first it was at his shoes, then his ankles, later on his shins and eventually his knees. He starts to go faster. Ryan is running fast. The compass shut and in the fist of Ryan’s hand as he’s running for the horses. He’s nearing the stables and the shouts of the horses are becoming louder, the stench of the stables growing stronger, and his heart beating faster.

He doesn’t even try the gate he simply climbs the fence that was taller than him. He fell on his back and scares the man working at the gates of the stables. The man felt kind and had brown curly hair. His face carries worry and his movements are slow when he kneels down to Ryan who was still laying on the soil. It was Jake’s dad. “Ça va, Ryan?” He asks, easily picking Ryan up from the ground.

“Yes, Mr. Evans, I’m fine. Is Jake here?” Ryan asks in a hurry, patting down his shirt and pocketing the dirty compass in his pants. He brings the carnelian to his chest as his eyes dart around the stables and the horses and the stalls and–

“Jake? Il vient de partir.”

“He…left?”

“Oui.”

Ryan is falling. His heart is in his shoes and his mind is taking over the space his heart left behind. Ryan doesn’t know why he kept it away in the first place.

“I need to go back.”

“Au revoir, Ryan.”

Walking through the tall grass was much harder now than just five seconds ago. Ryan groans and shakes his head, dust and soil falling away from his dirty blond hair. He drags himself through the comforting tall grass, shoulders in a slump and his shine now dull despite the bright afternoon sun. Few clouds could offer shade and the songbirds didn’t stop singing while the butterflies kept dancing around Ryan. Some would even land on the soft grass and bright flowers surrounding him. He remembers all he’s done today and a heavy weight fills his chest. He wants to ignore the beauty surrounding him. It was horridly happy and all Ryan could think of was that–

“It was all for nothing.” Said another boy’s voice from across the tall grass.

Ryan’s head bolts up, his hair flying back with his sudden movement. Ryan knew who it was before he could even register his friend’s dark brown hair.

“Jake!” Ryan shouts.

“Ryan?”

The bright sun, the fluttering butterflies, the singing birds, the soft grass, and soft breeze. It all makes sense.

#ocs #my English teacher told me to do this #dont look at this #pls don’t look at me

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