Fairy Tales

First chapter in Hund.

Glass. It stabbed into her arms, her legs, her torso. She could feel the hot sticky blood rolling down her body, but all she could really see was the bright flash of light as the other car hit her, and the man, standing in the middle of the road with a look of terror on his face, his green eyes penetrating her thoughts, her nightmares. Then, almost instantly, it was gone.[K1]  The memory had disappeared faster than it had come. Guin’s electric blue eyes fluttered open. She was still gasping, desperately trying to breathe in something other than the terror that had just racked her body. She sat up and pushed her hair back from her face, holding her chest with one hand. She sat there for some time, trying to steady her heartbeat. She was suffering from a cold sweat and her black tank top was clinging to her small frame. She still was trying to breathe, she was still trying to forget, but wherever she turned she could see those green eyes and she was constantly blinded by the flash of light that had consumed all her thoughts for the past few months. [K2] 

          She was finally able to calm down enough to stretch out the sore spots that had accumulated from her night of tossing and turning. In the midst of her attempt to calm herself she knocked over a picture that had been situated on her bedside table. She looked over as her hand hit it, afraid of the touch of the glass sheet that protected the image. She was still trying to get used to that, the touch. She picked up the frame and looked at the picture that had been its inhabitant for as long as she could remember. It was a picture of her mother, when she was young and full of life, something Guin hadn’t seen for quite some time. [K3] She had a bright smile and in her arms was a baby that looked up at her mother with adoring blue eyes. It had been taken the day Guin was born. Her hair was damp from the five hours of labor she had gone through, but there was laughter in her eyes and she looked down at Guin as she always had, with love and care.[K4] 

          Guin put the photo down on the table and wiped away the tears that had accumulated on her face. She missed her, especially on days like today, when the sun was out and it shone down on the military base, creating a certain haven in between two fences that had supposedly kept them in. On days like today, Marie would have taken her daughter out of the base. They would have packed a picnic and Marie, Irene, and Guin would have gotten in the car and driven somewhere exotic, or at least off base and around Germany with the radio blaring and the windows rolled down as their hair whipped around their faces. Her mother had never been conventional, which made for quite the experience when her father had been promoted to the Head Captain. Guin smiled and laughed remembering when her mother had forced her father on one of these random trips and he had glared out the window the whole time, grumbling that he needed to be somewhere else. Thinking about her in that light always made Guin feel better. [K5] 

          She threw the covers off of her legs and exposed them to the cold, naked air. She shivered then ran her hands down the pale, now goose bump covered legs[K6] . She accelerated both hands to quicken the warming, but to no avail since her stubborn father wouldn’t have the heat turned up, and hadn’t ever since Guin herself was only three years old. Once she even petitioned it with her mother, signatures and all, but he had overruled them. The executor’s veto was nothing to go against. [K7] She swung her legs around and placed them on the hardwood floor. It was even colder down there[K8] . She got out of bed then walked over and wrote down on a notepad that she needed to buy a rug before her feet froze to the ground one morning. She then looked around and walked over to the closet.[K9]  It lay open, revealing her fashion to the world. She rummaged through it, passing over bright skirts and blouses that she had worn almost every single day before the funeral. Finally she settled for a black cashmere sweater that her mother had worn to a military wives party. Marie rarely went to them, but when she did she conformed, knowing that her husband’s reputation was much more important than her creativity. She did whatever it took to stay in Germany, and one of them was to conform[K10]  on base, but off base, anything went.

          Guin slipped it on and looked around the bottom of her closet for a pair of jeans. She finally found some that were paint splattered, a hobby she had taken up while in recovery. [K11] She put them on and quickly noticed the holes that had formed at her knees and along her back pockets. She stroked them delicately and prodded her hand through them, thinking of the hours of yard work she had spent in these jeans. She turned around and looked in the mirror. [K12] She surveyed herself then pulled her hair back at the base of her skull. She looked ordinary. What she didn’t see was the beauty that lit up around her. She had beautiful cornflower blue eyes and long dark beautiful hair, something that she had inherited from her mother.[K13]  She flashed a brief smile, knowing that she would be using it all day on people who thought that by asking how she was, was helping her recover. In reality, hearing about it everyday from her peers made her relive it even more at night.

