be one of those girls who could get lost in a book, transported to another time and place, but I can’t. Reading is something I can’t afford to do. Hell, trying to keep Everett safe and happy kind of trumps everything else. No time for friends or a social life, but I love my little brother; I would do anything for him.
“Fairy tales,” Mrs. Green gives a dramatic pause glancing around the room, before she continues. “Who had them read to them as children, or watched the movie, the happily ever after?” Mrs. Green says.
I snort. I never had them read to me, and I sure as hell don’t believe in them.
“How did they affect the way you view relationships?” she smiles looking around the room. “Tell me what girl in this room does not dream about prince charming riding up on his white stead to rescue you?” she asks dreamy eyed.
“I have a white stead right here, that you can take for a ride.” A guy from the back row says making an obscene gesture. It earns him a round of high five from his idiot friends, and a few giggles from some of the girls.
“Charmed I am sure,” Mrs. Green says as she hops down off the desk to make her way around the room. “But the fairy tales you have come to know are not the original ones; they have been turned and mutated into sappy romances with happy-ever-after’s. You and your partner are going to research the story, where they originated from, what was the reason behind telling these stories, how does it change your view on prince charming?” She narrows her eyes at the kid who made the gesture who squirms a little in his seat, uncomfortable.
“Choose a story from the basket,” she passes around a basket with tiny folded-up white pieces of paper.
“Sleeping Beauty,” a girl sighs.
“This is juvenile,” another girl announces.
“Well then, I will expect a ten-page report on why you feel it is juvenile, from you and your partner Kylie. Instead of the oral report the rest of the class will be doing.”
“ Ohhs ” and a few “ oh snaps ” fill the small overcrowded room. Mrs. Green holds up her hand to silence the class. Mrs. Green means business.
“The Little Mermaid,” Third reads the tiny strip of paper.
Mrs. Green gives us the rest of the hour to do research at the library. Third claims a computer and checks his Facebook page, while I pull open a book of The Little Mermaid and start to read. The whole story feels like a punch to the gut as I read. This poor girl or fish whatever falls in love with this prince who cannot see what she is, he ends up breaking her heart and marrying some stuck-up chick and the poor mermaid dies. He ended up killing her, why? Because she was different from the norm, she couldn’t speak. This is the most effed up story I have ever read.
“It is pretty cool what you are doing for my boy,” Third leans back in his chair breaking my concentration.
“That’s me, using my charm to spread good around the world.” I joke feeling a little uncomfortable with his comment. “Now don’t go telling anyone I am really a good person deep down.”
He smiles. “You are a good person to do what you’re doing.”
He acts like I am getting nothing out of this deal, that I am doing it purely out of the goodness of my heart. “I am anything but good.” I pull the book back to my face trying to end this conversation. He pulls the book down with one stubby finger. He seems so sincere with his confession on my persona, that I want to believe him.
“No, really,” he insists. “He might not say anything, but it is really cool. He had a really hard time in school getting picked on.” He shakes his head his pale blue eyes searching for understanding . I get it . “Well that is until he shot up to six foot three and started to lift weights.”
I raise my eyebrow at him, “Is there something I should know about you?” I tease.
“No, I am all about the ladies, but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a fine male specimen.” I
“Fairy tales,” Mrs. Green gives a dramatic pause glancing around the room, before she continues. “Who had them read to them as children, or watched the movie, the happily ever after?” Mrs. Green says.
I snort. I never had them read to me, and I sure as hell don’t believe in them.
“How did they affect the way you view relationships?” she smiles looking around the room. “Tell me what girl in this room does not dream about prince charming riding up on his white stead to rescue you?” she asks dreamy eyed.
“I have a white stead right here, that you can take for a ride.” A guy from the back row says making an obscene gesture. It earns him a round of high five from his idiot friends, and a few giggles from some of the girls.
“Charmed I am sure,” Mrs. Green says as she hops down off the desk to make her way around the room. “But the fairy tales you have come to know are not the original ones; they have been turned and mutated into sappy romances with happy-ever-after’s. You and your partner are going to research the story, where they originated from, what was the reason behind telling these stories, how does it change your view on prince charming?” She narrows her eyes at the kid who made the gesture who squirms a little in his seat, uncomfortable.
“Choose a story from the basket,” she passes around a basket with tiny folded-up white pieces of paper.
“Sleeping Beauty,” a girl sighs.
“This is juvenile,” another girl announces.
“Well then, I will expect a ten-page report on why you feel it is juvenile, from you and your partner Kylie. Instead of the oral report the rest of the class will be doing.”
“ Ohhs ” and a few “ oh snaps ” fill the small overcrowded room. Mrs. Green holds up her hand to silence the class. Mrs. Green means business.
“The Little Mermaid,” Third reads the tiny strip of paper.
Mrs. Green gives us the rest of the hour to do research at the library. Third claims a computer and checks his Facebook page, while I pull open a book of The Little Mermaid and start to read. The whole story feels like a punch to the gut as I read. This poor girl or fish whatever falls in love with this prince who cannot see what she is, he ends up breaking her heart and marrying some stuck-up chick and the poor mermaid dies. He ended up killing her, why? Because she was different from the norm, she couldn’t speak. This is the most effed up story I have ever read.
“It is pretty cool what you are doing for my boy,” Third leans back in his chair breaking my concentration.
“That’s me, using my charm to spread good around the world.” I joke feeling a little uncomfortable with his comment. “Now don’t go telling anyone I am really a good person deep down.”
He smiles. “You are a good person to do what you’re doing.”
He acts like I am getting nothing out of this deal, that I am doing it purely out of the goodness of my heart. “I am anything but good.” I pull the book back to my face trying to end this conversation. He pulls the book down with one stubby finger. He seems so sincere with his confession on my persona, that I want to believe him.
“No, really,” he insists. “He might not say anything, but it is really cool. He had a really hard time in school getting picked on.” He shakes his head his pale blue eyes searching for understanding . I get it . “Well that is until he shot up to six foot three and started to lift weights.”
I raise my eyebrow at him, “Is there something I should know about you?” I tease.
“No, I am all about the ladies, but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a fine male specimen.” I
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