"M-M-Monica can't s-s-scrub the f-f-floors," states Miguel.
"What are you talking about?" questions Betsey with fury.
"H-h-her routine can't ch-ch-change."
"You'd better tell me what you're talking about," threatens Betsey.
"O-o-orders of M-M-Master Barstowe."
Betsey's face wants to ignite. "Master Barstowe said that Monica can't properly clean the house?"
"Sh-sh-she must follow her u-u-usual r-r-routine."
I don't believe it! You're lying!" she snaps, her voice shaking as if it wants to cry with fury.
"W-w-we can s-s-settle it with an E-E-Elder if you w-w-want. Th-th-they can call M-M-Master Barstowe and v-v-verify."
"No! Let's not bother the Elders with petty things," she says quickly. I finally allow myself to release a deep breath. "Okay, Monica, you'll do your work like you always do," she states sweetly. "No problem."
She's got something up her sleeve.
"Monica, why don't you get in the house and start your chores?" she continues. "Miguelito, you can leave now."
So that's what she's planning. As soon as Miguel is out of sight, she'll have me scrubbing the floors or threatening to tell the Elders that I refuse to do my chores.
"I-I-I'm staying," Miguel announces.
"What?!"
"M-M-Master Barstowe told me t-t-to stay w-w-with her."
Betsey's face turns the bright red of an explosion. "You're going to be here with Monica every day?"
"Un-un-until M-M-Master Barstowe r-r-returns."
"But I don't want you here!" she cries loudly, her voice in a whine.
He shrugs as if what she thinks is not important. "Co-co-come on, M-M-Monica," he says as he walks past Betsey, who is seething so much that tears are rolling down her face.
I do my chores in half the time with Miguel helping me. In the meantime, Betsey retires to her bedroom with a migraine headache. She won't even let us in to clean her room. Fine with me. I hate touching her things in case her ugliness rubs off on me.
When I'm done, Stacy steps up to me. "Can I talk to you in private?" she asks, eyeing Miguel. I look at him and give him a nod. We follow Stacy to her bedroom, but Miguel stays outside. Normally, I'd be impatient with him sticking to me like gum but with what just happened with Betsey, I'm grateful for him.
"What can I do for you, Stacy?" I question. I'm more than a little curious as to why she wants to speak to me. Of course, this is the perfect time for a private conversation being that Betsey is holed up in her room and not nosing around everywhere like she normally does.
"I'd like to apologize," she states, her eyes firmly on me.
"You'd like to apologize?"
She nods. "Yes."
"For what?"
"For everything I made you go through in the past," she rushes, her eyes gleaming with sincerity. "I was horrible to you. Just like Betsey is being horrible to me. I now know what it feels like to have someone undermining you all the time."
I'm flabbergasted with her words.
"Please forgive me if you're able to after everything I did to you."
I find my words. "I forgive you, Stacy. I know we're all set against each other in this place."
"Thank you," she gushes, hugging me. I hug her back.
"Thank you too."
"For what?" she asks with curiosity,
"Thank you for never mentioning to anyone the conversation I had with you about how the girls here should stick together instead of fighting each other."
"You don't have to thank me. Monica. I'm just glad you're my friend now."
As I'm walking to the slave quarters with Miguel, I feel a warmth inside of me I've rarely felt since I got to Paradise Village. I suggest we take the long way. There are a few questions I have for Miguel.
"Master Barstowe told you to protect me from Betsey?" I ask him when we're alone.
"Her and other people."
"I'm surprised."
"Why? The man is obsessed with you, after all," he groans, angry spikes in his voice..
I don't like his tone. "He left Betsey in charge. I wouldn't have thought he'd undermine her like this."
"He told me that while Betsey is a good wife and the head one, she gets overzealous sometimes," Miguel explains. "He wanted to make sure she wouldn't overdo it with you."
"Sorry," I say.
He looks at me with a puzzled expression. "Sorry?--for what?"
"For getting stuck babysitting me. Believe me, I hate it as much as you do."
"I don't hate it," he grumbles.
"How can you not hate having to tag after me like a puppy dog?"
"I can never hate being around you," he says quietly. "You might hate being around me, but I live for being with you."
I stare at him with surprise. "I don't hate being around you," I murmur.
"Isn't that what you just said?"
"I said that I hate being babysat. I'm not a child."
"But you don't hate being with me, Frida?" he questions, his eyes sitting on me--waiting for my answer.
"Of course not, Miguel. To be honest with you, I like your company."
He smiles, a light coming through his features. "You've forgiven me for the kiss I gave you?"
"Forgiven." For some kind of reason, today had turned out to be a day for apologies.
"Frida, if friendship is all you can give me then I'll take it."