For 18-year-old Alice Goodenough, that means taking precious time off from her summer vacation. In addition to volunteering at the local library, Alice must stop the Corrupted who are now actively hunting her down. With the help of her magic pen and her trusty rabbit friend, the world has suddenly gotten a lot more complex. The Corrupted are everywhere, and only Alice can see them for what they truly are.
This book contains the first 3 episodes of the critically acclaimed series: Episode 1: Prince Charming Must Die!
Episode 2: Happily Never After
Episode 3: Revenge of the Castle Cats
Additional features for the print edition:
- An introduction
- Two special “Lost Diaries”
- A behind-the-scenes interview
- A collection of original Grimms’ Fairy Tales
The Grimm Chronicles is intended for Young Adults aged 13 and up. The goal is to provide Young Adult readers with a strong, charismatic young woman in the role of the hero and provide readers with a positive protagonist who uses her brain to overcome obstacles life throws in her way.
Sneak Peek:
Chapter one: Prince Charming Must Die!
I should have known Edward was too good
to be true.
No. Wait. Let me go back to the
beginning. Before I had this curse. Before I went around slaying creatures that
shouldn’t exist. Before I made friends with a rabbit.
Let’s start at the end of my junior year
of high school. That was when all of this really started. I was looking forward
to summer. I didn’t have a job but I had something even better: a volunteer
spot at the local library. It was the best job in the world—sure, I mostly just
put away all of the books and no, I wasn’t getting paid. But I loved being
inside that old building. From the outside, it looked like a big old firehouse
complete with rusty red bricks a rusted fire escape on one side. All it needed
was one of those big garage doors for the fire truck.
Inside, though … that was where it all
happened. When you walked in through the front door, you passed the little
check-out desk where one of the old librarians would give a smile. Beyond that:
rows and rows of old metal bookcases. Fiction. History. Biography. Science. In
the center of the massive space was a circular table with five computers, the
only hint of technology in the entire place.
Even the light bulbs were old! I’m not kidding—the lights hanging from the
tiled ceiling had old steel shades, something out of the nineteenth century. It
was a good thing the library closed before it got dark because without sunlight
streaming in through the windows, the place might take on a much creepier tone.
But in the daylight, it just looked neat. On the second floor were more
bookcases, mostly children’s books and young adult books, but there was a
reading room up there, too. I remember going there as a child and sitting on
the red carpet of the reading room and following along as one of the librarians
read one of the children’s novels. My dad sat outside, reading Star Trek books.
I remember the first time I “graduated”
to the first floor. I chose a science book about extinct animals from long ago.
I’d been enraptured by a drawing on the first page where a long-extinct
saber-toothed tiger was battling a ferocious lion. I just knew the tiger had
won because tigers are the greatest.
I remember that time because I’d almost
gone into the basement. The basement door was near the bathrooms and I’d opened
the door by mistake. A cool breeze had touched my skin. It was so dark that I
squinted, trying to make something out. Anything. But it was too dark, and it
gave little 13-year-old me the chills.
The basement. If only I’d known what was
waiting for me down there.
Needless to say, I was ready for exam
week to be over. Even my last class of the day—hardly a class at all—couldn’t
keep me entertained. Fencing. Where other girls chose basic gym because the
rules for roller skating and badminton were relaxed enough to allow casual
gossip, I’d made the choice to fence with six other guys—including my boyfriend
Edward—and a girl named Tina who was on the verge of failing.
“You have to attack,” I told her midway
through class. She’d lost twice already during the week and we were being
graded on our form. Tina didn’t have form. Tina had nothing more than an
amazing ability to swing her sword—called a “foil”—left and right as fast as
possible and delay the inevitable.
“I can’t attack,” she told me, shifting
in the chair. We were in a small weight training room off of the gym. In front
of us, two of the other students were fencing in full gear, their shoes
squeaking on the red rubber mats. “The boys are stronger.”
“Oh gawd,” I muttered. “Look,” I pointed
to the two boys fighting. They were both wearing white uniforms but one of the
helmets had an A printed on the back and the other a B so our teacher—Mr.
Whitmann—could communicate the scores.
“What am I looking at?” Tina asked.
“Watch Gregg,” I said. “He’s the A.