          “Guin, your going to be late for school,” Irene yelled from down in the kitchen. Guin turned toward the commanding voice, slightly startled. She had been up for awhile, but Irene had always been the one to wake her everyday, it was routine. Irene liked her routines. Guin sometimes had a hard time believing that Marie and Irene had been best friends. They had been friends as long as Guin could remember and they had known each other in high school. When Guin was born, Irene had been there, and had been ever since. She had worked as a housekeeper for them, baby sitting on the rare occasions that Guin’s mom would leave her home alone to go on a date with the captain. With her mother gone, Irene was everything to Guin now.

          “Guin!” Irene yelled again. Guin rolled her eyes then picked up her brown messenger bag near the door. She slung it over her shoulder then jogged down the stairs entering her bright kitchen. She walked over and set her bag on the table. She looked up and smiled at Irene who was standing at the stove flipping pancakes.

          “I thought the dead couldn’t wake you,” Irene said, feeling Guin’s stare into her back. Guin rolled her eyes then pulled out a chair sitting down at the table. She reached over and picked up a box of pop tarts that had been placed in the middle of the table on a small carousel where one would normally keep ketchup and salt. She pulled out a silver sleeve and opened it, letting the rustling paper fill the silence that had been haunting the kitchen lately. The dead might have actually been here to wake me, thought Guin.[K14]  She broke off a corner then stuck it in her mouth, savoring the crunchy sugary goodness. Irene looked over at her and frowned. Pop tarts, again. She picked up a stack of pancakes then walked over and set it down in front of her troubled teenager. Guin looked at the plate, but she didn’t say anything. Irene was trying to start a fight, or at least that’s what she thought. Silence was one of Irene’s best tools--she knew that Guin couldn’t stand it.

          “Pancakes?” she asked. Guin looked up at her and forced out her “I’m so not falling for your flattery” smile.

          “No thanks,” she said. Irene set her hands on her hips and glared down at her.

          “Guin,” she started, wanting to extract something from her goddaughter. She watched motionless as the backbiting teenager in Guin couldn’t let this fight start without a stupid response.

          “Irene,” she said. Irene rolled her eyes then sat down at the table across from her. Guin stared her down with her mother’s eyes and for a few moments Irene couldn’t gain her thoughts. Guin was so much like her mother that it scared Irene sometimes. She breathed deeply then began a speech that she had been rehearsing on her mirror everyday so she could use it on Guin. She felt that now the time was right.

          “Guin, don’t you think that its time to try something other than pop tarts?” she asked. Guin looked up at her with a quizzical look. Irene breathed deeply then slowly continued.

          “That’s all you eat now days, even for dinner,” Irene said. Guin rolled her eyes then sunk back in her chair. Irene was trying to remain calm, but her quick temper always got the better of her when she was trying to get a point across.

          “Guin, Marie would have wanted you to move on,” Irene said. Guin let out a short piercing laugh.

          “Move on? How would you know?” she asked. Irene looked at her with a hurt look. Marie had been her best friend, her sister, everything to her, just as Guin was now.

          “Well?” Guin asked reverting back to an angry teenager. Irene looked down at her hands and swallowed back the tears.

          “She was my best friend,” Irene said. Guin looked over at her and for only one moment she thought that Irene was suffering just as much as she was. Then again, Guin knew how she felt and that’s all that matters to teenagers in crisis. Her feelings were more real and more true.

          She thought about seeing her mother’s lifeless body against the dashboard. She thought about the bright flash of light and the man standing there staring at them in the middle of the road, but most importantly she thought about the glass. Her arms began the all too familiar sensation. She shook herself out of it.

