Free Rise by Danielle Racey Page B

short, with beady, weary eyes, and he was sporting an odd looking uniform. It looked slightly ridiculous, and for a moment, Victoria was reminded of a cartoon character from a book she’d had as a child. “50 cents toll, as per usual. Red box is for change, green box is for coins.” The man spoke, and Victoria was jolted from her thoughts. She turned to the left, in the direction he was staring. Indeed, there were two unassuming metal boxes, one red and one green. Victoria turned back to the man. “I don’t have money for the toll.” Her voice sounded strange, compared to the man’s, she noticed. His accent was thick and brusque, and fit that of the teenagers who’d been yelling at her. Her own accent, she realized, was lilting, and melodic. Briefly, she wondered why the two accents differed so much, for as she was concerned, the convent wasn’t on a different continent, it was just an hour away. Her thoughts were cut short, as the gate in front of her suddenly swung open. Her eyes flew up to the man, as she prepared to explain that she hadn’t paid the toll, so she didn’t know why the gate opened anyways. Victoria stepped back, assuming she wasn’t allowed to pass through, and found herself colliding with a hard body. She whirled around, and found herself face to face with Roman.
    Victoria felt her breath catch in her throat, and as her eyes traveled the length of his body, her breathing grew shallower. He looked just as he had the last time she saw him, and his sudden appearance, as usual, did nothing for her nerves. She stepped back, compelled by the sudden remembrance of the fact that just a short time ago, he had once again, tried to kill her. “Victoria, it is so nice to see you again." Roman looked down at her, and Victoria searched his face for any trace of insincerity. Much to her disappointment, and slight surprise, she could find none.
    He was still staring at her, mouth slightly open, poised to ask her a question. The little voice in her mind, the one she had not heard in a while, piped up, with its sly, implicating voice; “Where have you been all my life, Roman?” Victoria ignored the voice still greatly anticipating whatever it was Roman planned to say to her. “Victoria, you’ve got to move. The line will be all the way outside of the city, in a moment.” Roman’s voice, and subsequently, his lack of a love confession forced Victoria from her daydreaming, and she turned abruptly, and walked quickly through the gate, shaking her head as she did. She wasn’t sure what had gotten into her, but it felt completely foreign. The little voice seemed to have its own ideas, and no matter what she did to shoo it from her mind, it kept coming back, louder and louder each time. Victoria sighed, and groaned inwardly as she replayed in her mind what she must have looked like standing open-mouthed, before Roman. Desperate, needy, two words she never, in a lifetime wanted to be able to describe herself with.
    It was all Roman’s fault, really. Perhaps if he’d stop trying to kill her, she wouldn’t be so on edge, and her nerves wouldn’t be so susceptible to…other feelings. While Victoria debated furiously with herself, Roman approached from behind, surprising her with his closeness for the second time that day. This time, however, she was ready. She worked her face into a mask of pure impassivity, a face that any poker player would envy. “Roman. You have my thanks for paying the toll, back there. I admit, I wasn’t expecting that.” To Victoria’s satisfaction, her voice came as cool and collected as she had hoped. She even felt confident enough to smirk. Just a tiny smirk, nothing too facetious, but one she hoped would distract Roman from her awful, love-sick puppy display, just a few minutes earlier.
    He just shrugged, and Victoria felt her confidence leave her as quickly as a deflated balloon. “It’s a new toll. Something about tax money.” Roman began walking the path up to the city,