The weekend passed slowly for Alana. Waiting for Monday was an agony. There were not many interactions in the palace, none between her and her father and her stepmother. She mostly stayed in her room, painting and sketching onto the white canvas, the sounds of the pencil meeting the paper by friction could clearly be heard due to the silent atmosphere inside Alana’s dull room, --- according to what she says.

When it was finally Sunday, after dining breakfast in the dining room, she went upstairs to her father’s room to explain to him what had happened with Teacher Chong on Friday. Sliding the voice recorder across Alana’s father’s expensive Siamese hand-carved wooden table, Alana’s father raised an eyebrow with curiosity.

Yes, Alana always had and will always have a voice recorder with her all times. She believed in justice. She believed in evidence. If she had wanted Teacher Chong to be out of her school for good, she needed evidence, didn’t she? Smart of her, yes.

Alana’s father was furious, of course when he heard her telling the incident that occurred last Friday. He immediately phoned the school when Alana showed her father her bandage, lying restlessly around her right hand.

After the mahogany doors slammed close behind Alana, her lips curved into a dangerous smirk, and she walked away from her father’s room. She slid into her painting room on the third floor of the palace, and sat down in front of her empty, white, canvas. She had an art assignment due tomorrow and yet, she still hasn’t think up of anything to paint yet.

Aimlessly, she started to draw, but the papers always ended up on the floor, scrunched up into a ball form. Yet again, when the sketch didn’t quite work well in Alana’s eyes, she furiously tore the paper from the canvas, scrunched it up into a ball, and threw it aside, not caring where it would land.

The theme that her art teacher had assigned to her was entitled ‘Precious’, a title that had absolutely caught her by surprise, leaving her star struck. *What is exactly precious to me?* Alana let out a sigh, feeling tired.

That’s the cons of making art, --- when you have nothing in mind, the pain can be very excruciating. The wait is annoying, especially when your hands itched to draw something but you have nothing in mind. This feeling was like a stab to Alana’s heart.

“Miss Alana.” Jiho’s voice chirped from the outside of Alana’s painting room. Setting her pencil down, she said, “What is it, Jiho?” Jiho was afraid to enter into the room without Alana’s permission. Sometimes, painting can frustrate Alana until her level of patience could be tested. Once, Jiho accidently entered without her permission and his life almost ended when a bucket of paint flew across the room and missed Jiho’s head by a mere 3 inches.

“Lunch is served, young miss.” Jiho spoke once more.

“I’m coming.” Alana softly said as she walked towards the door. Twisting the door open she gave a small smiled to Jiho, --- a forced one, and Jiho knew. As they walked towards the dining room, Jiho questioned, “Is anything wrong, Alana?”

Alana smiled. Jiho had always known. He had always known if she was feeling troubled. He always knew if she was feeling sad, happy, angry, annoyed, curious, even when she had not portrayed it on her porcelain face.

“It’s my art work again; I have no clue what to paint.” Alana answered, with no hesitation. “What is it this time?” Jiho asked. “Precious.” Alana said. “Just precious?” Jiho raised one brow. “Just precious.” Alana confirmed Jiho’s doubts.

He opened the dining room’s door for her and she muttered him a thank you. Alana was the first to arrive in the dining room this time, seeing that her father and step mother was not seated in their seats.

“How about, something that’s precious to you?” Jiho tried.

“Nada.” Alana shook her head while she went to her seat.

“How about, someone that’s precious to you?” Jiho tried once more, pulling the chair out for her.

Alana thought about that for a moment, and Jiho pushed the chair forward as Alana took her seat. “Someone precious to me, but who?” Alana thought as she tapped her chin. Jiho left to fetch Alana her meal. When he came back, he stated, “His Highnesses and Her Highnesses has royal duties to achieve today, they will not be dining with you.”

Alana firmly nodded. It had always been like this anyway, her alone, during lunch and dinner, dining in the room. Her father and step mother had always been too busy with their duties to even dine with Alana.

She started to eat, but then, a face flashed into her mind and she immediately smiled when she sees him in her vision. She had finally found an answer to her question. *Him, I’ll paint him.* “Thank you, Jiho.” Alana said with gratitude and continued her lunch. Jiho smiled and said, “You’re welcome, Alana.”

__________

Soft breathings can be heard inside the white four-walled room. A series of knockings can be heard on the door, but the girl that had rested her head on top of the white table didn’t bother to answer. She was already asleep, in her very own Neverland.

The door turned open, and it revealed Alana’s very own father. Initially, he had come here to usher Alana to go to bed but he stopped when he sees two paintings, separately drawn on different canvases.

One was a painting of a boy, a boy, which has been drawn with such detailed features, that you couldn’t take your eyes off even if you wanted to. The other was a painting of a beautiful lady in her mid-thirties, and Alana’s father recognised her as his wife, who was also Alana’s mother. Both drawings were certainly captivating.

His fingers traced Alana’s mother’s stunning features, and Alana’s father was surprised with his own daughter’s ability to paint. When Alana’s art teacher had privately came to him to explain to him how talented Alana was with art, Alana’s father had thought that her teacher had been joking.

Alana’s father understood well now what Alana’s teacher had meant when she said how Alana was ‘in love’ with painting and drawing. Alana was sure dedicated with it, and there was no giving up easily when it comes to making art.

“The Queen was beautiful, wasn’t she?” Jiho said from behind, as he admired Alana’s paintings, also. Solemnly, Alana’s father nodded. “Who is this child?” Alana’s father questioned, as he pointed a finger towards the canvas next to Alana’s painting of her mother.

Jiho in his breath. He didn’t liked lying to the King, but he didn’t liked back stabbing Alana either, so instead, he said, “A friend. A friend that managed to warm up her cold heart. A friend that managed to make her smile, sincerely. A good friend.”

