1
" I was going to do some more work when I got home, but…” She sighs, rubbing her knuckles against her eyes. “I didn’t have enough juice.”
“Ah,” I say.
For her birthday this summer, I splurged and bought a small bushel of oranges, which we squeezed into glasses and pretended was the real, gourmet orange juice our father used to make. As we sat at the table, acting like the drink wasn’t sour and pulpy, we got to talking about how her illness had come to affect her life. She explained to me that her energy reserves were like that glass of yellow juice. Every action of daily life—getting out of bed, bathing, dressing, doing research—siphoned juice away. Once the glass was empty, no matter how much she had left she needed to do or how much she’d hoped to get done, her body needed to rest. To refill the glass. If she tried to push beyond that, it could knock her out for days. Even weeks. "
― Jessica S. Olson , A Forgery of Roses
2
" Lucy grimaces at me. “I ran into Marie and Beth while we were out.”
“Oh? And how were they?” Marie and Beth had been Lucy’s best friends for years, though it’s been a few months since I last saw them around.
“They were on some kind of outing for Marie’s birthday,” Lucy says, and her eyes glitter. She sniffs. “Apparently they don’t think I’m worth an invitation anymore.”
“What?”
She hugs her arms around her middle, squeezing her eyes shut. “When I asked why they didn’t invite me, Marie said they figured I would say no, so they didn’t bother. As if I’m choosing to be sick. As if the reason I didn’t go to Beth’s spring tea was because I couldn’t be bothered and not because I was afraid I might vomit on her mother’s sofa.” Her voice breaks.
“Oh, Luce.” I wrap my arms around her, and she buries her face against my neck.
“Is it so terrible of me to want an invitation, even if I’m unable to go?”
I shake my head, combing my fingers through her hair. “Of course not.”
“You know what else Beth said? She said, ‘You aren’t as fun anymore, and Marie wanted to have a good time.’” A sob chokes out of her lips, and her shoulders shake. “It’s like they think I’m lazy or something.”
An inferno rages in my chest. I squeeze her tighter, blinking away my own tears. “They’re wrong, Lucy. You are the most fun person I know, and you sure as hell aren’t lazy. I’d like to see Marie or Beth work half as hard as you.”
“But I don’t want to work hard just to live my life. I want to go to the tea parties and the birthday outings and have fun like them.” She mops her eyes with her sleeve.
I press a kiss to her forehead as the blood under my skin boils. The things I wish I could say to those girls. To their mothers. I grit my teeth and tighten my arms around my sister, wishing I could protect her from every hurt, every ache, every unkind word. “I know, Luce.I know. "
― Jessica S. Olson , A Forgery of Roses
7
" You’re right,” he says, his voice quiet but certain. “This anxiety will always be a part of me. It’s not going anywhere, and I’m going to have to live with it for the rest of my life. But I am not broken because of it.”
The governor opens his mouth to speak, but August goes on, his grip on me tight and solid.
“I’ve been apologizing to you for who I am for years, but I’m done believing the lie you’ve fed to me, the lie that says I’m less of a man because I’m not exactly like you. The lie that says I deserve less respect because I struggle.” He lifts his chin. “I’m far stronger than you’ll ever be. Because I’ve fought for every victory. Because those fights have taught me compassion and kindness. They’ve taught me to see the world for what it is, not for what I think it should be. So step aside, Father. I’m done minimizing my greatness so you can feel superior. "
― Jessica S. Olson , A Forgery of Roses
8
" The maze looms ahead, its leafless branches dripping icicles like jagged claws.
After taking my first three lefts, I come upon a tiny circular area with a frozen pond at its heart. One one side sits a bench in the sun. August, who was perched there, stands as soon as he sees me. “You found it.”
“Yes. It was very difficult to follow those extremely complicated directions.”
He frowns. “Wait, are you joking?”
“No, no…there were two whole steps. Way too many to follow unless one happens to be a genius like I am.”
A grin quirks the corner o his mouth. “You are joking.”
“You are observant.”
He points a menacing finger at me. “I’m the one who brought lunch. You be nice, or I won’t share.”
“Are you threatening me, young Master Harris?”
“What if I am?”
“Then I’ll have you know that I learned how to use a longsword last night, so you should be very terrified.”
“It was a broadsword, actually. For a genius, your memory needs work.”
I throw him a mock glare. “For a gentleman, your manners need work.”
He hisses as though burnt and laughs. “Do you want a sandwich or not? "
― Jessica S. Olson , A Forgery of Roses
12
" Take Lucy as an example. Yes, she has an illness, and fools may claim that makes her weak, yet she is the furthest thing from weak I’ve ever known. She deals with everything I do—the grief of losing our parents, the fear of the unknown, even the days of hunger when we can’t afford meals—and then a whole array of things I don’t. Physical pain, eating restrictions, fatigue, not to mention the emotional weight of living in a world that refuses to accommodate her. As far as I’m concerned, I may be the one with magic, but she’s the truly powerful one. Because she’s fought where I have never had to.” I lean forward. “And if anyone ever even insinuated that her illness needed to be cured in order for to amount to anything, well…” My jaw tightened. “Let’s say I would have some very choice words for those people. "
― Jessica S. Olson , A Forgery of Roses
13
" So, uh…” I gesture around the room with my other hand. “Who’s paying for all of this? Because I certainly can’t afford it.”
“My father is, actually.”
“But your father thinks I’m a demon.”
A shy grin steals across August’s face. “It’s true, but I also pointed out that unless he did something substantial to help, you might not be willing to keep quiet about what Will did to your family.”
“You blackmailed him?” My brows rise.
“I did.” He grins, almost bashful.
I squeeze his hand again. “Thank you. I can’t imagine what a difficult conversation that must have been for you.”
“I’ll be completely honest, seeing you like that…You looked dead, Myra. I was so angry, it took all my self-control not to throttle the man.”
I snort. “I would pay good money to see that.”
“Well, I, unlike some people, actually know how to use a broadsword.”
“How hard is it to hack and stab? I mean, honestly. "
― Jessica S. Olson , A Forgery of Roses
15
" Don’t you understand? You are my entire life. Fighting this by your side isn’t holding me back. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”
She hiccups against me as we cry together for several minutes, clinging to each other the way we always have. The two of us like a rock against a storm, a little huddled piece of security in a world set on tearing us down.
Finally, Lucy’s sobs slow, and she sits back, rubbing the heels of her hands across her cheeks. “You know what else I feel?”
“Tell me.”
“Determined. I am still Lucy. I still want the same things I’ve always wanted.” She clenches her fists. “Yes, the path to my dreams may be harder and longer and far more painful than I want it to be. It may take me twice as much time and effort as someone else to attain my goals, but I will get there.”
I brush the hair from her face. “And I will be there with you every step of that road, every doctor’s appointment, every treatment. I will find a job to pay for the things you need, and we will do this together. The highs and the lows. The successes and the failures. You do not have to climb this mountain alone. "
― Jessica S. Olson , A Forgery of Roses