Watch him parry. See how he always uses the same riposte? He loves stabbing
after he parries.” We watched them attack and parry again, the thin blades of
their fencing swords clanging together. Gregg took two steps back, parrying his
opponent’s attacks. When the time was right, he took the offensive, stabbing
wildly at his opponent’s ribs. “Just watch their shoulders,” I told Tina.
Mr. Whitmann called an end to the fight
and tallied up the scores. Gregg was the surefire winner.
“He’s too good,” Tina moaned. “All these
swords just blur my vision. I can’t even see them coming!”
“Just focus,” I said. “We’re not losing
to a bunch of stinky boys. Gregg doesn’t even wear deodorant, for crying out
loud.”
“Alice,” Mr. Whitmann said, wrinkling
his black mustache. “You can’t keep quiet sitting there? You’re up. Gregg, you
stay on.”
I grabbed the B mask and foil from the
quiet boy who’d just been creamed by Gregg. I adjusted the plastic chest
protector underneath my jacket, much to the chagrin of the boys seat at the
edge of the mat. Edward simply smiled, giving me a thumbs-up. I have to admit,
he looked pretty good sitting there. He was one of the few guys who could wear
the bulky fencing gear with any grace, like he was actually comfortable underneath all the padding.
“En guard,” Mr. Whitmann called out. I
barely had time to get a grip on the foil before Gregg came crashing at me with
all the grace of a football player. I parried his thrusts; the clang of the
swords was almost lost inside the mask but not quite and I relished it. I loved
this moment. I loved the salty smell of sweat inside the mask. I loved the way
the world seemed dark and closed-in from behind the black mesh.
And I loved winning. Especially against
boys bigger than me. And as Gregg came in again, I parried low, pulling his
foil downward, taking a quick step back and then a quick step forward and
thrusting the foil into his chest. The tip of my sword pressed into the
protective jacket and the narrow blade bent in a U-shape.
“Point,” Mr. Whitmann called out.
“Parry-riposte from the right. Good job, young lady.”
“Can you sound more surprised?” I
muttered inside the mask. Mr. Whitmann was a small, portly man with jet-black
hair and hairy arms. He favored the boys; that much was obvious. And he loved
Edward. Everyone loved Edward. From the very day he transferred to Washington
High School, he was universally loved.
Gregg came at me again, this time
swinging his sword even more violently. I parried as best I could, stepping away
from him. He didn’t even have his free hand behind his back, and if our foils
weren’t dulled at the tip I could have nicked the skin of his bare hand. He
left me another opening and I took it, stabbing him in the rib.
“Point B,” Mr. Whitmann said. “Excellent
job, Alice.”
Gregg stepped back, tearing off his mask
in frustration. I took mine off and pulled loose strands of black hair behind
my ears. I glanced at Edward, who was sitting with the other boys, smiling
approvingly.
Later, at the end of the day, he sidled
up to me at my locker. “Do you need help with your books?” Students had begun
sifting out; the only ones lingering were the select few who needed a few extra
minutes to fill our backpacks with notes and textbooks. Our school was like
that: a lot of slackers. Kids who preferred C’s because it allowed more time to
watch awful TV shows. Exam week was even worse because some students only had
one or two classes—plus gym—and then could leave.
I spun around and wrapped my arms around
him, planting a kiss on his lips. He had soft, full lips, perfect for
smooching. “We’re waiting for Tricia and Seth. I told them you would give them
a ride home. Is that OK?”
He smiled, holding me close. “Of course.
Will you spend some time with me tonight?”
How could I say no? Edward was dreamy.
Edward was everything a 17-year-old girl wanted: dark looks, chiseled body,
searching green eyes, short brown hair, and of course an earring to top it all
off. That isn’t to say the earring was the deal-maker—more of a cherry on top of
a tasty sundae.
A really, really tasty sundae.
I’d met him in a strange sort of way.
Well, strange in retrospect. At the time, it couldn’t have been more exciting.
I’d been at the park down by Lake Michigan with a couple friends right before
school started. They’d gone rollerblading and so I took to the opportunity to
knock down a few chapters of a new fiction novel, lying back on a bench. My
eyes slowly shut.
When I woke up, he was standing over me.
In all his hunky glory. Wearing a tight blue button-down shirt. He was looking
down at me like he wanted to kiss me. Yeah.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I just noticed
that something is about to flitter out of your purse.”