          “She was my mom,” she finally said out of anger. She stood up, knocking over the chair she had been sitting in only moments ago. She picked up her bag off the table and started to storm over to the door. However as she reached out to take the handle she had the urge to turn around and look at the one and only person who could possibly understand the hurt in her heart. Irene sat at the table with her face in her hands. Her body shook as she was racked with the sobs she had been holding in during the entire fight. Tears were streaming out of her hands and dropping on the table making a sinister noise. Guin wanted to reach out and help her, but her anger blinded her and she reached out taking the brass doorknob in her hands. She twisted it once and it opened throwing light into the now dark kitchen. Guin stormed out slamming the door behind her. She walked down the cement path and walked over to her car parked underneath a basketball hoop her father set up years ago for his personal use. She threw open the door, slamming the metal frame into her shin, but she had no time for pain. She got in and jammed the key in the ignition taking a weird comfort from the roar of the engine.

          When she pulled out, she looked back toward the door and she saw Irene standing there like an annoying hawk, watching her go, just as she did every morning. She frowned then put her car in reverse, peeling out of her driveway in a flurry of screeches and a strong scent of burnt rubber.

          Once as she was on the road she could think more rationally about things. She supposed that Irene’s intentions had been noble and maybe her talking to Guin was her way of trying to come to terms with Marie’s death, but she didn’t have to do that to her. Guin was already having night terrors. She was always feeling the cutting glass from that night. She looked out of her window and saw the high school looming in the distance. Already she could tell that the good parking was taken.

          She resolved that she would park in the coffee shop across the street, the Black Café. It was an exclusive place where only the officers were allowed to go, so naturally they sold more alcohol than coffee, but she parked there anyway, knowing that no one would make her move it once they ran a check on the license plate. No doubt it was one of the perks of being the daughter to the commanding officer.

          She got out of her car then grabbed her bag that she had thrown in the back seat. She turned around and looked over at the crowd of students milling out of their cars and stopping to talk before entering the building. She could already hear the rumors. They had been cumulating since the accident. For a long time Guin hadn’t gone to school just because she hated to hear the half baked stories the student body had made up about her. She looked around and realized that half of these people she didn’t know, even in passing. Of course that was one of the things that came along with your dad being in the military, you could never make any friends, but even so this was still a high school. They still had classes, they still started rumors, and they still obsessed over their relationships in every way shape and from. As much as teenagers hate to admit this, their whole life is revolved around school. That’s why they pine away in the summer months begging to be let back into decent society.

          She looked around at the mediocre group of students and forced out one of her well rehearsed smiles. A girl smiled back at her, but then quickly turned back into her world of seventeen magazine and Taylor Lautner. Guin rolled her eyes at them. She remembered being like that, but the past few months had forced her to mature. She walked on, shoving past the rumors that had already started as she walked into the parking lot, no doubt a product of her unusual sultry attitude. It was only a matter of time before one of them came up and asked the most moronic questions in all of decent society, how was she.

          She wasn’t ok, but they didn’t need to know that. The only person who truly knew how she felt she had left at home with her head in her hands trying to regain composure for Guin’s sake. She had hurt Irene, and that enough was a bad enough start to the day. She could feel the hot betraying tears roll down her cheek and she took off at a run for the doors hoping to avoid more rumors as she wiped away the evidence on her face, but she was stopped by something more calming than a bathroom stall.

          “Hey Guin,” Arthur said wrapping his strong arms around her. Enough was enough and she was no longer afraid to hide her emotions. She sunk her head into his chest and let out a deep shuttering sob. Arthur knew that she was upset just by the way she had been holding herself. Guin had a way of letting the whole world know what was wrong, even when she didn’t think she did. She was once bubbly and full of life and anyone who had once talked to her could profess to that truth, but life had been to hard on her and one could see her better days just by how high her shoulders were. Today she had practically been a hunchback and Arthur knew that only he could now make her pain go away.

          “What’s wrong?” he asked whispering it into her dark hair. She sobbed louder and he pushed her into his chest trying to suppress the noise. Guin would never forgive herself if the whole school had heard her cry. They sat like that for awhile, Arthur was patiently waiting for Guin to calm down. Finally after awhile she stopped crying and wrapped her arms around him. He kissed the top of her head then looked down at her sad face.

