Caged: A Twisted Fairytale Retelling

by Lena Mae Hill

  “But I’m really here,” I said. “He didn’t trick you, right? I’m here, and I’ll help you. Just…just climb up my hair.”

  His eyes snapped open, and he looked at me like I was crazy. “I can’t. I’ll pull you out. Then we’ll both die.”

  “Okay, just hold on a second,” I said. “I’ll see if I can reach the basket.”

  “What basket?” At least he looked sane and rational now. I didn’t have time to answer his questions though. My scalp felt like it was ripping from my head. I scooted sideways, reaching blindly for the basket. My fingers brushed the prickly hair, but I couldn’t lift it off the hook from my position at the sill. I couldn’t straighten at all with his weight hanging on my head.

  I squeezed my eyes closed, trying to summon some magic. A chant that would lift the basket, though I had no elemental magic. I was like Mother Dear, who couldn’t turn stone to gold or lift a basket with an artificial wind.

  I heard a cracking sound below, and the weight on my head jerked harder. We both cried out, and I almost pitched out the window. I was bent double over the sill, gripping it with both hands.

  “I’m letting go,” the boy said. “I’m Jack, by the way. If you need to…notify my family.”

  “Don’t you dare,” I hissed. “Now shut up and let me get the basket.”

  I found a summoning chant somewhere in the recesses of my mind. Bracing my feet wide, I wedged my knees against the wall and reached up with one hand again, calling to the basket with my mind as I whispered a chant. I thought my entire scalp would come loose before it dropped into my hand. With a sob of relief, I threw it out the window to Jack.

  A second later, the weight lifted from my head, and the rope holding the basket began to unspool. I grabbed it and held on, bracing my feet the way I did when I hauled Mother Dear up. Hand over hand, I drew it up until Jack was even with the window. He grabbed the sill and hopped nimbly from the basket and landed on the floor beside me.

  “Thanks,” he said with a grin.

  All words deserted me. I’d never seen anyone but my parents like this, and Jack wasn’t like my parents. He was so…different. His hair was curly and golden, and his skin was smooth and tan like he’d spent a lot of time outdoors. But it was more than that. An energy radiated from him, frenetic and bright as the sun. I’d seen his face, and his brother’s, but they’d been far below. Now he was on level ground, staring straight at me. I had the sudden urge to run behind the bed and hide.

  He gaped at me, his mouth dropping open. His eyes got so round I could see the white all around the blue irises. A funny little lump on the front of his throat moved up and down.

  “Why are you naked?” he asked, his voice sounding funny, too. I wondered if he had something stuck in his throat.

  “Because it’s warm today,” I said. “Why are you dressed?”

  “I…I don’t know,” he said, his smile returning. His eyes were squinty at the corners when he smiled, like they were in on the joke along with his mouth. “That’s a great question. Would it make you more comfortable if I was naked, too?”

  “It would probably make you more comfortable,” I said. “I’m comfortable already.”

  He grinned, biting down on his bottom lip. I found my eyes riveted to the edge of his white teeth cutting into his pink lip. Hooking his thumbs in the band of his navy-blue sweatpants, he paused, his eyes still on my face. He was watching me like he expected something, but I didn’t know what.

  “You sure about this?” he asked, cocking his head to one side.

  I nodded, a strange mixture of anticipation and nervousness racing along my synapses. He was acting so strange. I knew that princesses didn’t go around like this, without clothes, but he didn’t know I was a princess, so it didn’t matter what I looked like to him. But maybe he was a prince, and that’s why he was being strange about it.

  Before I could ask, he grabbed the bottom of his grey T-shirt and peeled it off over his head. I drew a breath. His skin was tanned and seemed to radiate with the same energy as the rest of him, as if I could see the heat rising from it. My fingers twitched, longing to reach out and touch him.

  “Have you ever seen a guy naked before?” Jack asked.

  I shook my head. My heart had started to pound, a cloudiness seeming to hover above my brain. My skin felt hot even though I didn’t have extra clothes on.

