A Semi-Charming Kind of Life

by Suzanne Selfors

  Darling thought Raven was courageous.

  And Dexter clearly thought she was much more than that. He looked as love-struck as the boy with the piece of cheesecake. “Dex?” Darling said. Raven had collected her drink and was sitting at a table with some other students. “Dex?”

  “Huh?”

  “You’re staring.”

  “I am?” He gulped.

  “Come on.” She gave him a little push to get him walking again. “Of all the people to be crushing on, you choose the daughter of the Evil Queen.” She shook her head and laughed.

  “I know, I know,” he said with a scowl. “Mom and Dad would royally freak out if they knew.”

  “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”

  They turned down a narrow street. Dexter’s armored foot coverings, or sollerets, clanged on the cobblestones. Since neither of the Charming siblings had been to the blacksmith’s shop, they asked for directions from a crooked man who was sitting on the stoop of his crooked house.

  “See that trail of smoke?” he said, pointing to the end of the lane. “That’s the place.”

  “Thanks,” Dexter told him. “You okay carrying that?” he asked his sister for the zillionth time. “It’s kind of heavy.”

  “I’m fine,” she said. Unbeknownst to her brother, she could have carried the helmet all day and wouldn’t have strained a single muscle, thanks to all those push-ups and chin-ups.

  They reached the end of the lane and stood outside a warehouse-style building with red metal siding. A black chimney pipe stuck out of the silver metal roof. A thin tendril of smoke drifted from the pipe, gradually fading as it reached toward the sky. Silver vines grew up the sides of the building, but upon closer inspection, the vines turned out to be sculpted from sheets of aluminum. A bronze sign hung from the eave.

  “I guess that’s short for blacksmith,” Darling said.

  The front door was cast from metal, with inlaid flames decorating the panels. Dexter grabbed the wrought-iron handle. As they stepped inside, a hammering sound filled their ears.

  The room was vast and filled with benches, power tools, and machinery stations. A brick hearth sat in the center of the room. A small flame flickered, glowing green, then blue—a sure sign that it had been born in a dragon’s mouth. A workstation was set up next to the hearth. A woman sat there, perched on a tall stool. One of her hands held a pair of tongs, which gripped a red-hot piece of metal. The other hand held a huge hammer. She wore a leather apron, protective goggles, and headphones. Her hammering reverberated throughout the room.

  Darling plugged her ears as Dexter shouted, “Hello!” The woman didn’t notice. “Hello!” Still, no reaction. Then he sneezed.

  The woman looked up. She removed her headphones. “Yes?” she asked.

  “Is the blacksmith here?” Dexter asked. “I need some work done.”

  The woman set her project aside, then stood. Both Darling and Dexter craned their necks as they looked up at her. She wasn’t a giant, but she stood at least seven feet tall. Her hair hung in dozens of braids, each one as black as witch’s ink. Flame tattoos covered her bare arms, and a diamond sparkled on her left nostril.

  She slid her goggles onto her forehead. “I’m the smithy. Betty Bunyan’s the name.”

  “Bunyan?” Darling asked. She glanced at a painting that hung on the wall. It was a portrait of a lumberjack who stood as tall as the trees surrounding him. He was dressed in a plaid shirt and dungarees, and he carried an ax over his shoulder. “You’re Paul Bunyan’s daughter?”

  “Yep, that’s dear old Dad,” she said. Then she pointed to another painting, which was almost identical except the lumberjack was younger in appearance. “And that’s my big brother, Paul Junior. Dad gave him an ax and taught him how to be a logger.” Her expression suddenly clouded. “I wanted an ax, too, but Dad said it was too dangerous. He said logging wasn’t for me.” She stood in silence for a moment, staring at the painting. The dragon flame flickered, reflecting off the metal ceiling. Darling recognized the yearning in Betty’s eyes.

  “You could always buy yourself an ax,” Darling said gently.

  “Buy one?” Betty laughed. “I taught myself how to make one. And then I went my own way and opened this shop.” She punched Darling in the shoulder. “A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. Am I right?”

  “I wouldn’t really know about that,” Darling said, trying to sound confused. Though she and Dexter were as close as peas in a pod, she still kept her workouts a secret from him. It wasn’t because she was worried he’d judge her—he would never do that. It was mostly because she didn’t want to put him in a position where he also had to keep a secret from their parents.

