The office building seemed normal enough. A beige fake marble reception desk sat in one corner of the room, an office chair right behind it, but no fake smiling receptionist. I felt the cold tile floor through my thin ballet flats, looking around to see where the chilling breeze running through my hair came from. The door was shut and there were no windows, just four corners of walls painted more of the bland beige color. Silly me, to think this job would be anything near normal.

I turned around, still puzzled about the breeze, and found myself facing two doors. One orange, one green. Why couldn't my 'first day email' be a little more descriptive? I asked myself. Or at all descriptive, I thought, thinking of the email in my head. "Come." it had said, and possibly against my better judgment, I had. Not sure what I was doing, I walked through the orange one.

It’s weird having a friend who’s a celebrity. I mean, I love it, but instead of finding out that she broke up from her boyfriend by her texting me, or telling me, I see it on every tabloid magazine in the supermarket. I’m best friends, practically sisters, with Lena Merc. What, she’s really nice, and besides, I knew her way before she got famous.

Lena and I were friends out on our family farms in small-town Nebraska, starting way back when we were five. We grew up together, with me known as the smart and funny one, and her as the sweet, pretty, and dramatic one. She had dreamed of being an actress since she was nine. I wanted to be an artist, then a doctor, and then decided on marine biologist. Everyone told us to not get our hopes up, because no marine biologists or actresses had come out of Bartley. Sure enough, Lena became an actress, and I became a semi-well known author. She could sing too.

But no matter what, we’re both still country girls at heart.

I was busy, day dreaming about the sun, and staring out the window, when I heard my usually-calm mother scream.

“Llamakunapa rinrinta uchkuchkanku sintachinkupaq!” she shouted in a frantic voice.

“What??” I yelled back.

“Oh, Chirapa! They are piercing the llama’s ears to put ribbons in them!” she shouted again.

“Who??” I asked as I chuckled to myself.

“Añallaw and another little friend of hers!” Añallaw was my younger sister, and she was always getting into mischief.

“I’ll be there in a second.” I reassured her. I hurried to braid my long black hair. I hated having it braided, but my mom hated seeing me without my hair braided even more. My quick fingers saved me once again.

As I got closer to our family’s pasture out behind our house, I heard the high-pitched squeal of two little girls, then the deeper laugh of a boy. Hmmmmm. I flew open the door, curious about the boy and looked out over the too-familiar sight of chewed up lliwa, or grass. I breathed in the stench of fresh llama poop, felt the hot sun on my back, and stepped outside. It would have been a very normal day in Cuzco, had I not seen two little girls with ribbons and needles frolicking around at the edge of the pasture.

I sprinted towards them as llamas made their shrill alarm sound of danger. Poor llamas. Llamas were just not meant to have pierced ears.

“What are you doing?” I asked my little sister in a sharp voice. I instantly felt bad. She didn’t know any better. Her friend stood next to her, not understanding what exactly was going on.

“Making the llamas pretty.” replied Añallaw, sweetly. Her name meant ‘how sweet, how beautiful’. Her name suited her so well. She had her hands behind her back, and she stared up at me with big, puppy dog eyes. Añallaw was hard to stay mad at for long.

“Well now, go inside. I don’t think the llamas like that, and you want them to be your friend, right?” I coaxed her.

“Well… yeah,” she said, looking down. “Sorry, llamas.” She and her friend skipped back to our house.

As soon as she was gone, I Iooked up to the sound of another chortle of laughter. The boy, whom I’d forgotten was there.

“What are you laughing at?” I asked.

“Your family.”

“Not every family’s perfect!” I shouted, louder than I’d meant too. He kept laughing. “Why, what’s your family? The royals?” He laughed even louder.

“How dare you!” I ordered, and struck him across the dace. Both of our faces instantly showed shock at what I’d done. My face turned red, and I looked down to the ground. Then, I looked back up at his face.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so so sorry!” I got down on my knees. Uh-oh. His family was the royals. I had just slapped a noble. The son of the emperor. “I didn’t know it was you.”

“No, really, it’s okay. But ouch.” he winced.

“I’m so, so sorry. Pease don’t send me to the dungeon.” I pleaded.

“I’m fine. And you’re not going to the dungeon. My name’s Qasi. So what’s yours?” he asked me.

“I didn’t mean any harm, Noble Qasi. But, I’m Chirapa.” I stuttered.

“Just Qasi,” he commanded “and you’re 100 percent forgiven.” He said this with a smile.

“But… why did you laugh?”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to hurt you by that. I thought your sister and her friend were just really adorable. And funny.”