  “Did my awesome abs render you speechless?” Jack asked, flexing his arms. His muscles bulged, and the ones in his abdomen rippled in little ridges that drew my eyes down them. His sweatpants hung low on his hips, so low I could see his hipbones and the small muscles that led along the inner rim of them. I swallowed, my heart skipping a beat.

  “Apparently so,” he muttered, dropping his arms. He was looking at me a little strangely now, the smile gone from his face.

  “I saw your brother naked the other day,” I said when I realized he was waiting for a response.

  “Did you?” Jack said, the smile returning.

  I relaxed a little and nodded hard.

  “He didn’t tell me that part,” Jack said. “So…uh…what’d you think?”

  “About what?”

  He laughed and picked up his shirt from the floor. “Believe me, I’d love to get naked with you, but I don’t think you’re ready for all this.”

  “All what?” I asked.

  “All five feet ten inches of Jack Jameson,” he said, holding out his shirt to me. “And if anyone asks, this never happened. I’d lose serious man points for refusing to get naked with a girl who looks like you.”

  I took his shirt. It was thin and worn, and I held it to my cheek to feel its feather softness. It smelled like nothing I’d ever smelled before—like sweat, and the woods outside, and something warm and animal and salty that I’d never encountered. Burying my nose in it, I inhaled deeply. The scent was dizzying, intoxicating. It did something strange to my body, as if it had transferred some of the buzzing energy radiating from him into me. I breathed in again, so deep it made me almost lightheaded.

  That’s when I noticed Jack staring at me with wide-eyed awe. “Who are you?” he whispered.

  Oh no. Maybe I’d given myself away. Maybe he knew I was the princess, and I wasn’t acting at all like one. I should be wearing one of the fine dresses.

  “I’m Astrid,” I said.

  “You really do live here,” he said. “I thought my brother was making that up. You’ve really never left this place, have you?”

  I shook my head.

  Jack pressed his lips together for a long moment. Then he said, “Put on the shirt.”

  I obeyed, though once I’d pulled it over my head, I had to drag my braid up through the neck. The shirt started to rise, but Jack stepped forward and grabbed the hem, holding it down over my hips while I pulled my braid up loop after loop until it was free of the shirt. That’s when I realized how close we were standing. I could feel the heat of his body, not just see it. His bare chest was so close, and even though it was warm, and the day was warm, and I was wearing a shirt, I felt my nipples pinch like it was winter outside.

  Some strange force caught my eyes and made them meet his. It was like they were trapped by his gaze. I swallowed hard. Jack’s knuckles grazed my thigh, and my whole body trembled. I grabbed his upper arms to steady myself, and another shock went through me. His body was so hot, so solid. Alive and real like an animal. His skin was soft over hard muscle just like mine, though. Not like an animal. Like a person.

  “Are you a shifter?” I asked.

  He nodded. “A buck. You?”

  “A turtle.”

  The corner of his mouth quirked up. “You’re no turtle, Astrid.”

  “What?” I whispered, my heart stammering in my chest. I couldn’t think right with him here. I couldn’t breathe right. Everything inside my body was shimmering, and turning cartwheels, and flying against the walls of my body like a thousand caged birds.

  “You’re a fox,” Jack said.

  I tho
ught about how hard I had tried to turn into a turtle all those times. I had done it. I had seen my turtle feet, had struggled on my turtle shell when Mother Dear set me on my back so I could see how dangerous it would be to shift without her there. I could fall and get stuck on my back and then what would happen to me?

  When I shook my head, Jack chuckled and released his hold on my shirt. I held onto his arms, letting him drag me a step forward when he stepped back. I couldn’t bear the thought of letting him go yet. His skin was so warm, so golden. He had nipples like mine but flatter and browner, and ridges of muscle I didn’t have. His chest looked hard instead of soft, and he had little hairs around his belly button that looked as soft as the ones at the nape of my neck.

  “Can I touch you?” I asked, unable to resist the call of his bare skin.

  That funny little bump in his throat moved up and down. “What?”

  “I’ve never seen a real boy before,” I said. “You look different than me. Do you feel different?”

  “I’m not actually sure how I feel right now,” Jack said. “This has been by far the weirdest day of my entire life. I’m still waiting for my brothers to step out from behind the curtain and laugh their asses off at me.”