I glanced down at my black purse sitting
on the grass next to the bench. He was right: a little slip of paper was
hanging out, fluttering in the wind. “Flitter,” I repeated with a smile. “I
like the sound of that word.”
“It used to be quite a popular word,” he
said, crouching down beside me. He was regarding me ... really, really staring
into my eyes. “Royalty used it for a long time. And then when the peasants
started using it, the royalty stopped. Weird, no?”
I laughed. “Do you always walk up to
girls and tell them about the history of words?”
He laughed, too, glancing at the piece
of paper still flittering as the breeze picked up again. “No, no. I don’t know
where that came from. I’m usually much
more awkward.”
I felt incredibly calm around him, calm
enough to sit up and hold out a hand. “I’m Alice.”
“Edward,” he said, taking my hand in
his. “So what is it?” he asked, nodding to the paper. “I bet it’s a shopping
list.”
“That’s so goofy!” I said with a laugh.
“I hate shopping. My mom shops for me.” I winced. Stupid, stupid. “I mean, I
shop for myself. Sometimes. It’s just a note to myself. It says Alice, please remember to return your book
to the library.”
“Ah, a library denizen,” he said. “Do
you go to the downtown library?”
“No,” I said. “I live out by New Berlin.
There’s a little library right by my house.”
“So you go to Washington High, then?”
I nodded.
“I’m starting there this year,” he said.
“I’m a little nervous. I transferred from out of state.”
“Just keep a list of weird words handy,”
I offered.
He smiled. We talked some more. I don’t
remember what we talked about because my head was swimming with excitement.
He came up to me the first day of class.
We were leaving English, having been assigned a section of Jane Eyre, one of my favorite classic novels. Just walking through
the crowded hall, I could see eyes on me in every direction. That never
happened before. But now here the mysterious new guy was talking to little old
me, telling me about his original copy of Jane
Eyre that he wanted to show me, but only if I agreed to let him take me out
to dinner.
That Friday night, the first Friday of
the school year, we had our first date in a crowded dark little restaurant in
downtown Milwaukee that featured $25 plates and whose walls were covered with
old paintings. I thought I was going to die. Being there with him. Eating food
my parents would be jealous of. Staring at the plastic-wrapped original copy of
Jane Eyre, with “An Autobiography” in
small text underneath the title.
Tricia and Seth met us at the entrance
to the school. Tricia was wearing heels today, which made her an inch or two
taller than Seth. They were both wearing their Washington Dragons t-shirts to
show a little school spirit: the girls’ basketball team—the “Lady Dragons”—had
won the state championships again. Seth looked younger with such a large shirt
on. He was already short, and his boyish pimpled face and short blond hair
didn’t help things. He’d gotten an ear pierced a year ago but it had become
infected and he had to take it out … just Seth’s luck.
“That really doesn’t do much for your
figure,” I said to Tricia with a smile. I turned to Seth. “Yours either, dear.”
Seth just shrugged. “They were out of
small sizes.”
“I got mine for free,” Tricia said
proudly. She tossed her blond hair over her shoulders. “The cheerleaders were
throwing t-shirts into the stands at the last home game.”
Seth jerked a thumb in her direction.
“Trish reached over an old lady’s head and tore it out of her hands.”
“I did not!” Tricia said, slapping him
lightly on the arm. This could have been the beginning of a long, drawn-out
fight. That was how they were. It was the complete opposite of Edward and me:
we never fought. I didn’t want to deal with their fight today. I didn’t want
either of them preoccupied before our biology final on Thursday. The only
sensible course was a diversion.
“Are those the jeans we picked out last
week?” I asked.
Tricia lifted up her too-long shirt,
extending one leg. “Indeed they are. Acid wash is going to make a comeback, I
swear it.”
Edward and Seth both laughed a little.
“She’s probably right,” Edward said. “Every style eventually makes a comeback.”
“Yeah but is she going to live that
long?” Seth asked with a raised eyebrow.
Another playful slap. But this time, he
caught her hand and held it. A good sign that they would stay on good terms and
at least try to get some studying done
tonight. I didn’t want either of them to fail.
We walked toward Edward’s car on the far
end of the parking lot. Nothing but the best for Edward: a great car and a
great parking space. Only the upper-class kids had parking spaces in the little
lot behind Washington High. The rest of us peasants parked on the streets in
the surrounding neighborhood, generally upsetting the owners of the one-story
boxes who liked their street quiet and devoid of teenagers.
