The Twisted Fairy Tale Box Set Page 2

  "Huh?" Hardy asked.

  I should have never shown him what I could do.

  I had managed to keep him, all right, but at this rate, we'd never get past the kissing and hand-holding stage. We could barely even do that anymore.

  I decided to give the maiden a red dress. A long, flowing, angry red dress with sharp sleeves and bright highlights.

  "So, there's this sale going on with Steam right now."

  Steam. It was some website that Hardy liked to frequent.

  You could buy games there.

  "Up until the end of the week, you can get all these games for sixty percent off. There's this one I'm looking at where you get stranded on an ocean planet, and you have to survive all alone. It looks like a lot of fun, but I don't get my allowance money up until next week, and it's not going to cover the cost."

  He ended it there, with a big, hanging question that he didn't need to speak out loud.

  When I didn't respond, he started telling me more about the game.

  I painted another slash on the dress. I changed brushes and worked towards molding the woman's mouth into a scowl. I painted in her eyes, making her glare at the man. Maybe then, Hardy would get the message.

  Or maybe not.

  I glanced down.

  Hardy's backpack was lying next to my feet. It was open a little and wedged in between a math book, and a Literature volume was a ball of yarn, complete with a blue crochet hook sticking through it.

  I fought the urge to take out the hook and stab something else with it instead. "Hardy," I said, interrupting his talk about crafting stations and giant sea monsters. "If I do this for you--again--you have to buy me something, too."

  "Sure. I'll be able to do that. What do you want?" His voice lightened a bit, and his shoulders sagged in relief. He was nervous about this today.

  "A shirt that said JP Morgan Chase on the front," I said.

  He molded his face in confusion.

  "Because if I'm your bank, I at least want to look the part." I backed away from my painting and fluffed out my hoodie. Then, I waved to my dragon leggings.

  Hardy let his forehead slap down to his open hand. "Brie," he managed. "This costs you nothing to do."

  Mr. Crinkle moved on to my easel and stopped for a second. He smiled and reached out towards my work. His sleeve rolled back as he rubbed his hand down the side of my easel. His tattoo showed a bit. The bottom of a coat of arms stuck out from his shirt sleeve. I caught the image of a castle and a goose before he moved again, taking it out of sight.

  "I like this, Brie," he said. "You're always coming up with something different. I love the detail you put here between the couple. Very thought-provoking. It makes you wonder what's going on between that couple in the middle."

  "Thanks," I said. Would Hardy ever get it?

  Apparently, I'd hoped for too much. My boyfriend breathed a sigh of relief when Mr. Crinkle walked away. "Just one more time," he said, drawing closer. "I know you don't like...using your talent...but this is important. It's the last time I'll ask you. Then, we'll go out this weekend, and I'll take you to that ice cream place you've been asking for up in Badwater."

  "Which is where that retro gaming store is," I reminded him, not that he needed that.

  Hardy balked. "I...I never said anything about going there."

  Aimee wrapped up on the painting of her cat. She moved it over to the side of the room, and I realized everyone else was wrapping up, too. Great. The club was almost over and then as soon as I did what Hardy wanted, he'd take off, never to see the light of day until tomorrow. I wondered where he sold all this gold. How many times he'd told the clerks it had come from his dead grandmother.

  Hardy moved over to the other side of the room and texted on his phone while everyone else cleared out. Mr. Crinkle vanished somewhere--maybe to go rinse out some paintbrushes--and at last, the room had emptied except for Hardy and me.

  I sighed. "Let's finish this. If the janitor sees this, Mom and Dad will move me across the country again." My heart ached as I studied the friendship ring on my right hand. Hannah had given it to me before I'd moved the first time, so I would always remember her. It was a flower with a smiley face in the middle.

  I missed Hannah.

  She was the one person I could remember who didn't care whether or not I could spin gold.

  Hardy took the yarn out of his backpack and handed it to me. It was red yarn today. Fitting, given my mood. I'd make a quick bracelet or something and shoo Hardy out of here so I could go home and get my studying and chores done.

