Chapter 11 | Della | Ghost

The two-storied abandoned house in the centre of the ruins has exterior white paint that has started to come off, leaving cracks all over the walls. Della walks through the yard full of overgrown grass and trees to reach three small concrete steps before the front wooden door. She steps over them without much trouble and knocks on the door with her left hand then looks down at it. Clench and unclench. Feels almost normal now.

As she waits for the door to open, she looks back at Fodor carrying two spears whose tips have patches of dried blood despite being washed in the river. He is looking up at the flat terrace of the house and Della follows his gaze to see Cinzia leaning against the rusted handrail, her neck length black hair waving to her right. She smiles at them, and Della sighs. Why is she up there again?

There’s a click as Alex opens the door, and Della enters the house. “Welcome back, Your Holiness...” Alex says, bowing. She looks at him, narrowing her eyes. Does he still believe in the angel thing? Even Cinzia has figured it out.

The floor has brown tiles on it, and there are two dangerous spots where they have come off. A yellow old dress that they found in one of the closets is kept on one of the spots to bring attention to it and she hops over it, saying, “Alex, you have to be tougher on Cinzia. I see that she’s on the terrace again.”

He scratches his head. “Yes, Your Holiness...but she is really stubborn and I have to look after Arjun as well. I just managed to get him to take a nap."

“Okay...it doesn't matter now anyway. We finished attacking all the visible districts so we’re going back to the 5th today evening. Get all the bags packed.”

The way to the second story of the house is a spiral staircase and Della no longer needs to hold the thick wooden handrail. It really is like Markus—the doctor from the 5th—said. Her leg and arm are almost healed now.

On the second floor, she takes a peek at open-mouthed Arjun sleeping on the bed. It’s the same room she had slept in when she had found the deserted house, but this time she has company. Alex and Fodor sleep downstairs on the couches, leaving the rest of them the two beds upstairs.

Drool from Arjun’s mouth leaks down onto a green mattress, the one that Della felt was the least foul to her nose. She returns to the spiral staircase and goes up to the terrace, opening its door. Cinzia turns around to look at her, leaning against the railing. “Back early today?”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Della says, looking at the rusted railing that Cinzia leans against. “It’s dangerous...but anyway, it’s time for us to go back.”

Cinzia shuffles her feet. “I want to stay here.”

“We can’t stay here forever. We’re out of food, and they will start hunting us as soon as they leave the 5th.” She bites her lip. There’s no way they will conveniently forget her attacking eight districts.

“We could eat fruits and hunt, right? I know humans used to hunt before. I—I can help. Please?”

Cinzia leans back further.

“Hey! Stop doing that! You will fall.”

Cinzia sighs, parting with the railing. She stands up straight, looking down. “Can we please stay here? Please, please? It’s so much better.”

Della shakes her head. “I need you to trust me, Cinzia. I will not let them lock you up, even if we return.”

“Okay…” She pauses. “But can we please come back later? My friend would love to be here.”

“Your friend?”

She smiles, looking at the forest surrounding them. “Coraline. Do you know her? I was told that she's was moved away…but we can come to this place one day, can't we?”

Della gulps. She almost forgot that Cinzia was one of the three ghosts, although in hindsight, she should have expected it knowing that Cinzia and Arjun know each other well. “No, I don’t know her,” she says and turns to go. “Be prepared to leave in a couple of hours.”

Closing the door to the terrace behind her, she leans against it and presses her against her mouth until her jaw starts to ache.

A puddle of blood forms on the brown tiles with Coraline lying on top of it. "You chose to kill me. I was a noble sacrifice for you!" she says, grinning.

“I don’t know you,” Della says, removing the hand from her mouth. She can smell the bile in her mouth. “We’ve barely talked. Go away.”

“You chose to kill me.”

Gandharva had described humans whose births were not recorded as ghosts. The door makes a rattling sound as Della shakes against it, thinking how well that term fits Coraline in her case.

She closes her eyes and is in the district hall. An eight-year-old Royce stands beside eight-year-old her, and they stare at Alfie reciting marriage vows. Sixteen paintings of prominent planets that the Gorons control adorn each wall of the rectangular hall. A tall marble statue of the Goron Queen is positioned on a stone platform in the centre, all three of her eyes gazing down at them. She has four arms, but no legs. A snake with four arms, only larger. Her eyes used to be shiny and open once, but it’s been a year since Della has scribbled over them with a black marker. No one has noticed yet.

A five-year-old Ethan sits in the back row of beige plastic chairs with their parents, but there’s a vacant seat between him and their mother, who turns around to glare at Della. She points at the empty seat.

“Your Mom’s calling you,” Royce says. “Should we go?”

Della shakes her head and puts her tongue out, taunting her mother. “Hmph. I’m not sitting at this boring place anymore. Do you want to race to my building?” Why are weddings this long, anyway?

“Our clothes might get dirty,” Royce says, looking down at the formal shirt and black pants that he’s wearing. It’s the first time she’s seen a child in a shirt, and also the first time she’s seen him not wearing a t-shirt.

Alfie stops speaking, and the bride and the groom exchange their requested sparkly rings from the Kix.

Royce whispers, "That is so cool."

Della nods and grabs Royce’s hand. She looks down at his hand, wondering which finger is the correct one. She puts an imaginary ring around his middle finger since it’s the longest.

He puts a hand in the pocket of his pant and removes another imaginary ring, holding it carefully between his thumb and index finger. She grins and puts it on her ring finger, saying “My Mom will understand if my clothes get dirty. Race?”

She looks at her mother baring her teeth at her. She can’t hear what her mother is saying, but it’s obvious to her that she’s calling her to her seat. “Okay,” Della says, mentally preparing herself for the hour long lecture that she will have to hear when she returns home. “Get...set...go!”

When she opens her eyes, the dull brown tiled floor stares back at her. She stands up straight, walking downstairs through the spiral staircase. ...what was she doing? Oh, right. She needs to make preparations to return to the 5th.