  Betty pointed at Dexter’s chest. “Hey, I recognize the Charming crest. You must be Daring’s younger brother.”

  “Yes, I’m Dexter, and this is my sister, Darling.” He shook the smithy’s hand. Darling tucked the helmet under her left arm, then held out her right hand.

  “I didn’t know there was a sister,” Betty said as she shook Darling’s hand. Her grip was strong. “How come I’ve never heard of you?”

  Darling shrugged. “Charming girls aren’t as well known as Charming boys. According to my story, I’m not supposed to be a hero like my brothers. My destiny is to be rescued. Basically, that means I’m not supposed to do much but wait around.”

  Betty turned Darling’s hand over, exposing the palm. “You’ve got calluses,” she said. “That’s not the sign of a girl who’s been waiting around.”

  Darling slid from Betty’s grip, then hid her hands behind her back. The calluses had come from climbing. No matter how much lotion she used, they wouldn’t go away. Darling gulped. She wasn’t sure what to say.

  Betty’s gaze traveled between brother and sister. Then, as she looked at Darling once more, her gaze filled with understanding. “My mistake,” Betty said. “It’s my hands that have the calluses. Yours are as soft as a princess’s hands should be.” She turned back to Dexter. “Looks like you got banged up a bit. Whatcha been doing?”

  “It’s my first day in armor,” he explained.

  “Your first day?” She laughed. “You got that many dents and dings on your first day? I’ve never seen a dent on your brother’s armor. He brings it in once a week for a buff and polish. It’s always perfect. Not a scratch.”

  Dexter looked down at the floor. Once again, he was being reminded of his brother’s superiority. Darling could practically feel his pain. “Dex is just as strong and able as Dare.”

  “No, I’m not,” he said.

  “Yes, you are,” Darling retorted. “Only you’re strong in other areas. You always help me with crownloading new apps, and you always help tutor Daring in Crownculus.”

  Dexter lowered his gaze. “Gee, thanks, Darling.”

  “But this has nothing to do with strength or intelligence,” Darling said. “Dex’s armor is dented because he can’t see where he’s going. His faceplate won’t fit over his glasses.”

  Betty examined the helmet. “These old-fashioned helmets weren’t designed for glasses. I’d have to make a brand-new one for you.”

  “That would be great,” Dexter said. “I need it right away. I’m supposed to be in a jousting tournament this weekend.”

  “I can’t make you a new helmet that quickly.” She pointed to her workstation. “I’ve got a big order of MirrorPhone covers for the Ever After High Bookstore.” The covers were scattered across a worktable. Each bore the initials EAH. “But I can probably get out those dents and give the suit a good polish. Go ahead and leave it on that bench. You can pick it up tomorrow.”

  “Okay,” Dexter said with a sigh. He adjusted his glasses, then wandered over to the bench and began removing the armor. He looked deflated, as if he’d already failed the tournament. As if he could already see King Charming’s disappointed face.

  Darling chewed on her lower lip. MirrorPhone covers were definitely not as important as her brother’s sense of
pride. She motioned Betty aside, then spoke in a lowered voice. “If my brother Dare were standing here, asking you to make a new helmet, would you find time for him?” Betty didn’t answer, but she suddenly looked guilty. “Dex wants the opportunity to prove to everyone that he’s just as good as Dare. That he’s a champion, too.”

  Betty glanced over at the portrait of Paul Junior. Then she looked down at Darling. “What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “Do you want the same opportunity that’s been given to your brothers?” she asked.

  Darling suddenly felt as if she could trust this woman. Betty hadn’t been given an ax, so she’d gone out and made one. She wasn’t the sort of person to sit around and wait. “Of course,” Darling replied. “With all my heart.”

  Betty Bunyan narrowed her eyes. Then she smiled. “Hey, Dexter.”

  “Yes?” He was standing in a T-shirt and shorts, the armor piled on the bench.

  “I’ll do my best to make that helmet for you. Come by tomorrow morning.”

  Dexter beamed. “Thanks!”

  Darling smiled at Betty. She knew in her heart that she’d found a kindred spirit.