  As soon as I grabbed the yarn and the hook, the tingling returned to my hands. I worked, and Hardy stood there, waiting for the gold flash. A bracelet appeared in my hands. The heat grew, and I cursed it and my biological parents, whoever they were. Hardy leaned across the big art table, eyes shining with something I had seen on my parents' faces too many times before.

  The tingling in my hands intensified, and the golden flash came. It faded, and Hardy stared with his mouth gaping open.

  "Brie, how am I supposed to tell the gold place this is from my grandmother?"

  I glanced down.

  I held a golden chain.

  A thick, humongous, swag gold chain with a dollar sign medallion. It swung with the weight.

  "I can't control what comes out sometimes," I say. "Oh, well. It looks like you need to let your pants fall and show your tighty whities when you go sell this since you'll need to look the part. Here you go."

  And I tossed the medallion on the floor.

  “Brie!” Hardy turned his stare on me. So much for laughing at my joke. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

  I grabbed my backpack and shoved my easel over to the other side of the room. It banged up against the wall, and I headed for the door, brushing past Hardy. “We’re over.”

  “What?” Hardy’s voice filled with horror. “Brie! You can’t do this. I love you! I’m sorry I’ve been spending too much time on games. I’ll make sure to spend more time with you."

  I'd had enough. I walked past all the art tables and knocked a stool against one as hard as I could. Hardy trailed behind me. “Come on, Brie. Can’t we talk about this?”

  “Over Steam again?” I asked, eyeing the door. Only a few more feet and I could run.

  “No. Of course not over Steam. Face to face.”

  I noticed too late that the cabinet door by the exit was open.

  And Mr. Crinkle stood there, sifting through the cabinet.

  He had just heard our entire conversation.

  And maybe seen way more than I hoped.

  “Have a great day, Brie,” he said to me, smiling and oblivious to the black look I must have had on my face.

  I nodded to him and stormed out, realizing too late that I had left the gold chain on the floor. Hardy could tell Mr. Crinkle it was his. That was more believable than the truth.

  “Brie!” Hardy’s shouts got more pathetic as I broke into a run.

  I managed to push open the first exit door I found, the one at the end of the art hall. I came out next to a Dumpster. Ironic. I was doing this all over again.

  I decided to take a long way home. I kept running, leaving Wolverton High behind. My backpack weighed me down with its mountains of homework that there was no way I’d be able to do tonight.

  "Brie!" he yelled. I glanced back to see that he was leaning out the doors. Hardy was so out of shape that he'd never give chase.

  I flipped him off, turned away, and kept stalking across the grass. I didn't slow until I had walked around the school. Then I caught my breath and took the sidewalk that led to downtown. Wolverton wasn’t the worst town in the world, but not the greatest, either. It at least boasted a used CD store I could browse around in sometimes if I weren't stuck being used by Hardy. I’d have more time for that now.

  And I laughed.

  I was free of him.

  And he couldn’t blackmail me. Who was going to believe him if he told someone that I cou
ld spin gold? If he showed that medallion to anyone, they might think he stole it. He might land in huge trouble.

  So would I.

  My parents’ heads would explode if they knew I told anyone about my ability.

  No, curse.

  There was no better word for it. Why did I have to sabotage myself with Hardy, anyway? I could have come up with a better way to get us closer together.

  I turned my thoughts to better things as I jogged along the weed-choked sidewalk. The nightmares Hardy would have tonight. And best of all, the horrifying realization that he might have to get a job if he wants to continue his hobby.

  I had a smile on my face by the time I crossed through the hole in the fence and left the school grounds. It was a beautiful day, and the air was a bit cool with fall just starting. Maybe next year would be better. I could make more friends here. Maybe even meet another guy, and this time I wouldn't screw up and reveal my ability.

  But could I trust anyone else with my secret?

  I thought I could trust Hardy.

  My parents.

  Both were Mount Everest sized mistakes.