          “Are you ok?” he asked. She looked up and nodded.

          “I’m fine now, I just needed to push past my morning I guess,” she said.

          “Was it that bad of a morning?” Arthur asked. Guin guffawed at the statement.

          “You have no idea,” she said. She pulled away from Arthur, but took his hand, still needing the comfort only he could give her. They walked into the square gray building that said it was a high school, but Guin always felt like it was prison. Arthur led her down the blue and white halls to her black locker that was located a hundred yards away from the front office. Guin opened her locker then stuck her head inside and groaned. Arthur took the hint and rubbed her back to calm her down.

          “I want to die!” she said. Arthur rolled his eyes. Guin could always be a little dramatic when she was upset with herself.

          “Suicide isn’t the answer,” he said. Guin looked over at him with an annoyed face.

          “It is when you have nothing else to live for!” she said. Arthur knew she wasn’t serious so he just shrugged and looked at her with a “I guess so” face. She turned back to her open locker and pulled out a battered US history book.

          “I don’t want to go to class today,” she said.

          “I thought you loved history?” Arthur asked. Guin shrugged.

          “I don’t like the way Mr. Simmons teaches it. He makes all of our presidents out to be some kind of corrupted soul that shouldn’t have been in office, especially FDR,” she said. Arthur let out his loud bellowing laugh.

          “I forget that your so opinionated sometimes,” Arthur said. She giggled then looked down at the book.

          “I think I’ll skip today,” she said sticking the book back in her locker.

Arthur leaned up against the wall and let a devious smile spread across his handsome face.

          “Oo, I didn’t know I was dating a bad girl,” he said. Guin looked over at him with a “your stupid” face.

          “What will be your excuse today?” he asked. Guin looked over at him with a devious grin.

          “I don’t know, maybe I could pull the ‘I’m daughter of the head captain’ card,” she said. Arthur laughed.

          “You can’t use that for everything,” he said. She let a coy smile escape her lips.

          “I don’t know it worked when they caught us making out in an army issued jeep in Berlin,” she said. Arthur chuckled remembering the shocked looks on the German police officer’s face. That had been too fun, and she was right it had gotten them out of a five hundred dollar fine.

          “Ok, but you can’t use that everyday, you have to have a back up plan,” he said. Guin looked around for a good excuse. She spotted the front office, its glass walls gleaming thanks to a gallon of windex. She could see Miss. Hunter at her desk, her eyes glued to her computer. Guin had her excuse.

          “I could always say I had an appointment with the counselor,” she said. Arthur looked down at her with shock.

          “Do you?” he asked. Guin laughed at the worried look on his face.

          “No, that’s why its called an excuse,” she said. Arthur smiled then looked back at the office.

          “You can’t avoid her much longer,” he said. Guin nodded.

          “I know, but I still can buy myself a little more time if I keep skipping class and running off so she can’t find me,” she said.

          “Yeah, but sooner or later she’s going to get you in to talk about it,” he said. Guin looked up at him and gave him a bright smile.

          “She can get me in her office, but she can’t make me talk about anything I don’t want to talk about,” she said. Arthur laughed at her then pulled her in for a kiss. As he did, the bell rang and he looked up noticing that the halls had already cleared.

          “Oh man, I’m late for German!” he said. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and kissed her quickly again.

          “Sorry I have to run, but if I miss it again my dad says he’ll ship me back to the states to live with my mom,” he said.

          “Don’t let me keep you,” Guin said. Arthur took off at a full sprint down the hall barely keeping his balance as he rounded a corner. Guin watched him go then grabbed her bag heading in the same direction as he went. She couldn’t leave the same way that she had come in since it passed the front office. She really didn’t want her excuse to be that she had to go see Miss. Hunter. As she left she could hear the click of stilettos on the linoleum.  Click. Click. Click. The sound approached in a haunting and ominous way. Click. Click. Click. Guin had half a mind to make a run for it, but she knew that they would catch up.