“You think it’s gonna rain?” Seth asked,
glancing up at the gray sky. “I’m so sick of the rain. I gotta start biking to
work to save money on gas.”
Tricia wrapped her arm in his. “It’s
going to rain every day you have to work. All summer.”
“That’s the meanest thing you’ve ever
said to him,” I told her with a laugh. Edward’s hand found mine and squeezed it
tight. I felt a little surge of warmth spread across my body. I looked up at
him. He was a foot taller than me, a good six inches taller than Tricia and she
was five-ten. He could have been on the basketball team. I told him that. He
would always respond: “I’d rather spend time with you.”
Dreamy, eh?
In the car, Seth sat up front and
controlled the radio dial with calculated fury, making sure we were never
tortured by any commercials. Edward had one of the nicest cars but he drove in
control and always used his turn signals, even as he was pulling out of the
parking lot.
“You’re such a weirdo,” Tricia told him
when he made a complete stop before pulling out of the parking lot. “Not even
one squealed tire? Really?”
He laughed and gave a little shrug,
turning on the wipers as a small sprinkling of rain started up. “I like to be
safe. It’s a nice car, if you haven’t noticed. With some nice ladies inside,
too.”
“Where?” Seth asked, looking around.
I kicked the passenger’s seat. “Be
good.”
“I bet if we were wearing low-cut
blouses he’d be nicer,” Tricia said with a smile. We were on 85th
street now, heading away from the city of Milwaukee and toward the little
suburb of New Berlin. “Remember two years ago when we didn’t have chests? I
don’t even think Seth ever even talked to me in the hall.”
“I never talked to anyone in the hall,”
Seth muttered. “Especially girls without chests.”
“I bet I’d still have talked to Alice,”
Edward said, glancing at me in the mirror. His dark eyes narrowed deviously.
“Probably not,” I told him.
Tricia laughed. “Yeah Eddie, she really
wasn’t much to look at when she was a frosh. See how straight her dark hair is
now? It used to be much frizzier. I had to teach her how to use hairspray. And
this face? Zits. Tons and tons of zits. She needed a lot of help.”
“It’s true,” I murmured. I’d smoothed
out some of the rough edges over the past two years. My skin was clearer
(although I didn’t tan well) and I’d filled into a slight hourglass shape. My
bright brown eyes seemed brighter now than when I was younger—or maybe I’d just
gotten used to them. I used to hate them. Now, I loved how they complimented my
indigo-friendly wardrobe.
“Every high school student needs a lot
of help,” Edward said with a smile. “Me included.”
“Yeah I think one of your pecks is
smaller than the other,” Seth said, giving Edward a poke in the ribs. Edward
flinched, smiling, but said nothing.
Suddenly he braked, forcing my body
against the seat belt. I looked out the windshield and saw the car of Joey
Harrington pass us.
“What an ass,” Tricia said. “Who passes
someone on a residential street?”
“Joey Harrington,” the rest of us said
at the same time. Joey lived in our neighborhood, too. He kept to his clique of
popular students inside the lunchroom and played football and hockey. He didn’t
talk to us, but he didn’t pick on us either. We were the in-betweens—not quite
popular, not quite outcasts who were the target of bullies. But we had friends
in the outcast cliques, and so Joey and his friends’ taunts affected us too.
After Edward started dating me and word
had spread, Joey was even nice to me in the hallway. Not overly nice, mind you … but he’d say hi. And it was hard not to
enjoy it.
“You should cut him off,” Tricia said.
“I’d love nothing more,” Edward
responded. “But not today.”
“Not today,” Seth scoffed. “You always
say that. You’ve got, like, the coolest head in the school. And I mean that in
a bad way, dude.”
“Yeah,” said Trish, “what happens when
you get caught in some drama? You’ll have to take a side. Joey and his friends
and those cool girls are obsessed
with making drama.”
Edward just shrugged. It didn’t get to
him. At least, I don’t think it did. He was cool. He looked cool—calm, I mean.
His short dark hair and square jaw made him look like someone out of an old
black-and-white detective film, one of those guys who’s always thinking one
step ahead.
As we headed farther west, the houses
and properties began to spread out. No more small boxy World War II-era homes …
now, everything was getting bigger. Bigger homes. Bigger front yards. Bigger
cars. We passed Southridge Mall, and then our rival high school. The street
widened into four lanes to accommodate more traffic.