“I guess I did laugh a little bit at first, too.” I admitted. Maybe nobles weren’t as bad and stuck up as dad said. I was starting to really like this kid.

“Umm… do you want to hang out here for a while?” I asked.

“Why not? Other than the hitting, you seem nice, and the palace isn’t any fun.” he agreed.

“Then it’s a deal… Qasi.”

I showed Qasi around the courtyard, formed by all of our houses in a square right next to each other. We looked around, seeing all we could of the bright colors of a woman’s weaving, and we smelled the spicy, aromatic scents of drying vegetables. Llama meat hung on strings, making my stomach rumble.

“Come here, Chirapa!” shouted my eager grandmother from across the courtyard. Her nimble fingers were weaving a blanket of gorgeous geometric designs and brilliant colors.

“Coming, Yaku.” I answered.

“And bring your masi with you.” I turned to Qasi.

“She wants you to come too.” I explained. Together we jogged over to her. Yaku gasped when she saw Qasi.

“You are a noble,” She whispered. “Chirapa, he’s a noble!”

“I know.” I told her.

“My name’s Qasi. What’s yours?” he asked.

“Yaku.” she said, short and quick. “Excuse us for a second.”

I looked into his black eyes, pleadingly. I tried to telepathically tell him ‘Sorry’. Yaku turned her back to him, and we went off to a corner.

“You listen close. You are my grandchild, and I want you safe and happy. You are a commoner. Nobles are hukman. Ancha ancha hukman.” she explained to me as if I was a very young child. That meant ‘Nobles are different. Very very different.’ “Nobles are the sons of the emperor. Nobles are snotty, arrogant, and have no idea what it’s like not to be rich. You’re setting yourself up for disappointment. Sorry, I only want the best for you, but if I were you, I’d break your acquaintance right now.”

“Well, you’re not me! I don’t get what you have against nobles. Have you ever met one?” I tore my hair out of my braid and stormed off. “Come on, Qasi.” I said in a bitter voice.

I led him to our field and pasture. I told him the names of every single llama, even though I knew it was boring. I was still not in a very pleasant mood.

“Hey, let’s play tag,” he suggested. “Catch me!”

I ran and ran. He was fast. I loved the feel of wind on my face, with my hair billowing behind me. I could smell sweet smoke far off in the distance. I finally got him, and we collapsed to the ground, sending up big poofs of the dry brown dust that coated the ground everywhere.

Out of breath, we leaned against a mulli. The big tree’s rough bark felt cool on my heated skin.

“So, what are you into? Have any hobbies?” Qasi asked, quite casually.

“I have too little patience to enjoy weaving, but I really like to cook. And I love anything to do with the inti (the sun), or the Inti God.” I told him.

“Really! I’m pretty into the inti and the Inti God too,” he said. “Being a noble we get to go to the Royal temple, to learn and connect with the sun/sun god. It’s awesome!” When he realized what he’d said, Qasi shifted uncomfortably.

“There’s probably a lot of things you get to do ‘as a noble,’” I replied stiffly.

“Well, would you like to come with me sometime?” he invited.

“Am I supposed to?” I asked, unsure.

“Um… not really, but no one ‘ll notice. I’m not the eldest ‘precious’ son, so I don’t have to have people watching over me every second, like he does. That’s why I’m able to be here today.” he explained.

My thoughts turned as two sides of my body fought. ‘Yes, I would be willing to take a little chance to see a royal temple. No, I could get arrested. Yes, it’s not every day you can connect with the Sun God.’ After a bit of silence, I decided.

“When can I come?” I took the opportunity and jumped with it.

“How ’bout tomorrow? Morning? But, I’ll meet you here, so you don’t have to get through the officers guarding the entrance on your own. I’m sure you’re perfectly capable, but it’s tricky getting past them if you don’t have experience”

“Okay, see you tomorrow!” I agreed, as I watched my newfound friend dash to the palace. Wow, I couldn’t imagine a life like his. * * * * * * * * * * *

It took me a while to fall asleep that night, thinking of all the extraordinary and unusual things that had happened yesterday, so I was quite tired the next morning. Luckily, the exhilarating thought of going to the Royal Temple kept me lively and awake.

Trying to avoid having to explain where I was going, I quickly grabbed a few warm tortillas and ran out the door.

“Wait, where are you going?” my father yelled as I ran through the courtyard. I froze in my tracks.

“Just off to visit a friend.” I replied, which wasn’t really a lie.