  I reached Main Street. The traffic hummed and clunked as drivers played a game of Dodge the Pothole. Downtown waited up ahead with its Victorian lights that I always thought looked like oil lamps. I didn’t want to leave Wolverton, which we’d need to do if Hardy got anyone to believe him. I’d found the place cute since I came here two years ago.

  “Would you like a ride, miss?”

  I jumped. A guy stood next to me on the grass, between the sidewalk and the road.

  The guy was kind of cute even though he was a few inches shorter than me. He wore what must be a costume for a play. Brown trousers. A button-up blue tunic that was sun-faded hugged his chest. His silver buttons shined in the sun and drew my attention up to his face. The guy—who must have been about my age--had a reddish mole on the side of his nose that wrinkled a bit as he smiled at me. His floppy brown hair hung down from a leather brimmed hat that any steam-punk fan would drool over. He looked like someone who'd be showing up at one of Hardy's larping events when he still went. He'd be the peasant trying to avoid all the orcs and wizards.

  And he had a weird inner glow, almost like there was a light coming from deep within. It wasn't something I could see. It was just...there. I couldn't explain it.

  “I’m—" I started.

  There was a carriage parked right behind him. On the curb. In traffic.

  Complete with horses.

  It was a wooden carriage with beautiful vines carved up and down the base. The guy held the door open and smiled, revealing a similar interior and a wooden bench that looked like it had seen better days. A driver in a black cloak and hood sat at the front with reins ready. I made out a pair of hands, the hands of a young woman, but nothing else. She had her face hidden.

  “—Good,” I finished. The carriage wasn’t here before. I would have seen it. How did I not spot this a minute ago?

  “Really, miss,” the guy said. He gave me a little bow. “You have a long walk ahead of you, and it might not be safe. We can give you a ride.”

  "Are you Hardy's friends?" I asked. That was it. Hardy called some of his old larping buddies and arranged this. They must have been fast. Very fast.

  "Hardy?" The guy furrowed his brows at me and leaned on the open door. "Who's Hardy?"

  "Never mind," I said, backing towards the sidewalk.

  My stomach turned in warning. This guy could be some weird pervert for all I knew, and I didn’t spot any signs on the back of the carriage saying it was Victorian Taxi Services or anything. One of the horses snorted and stomped its hoof. A car slowed, then moved around the wagon, hitting one of the potholes. I heard a painful jolt that might have been its suspension going out.

  “Really,” the guy said. He had a voice like smooth bark. He adjusted his leather hat, pulling it down over his ears. “It’s not safe for a young lady to be out walking by herself.”

  I had to laugh. This whole thing was weird. These people were great role-players, at least. “Let me get you caught up on the ways of this century.”

  “World,” the guy corrected me. “I forget sometimes. Things are different here. Please, let me take you home. I promise the carriage is a smooth ride.” He was so, so not talking like a sixteen-year-old. As he spoke, he checked up and down the road as if waiting for someone to come along.

  One of the horses flicked its tail.

  And then it took a crap.

  The guy glanced at it and frowned back at me. "Sorry." His face flushed red.

  "I've got to go," I said, turning away. "Thanks for the offer."

  "Wait!" The short guy wrapped his fingers around my wrist, and I flinched. Ultra creepy.

  "Hey!" I shouted, facing him, but he still wouldn't let go. The brim of his hat was eye level with me. He had to look up to meet me.

  "Aren't you tired of running?" the guy asked, tightening his grip on my wrist.

  "Of running?" I asked. His touch tingled. It reminded me too much of my curse, and it took my breath away. I should be yanking my arm from his grasp.

  "From your life here?"

  His eyes were such a deep blue and his face, a perfect cream. I struggled to find words, but a stupor came over me. My mind went blank, and I stammered, "You're invading my personal space."

  "Sorry," the guy said, releasing me. His face flushed again, and he eyed the grass, flipping over a plastic candy bar wrapper with his leather boot. "I won't do that again."

  My head cleared. He was right about that. I had to get away. I'd had enough of guys just then, and I needed a breather. A long break. I hiked my backpack up and walked down the sidewalk.