Edward turned right at Cherokee Drive,
weaving around bends in the street. The houses in this small patch of
neighborhood were crowded with pine and maple trees. Everything was green.
Summer was here.
“Your stop, my friends,” Edward said,
pulling into the driveway of a long two-story house with brown siding and wide
windows overlooking the road. This was Seth’s house. You couldn’t see it from
the front road, but in the back yard was one of the most amazing swing sets out
there, complete with a climbing tower and monkey bars. As kids, Seth and I had logged
hundreds of hours on that jungle gym.
Tricia opened her door, then reached out
and grabbed Edward’s shoulder. “So you’ll pick us up tomorrow, right?”
He laughed. “I promise.”
“Please,” she said. She turned to me.
“Don’t either of you forget. I can’t miss
that exam.”
“You need to focus on passing the exam,” I told her sternly.
“I will.” She smiled her pearly white
smile, then blew me a kiss.
Edward gave a wave to Seth, pulling out
of the driveway and heading back toward 86th Street. On the way, we
passed my house. My parents were both home, their twin Toyotas sitting in the
driveway. Our house was narrower than Seth’s. Taller, too—our house had two
floors. The paneling outside was dark blue and the windows much, much older.
Drafty. Edward had never been inside my house, but if he had he would have
first noticed the draft coming in through the windows. Everyone noticed that
first.
We were quiet for a while. Edward didn’t
talk much. I thought it was sexy; it reminded me of the hunks that always
showed up in the books that all the girls in school read during Study Hall. The
hunks were always silent. Always mysterious. Like Edward. Why he’d zeroed in on
plain Alice was the subject of many guesses.
“Are we going to prom next year?” I
asked him suddenly.
He turned right on 86th
Street. “Of course.”
I leaned back. I wished I’d gotten in
the front seat to be closer to him. I wanted to be close to him suddenly. To
make sure he didn’t disappear.
“What made you think of that?” he asked.
“I just got this, like, real weird
feeling run over me,” I said. “Like, we’re not going to be together next year
or something.” Give me reassurance, I thought. There were prettier girls in
school. They all liked Edward. They talked to him in class. They tried to make
him laugh because he had a nice smile. OK, I’m being modest. A lot of them
downright fawned over him. I pretended not to see it, but in reality we’re
talking more than a little anxiety. He’d made friends so quickly—that was what
happened when you joined track. The runners were popular.
He didn’t answer at first. Not exactly
what I was hoping for.
“Seriously?” I asked. “No answer?”
“Of course we’re going,” he said
finally.
“But you hesitated.”
“A lot of things happen over the course
of the year, Alice.” He shrugged. “I’m game if you are.”
“But what?” I asked. “You think I might
not be up for it?”
He didn’t answer. The downside to having
a mysterious boyfriend was sometimes he was mysterious in an annoying sort of
way. The popular girly books never prepare you for that.
“You OK?” he asked finally.
I touched my forehead. “Yes. I think.
I’ve just been having some weird dreams.”
“What about?”
“I don’t know. I can’t remember them
well. But I keep waking up in a cold sweat. I know they’re scary, though. I
remember them being scary.”
“Don’t eat pizza before bedtime,” he
offered. “It causes nightmares.”
“Thank you, doctor. That’s really
wonderful advice.”
Farther out at the edge of the suburb
were the much larger houses. These houses were less social than the ones in my
neighborhood: each one had a wrought iron gate and expansive yards and high
fences that acted as a buffer between their neighbors. Each house was secluded
and that, I think, was the way the owners liked it.
They liked their yards, too. Edward’s
neighbor had put in a number of massive green shrubs that had been cut to
resemble animals. Edward’s parents had “installed” maple and ash trees around
the edge of the property to give their mansion—a thick, two-story monolith with
off-white paneling and narrow prison-like windows—the feel of a cabin out in
the woods.
A really, really big cabin.
He stopped the car at the gate, running
his keycard across the little sensor box. The gate opened and he drove up the
asphalt driveway, parking at the side of the house. Up close, the house looked
more “middle class” and less “Super Filthy Rich.” There was a small door that
presumably led to the basement and two green garbage bins that always seemed to
be overflowing. Rain water had stained the red-brick foundation with ugly black
streaks.