“This early in the morning?” he asked.

“Yep!” I told him.

“Okay, my Chirapa. I trust you. Have a good day!” I tried to swallow the lump of guilt in the back of my throat. My father and I were very close, and I hope we could still be, even with this new friendship. He didn’t like the royals much though.

It was because the former Sapa Inca was cruel to our family, before I was born. Mother and Father were newlywed and had a fair amount of money for a commoner from my father’s successful farming. We had the best corn in all the tribe, but soon the Sapa Inca got word of it. He tried one bite, and demanded the whole farm for himself. Because he was emperor, we had to give it up. His servants now work in the large field across town that was once ours, and my father and mother had to move to this smaller, poorer courtyard. And, even though he was such a good farmer, he gave it up and became an okay-ish stonemason. Ever since then, my father, grandma, and most commoners hated the royal family. But of course, we’d never tell that to the royals.

Whenever I was younger, and I started to want to meet a noble, the emperor, or wonder what their lives were like, my dad would tell me and Añallaw this story. It shut us right up. ‘But dad, that was the last ruler; this one could be different.’ I would say after he told us it. ‘I know, but that’s what all the rulers are like. That’s what being royal does to you. Now off to bed.’ He would say before we could argue back.

“We better get to the Temple quick, huh.” I heard Qasi’s voice say, interrupting me from my train of thoughts. You could smell that rain was coming in the crisp air. And by the sight of dark gray clouds coming in, you could tell it was going to pour.

We ran across the village to the Temple, and we arrived just as the first few drops of para hit my head.

“Good timing.” I panted. I didn’t realize how far we’d run. I looked up, craning my neck to the magnificent, masterful stone work of the Royal Temple. Seven-sided stones adorned with gems fit perfectly into one another, creating the massive and grand stone structure.

“Well, you ready to go inside?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah,” I replied. “But how do we get in? There are officers everywhere.”

“There’s a back door, to which I just happen to have a key.” He jingled a gold, elaborate set of keys.

We pulled open the door, and I made my eyes pull it all in, and store the statures, gems, stonework, colors, and cloths in an internal memory box forever. Since, it was so early in the morning, we were the only ones in the building. Good. I loved the scientific diagrams of the sun, the pictures, and the statues. We walked up to the praying area. I bowed my head, and silently prayed.

“Oh, mighty, grand Sun God, thank you for days like this one. Thank you for friends like Qasi. Thank you for a little sister, a father, and a beautiful mother. Thank you for food and all that you do. Thank you for being you. Please continue to bless our lives.”

I looked up, and Qasi did too. Then, Qasi pointed to a diagram of a sun, that didn’t look anything like the others.

“That’s the Friendship Sun.” he told me.

“It blesses all friendships.” I read.

“And helps friends through troubles.” He continued.

“And makes them stay strong.”

“Through any separation.” He finished.

Then, we heard a knock on the door, followed by two men’s voices. Qasi and I froze. The door flew open and there stood my father and the Sapa Inca.

“Why are you here?” I asked my father.

“I’m a stonemason. A few stones were out of place here, so I came to fix them. But the bigger question is: Why are YOU here?” he questioned, my father’s voice louder… and angrier.

“WHAT is going on here? Anka, you are my stonemason and should be nothing else?” demanded the Sapa Inca.

“That’s my daughter with your son, frolicking, inside the Royal Temple!” my father shouted. Qasi and I just sat there, too scared to make a move.

“No! That’s my son with your daughter! Frolicking! INSIDE… THE ROYAL TEMPLE!”

“W-w-we weren’t frolicking.” I pointed out, stuttering.

“Don’t you DARE talk back to ME!” the Sapa Inca boomed.

“I’m s-sorry, s-sir.” I murmured, shrinking fast.

“These two shall NEVER see eachother AGAIN!” the Sapa Inca declared.

“I agree, completely.” said my father. I opened my mouth, shocked. My dad was my friend, I’d thought. In spite of my anger, I didn’t open my mouth, not wanting to make things worse.

“And Anka.” the Sapa Inca added, turning to my father. “You’re fired.”

My father and I trudged home in the pouring rain. He was jobless, and me friendless and in trouble for the rest of my life. I kept my eyes lowered to the dark muddy ground. I clenched my teeth. I knew I’d get a yelling at home.

As soon as our home was in sight, I ran towards it, and straight to it, where I buried my head in my pillow.

“Get out here, Chirapa.” my father said, quietly. My mom looks at me with wide, sympathetic eyes.