  Chapter 8

  The Stress of Being Distressed

  When they reached campus, Dexter hurried off to a Tech Club meeting. His Ever After High friends didn’t care if he could or couldn’t joust. They appreciated his nerdy side. While Darling had friends at school, she was too guarded to let anyone know about her rebellious side. Even Dexter didn’t know her entire story, and he was pretty much her best friend. Maybe one day she could be open with the world—including her parents. She could tell them that she longed to run in a marathon, or to join a mountainclimbing expedition. To be a hero and come to someone’s rescue. What a grand day that would be!

  But today was not that day. So Darling grabbed a quick lunch in the Castleteria with her friends Cerise Hood and Cedar Wood, then hurried to the Damsel-In-Distressing classroom.

  The room was lushly decorated, as befits a damsel. Instead of desks with straight-backed chairs, velvet sofas were provided, allowing the girls to drape themselves like limp noodles, rendering the illusion of utter helplessness. Chandeliers supplied soft lighting, so no harsh shadows would fall upon their lovely faces. And three of the walls were mirrored, so appearances could be checked at all times. The room looked as it had for generations, but recently, high-tech gadgets had been added into the nooks and crannies. For example, with a voice command, the room’s temperature could instantly turn steamy hot to mimic a dragon’s den, or icy cold to mimic a mountain tower. It was important to practice being distressed in a variety of climates. With a push of a button, screens would drop from the wall, creating various landscapes where a damsel might find herself. Props and sound effects were also available.

  Out in the hallway, Darling accepted a note from a grinning boy who had drawn up a list of reasons why he was the perfect choice to marry into the Charming family. Then she glided into the classroom. Duchess Swan, daughter of the Swan Queen, had already arrived. She was dressed in her usual ballet tutu and tights. She glanced at the note in Darling’s hand.

  “Another proposal?” Duchess said with a slight sneer. “How proud you must be that all the boys want to marry you.” Her sarcasm was as thick as pond scum.

  “You know it’s not like that,” Darling said as she tucked the note into a pocket.

  “How would I know what it’s like?” Duchess said, adjusting her strand of pearls. “I wasn’t born into a family that gets everything it wants.”

  Not everything, Darling thought. But she didn’t blame Duchess for her bitterness. The poor girl was doomed to spend her life as a swan, waiting for a rescue that, according to her story, would never come.

  A few moments later, all the students had arrived. They’d been chosen for the class because their stories destined them to need rescuing. The girls varied from those who wouldn’t have it too bad to those whose situations would be life-threatening. In the nondangerous category was Holly O’Hair, Rapunzel’s daughter, who’d be stuck in a tower. And Ashlynn Ella, daughter of Cinderella, who’d be stuck in servitude to a wicked stepmother and stepsisters. In the more dangerous category, there was Briar Beauty, daughter of Sleeping Beauty, who’d fall into a deep slumber. And Apple, who’d eat a poisoned apple and fall into a coma. In the most horrid category, there was Cerise Hood, daughter of Red Riding Hood, who’d be devoured by a big, bad wolf! And then there were the two oddballs—Duchess, who expected no rescuer, and Darling, who would be rescued, but from what she didn’t yet know.

  As the girls helped themselves to iced mint tea and miniature thronecakes, Headmaster Grimm strode into the classroom. “Greetings, students,” he said. “Please settle down, for I have an announcement to make.” It wasn’t unusual for the headmaster to pop into class for a quick visit, but his expression was dour and his tone more serious than usual.

  The girls sat down and waited while the headmaster cleared his throat. “Most of you took Damsel-In-Distressing last quarter, and your instructor was Madam Maid Marian. With Parents Weekend just around the corner, I had hoped to bring in a very special guest teacher this quarter. Lady Helen of Troy had agreed to travel to Ever After High to help prepare you for your presentation to the parents. But, alas, she’s been asked to launch a new fleet of ships and will not be available.”

  Only Apple groaned. Everyone else looked bored. Briar had fallen asleep, so Apple gently woke her.

  “I am equally disappointed. Lady Helen is the epitome of a distressed damsel and would have been an excellent role model for you. Having been kidnapped as a young lady, she knows firsthand what it is like to wait for rescue.” He smoothed his waistcoat. “But we’ll just have to make the best of the situation. Please welcome your teacher.” All eyes turned toward the doorway.