“Ugh,” I said, stepping around the
garbage bag sitting on the grass next to the overflowing bin. Food wrappers and
empty orange juice cartons were leaking out. “The raccoons got to it. Don’t
your parents tell you to take out the trash?”
“Every week,” Edward said with a smile.
“I hate doing it. It’s a long walk from the house to the street, if you haven’t
noticed.”
“I’ve noticed,” I said. “You could
almost have your own bus line from the street to your house.”
We walked up the concrete steps to the
front door. Edward pulled out his keys and unlocked it.
“No parents?”
“What do you mean?” he asked with
concern in his voice.
“I thought you said they might be home
today.”
“Tonight,” he said. “Later tonight.
Much, much later.”
We walked into the house. The front door
opened into a massive living room. Near the front door were two blue couches
and a large flatscreen TV smushed against the wall. Over the beautiful dark
gray floral pattern wallpaper. That idea had to have come from Edward’s dad, I
thought. No sane woman would hang something over such beautiful wallpaper.
Beyond the living room was the kitchen
and a bathroom, the only other two rooms—beside his bedroom upstairs—that
Edward said we were allowed to hang out in. The first floor had three more
rooms, each one filled with things teenagers weren’t allowed to touch. Edward
had shown me one afternoon when he was sure his parents wouldn’t show up. The
first room was full of tall marble statues. Old, old statues. Statues of
goddesses and ancient soldiers and plain-looking figures who had the curly hair
and wardrobe of philosophers.
The second room was full of paintings,
which hung on the wall and were held in place by solid metal frames whose
intricate designs were almost as interesting as the paintings themselves. Lots
of cherubs. Edward’s parents had a thing for cuddly little angel babies, I
guess.
The third room led to the staircase and
the bedrooms upstairs. This room was simpler, with tall solid wood bookshelves
that tempted me every time we snuck upstairs. Books so old just looking at
their delicate broken spines might cause them pain. Books so old the writing on
the covers looked as if it had been inked in a different language entirely, the
font so obscure you had to squint and remember back to your cursive lessons to
figure out each letter. It was beautiful.
We went in there now on our way to his
bedroom. I stopped as I always did, exploring one of the bookshelves nearest
the large staircase pressed against the far wall. My bare toes sank into the
soft red carpeting as I ran a finger along the middle row. This was the only
room with carpeting. It looked old, too, as if it belonged in an earlier
generation.
“Fairy tales,” I murmured. “God, there
must be dozens of books of fairy tales.”
“They’re important,” Edward said. “Don’t
you think?”
“I guess.”
“They are important,” Edward said. “Children need to believe in happy
endings.”
“And Prince Charming,” I added. I looked
up at him. “Right? Prince Charming is real, isn’t he?”
He smiled and kissed me on the forehead.
“Of course, my love.”
“What’s this?” I asked, grabbing a flat
wooden box sitting on one of the shelves. There was glass over one side and
when I saw what was inside, I nearly dropped it.
“Careful,” Edward said, taking it from
me. “They’re just butterflies.”
“Dead
butterflies!” I exclaimed, wiping my hands on my pants. “Stabbed with needles!”
“That’s how they’re displayed.”
“Well, it’s gross. Almost as gross as
spiders.”
He seemed offended, sliding the box back
into the bookshelf between two books. “I have a lot of these, all over the
house, so you might as well get used to them. I collect them. Every butterfly
species is different. They’re all beautiful in their own way.” He looked at me
and smiled devilishly. “I bet spiders can taste the difference, too.”
My stomach lurched. “Oh that is so
gross. Please stop.”
He put an arm around me. “If you insist,
my love.”
We went upstairs. I know what you’re
thinking, but you’re wrong: I didn’t sleep with him. In fact, I’d never slept
with him. It was strange, especially since we’d been dating for more than half
a year, but I was having doubts about whether we should go that far at all. He
seemed so much more mature than me. He didn’t laugh at Seth’s ridiculous
jokes—he just smiled. He didn’t get excited at the hockey and basketball and
football games we went to—he just clapped. He didn’t goof around with his track
mates in class.
If we were going to have sex, I wanted
to make sure it meant something. And I still didn’t know Edward, not really … I
mean, what about that butterfly collection? What was that all about? Was he
going to work in a museum or something? And I hadn’t even met his parents yet!
Always so busy, running around making money.
We necked. There was nothing wrong with
that, right? His bed was soft. His dark blue sheets felt silky on my bare toes.