“YOU HAD NO PERMISSION AND NO RIGHTS TO DO WHAT YOU DID. NOBLES ARE NOT LIKE US. ANY WRONG MOVE YOU MAKE AROUND ONE CAN HAVE US ALL SENT TO THE DUNGEON!” my father shouted, his eyebrows twitching with every syllable he spoke. “YOU LOST ME MY JOB, BECAUSE OF THIS! GO TO BED!” he ordered.

As I cried myself to sleep, I heard my parents talking.

“She’s just a girl, who tried to make a friend.” my mother whispered.

“She knows we don’t associate with nobles.” my father whisper-argued.

The pitter-patter of the raindrops and booming to the tunrururu, the thunder, droned out my parents’ voices for a while, but then I heard my father say something.

“I only did that to help her. I didn’t want her to cry of betrayal when the noble kid turns on her. She’s my little girl, and I want her to be happy.

“She sure doesn’t seem happy.” my mother argued. “Goodnight.”

But I was crying of betrayal. Not of Qasi betraying me, but of my dad. We had once been so close. Why did no one like this Sapa Inca? I mean, I get why they didn’t like the formal emperor, but couldn’t my family at least give the new royal family a chance?

* * * * * * * * * * * *

I woke up at 4:00 the next morning. I had a plan. I was going to sneak into the palace to see Qasi. I snuck out of the house quietly. No one in the courtyard was awake. Good. I could hear the birds chirping, and in the distance was the beautifully intimidating palace. My steps quickened as I got nearer to it. ‘Wow.’ I thought.

I sneaked in a gold door engraved with the words “Servant Quarters and Workspace.” If this was the servants’ door, I couldn’t even imagine the Sapa Inca’s! As I entered the servants quarters, I realized that the servants were already up and about. I should have predicted that, but it would have to do. I heard the servants speaking very fast Incan to eachother, as they seemed to be preparing the royal family’s breakfast. My stomach growled as I watched two of them add honey to ground cocoa beans and water. We only got hot cocoa on our birthdays, if we were lucky.

Then I remembered my mission; to find Qasi. I hid behind a few boxes, making my way towards the door to the main section of the palace. On my way to the door, I grabbed a servant’s uniform off of a hook and disguised myself as a maid. I walked up the grand staircase, trying not to touch anything, as to not mess it up. Polished gold and stone gleamed all around me as I made my way to Qasi’s room.

“Hello-o Qasi, it’s me.” I said to the sleeping figure.

“Masi, it’s too early to wake me up.” Qasi groaned and buried his head in a plump pillow.

“No, it’s me… Chirapa.” I whispered. He quickly sat up straight, his eyes wide.

“You shouldn’t be here!” he said.

“Please, I had a message. See, what we read about the friendship sun,” I took a deep breath as my feet sunk into the plush red carpet. “I think it’s blessing us. I know we might not see eachother for a while, but it’ll all turn out okay.” I explained.

“We can try.” he replied.

“Oh, you’re going to need to.” said a daunting voice behind us. Qasi and I whipped our heads around to see a very mad Sapa Inca. Ohhhh shoot.

“It wasn’t him. This was all my idea. Qasi didn’t even know I was going to come here. He didn’t do anything.” I pleaded the emperor not to punish him.

“Come with me.” he ordered. “Qasi, you follow behind.” I had no idea what he was going to do. Thoughts swarmed my head, like I had pins and needles rattling around inside my brain, piercing me every time I dared move. Would they send me to the dungeon, full of pythons and black panthers? Work me a as a slave? Ship me off to a coastal tribe of cannibalistic Incas?

“We’re going to have a nice little chat with your father.” growled the Sapa Inca. Even worse. I had no idea what I’d say to my dad. And poor Qasi. Maybe my dad was right. I never should have befriended a noble. Not for my sake, but his. My shoulders slumped as the three of us trudged across the muddy ground on the way to our home. I cried inside, but I tried not to show it on the out.

When my father heard our footsteps, he met us at the gate.

“Oh, Chirapa! We’ve been looking all over for y- oh.” As he noticed Qasi and the emperor were there too, I watched the anger and disappointment form in his eyes. I expected him to yell, or scream, but instead my father walked away, silently. And perhaps that was worse.

“Wait!” I called. “Let me explain.” I was almost surprised when my father turned back towards me with sad, sad eyes. Our neighbors poked their heads out of their doors at the sound of comotion, always ready to watch a piece of entertaining drama. I sighed, but realized I could teach them a lesson as well. I took a deep breath.