  In stepped a woman wearing a cone hat and veil.

  Darling smiled. Of all the instructors she’d had last quarter, Madam Maid Marian had been her favorite.

  “Thank you, Headmaster Grimm,” Madam Maid Marian said. “Your warm introduction brought tears to my eyes.” The sarcasm was undeniable.

  One of Darling’s favorite books was Marian’s autobiography, Secrets of the Sherwood Forest. She’d read it a dozen times and kept it hidden in her tiara trunk. Madam Maid Marian was an inspiration. Though she’d begun her life as a damsel, pampered and spoiled, she’d fallen in love with a renegade named Robin Hood and had joined his band of roving thieves. So hexciting!

  Headmaster Grimm pulled Madam Maid Marian aside. He spoke to her in a hushed tone, but his voice was naturally loud, so all the students could clearly hear the conversation. “Madam Maid Marian, I do hope that you will focus on your experiences as a damsel, rather than on your years as a…”

  “A Rebel?” she asked innocently.

  “We do not use that term around here,” he said. “But, yes, that is my point. Last quarter, you had the students escape from the tower on their own, rather than wait for rescue. That was not approved curriculum. You are teaching damsels, not delinquents.”

  “I understand.” Was that a touch of scorn in her voice? The veil hid Madam Maid Marian’s face, so Darling couldn’t see her expression.

  “It is important that you prepare the young ladies for Parents Weekend. Each class will be asked to give a presentation.”

  “Of course.”

  Headmaster Grimm nodded. Then he turned back to the students. “Carry on, girls.” And with crisp footsteps, he left the classroom.

  Madam Maid Marian set a black bag under the desk, then removed her cone hat. Her hair was chestnut and cut in a short bob. She was fresh-faced, with no makeup. A few freckles dotted her wide nose and high cheekbones. She wore the colors of the forest, with a moss-green tunic and brown leggings. A pair of green feather earrings completed the woodsy look. Her suede boots looked super comfortable.

  “Hi,” she said. “It’s nice to see all of you again.” She sat on the edge of the desk. “
I wasn’t sure I’d be teaching again, so I’m afraid I’m a bit unprepared. Does anyone know what we’re supposed to be doing today?”

  Apple’s hand shot up. “We need to be graded on our waiting thronework.”

  “Waiting?”

  “We were supposed to practice waiting,” Briar explained. “You know, to be rescued.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding.” Did Madam Maid Marian just roll her eyes? Darling sat up straighter. She couldn’t believe it. The teacher seemed to have a bit of an attitude.

  “We’re not kidding,” Apple said. “Waiting was our thronework.”

  Ashlynn sipped her mint tea. “I hope we don’t have to do it again. I felt silly just sitting there.”

  “Me too,” said Cerise.

  “I don’t know why you’re complaining,” Duchess said with a definite eye roll. “I’m so totally stressed out. What with my other classes and ballet practice, waiting is a welcome relief. Besides, at least you’re waiting for a reason. You all get rescued.” She shoved a whole thronecake into her mouth and chewed in a quick, frustrated way.

  Darling watched quietly. She was not one to readily offer her opinions. Like Dexter, she took her time observing and was very calculated when she finally spoke in public. Which is why she was startled when Madam Maid Marian looked right at her and asked, “What do you think, Ms. Charming?”

  “Well…” She fiddled with her dress sleeves. “I think…” She paused. “I think that if you are going to be a traditional damsel in distress, then learning how to wait is a good idea.” Apple nodded in agreement.

  Madam Maid Marian smiled. “Very wisely put.” Then she waved her hand through the air. “I declare that you all pass your waiting thronework. What’s next?”

  Holly pressed a button on her MirrorPad. “It says in our syllabus that we’re supposed to work on sound recognition today.” Then she read the instructions out loud:

  Class: Damsel-In-Distressing

  Lesson: Sound Recognition, Part One

  While waiting for rescue, the damsel must be alert to all sorts of sounds. Some are of no concern, some warn of danger, while others mean imminent rescue. If the damsel is untrained, she may ignore an important sound and not be prepared for rescue. Or worse—she might miss out on the rescue and never get her Happily Ever After.