  He didn’t move away, so I released one of his arms and pressed my fingertips to his chest. It was hard, like it looked. Not like mine at all. I moved my fingers up, pressing higher, then moving around his nipple. It pinched up just like mine.

  “This is so weird,” Jack said, letting out a funny little laugh that was half breath and half voice.

  I flattened my hand over his heart, feeling the steady, rapid beat of his life’s rhythm inside him. My own heartbeat picked up speed as if trying to catch up to his, and that wobbly feeling returned to my legs. I slid my hand lower, skimming over the ridges of muscle in his stomach. His skin prickled under my fingertips despite warmth in the room.

  “Astrid.” His voice sounded different, like that thing stuck in his throat was bothering him.

  “Yes?” I asked, too enthralled by his body to look away. I slid my hands down his sides, palming his hipbones.

  He cleared his throat. “I’m feeling a little exposed here. Not that I don’t like what you’re doing. Obviously. I’m just wearing sweatpants, and it’s getting awkward, you know? Maybe I could sit down for a minute and, uh, cool off?”

  I slid my hands around him, up his back. His shoulder blades were bigger than my entire hands. Jack’s eyes widened as our bodies came into contact.

  “Way to make things less awkward,” he muttered.

  “Why are things awkward?” I asked. His eyes were so close I could see the flecks of darker blue in his sky-colored irises. His lips were full and smooth, no longer smiling.

  “Because you’re touching me, and I wouldn’t feel right touching you.”

  “Why?” I asked. “Have you ever seen a girl before?”

  He made a little choked sound. “Yeah, but… Not one like you.”

  “You can touch me,” I offered. “Want me to take my shirt off again?”

  “No,” he said quickly. “I mean, I do. I would. You’re hot and everything, but you’re like a kid or something. It’s not right.”

  “It’s okay,” I said, lifting his hand and setting it on my hip. “Go on. You can touch me, too.”

  He closed his eyes, his hand moving to my waist and his face dropping next to mine. “Oh, wow,” he whispered, tugging me closer, so our bodies were pressed together. I could feel his heart beating against mine through the thin shirt. He inhaled deeply, nuzzling against my neck. My hands moved down his back again, marveling at the muscles I didn’t know existed on my own body. My face fit into the arch of his neck, and the smell of him filled me from my nose all the way down to my toes. Suddenly, my knees weren’t the only part of me doing something strange. A warm pressure built between my thighs, and I pulled Jack against me as if he could fix it.

  His hands tightened on my waist, but then he stepped back, breaking our embrace. And even though I’d hugged my mother before, and even my father, it had never been like that. Those hugs had never left me breathless and wanting for something I couldn’t name. They hadn’t filled my body with stars like the summer sky at night, hadn’t shimmered through my blood like the sun on icicles in winter.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t. This is too fucking weird, Astrid. Call me a pussy or take my man card or whatever, but this is really freaking me out.”

  “Sorry, sorry,” I said, not really knowing what just happened. I was too confused to process it, but I knew by his tone that he wasn’t happy. I had a lot of experience disappointing people, and I seemed to have done it without trying, as usual.

  “You’re not the one who should be sorry,” Jack said, reaching out and lifting my braid, holding it up and scanning the length. “How’s your head, anyway?”

  “Fine,” I said. I’d forgotten about the hurt, but I knew I’d be feeling it for days. “And that’s not your fault. You didn’t try to fall.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” Jack said, dropping my braid. “I meant your mother. Have you ever even had a haircut? Or, I don’t know, learned to read? Tied your shoes?”

  “I know how to read,” I said, drawing back indignantly. “I’ve read at least ten encyclopedias. I’d read more, but that’s all I have. And my hair just grows really fast. I’ve cut it before. That’s what I used to make the basket that saved your life.”

  “Jesus,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his messy golden curls. “Every time I think this can’t get any weirder, it does.”

  “You’re the one who climbed up and wanted to see me,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “You’re right,” he said. “And now that I have, I’ve got to get you out of here.”