Alana’s father squinted his eyes. “Keep a good eye on him. I don’t want Alana to get hurt.” Jiho bowed, “Yes, Your Highness.” “Another thing, take this painting away, I don’t want to see it with Alana ever again.” The King nodded his head towards Alana’s painting of her mother, and Jiho nodded curtly.

“Carry Alana back to her room, make sure to not wake her up.” Alana’s father left the room before Jiho could even answer.

__________

“Jiho! Where’s my painting, where’s my other canvas?!” A raged Alana appeared from the dining room, into the living room, as she held a sock in one hand and a shoe in another while she looked around for her other painting, the painting of her mother.

“Maybe you misplaced it.” Jiho tried to lie. “Come on, Princess. You are going to be late for school. We will search for it later when you arrive home from school.” Jiho urged her as he took a hold of her school bag.

“But I need to submit that painting today!” Alana exclaimed, still angry. “But Alana, there’s another canvas in the car?” Jiho stated as he pulled the front door open. “B-But.” Alana stuttered as she sighed. Raking her fingers through her wavy, brown hair, Alana looked down on the floor with a devastated expression.

She had worked her off on the other painting, ---- the painting of her mother. It was not easy re-living something that was dead. Alana ignored Jiho and continued to search for her other canvas. “Princess, please.” Jiho finally raised his voice.

Realising his mistake, Jiho rubbed his temples and bowed. “We’ll look for it later.” Jiho pleaded, once more. “Promise?” She looked up from crouching under the sofa, with her huge eyes, not blinking. Jiho sighed inwardly. “Promise.” Alana then proceeded to wear her socks and she tied her shoe laces skilfully.

“All right, off we go!” Alana hopped into her limousine.

__________

Upon arriving her school compound, Alana could not help it to feel giddy. *There’s Chinese class today... and it will be a new teacher. And Luhan will be there...* She thought as she headed towards her first class, --- Religion class.

“I’ll keep the canvas in the art room, okay?” Jiho hollered from behind as he held the carefully wrapped canvas in his hands. “Okay.” Alana nodded as she stepped away from the hall, and into her religion class. After she had taken her seat, she wears her scarf and sat upright, ready to listen to her teacher’s preaching.

__________

“My, my, Alana.” Alana’s Art teacher, Mrs Violet said, as she lowered her glasses. Alana looked down and bit her lips. “Dear.” Mrs Violet placed her fingers under Alana’s chin to lift her head up. Alana looked up, afraid to listen to her teacher’s critique. “This is beautiful.”

Alana’s lips curved into a smile, as she let out a breath that she didn’t know she was keeping. Soon enough, the whole classroom erupted with claps while Mrs Violet continued to pat Alana on the back for her amazing piece of artwork.

__________

“Excuse me.” Meekly, Alana said as she tried to get through the sea of students at the hallway. Her next class was Chinese, --- and Alana did not want to be late for her most-anticipated class. Unsuspectingly, the hallway suddenly turned crowded, and Alana didn’t know why, at least, --- she didn’t bother to know why.

It shouldn’t have been this crowded in the hallways as school had ended. Alana kept on squeezing herself against the already sardine-up bodies; she didn’t want to be late for Chinese this time. Not when she knows who will be present in the class. She did not have time to feed her curiosity.

Out of the blue, her body collided with someone else’s and oh deer, the most unpleasant voice that she had heard today, --- the voice that she had not intended to hear today, rung in her ears.

“Hey, babe.” Alana looked up. The suave and cocky-looking face appeared. Alana hissed as she tried to push herself away from Kim Jongin. “Let me go.” Alana puffed her cheeks as she once again, tried to pry Jongin’s hands away from hers. Her right hand had been in his possession, and under her long-sleeved shirt, laid her bandaged, right hand. *It stings.*

“Oh, come on babe. We were an ‘item’ ever since I touched your and you punched me in the face.” Jongin spoke, with a dangerous distance between the said one and Alana. Alana’s cheeks turned red. *God, why must he bring up the ‘’ incident?* Pushing his face away with a finger, Alana retorted, “We were never an item, and I would appreciate it if you keep your distance away from me, student Jongin.”

Some hollers and booing can be heard, as Alana strutted away, but Kim Jongin was too fast. He latched his wrist onto hers and sighed. Rolling his eyes, he said, “Can you stop the playing-hard-to-get already. You’re mine and you know it.” Jongin paused, and as a playful smirk formed on his lips, he lowered down to Alana’s ears and whispered, “And you know you want me too.”

Hearing this, Alana fumed with anger. She was already in pain, and this little brat named Kim Jongin just had to add up to her list of pain. She clenched and unclenched her fists, taking deep breaths in and out while Jongin took the opportunity to drag Alana away from the crowd. When she realised what he was doing, Alana tried shrugging herself off Jongin, but it didn’t work. Frustrated, she raised her hand and swapped Jongin’s hand away from her wrist.

Alana turned around to quickly leave, but Jongin once more took hold of her right forearm with his left hand. She tried her level best to not wince. “She said, let go.” A soft, angel-like voice said. Alana gulped as she turned behind.

It was Luhan. 

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Hello, I have been busy these pass few weeks despite my exams being over. The after-exam activities eats up all of my time, seriously. But it's sort of worth it because my class is sort of winning everything. If not, we get the first-runner up. 

Probably will post up another chapter tomorrow, because I'm halfway through chapter 6. And hello to my new suscribers! 

I was also sick for one week, most probably because of my post-concert depression, but I'm all right now. To see the pictures that I had personally ((sneaked)) taken, go ahead and check out my instagram! @jjangprince

xoxo, Tuna.