I trudge round the saloon, before sitting at the piano with Olaf. He is on the chair, and I sit next to the piano, my back against the wall. It isn't long before Olaf leaves with mum, leaving me alone in a stupid saloon. I don't even have the little Quagmire orphans to talk to. Mum told me to head over to the police station, so I don't, kicking open the door. It's actually surprisingly nice in here, and the two cells don't look to bad. I wouldn't want to be in them, but I don't hate them. It is really boring, so I walk back to the saloon.
"Orphans," Olaf sings, "Nothing rhymes with orphans. Except for maybe portions. Oh, yeah, or arson."
"Arson doesn't really rhyme," I sing, "Arson is like a half rhyme."
He turns to me, scatting, and we both sit at the bar. Our backs are to the door as he mopes, and raps, "A wealthy orphan is like a well fed cat, I lay my eyes on one and I just want to scat."
I roll my eyes as he scats again, and I hear the doors open. Slowly, I reach for my bandana, and a man's voice says, "I'll take a glass of justice on the rocks, with a garnish of Your wicked schemes stop here."
"We're all out," Olaf groans, dropping his fake beard and turning to the person. There are actually two of them, a man and a woman. Olaf continues, "But I can pour you a double shot of You'll Never Take Me Alive."
"And I can give you a lovely, I'm Innocent, or I'm just a child, or even better, I'm Happy To Give Olaf up as a sacrifice!" I fake a smile as the man leaps over the bar. Olaf falls over the bar the other way, and I try running off, only to crash into the woman. I scoff, "God, you smell like a librarian."
The woman grabs me, and I scream, "OLAF I'M GOING TO KILL YOU FOR THIS."
The man is talking, but I try ignoring him. He walks over to me, and I kick him in the shin. Slowly, he walks over to Olaf, picking him up and holding out handcuffs. The woman clicks another pair of them onto me as the man asks, "Do you know what these are?"
Olaf and I exchange glances as he suggests, "Bracelet things of justice? No, it's on the tip of my tongue. Bangles of sadness?"
"Wrong, handcuffs," The man rolls his eyes as he clicks them on. The woman shoves my bandana into Olaf's mouth, and I groan, fighting back as we walk.
Like I said, I don't want to be in the cells. At least I don't have to be sat in one with Olaf. The man talks to Olaf, as the woman pulls a seat up to the bars of my cell. I groan, dragging the bench up to the other side of the bars. She asks, "Are you okay in there?"
I bite my tongue as she sighs, "I'm very sorry about your bandana. It's a very nice colour."
"I'm sorry about it too," I grab her through the bars, pulling her shirt. It drags her close to the bars and I snap, "You're horrible. Mum always said librarians were freaks, and she was apparently right. You and your stupid boyfriend are going to pay for shoving me in here."
"He isn't my boyfriend..." the woman laughs, "My name is Olivia. You are Xalia May?"
I scoff, "Firstly, you should be a couple. He's average... pretty good looking actually. I recon all the ladies are Oh-ver him. You should ask him out. He clearly likes you. Secondly, have you even looked at him when talking? He looks at you with so much love. And thirdly, do you know Kit Snicket?"
"Kit?" The man asks, "Kit? Have you spoken to Kit?"
I nod and the man asks, "Is Kit okay?"
"God," I roll my eyes, "You're acting like you're in love with her."
"My sister," The man sighs, "Jacques Snicket, very sorry we had to meet like this. Unfortunately, your father is a complete idiot in there-"
"Not my father, Kit is fine," I sigh, and Jacques Snicket nods. He walks back to Olaf, and I beg, "Let me out. Please. I'm going to die in here. I'm only fifteen. Also, you're a librarian? Did you ever have hopes and dreams?"
Olivia gawps at me and I smile. She turns on her heel, walking away, and I see Olaf's hand creep over to my cell. I scream as Olaf hisses, "Shut up, Xalia May. Are you okay?"
"Sort of, why?"
Olaf is quiet for a minute, before sighing, "I... your mother would kill me if you got hurt. Are they reciting poetry?"
I strain my ears, and confirm they are. Who reads poetry out of choice? I mean, being home schooled meant I did, but not out of complete choice. It's not my style of reading. Sunlight creeps through the windows, and I groan. I'm so bored. I took city life for granted. Even the Baudelaire orphans are out, in the freedom whilst I rot here. I want to go home. I want to go back to modelling. I want to scream, and kick, and fight. These people have captured the wrong cities sixth most important financial advisor's daughter. Actually, I don't know if that's correct. WHO CARES? I yell, "LET ME OUT. LET ME OUT. LET ME OUT. LET ME OUT. LET ME OUT. LET ME OUT. LET ME OUT. LET ME OUT-"
Jacques Snicket appears before me, and asks, "Do you sing?"
"Sometimes," I shrug, "Why?"
"You've got a strong voice," Jacques Snicket scans my face, "We value skills like that, Xalia May. You could make a good-"
"NO!" Olaf yells, "NO! YOU ARE NOT HIRING HER."
"She's already on our team," Mum smirks, "Hello, Snicket. Who are you?"
"Esme Gigi Genevieve Squalor!" Olivia gasps. Mum laughs, "That's my name! What is that smell? It smells of school librarian. Anyway, I'm bored of this conversation. Olaf, darling love of my life, ready?"
"Finally," Olaf groans, "But yeah, ready."
YOU ARE READING
Xalia Squalor; because sometimes being in is not enough
FanfictionXalia Squalor is exactly who she wants to be. She's pretty, she's rich, and she is famous. But there is one small thing. She doesn't have a full tea set. Or at least, her mum doesn't and it's ruining her life. Meeting the Baudelaire orphans is both...