  “Out?” I asked, my heart stammering at the thought. “Why?”

  “Because you’re like… I don’t even know the word. Abused? Neglected? Freakishly sheltered?”

  “I’m not abused,” I said. “Mother Dear loves me. And I can’t just leave. It would kill her.”

  “I think staying might kill you.”

  “I’ve been here sixteen years, and I’m fine,” I said.

  “And you don’t want to leave? You’ve never wanted to walk on solid ground, feel the dirt between your toes, or look up at a tree, or talk to someone besides your mother?”

  My heart squeezed so tight at his words that I almost couldn’t speak. “I have.”

  “I’ll take you to my house,” he said. “We don’t have much, or anything, really. But you’d have us.”

  “I’m not allowed to leave.”

  “Don’t you ever disobey your mother?”

  “No,” I said with a huff. “Why would I do that?”

  “Because that’s what sixteen-year-old girls do,” he said, flashing me a grin that lit me up like dawn over the mountains. “Now, let’s get out of here.”

  “Mother Dear will come back and see that I’m gone,” I said, tugging at the hem of his shirt, which hit just below the point where my thighs met. “She’ll come find me. I can’t leave.”

  Jack rounded on me, fisting his hands on his hips. “Why not? Give me a better reason.”

  “Because,” I said, my voice starting to shake. “If I did, someone might take me away. They’d lock me up, so I could never be free, and they’d steal my magic and my treasure. Mother Dear told me. I can’t leave until the wolf prince wants to marry me.”

  Jack stared at me, his eyes getting bigger and bigger. “You’re not allowed to leave,” he said. “Ever.”

  I shook my head.

  His eyes went soft, and his voice did, too. “You’re a prisoner already, Astrid.”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head harder as I backed away from him. But the truth of his words sank into me like heavy stones. My legs started trembling, this time for an entirely different reason. I didn’t want to believe it. I wanted to be here, to be loved by my mother, to have everything I needed, just li
ke she always told me I did.

  Jack crossed his arms and rocked back on his heels. “She’d hunt you down and bring you back if you tried to leave.”

  “But when I’m here, I’m free.” I sank onto the edge of the bed. I repeated the word, speaking to myself, as if that could make it true. “I’m free.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Free in your cage.”

  Chapter Nine

  Evan

  “I told you I wasn’t making shit up,” William said, pushing up his glasses. We’d built a bonfire in the backyard and sat around it on milk crates listening to Jack’s crazy story.

  “Now you’re both bullshitting us,” Daniel said. “I mean, you’re the bull after all. Bullshit is your specialty.”

  William took a swipe at him, which I interrupted. I handed everyone a can of beer, so we could settle down and figure out what to do.

  “We’ve got to get her out of there,” Jack said. “I’m telling you, it was insane. You won’t even believe it when you see it. She lives in this crazy make-believe world her mother built for her.”

  I raised an eyebrow and tilted my head toward the house.

  Jack faltered, his animated expression dimming. His shoulders slumped, and he stared down at his unopened beer. “You’re right,” he said. “We can’t bring her here. It’s probably worse than where she is now.”

  We sat sipping our beers in silence.

  “I want to go see her,” Daniel said at last, stretching his legs toward the bonfire. I nodded in agreement. There had to be something we could do. We couldn’t bring her here, though. We didn’t have enough money to feed ourselves most of the time. I’d gotten a job working on an apple orchard in the valley that would pay me under the table, but half the time, the guy paid in beer. Not to mention we didn’t have an extra bed. The four of us still had to share a bedroom, and we were way too old for that.

  I thought about tracking down our old man, but he didn’t have any money to spare. Not that he’d even acknowledge us. He had a new family now, some other shifter woman who’d put up with his shit for longer than our mothers had. Sometimes I saw him around the valley, filling up at the lone gas station or driving by in his sad old pickup truck. Unlike a couple of my brothers, I didn’t blame the guy. No one in our valley had money. He worked like everyone else and gave what little he could to the woman who had stayed with him. Her kids might eat a little better than we did, but I couldn’t begrudge them that. None of us had asked to come into the world, let alone the shifter world.