          “Guinevere,” a shrill soprano voice called out after her. She stopped recognizing it all to well. The stilettos sounded haunting and ominous on the brink of destruction. Guin turned around slowly to face her greatest foe, closure. Miss. Hunter looked ravishing as usual. She had her honey blonde hair pulled up into a twist and she wore a black suit with a red blouse underneath, making her look like an oversized black widow.

          “Do you mind if we talk in my office?” she asked. She had a sweet and innocent look that came through her rhinestone glasses nicely. Guin looked at her options. She could always say that she had a test in history that she had to take, or she could pull her daddy card or she could act as sweet as possible in hopes to deter her from the situation.

          “I would love to, but I have a test in history that’s worth half of my grade. I can’t miss it,” Guin said. She shrugged and gave a “what can you do”  face then turned around heading toward her class.

          “Miss. Hudson,” Miss. Hunter called after her. Guin turned back toward her. She had a slip of paper in her hands.

          “What’s that?” Guin asked. Miss. Hunter smiled a smile that Guin imagined a lion would use on an antelope just before it pounced.

          “It’s a slip that says your excused from your classes all day,” she said. Guin looked over at her. She could feel the anger boiling up inside her, finally she drew her last card, the only card that could get her out of everything.

          “The captain considers my studies more important than a counseling session,” she said. Thinking that she had won, Guin smirked then turned away walking down the hall toward her history class, but Miss. Hunter still followed her.

          “Guin,” she said, using a name that was only used by close and intimate friends. Guin shuddered thinking that Miss. Hunter thought it proper to call her that.

          “It’s Guinevere,” she said turning on Miss. Hunter. Miss. Hunter smiled knowing that she was finally getting to her. She had reeled in her prey.

          “The captain is waiting in my office,” she said. Guin’s jaw dropped. She hadn’t.

          “He’s waiting for our session to begin,” Miss Hunter said. She had! Guin looked over at her in utter disbelief. She was going to have to come to terms with it in front of the one person who blamed her for the whole thing. Miss. Hunter pivoted on her heels then walked back down the hall toward the glass box of an office. Guin followed, thinking of one million things that she could do to escape. She could always fake a psychotic episode, but then again she actually might induce her day terror and then have a panic attack in front of the whole school. She kept following trying to find some reason to run away, but she couldn’t see any escape route that would work. She entered the office and groaned, death of soul seemed imminent and she stood patiently waiting for Miss. Hunter to finish. Guin looked around hoping that the glass didn’t seem as transparent as it was. She didn’t want to the whole school seeing her give in.

          She leaned up against the wall and found that it gave way. It wasn’t a wall, it was a door, not only a door a fire escape. Although it would be obvious who had triggered it, she knew that Miss. Hunter couldn’t come after her because it was her job to make sure that everyone had made it out ok. Slowly she leaned back and soon enough the alarm sounded. Guin pushed the door the rest of the way open and ran outside, not even bothering to look back. She sprinted across the street to her parked car, only stopping when she had reached it. She turned around and saw the crowds of students filing out with a very angry spider running around trying to gather them together. Guin cackled, reveling in her victory. She opened her car door and threw her pack in the seat next to her.  She got in next to it and dug through it trying to find her keys. She finally withdrew them and stuck them in the ignition. She put the car in reverse then turned to look behind her. She stopped. Irene sat in the back of the car, looking as if her life’s ambition was to be sitting in that back seat. She smiled at Guin. Guin turned and sunk down in her seat. Busted. Irene leaned up relaxing her elbows on the headrests.

          “Where are you going?” she asked. Guin looked over at her.

          “I don’t know,” she groaned. Irene looked down at her goddaughter and smiled.

          “Well there’s always Berlin, or we could go to Nueswhastein or there is even the possibility of driving to France and staying for the weekend,” she said. Guin looked up at her with a puzzled expression.

          “Your not upset that I’m skipping school?” Guin asked. Irene shrugged.