His lips pressed against mine, then made their way down to my neck. This is
nice, I thought. This could be every night for the rest of my life and I would
be happy.
His hand crept lower. I let it happen
until he reached my waist, then pulled it back. “Not now,” I said.
“When,” he whispered into my ear. I
could sense the longing. It was hard not to give in. Still, I felt something
was wrong about this moment.
“Soon,” I said. “I promise. I turn
eighteen on Monday, remember?”
He rolled back, sighing. His tight shirt
had rolled up a bit and his strong abs were visible now. I had to fight the
urge to run a hand along them. Gawd, I was fighting a lot of urges.
“I’m sorry,” I told him. “Really. You’re
wonderful. Almost too wonderful. But
I want to wait until I’m eighteen.” There. A little lie, yes, but it would buy
me some time before I had everything figured out. Plus, I’d be a thousand
dollars richer, too.
“It’s OK,” he said, staring up at the
ceiling. “It’s OK. This just feels so right for me, that’s all.”
Yeah. Right. I bet it did, Edward. I
didn’t think any of that at the time, though. At the time, I felt nothing but
shame. Like I’d done something wrong for saying no. Like I should feel bad
because I wasn’t ready to have sex with him. Why wasn’t I? He was one of the
coolest guys in school. He was dark. He was mysterious. And he was mine.
He drove me home in silence. I fought
the urge to apologize. Be tough, I told myself. Be tough. You didn’t do anything wrong. Just because a lot of the kids
in the cool clique talked about sex all the time didn’t make it cool. Or right.
I made it past the kiss goodbye. I made
it past the kitchen, where my mom was sitting at the table reading a magazine.
I made it to my room. Then I cried. I felt as if I’d done something wrong
saying no. I felt as if I was supposed
to sleep with Edward.
Mom came into my room without knocking.
Her soft hand rested on my back and stayed there while I let it all out.
“It’s hard,” I said into my pillow.
Mom—ever the understanding one in these
moments—simply affirmed my outlook on life with a quiet “Mmmm-hmmm.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because,” Mom said, “that’s just the
way it is. Life isn’t a fairy tale. It has a lot of ups and downs.”
I sighed, dry-hiccupping. The tears were
gone. If Dad was up here, he’d call this a “woman thing” and maybe he was
right. My cycle had begun acting less on time for the last six months, ever
since I’d started dating Edward. It was nothing spectacularly big—a couple days
early, then a couple days late—but it was incredibly strange given how rigorous
my cycle usually was. I didn’t want to mention that to my mom. Those types of
topics had a tendency to lead to “sex talks,” and I’d had enough of those.
Really, just one or two is enough, Mom.
“You’re starting your new job in a few
days,” Mom said. “Look forward to that. Just get through these last few exams
and then focus on that. I’ll run your pillow case through the laundry tonight,
too.”
“It’s not a job,” I murmured. Gawd, what
a teenager-thing to say. Here she was, trying her best to cheer me up, and I
had to go and pick her words apart.
She was
unfazed. “Books,” she said in her soothing “Mom” voice, “are what you love.”
Author Bio:
Ken Brosky received his MFA in writing from the
University of Nebraska-Omaha and lives in Madison, WI. In addition to writing
The Grimm Chronicles, he also spends time writing literary fiction and has been
published in magazines including Gargoyle and Barcelona Review.
Isabella Fontaine calls Wisconsin her home. This is her first Young Adult series. She once read through the entire dictionary because she wanted to know more about words!
Review:
I loved the original Grimm fairytales, and I must admit this one was really great too. The author did an excellent job of spinning a new concept into this fairy tale while keeping the premise close to where it was supposed to be. I like the darker side of fairy-tales and this book was right up my alley!! I can't wait to read the next installment!! Great Read!!
Isabella Fontaine calls Wisconsin her home. This is her first Young Adult series. She once read through the entire dictionary because she wanted to know more about words!
Review:
I loved the original Grimm fairytales, and I must admit this one was really great too. The author did an excellent job of spinning a new concept into this fairy tale while keeping the premise close to where it was supposed to be. I like the darker side of fairy-tales and this book was right up my alley!! I can't wait to read the next installment!! Great Read!!
Giveaway!! Would you like to enter to win a copy? Of course you would!! Just fill out the rafflecopter!! Enjoy!!!
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