“When I first met Qasi, I thought the same as all of you do now; ‘stuck up noble’ to be precise. No offense. But after I got to know him, Qasi has been a truly amazing friend. We need to give people a chance. Maybe the last ruler was cruel, maybe most of the former emperors were, but just because of what happened long ago doesn’t guarantee that this ruler is going to be cruel. You can never judge anyone ’til you’ve met them, spoke to them, or gotten to now them. I know I made a mistake or two, so you can punish me for that. I’m not perfect, but I don’t think anyone is. I’m just asking you to try to understand, or to look at this situation from my point of view just for a moment or two.”

I looked into my father’s eyes, then at the neighbors watching us. Then, Qasi opened his mouth.

“Dad, I’m sorry too. I know I’m not like my older brother, and I’m not like the person you want me to be: strong, regal and serious. I’m Qasi, and that’s the only person I’ll ever be. I am who I am, and can therefore make friends with whoever I want. It’s not like there’s a law. I know you think that commoners aren’t our equals, but I disagree. They are living people too, they just haven’t been as lucky-or unlucky- to live in a huge palace and have fancy clothes. Yet, these ‘commoners’ have just of kind, brave, and strong hearts- if not even kinder, braver and stronger than ours. You might be surprised at what you don’t know.”

Our fathers sat in silence for a while, then they looked at eachother and nodded.

“Anka, you have your job back. As for you two.” The Sapa Inca looked at us. “We think maybe we’ll give your ideas a try. In the meantime, you’re both grounded for a week.” he started.

“But after that, you can ‘hang out’ all you like.” My dad finished. I gave him a quick hug.

I stood in silence as I watched my father talk to Qasi, and the Sapa Inca shake hands with townsfolk from around our courtyard. I smiled to myself. This was all the work of the Friendship Sun.

I am not a writer.

I am simply

A person

Who is able to

Scrawl down thoughts

On a sheet of paper

Making something blank

Take you to endless worlds

Something anyone can

As long as you're

Brave enough to do it.

Anyone can

Be a writer.

If you tell someone

Your are a

Writer

They assume

You are good

You enjoy it

You'll be an author.

But

A kindergartener is

A writer.

She puts down

"Little cat purrs SLEEPY."

It might not be great

But it's writing.

And that makes her a writer.

So no writings bad

In fact why is writing graded??

I get that spelling and punctuation

Should be corrected

But any writing

Should earn no

Negative criticis

Menus

Shopping lists

Are all writing too.

Anyone strong enough

To pick up a pen

And put down you thoughts is a writer.

Some people write with

Photos

Or drawings

It doesn't have to be words

We all

Write in our

Own ways

Anyone can be a writer.

Sad

I now know what it means

To drown in your sorrow

I'm swimming in

My own pool of years

Sad

Rain pouring

Lighting fills the sky

Thunder booms

I still cry

Sad

Disappointment

Can overwhelm you

In above your head

Can't get out.

Sad

It feels like

Nothing can get better

Clouds will never

Float away

Sad

But don't worry

Little one

Eventually

They will.

I like to think of myself as tall. Head with the birds, tall as skyscrapers. In reality I'm tiny.

I like to think of myself as elegant, graceful, sweeping through the ballroom chatting up guests. Dancing, pirrouettes, on pointe ballet shoes, white gloves, lace parasol. Elegant. In reality, I stumble though grand jetes, my white gloves are soiled.

I like to think of myself as world changing. Maybe I will be someday. There will books, statues, schools, with my name all over them, I like to think. Maybe I can. In reality, I'm just getting there.

We, we don't have to worry bout nothing

Lately I been, I been losing sleep

I can show you the world

My lovers got humour

Maybe he's right, maybe there is something the matter with me

I was riding shotgun with my hair undone in the front seat of his car

Just a small town girl

Rockin around the Christmas tree

Hold your breath, make a wish, count to three

If you want it take it

Raw sheer luck.

That was all I needed, but also all that could save me.

Like finding a needle in a haystack.

A fine line between dead and alive.

Hammering a nail without that hammer.

Just a crack snap pop bam boom and it'd be done.

If only it was that easy.

Pinning the tail on no donkey.

That's trying to get you back.

"Sorry!" I shouted as it bumped into someone. I looked down and noticed it was a little girl.

"Are you lost?" I asked her.

"No," she replied timidly.

"Where's mommy?" I tried again.

"In... In heaven!" She sobbed. The last thing I saw were her pigtails flying behind her in the air as she ran away, becoming instantly lost in the crowd.