          “Your business is your own,” Irene said. Guin looked up at her still confused. Irene was very letter of the law, there was no way she was doing this just because it was Guin’s business.

          “Really?” Guin asked. Irene nodded.

          “That and I feel terrible about what I said to you this morning,” Irene said. She looked down at her feet sheepishly. Guin looked up at her and let a smile spread slowly across her face.

          “Its ok,” Guin said, “ I should be apologizing to you for the way I acted.” Irene shook her head.

          “No, its totally my fault, I knew you weren’t ready to come to terms with it, but I was tired of seeing you so depressed all the time,” Irene said. Guin nodded.

          “Understandable,” she said. Irene looked back at her and reflected the smile on Guin‘s face. They shared a moment of mutual understanding. Irene knew that Guin would probably never come to terms with Maria’s death and Guin knew that Irene wouldn’t stop trying to help her, so there was an impasse and the two friends made up in silence.

          “Well where are we going?” Irene asked. She jumped into the front seat showing off her strength and agility. Guin turned and looked out her front window.

          “Well I have that art project due in a couple of weeks, I suppose I could get started on that,” Guin said.

          “I thought you were trying to avoid school,” Irene said pulling the seatbelt over her shoulder.

          “Art isn’t just a class to me anymore,” Guin said. Irene nodded, knowing that Guin had really flourished on that talent the few months she had been home recovering. She had painted a picture of Maria and her out on some swings when Guin was still little, adding more scenery behind it. Guin had titled it Lost Angel. Irene had hung up the painting in Guin’s room when she was done with it and now Irene spent many an hour cleaning Guin’s room so she could look at it.

          “Well I suppose if that’s what you want to do,” Irene said. Guin smiled brightly then pulled out of the Black Café.

          “When does the library open?” Guin asked. Irene looked over at her and let out a wicked grin.

          “Doesn’t matter, I’ve got the key,” she said pulling out her key ring. Guin laughed. Irene could get pretty much anything she wanted out of people. All she had to do was play the boss card.

          “Ok,” Guin said turning toward the base library.

          “Why do you need to go there?” Irene asked. Guin’s happy smile returned as she went to explain.

          “My project is to illustrate a fairytale,” she said. Irene nodded, approving of the answer.

          “Well, that would be the best place to go,” Irene said. Guin laughed. Of course it was, the base library had pretty much everything you needed to know about what was what in all of literature, plus other things that didn’t matter as much like weaponry and how to crochet. Guin loved to go there by herself and sit amongst the books practically begging them to open up and tell there stories to her.

          “Last time I was there they had updated it,” Irene said.

          “They updated it like three years ago,” Guin said trying to contain her laughter. Irene shrugged.

          “I guess that’s the last time I’ve read a book,” she said. Irene didn’t get out of the house much, but that didn’t matter to her. She had always been a homebody, Maria had to practically drag her to live with them on base, but then again it was easier because Irene didn’t stay at her actual home much. Guin could never figure out why and Irene did not like the subject to be brought up.

          “Well get one today,” Guin said. Irene shook her head.

          “I don’t have time for fantasy,” Irene said. Guin looked at her puzzled.

          “What do you mean?” Guin asked. Irene looked out the window avoiding Guin’s gaze.

          “Nothing,” she said. Irene turned back to look at her. There was a heavy tension in the air as Guin decided wether or not she would ask what was wrong with fantasy, but Irene sensed it and changed the subject.

          “What story are you thinking about doing?” she asked. Guin blinked coming back to reality and slightly shocked that Irene had changed the subject so quickly.

          “I don’t know,” she said. Irene looked over at her and gave her a small smile.

          “Well I’m sure you’ll find one that you like,” Irene said. Guin nodded then looked back to the road. The library was one of the bigger buildings in town. It was rectangular with red brick as its exterior making it seem like a giant pizza oven. It was definitely one of the oldest buildings and a lot of the bricks had fallen out and had to be replaced with newer ones making it seem even more tacky then it was before, but this was Guin’s home now, and she loved it. She pulled up and parked near the entrance. The library was supposed to open at ten, but they were nearly two hours early. They got out of the car covering their heads from the rain that had started to come down.

