“Becky please!” I pleaded.“Thwee,” Becky said.Then, after a brief moment of silence, Becky slid her tiny fingers into the seam where the door met the frame, and pulled. The sound of shrieking metal was horrible, but Becky smiled as she peeled back the van’s sliding door. Bolts popped out and fell to the ground beside Becky’s tiny sneakers as she ripped the door from the frame, and threw it to the ground. The boys inside were shaking with fear, their eyes full of tears, as Becky climbed in and found an empty seat. “We can go now,” she said.But the van wasn’t going anywhere. Steam billowed from its hood, as it sat lopsided in the parking lot, totaled by an eleven year old girl’s temper tantrum.“What are we going to tell the insurance people?” Rosita asked as the kids filed out of the van.“I don’t know,” I said. “We could tell them the truth but they’d never believe us.”Becky smirked as she passed me. “You two have your shirts on backwards,” she said.Rosita and I nervously checked our. In the nineteen years since she had been born, the last three of which had been whilst Castle Arrowthorn lay under siege, Lady Amelia had not once had her hair cut. Each morning it took her and her lady-in-waiting at least an hour to comb, plait and set her hair in place. As the sole heir of her father, Lord Caiden Arrowthorn, it was consider a terrible breach of etiquette for her to be seen about the castle until the sun had risen halfway through the morning sky. Thus each morning Lady Amelia and Jacinta would spend the morning bathing, grooming and dressing in long gowns of silk, velvet and lace until it was time to be escorted to the court of her father.Amelia looked to the sundial that sat upon the nearest windowsill in her stone tower. As a child she had chosen the tallest tower in the castle for her bedchambers, to give her the greatest view of the Arrowthorn mountains and the pass between the great peaks. For it was the sole route through the mountains that the castle had been.
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