  And I didn't like what he was saying.

  Had Hardy told others about what I could do? These were his larping buddies for sure. He'd opened his fat mouth and explained to them I could create gold at some point. There was no other explanation for the running comment.

  "Don't you want to go home?" the guy asked. A horse snorted again.

  "I am." I walked faster.

  "Wait. I meant--never mind."

  I kept walking. I didn't even stop at the used CD store, but instead, I took out my earbuds and turned my iPod onto my classical playlist. The soothing tones of violins and pianos filled my head. I'd always liked traditional. It let me escape from the crap of my life for a few blissful, peaceful moments.

  I checked behind me to see if the carriage was following.

  Nope.

  It had vanished. The horses, the driver, the guy--everything, gone in the space of a few seconds. Instead, a leaf blew against the curb from where it had been before and another car rolled by, dodging the potholes. I blinked just to make sure I was looking in the right spot. Yes. The candy bar wrapper still lay there, forgotten for the rest of time.

  And there wasn't even any horse crap on the side of the road. That had gone with everything else.

  The violins peaked in my earbuds, and I shook my head.

  "Brie," I managed. "Get this together. Get home. Close the door, and forget any of this ever happened."

  I turned up my iPod louder, trying to drown out my thoughts, but the pressure of the guy's hand remained on my wrist. I walked through downtown and kept checking behind me to make sure the horses and the carriage weren't following. Check. Nothing about that encounter made sense. I couldn't have imagined it all, could I?

  But the guy's words stuck in my mind.

  Was I tired of running?

  Of course, I was. From Hardy. From my curse. He'd hit it on the head.

  If I could spin gold, could other magical things happen, too?

  I walked faster, leaving those thoughts behind me. I was relieved when I got home, and my parents' car wasn't there. Good. It wasn't there that often anymore, anyway.

  Our house stood there, dejected and dark with its closed curtains and an overgrown lawn. There was another notice on the door from the city telling us to mow it or else. I groaned. I kn
ew why Mom wanted to do that. And I knew what was waiting for me when I got in the door.

  Emptiness. I took out my earbuds. Mom and Dad had discovered the Big Elk Casino about an hour away. And since they no longer had to work, that was their daily destination. They probably wouldn't come back until midnight or even later.

  I tore the notice off the door. I faced the garage where I knew our rusty lawnmower waited and sighed. The lawn could wait another day. I'd had a bad enough day, and I didn't want to be out here in case that guy in the carriage came back, or worse--Hardy. I entered the house. I stepped around stacks of boxes and made my way to the kitchen.

  I dropped my backpack there in the doorway. Opened the fridge and peeked inside. Empty. Rats. It was time for another trip to the grocery store, and I noticed the hundred dollar bill Mom had left me on the table.

  And the yarn.

  It sat next to my backpack, in fiery reds and moody blues and shocking yellows. Mom had placed a crochet hook sticking straight up out of it. Hint, hint.

  And a note.

  Sweetie--

  Your father and I had a hard night last night. Could you be so kind to spin us a few gold bracelets or necklaces so we can visit the gold shop before this weekend?

  Love, Mom

  I had homework.

  I let out a groan, snatched up my backpack, and stalked to my room. I slammed the door, glad no one was here to see me like this. I couldn't believe it. I flopped down on my bed and put my earbuds back on, glad for the fact that I never got a cell phone. At least Mom and Dad couldn't use that to bother me all the time.

  I turned over and held my Lit book above me, reading. I had that paper to start, and I still needed to use Mom and Dad's computer before they got home. And go grocery shopping. And spin my parents their gold so we could pay our bills.

  My head pounded with a stress headache, and I gave up reading. I closed my eyes and let the soft music of the composers sweep me away.

  Chapter Three

  A horse whinnied.

  I woke. I was still in my clothes, and my Lit book was lying on my chest, heavy. I'd fallen asleep from a headache. Crap. I hadn't started my paper, and my stomach still growled from the lack of food.