          Irene opened the door and walked inside with an authorative air. Guin followed laughing at Irene’s confidence. When inside Irene walked around turning on the lights and booting up a computer. Guin hadn’t been here for awhile, so she found it hard to keep up with Irene and still remain in search of what she needed. She had almost forgotten where everything was. She walked up and looked over Irene’s shoulder. She stared at the screen intently. Guin suddenly realized that Irene probably didn’t know the password, but soon enough Irene typed it in and it allowed her access to the files on that account.

          “How did you know the password?” she asked. Irene gave her a devious grin.

          “I have my ways,” Irene answered. Guin rolled her eyes. Sometimes it seemed that Irene was a spy for some kind of organization, but then again the only country she would ever be a spy for is Germany, her home. Irene typed in the book that she wanted then strode off at a brisk pace to the aisle it was located on.

          “Wow slow down!” Guin said. Irene turned and looked at her.

          “Why don’t you just learn to keep up?” she asked. Guin looked at her and stuck her tongue out. Irene laughed then repeated the action. Guin couldn’t help but let a grin escape her lips. Irene turned back and again began to walk at a quick and even pace toward the aisle. Guin walked along beside her and ran her hands along the spines of the books. It had been awhile since she had done that. The library at home had been locked up after her mom died because that had been her favorite room. Only Guin’s father was allowed to go in their now. Guin supposed it was because he missed her deeply, but she wanted to take comfort from her mother’s life long friends too.

          “Here we are,” Irene said. She pulled out a book and with it came the combination of dust and spider webs that had accumulated on it over the years.

          “When was the last time that thing was checked out?” Guin asked. Irene opened the cover and scrolled her long nails down the page.

          “I don’t think it has been,” she said. Guin rolled her eyes.

          “That explains it,” Guin said. Irene opened the book farther and looked at the story on the page.

          “Do you know what story you want?” she asked. Guin shrugged.

          “I don’t know a lot of stories,” she said. Irene looked at her.

          “You did, before-” Irene broke off knowing that going there was not a good idea right now. Guin looked at Irene. She was right. She had repressed anything that brought back something about her mother, one of which was the nightly stories she would tell her from a fairytale book that was now locked in the library with all of her mother’s things.

          “Never mind,” Irene said. She looked back down to the book, and turned the pages smoothly and quickly. She stopped on another page and looked at it intently.

          “My mother used to tell me this story all the time,” Irene said. Guin looked over her shoulder and read the title.

          “Roughskin?” she asked. Irene nodded.

          “Here read it,” Irene said forfeiting the book over to Guin. She took it and read it quickly. It was a good story, but Guin couldn’t figure out why it was so special.

          “Why do you like it so much?” she asked once as she had finished. Irene shrugged.

          “I guess the meaning of it always got to me,” she said.

          “Which is?” Guin asked.

          “Appearance is everything,” Irene said. Guin raised one of her eyebrows in disbelief. Irene had always told her that appearance didn’t matter.

          “What about Beauty and the Beast?” Guin asked. Irene looked up at her.

          “What?” she asked.

          “Beauty and the Beast is about accepting people no matter what they look like, wouldn’t that be your favorite?” she asked. Irene looked down at her hands. She spaced out, obviously thinking about something that Irene didn’t know about.

          “Far from it,” she whispered. Guin knelt down next to her.

          “Why?” she asked. Irene looked up at her. She seemed hurt. Her eyes pleaded with Guin to take away the pain but Guin didn’t know how.

          “The beast always gets what he wants in that story, and it doesn’t matter what he does to Belle to get it,” she said. Guin looked down at her. Irene had begun to shake and she looked frantically around her as if the walls were closing in.

          “Are you ok?” Guin asked. Irene didn’t answer. Instead she stood and walked over to a window that was up against the side. She looked out and she could make out the trees of the Black Forest swaying in the distance. She stared at something that wasn’t there, but she looked hurt and scared.

