i made a master doc of all of wylanâs anxious habits and thoughts from crooked kingdom. enjoy:
âWylan tugged at the hem of his sky-blue jacket⌠and tried to look at ease.â
âAll he had to do was⌠figure out what to do with his hands. Clasp them in front? Too much like a singer at a recital. In back? Too military. He tried just dangling them at his sides, but that didnât feel right either. Why hadnât he paid better attention to the way waiters stood?â
âHis hands were shaking as he took the bottle from the silver ice bucketâŚâ
âSo Wylan took stock of the roomâs details - a trick heâd often used to steady himself whenever he arrived someplace newâŚâ
âWylan knew he couldnât have prevented his father from double-crossing the crew and kidnapping her. He knew that, but he still felt responsible.â
ââOysters, miss?â Wylan asked. His voice sounded too high. âButtered prawns?â Too low.â
âWhat am I doing here? He found himself gnawing on his thumb and forced himself to stop.â
âŚKaz never yelled the way Wylanâs father did but, Wylan had learned to listen for that low note, that bit of black harmonyâŚâ
â...Wylan said, fiddling with a pen on one of the blotters.â
âWylan tugged the strap of his satchel⌠Wylan tugged on the satchel strap again.
âWylan was gnawing on his thumbnail.â
ââWill he?â Wylan said softly. He used his finger to draw a line across the map of KetterdamâŚâ
âWylan pulled on his lip.â
ââDonât you think we should be more cautious?â Wylan asked, his own face buried in the collar of his coat.â
âWylan tried to make himself relax and unbuttoned the roughspun coat Kaz had obtained for him.â
ââCome here.â Warily, Wylan sidled closer.â
âJesper released a guffaw that had Wylan looking frantically over his shoulder again, afraid of drawing attention.â
âWylan tugged at a thread unraveling from the sleeve of his coat.â
âJan Van Eck had done his best to care for his son, and if heâd failed, then the defect lay with Wylan⌠and everything he said made perfect sense. Wylan could not be trusted with a fortune because he would be too easily swindled. Wylan could not go to university because heâd be the target of mockery.â
âHis fatherâs ire had been unpleasant, but it was his logic that haunted Wylan- that practical, irrefutable voice that spoke in Wylanâs head whenever he thought about attempting something new, or trying to learn to read again. â
âWylan felt ridiculously pleased - until he thought about Kaz finding out. Then he felt a little like the first time heâd tried brandy and ended up spewing his dinner all over his own shoes.â
âWylan waited, nervous.â
âWylan looked down at the bouquet. It seemed smaller and more straggly than he thought.â
â... on it sat a vase of the wisteria Wylan had seen outside. He inhaled deeply. The smell was comforting.â
âHe set the wildflowers down on the desk. Their stems were broken. Heâd been clutching them too tightly.â
âWylan leaned over his shoulder and felt a hopeless, choking panic grip him⌠he fought for breath. âJesper, please,â he begged, his voice thin and reedy. âRead it to me.ââ
âJesper pulled him into the chair behind the desk and pressed against Wylanâs shoulder blades, urging him forward. âPut your head between your knees, focus on the floor. Breathe.ââ
âWylan forced himself to inhale, exhale, to gaze at those charming blue tulips in their white tile boxes.â
âWylan took a deep, shuddering breath through his nose. He couldnât fathom what was happening, couldnât understand the scope of it.â
âSo just do one thing at a time. It was a technique one of his tutors had taught him to try and keep him from getting overwhelmed by the page⌠Wylan had managed to apply it elsewhereâ
âOne thing at a time. Stand up. He stood up. Youâre fine. âIâm fine.ââ
ââWeâll be fine here,â Wylan managed in a voice that sounded too loud and too hearty to his ears.â
âWylan studied his mother, his thoughts a jangle of misplayed chords.â
âHeâd planned to play it beside her grave like some kind of idiot.â
âWylan didnât register the walk down the driveâŚâ
âHe hated that Jesper was seeing him cry, but there was nothing he could do, not about the tears, not about any of it. He buried his face in his arms, covering his head as if, were he to only will it strongly enough, he could vanish.â
ââYou donât understand. It was me. I caused this.ââ
âBecause through all of it, heâd believed that he deserved his fatherâs contemptâŚâ
âWylan wanted to be brave, but he was cold and bruisedâŚâ
âWylan had stayed inside for two days, terrified.â
âHis second was that his father had sent someone new to kill him. He gripped his paddle.â
âAll Wylan wanted to do was stand as close as he possibly could to him and know that he was safe.â
ââKaz,â Wylan said, twisting the tail of his shirt.â
âWylan nodded, anxiously. âIâd like that.ââ
ââI donât know why Iâm so nervous,â said Wylan.â
âHeâd clenched his hands so tightly in his lap his knuckles had become white stars.â
ââI canât read.â His skin went instantly blotchy, but his voice was steady.â
âJesper could see the anxiety in his face, what it cost him to speak those words. It made him feel like a coward.â
âWylan fiddled nervously with the buttons on his shirt.â
ââIt felt like Iâd choke on the words. I was so afraid heâd sneer at me. Or just laugh.ââ
â... in the afternoons heâd spent sitting in the pantry or curled into a window seat behind a curtain, hoping that everyone would forget himâŚâ
âWylan drew a line on the floor with his finger.â
âWylanâs heart stuttered. Sound it out, Wylan. A child half your age can read this without trying. Heâd thought he was ready for this.â
âWylan hesitated. âYou can go if you need to.ââ
âThis was the nightmare heâd had countless times as a child - standing in public, his deficiencies exposed.â
âWylan tried to smile, but Jesper could see he was all nerves.â
ââI feel like an intruder. Like any minute, my fatherâs going to barge through that door and tell me to get out.ââ
ââI was terrified. I still am.â He looked down at the keys and played a gentle chord.â