Free Rapunzel, the One With All the Hair by Wendy Mass Page B

than her share and I was forced to use one of my precious pieces of vellum to clean up the mess when her stomach lost its contents. After that, I was no longer hungry.
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    EVENING
    Besides my ban on eating and sleeping today, I have not allowed myself to gaze out the window, nor to use my soap. As a result, by the time the sun disappears in the west, I am feeling woozy, bored, hot, and smelly. I am no closer to figuring out a plan than I was when I awoke this morn.
    â€œWhy are you not eating?” Steven asks me, jarring me out of my haze. That man can really sneak up on a person! “Was the food not to your liking?” His face is crinkled in concern.
    â€œNo, it’s not the food,” I assure him. “I am simply directing all of my energy to finding a way for us to escape.”
    Steven shakes his head at me. “Do not waste your time,” he says. “What will happen will happen.” With a flick of his wrist he lights a match and holds it to the lamp wick until it catches. He picks up my tray and is about to say good-bye when he sees my bleeding chin. He lifts the lamp from the table and holds it up to get a better look. “What happened to your face? You are all scratched and bleeding. Was it the cat?” His brows furrow as he looks around for Sir Kitty as though she might still have the blood under her nails.
    â€œOf course not,” I tell him. “I merely had an accident with the wall.”
    His face relaxes again and I can see the twitches of a smile on his lips. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
    â€œTruly, no.”
    â€œAll right, then. Let me put some of your ointment on it, and that will curtail the bleeding.” I hand him the tin and he applies a thick layer of ointment to my chin. His touch is surprisingly gentle. For a moment, my eyes water as I remember Mother and Father bandaging a knee or elbow. It feels so long since I was hugged good night or tucked into bed with a kiss on my forehead for sweet dreams. I blink away the tears before they can fall.
    â€œRemember,” Steven says as he replaces the lid of theointment, “what will happen will happen. One must accept one’s fate.” With that, he slithers up the rope and is gone.
    He is correct. What will happen WILL happen. But that does not mean that I cannot MAKE it happen. I do not believe in fate. Father told me we all make our own destinies, and I plan on having one that does NOT include growing old inside this tower.
    Holding on to the walls with my left hand, I continue to circle the room as I think and ponder and question. I discard one plan after another. My best one involves getting Steven to eat some of my food with the sleeping powder in it, then dragging him down the stairs to freedom. But even if I could possibly achieve the first part, that still does not explain how I would get up to the attic in the first place. I could never climb farther than a few feet on that rope, and I certainly could not do it while carrying Steven over my shoulder. All of this thinking gives me a headache and I lean my forehead against the cool wall and close my eyes for a few minutes. When I get out of here, I shall do nothing but gaze at lovely daisies and orchids all day long. I shall eat nothing but almond pies with jelly.
    I may be starting to hallucinate because of the hunger, but after a few more circles around the room, I gradually become aware of a wooden bathtub in the center of the rug,with a white towel folded next to it. I stagger up to it and rap on the side with my knuckles. It truly IS a wooden bathtub! I reach over the top and slowly lower my hand, hoping against hope. YES!! There is warm water in there! Steven must have been heating water for this all day!
    I tilt my head back and call up to the ceiling, “Thank you, Steven!” I don’t get a response, but I don’t expect to. I fish around the trunk and pull out the bag with the soap in it. In one fluid move,