          “Irene?” Guin asked desperately trying to call her back. Irene stared outside for a moment longer than turned back to her.

          “Come on, you should probably go back to school,” she said. Guin didn’t argue. She knew that Irene needed to have time to think. She had been having these kind of moments a lot since Guin’s mother had died. Her constant stares made Guin feel like Irene thought Guin would explode at any minute. Irene turned and walked back to the computer. She quickly scanned the book under her name then handed it to Guin.

          “Thanks for bringing me,” she said. Irene nodded. Guin hadn’t thought of coming here and even though it had been a bizarre chain of events she had enjoyed coming someplace that felt like home. They left the library turning off all the lights as they went. Guin walked back to the car, not bothering to shield her head from the rain since it was just a light drizzle now. Irene climbed in the passengers seat, but remained silent. Guin pulled out and started to drive back toward the school.

          “Are you ok?” she asked Irene after awhile.

          “Fine,” Irene answered in a dead tone. Guin looked over at her, but decided that forcing the real answer out was not going to be worth it. Finally, she reached the Black Café and turned into its parking lot.

          “Do you need a ride home?” she asked Irene. Irene shook her head still staring blankly out the window.

          “My car is over there,” she said pointing out Guin’s window. Guin turned and looked. She hadn’t noticed it earlier, but it was there, rain splattered just like the other cars in the parking lot. Guin nodded then turned back to look at Irene.

          “Do you want to get a coffee?” she asked. Irene slowly turned and looked at her.

          “I’d love to,” she said a smile slowly spreading across her face. Guin smiled back, happy to know that Irene was going to be ok.

          “Good,” she said. They got out of the car then jogged down the steps to the door of the Black Café since it was underground. Irene opened the door and a little bell sounded inside.

          “Hello?” a man’s voice called.

          “Hi Erin,” Irene called back. There was a cluttering noise of pots and pans and then a man appeared looking red and flustered.

          “Hello Irene,” he said a wide grin appearing on his face.

          “Table for two,” she said. He nodded then led them to a circular table near a sign that lit up the room with the glow of the beer it advertised.

          “Is right here ok?” he asked.

          “This is fine,” Irene said, “thank you.” He nodded then took their orders, black coffee and a cappuccino. Guin only took her coffee black now. She preferred the bitter sweet taste to the sickeningly sweet cappuccino that Irene had ordered, but then again her mother had too.

          “Here you go,” the owner said coming back with their orders.

          “Thank you,” Irene said picking it up and taking a sip.

          “Is there anything else I can get you?” he asked.

          “No, we’re fine,” Irene said. He looked at her waiting for some kind of approval from her, but then deciding he wasn’t going to get it turned and walked back to his kitchen. Guin sat there steadily drinking her coffee. Irene was still demure and quiet. She looked around the room taking in the signs even though she had been here many a time before. After Guin was done, she took out the book that she had brought in with her. She opened it and started to flip through the pages. She stopped looking up at Irene.

          “What’s your favorite story?” she asked. Irene looked at her.

          “Mine?” she asked. Guin rolled her eyes.

          “No Magellan’s” she said. Irene shook her head.

          “Well I think it would have to be Rapunzel,” she said. Guin cocked her head to one side.

          “Why?” she asked. Irene looked down at her hands again and became silent for only a moment.

          “Because she was cursed for her parent’s mistakes.”  [K15] 

 

---

 [K1]Too big of an opening?

 [K2]Should this be worded differently?

 [K3]Should I elaborate?

 [K4]Too cheesy?

 [K5]Should I explain that she is dead?

 [K6]Too much repetition.

 [K7]Does this sound like me?

 [K8]Does this make sense?

 [K9]Better way to transition?

 [K10]Repeat

 [K11]Does this make sense?

 [K12]Relevant?

 [K13]Make sense?

 [K14]Does this make sense?

 [K15]Big enough ending to a chapter or is it overdone?

Author's Note

all questions I have are within the text as footnotes.