The Forgotten Fairytales (4 page)

The pepper was out of reach. I stretched forward, accidentally knocking over the salt, which fell against a wine glass of sparkling grape juice, which spilled on the crisp white tablecloth and rolled onto the ground and shattered.
Great.
Professor Peach stood over me, a scowl fixed over her coral lips.

People stared at me nonstop, whispering and giggling, especially commenting on the dried dirt on my clothes. I’d tried using water and soap in the bathroom to clean it off, but it didn’t work too well on my jeans. By the time lunch came around I was on overload.

Chandeliers hung from the ceiling in the cafeteria, filling the room with a warm glow. Everyone sat as they were before, grouped in ridiculous categories. There’s no way real people were fictional characters. Stories were kept in books.

Sitting at a table with her freaky royal posse, Danielle waved at me. Her smile was so white and bright a person could go blind. I pretended not to see her. Near the lunch line was a pair of French doors leading outside.
Freedom.
I hurried toward them, but not before almost tripping over a stupid Cairn Terrier and silently cursing the girl in the pigtails and red heels chasing him.

The doors opened with a soft push, and I hurled myself into the cool afternoon. The sun hid behind a mess of clouds, leaving me no warmer outside than in. Still, out here, I could imagine a place far away.

I ran my hands through my hair, pulling at the roots. Dad had to get me, like, pronto. The moment I told him about the sack of shit they were brainwashing these kids to believe, he’d come. I knew it.

In my peripherals I spotted a girl beside a boulder. April. Excitement and relief flooded me and I hurried over to her.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you.” I plopped down on the ground, our knees almost touching. “Everyone at this school is flipping crazy.”

“I’m a sidekick.” She grimaced, her watery eyes refusing to meet mine. “The professor told me that was gracious considering my instability.”

My jaw dropped, tension building in my neck. “Who said that?” I jerked forward, ready to find whoever judged my sister and give them a piece of my mind. My fists clenched. What kind of an asinine jerk said those things to someone who clearly had issues to begin with?

“Jeez, Norah, calm down.” April groaned. “It’s our first day. You don’t have to stir up trouble. I
want
to be invisible.”

Being invisible was what got us in trouble the last time. Well, her mostly, me by association. April needed to join a club or a group, get involved. That’s how you made friends, by putting yourself out there, not by crawling in a hole and praying no one noticed you. Of course I couldn’t tell her that without pissing her off. In actuality, this was the most April and I had talked without her blowing up at me. So like a good sister, I changed the subject.

“Where’s your dorm?” A gentle breeze slipped between us, cooling the sweat on the back of my neck and stirring the pieces of hair in front of my face.

“The back end of the campus, I think. I can’t remember.”

I sucked in a breath, holding the bite back from my voice. “Can’t remember, or weren’t listening?”

A small smile tugged at the edge of her thin lips. “Both?”

April stared into the distance, her deep, honey brown eyes lost in something else. Was I set out for failure or did I have a chance to help her find normalcy again? Though I doubted normal was possible in a school of fairy tale freaks. But we’d be out soon and we could find normal elsewhere. Moscow hopefully.

“Can you believe the people here think they’re from books?” I asked. “Kind of crazy, huh?”

April shrugged, hiding her face with her hair. “It’s nice to have something to believe in.”

The cuff of her sweater slid up her wrists, exposing the almost healed marks. The scars wouldn’t fully leave though; they’d always be there, reminding her of the past. I guess scars on the outside were haunting like that. At least if it were a memory, you could keep it hidden in the back of your mind. But how do you hide something so visible?

There wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t question why April did what she did. Why life seemed so unbearable for her. She rarely complained about moving so much. Then again, when she sat in her room, staring out the window instead of going outside to conquer the neighborhood and make friends like me, I should’ve noticed. A good sister would have noticed. Zombies had more life than her.

The doctor told me not the blame myself, but sometimes I wondered if I could’ve helped her more. Two years didn’t sound like much age-wise, but in the end, it really was. There was still so much April couldn’t do with me.

“Wanna compare schedules?” I asked.

April pushed hers my way without taking mine. I sighed and stared at the paper as if I were trying to light it on fire. We had no classes together, not even lunch, which meant she was skipping. Already.

“Shouldn’t you be in,” I paused and registered the class name. These people were whacked. “Sidekick’ing for Beginners?”

“I am.” She waved the yellow hall pass, which sat on the other side of her.

I nodded, holding in my frustration, and fiddled with my fingers. “So, um, make any new friends?”

April shot me a death stare, like I’d asked her to shoot someone. “I’m not you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She rose to her feet and scooped up her bag and bright yellow hall pass. “You could just stand around all day, not saying a word and people would still flock to you.”

I groaned as the argument of our lives resurfaced, yet again. “Come on, April. You know that’s not true. This isn’t about me anyway. You promised Dad you’d try. Hell, you promised me you’d try. No one here knows what happened, you don’t have to hide. You can be whoever you want.”

“No I can’t. No matter where I go I will always be Norah Hart’s little sister.” Her hands tightened and relaxed at her sides, eyes flaming with jealousy. “This school is no different. It’s only lunchtime and you’re all people talk about. It’s like I don’t even exist.”

“That’s not true!” I jumped up. “And not fair, either. Doctor Parker said—”

“Save the shrink talk, Norah.” She looked away. Her backbone and hatred toward me never stayed visible for too long. Already her nerve to bitch at me had faded. She rolled her eyes and turned her back on me to walk away. Story of our life.

My dorm was one of the largest in the West Wing, with a lavish painting of clouds and sunshine on the cathedral ceiling. The crystal chandelier glittered light on the silver and pale blue stone walls. Unlike the dark wood of the castle, this room was filled with white furniture. Each twin bed had lace curtains for a bit of privacy. Above the headboard, decorated in Swarovski crystals and pearls was a large N. Danielle had a D above hers.

I crawled on top of the bed and buried my feet beneath the plush silver comforter. The sheets were so soft I never wanted to leave. When Dad came to pick me up, I’d find a way to stash the bedspread and pillows in my luggage. There were four and a body pillow. I loved body pillows! I curled into it and breathed deep. It smelt of lavender and honey.

“Norah, come here!” Danielle called from inside the closet.

On the other side of the room, near Danielle’s bed and across from the bathroom—which had a gigantic claw-foot tub and a toilet that flushed from a chain hanging from the ceiling—were two glass French doors.

My jaw dropped when I entered. The closet was a tad smaller than our room. Two of the four walls were covered top to bottom in shoes. SHOES! There were easily over one hundred pairs. The heels had to be over five or six inches tall. Some were thick, others slim. Very few weren’t a shade of blue, white, or gray—the same with her clothes.

“Whoa,” I breathed. “You have so many shoes.”

“Of course I do.” Danielle slipped out of her glass stilettos and ran a cloth over them before placing them in the only opening on the shelf. “One pair of shoes can change your life. Never forget that.”

From the looks of it, they were categorized by type—day, evening, summer, boots, etc—then by height and color. At least she had a system. Dad would’ve never allowed me to have so many. We packed only the essentials. The contents of my life easily fit in one duffle bag and three small boxes.

Somehow I doubted Danielle managed to escape for one night without packing twenty pairs of shoes. Dad dated a woman like that once, the frilly, fancy type, who had to bring five Louis Vuitton suitcases for a weekend trip to Monte Carlo. All I had was a swimsuit, a cover up, shorts, and one dress in case we went to dinner. Oh, and a bottle of sanitizer. No makeup, no fancy shoes, or evening gowns. Needless to say, the chick didn’t last very long. They never did.

“Every Tuesday evening we meet for tea in the downstairs lounge. Afterward we have free time to either study or catch up on some reading before dinner.” Danielle unclasped her necklace and hung it with the others that were similar.. “We have to leave in less than an hour. As student body president, I arrive early to welcome the guests.”

I sat on the edge of my bed. The duffle bag I brought with me sat on the floor. In one quick motion, I heaved it onto the bed and dumped the clothes out. Inside was a magazine I snagged in the airport during our layover—English tabloids were so different from America’s. I hardly recognized the celebrities. I flopped back on the pillows and opened to the dog-eared page.

“What are you doing?” Danielle asked.

“Um, reading?”

She placed on hand on her hip and glared at me with her icy blue eyes. “You need to change. You cannot wear that.” I glanced down at my jeans and shirt. There was nothing wrong with my clothes. Except the dirt stains. She had a point. Using only two fingers, she picked through my pile of clothes, a scowl fixed on her pastel pink lips. “None of this will do.”

My wardrobe consisted of jeans and shirts. Nothing fancy like Danielle’s. Mostly peasant tops and blouses. I wore natural, earthy colors. She stomped back to the closet and let out a few huffs before she reappeared with a ruffled, strapless periwinkle dress and a pair of glassy heels.

“Dress—yes, shoes—no way,” I said. The dress was actually pretty cute. She narrowed her eyes, displeased that I rejected the shoes. “What? Your feet are freakishly small. There’s no way I’d fit into those. What are they, glass stilettos?”

In one of the pockets of my duffle I found a thick brown belt, which I snapped around my waist. Instead of heels, I slipped on flats and dragged a comb through my hair. The pleased smile on Danielle’s face told me I looked good enough, but not perfect. Perfect would have been heels and ringlet curls. She had on a tea length pale blue dress and the glass stilettos I refused. In the middle of touching up my make-up, something struck me.

“Why is my sister a sidekick? I mean, we’re sisters, right? Wouldn’t that make us the same?” I sat back on the bed and watched Danielle powder her nose.

“Not necessarily.” Danielle said. “I have two step sisters. One’s a sidekick, the other a villain. It’s about the person, not the lineage. April lacks many of the qualities you have. Ones which make us assume you’ll be a princess.”

Still refusing to embrace the whole story book crap, I flipped on my stomach and waited for her to finish dousing her lips in gloss, again. I didn’t like people judging my sister. They could judge me all they wanted, but messing with April was another story.

“Do you think I’ll see her tonight?”

“Certainly not. We aren’t allowed in each other’s dorms after school hours. You’d have to meet on neutral grounds. Perhaps tomorrow.”

I ran my hand over my face and sighed. We never should’ve separated or fought. Every conversation led to fighting and I hated it.

“Speaking of families,” I cleared my throat. “How can I call my dad? Do they have phones somewhere?”

“Yes,” Danielle nodded and strategically placed a diamonded-covered headband on her head. “In the main office there’s a call center. You must sign up on the list, which you can only do on Mondays and Thursdays. Outgoing calls can only be made once a week, with permission.”

Great. Today was Monday, which meant I couldn’t get on the list till Thursday and couldn’t call him till Friday. A whole week of fairy tale craziness. Fantastic.

“Everything is going to be okay, trust me.” Danielle rose from the vanity and cupped her hands around my bare shoulders, the biggest smile I’d ever seen plastered over her made-up face. “Because you and I? We’re going to be the best of friends.”