The Story of Awkward

by R.K. Ryals

  ~Peregrine Storke~

  Foster’s eyes were heavy on the back of my head as we approached the castle, a multitude of unanswered questions hanging between us. Heat climbed up my neck; not from passion or lust, but from embarrassment. Somehow, we’d managed to travel through a raging storm in Louisiana only to be carried away by a flood that deposited us in Awkward. While it seemed impossible, it was too vivid to be a dream. This was worse than having someone read your diary. Foster Evans, the boy whose words tormented me years before, was walking through something so much more personal than a journal … he was walking through my dreams.

  Nimble swooped downward, her violet wings tickling my cheeks. “Are you okay, Creator?”

  Foster snorted.

  “Perri,” I insisted, my eyes going to the fairy. She was more dimensional than she was in my sketchbook; her small cheeks fuller and her violet eyes darker than I remembered. “I’m just uncomfortable. Jeans, underwear, and water don’t really mesh well.”

  I was pretty sure I smelled, too, but I left that unsaid. The faint stench of foul mud and unclean water hung over me like a cloud. My hair had dried against my cheeks; stiff and darker than its original dirty blonde.

  Nimble threw me a look, her brows creased. “Underwear?”

  Foster laughed. “What? You didn’t draw panties and boxers for your collection of freaks?” He paused, and I glanced over my shoulder to find him perusing the back of Elspeth’s periwinkle dress. “This could get interesting,” he muttered. There was underwear in Awkward, but things here were just things. Nimble most likely saw panties as pretty pieces of fabric.

  None of my characters seemed fazed by Foster’s crude behavior, but I was incensed on their behalf. I turned on him as we reached the palace’s entrance. There was no moat around my castle; there didn’t need to be. Awkward was a safe place, a haven. Large trees with man-sized leaves stood like sentinels along the path, faint glimpses of colorful wings moving in and out of the foliage.

  “I’m scared, too!” I told Foster, my gaze meeting his. Fear not only bred rudeness, it also bred anger and hatred. I knew that. I’d often lived it. My jaw muscles hurt from clenching my teeth.

  Foster grunted. “You think I’m afraid?” He waved his hands at the palace. “This is a fairytale, Perri. A child’s story! Am I supposed to be afraid of this?”

  Anger lit his features, but his ire had found its way into my blood, causing my anger to answer his. This was worse than a silly rhyme about my weight … worse than having my hair pulled or being cornered in dark classrooms by boys bigger than me just because they knew they could.

  “You’re right, it is a fairytale,” I admitted. “It’s my fairytale. It’s the story that carried me through childhood. Do me a favor, Foster, and go hang yourself.” I glanced at Elspeth, Happenstance, Norma, Nimble, and Weasel. Their eyes were wide, Norma’s hands poised to cover Elspeth’s ears. It was an innocent gesture. So much innocence.

  My gaze returned to Foster. “I don’t know how we ended up here, and I don’t know why, but you won’t destroy this. You won’t be another reason to hate myself. This is my world! These people are my family.”

  I didn’t realize I was crying until Weasel approached me. The troll was smaller than I pictured, his head stopping at my shoulders. He was bald and stocky, his entire body a leathery green mass of thick skin and pock marks. He wore plain brown clothes fastened with gold buttons down the front, and he held a top hat in one bulky hand. His eyes were dark as his free hand reached for my face.

  . “He doesn’t look like he’d taste sweet, but I would be willing to try something new,” Weasel remarked, his large eyes full of understanding. Everyone understood everyone in Awkward. It was what I loved most about this world. Weasel had a deep, booming voice that sunk down into my skin and touched my heart.

  My gaze slid to Foster. He was quiet now, his handsome face still and expressionless.

  “I wouldn’t suggest it,” I told Weasel. “He doesn’t have enough nutritional value.”

  Foster’s lips parted, but a dark shadow cut off his words, a squeal of fright from Elspeth causing us to startle.

  King Happenstance pulled at the castle door. “Quickly, everyone! Inside now!”

  I was too shocked to move, my eyes going to the sunny Awkward sky. There was something wrong with the clouds. The white fluffy roses looked different, somewhat darker on the edges, as if they were real roses beginning to wilt and die.

  “Perri!” I heard Elspeth scream.

  She was too late. The overwhelming stench of cheese preceded the dark figure that suddenly barreled into me, stealing my breath for the second time that day as my back hit the ground.

  “Roses are orange, violets are green, you’ve made a mistake starting this scene. Turn and flee. Get far away from here. There’s something far darker in this kingdom to fear.”

  Reemis’ dark eyes peered down at me; his rotten teeth bared, his bright scarlet hair like fire on top of his head. He was too heavy, his arm cutting off my oxygen. He was the bullygog I’d drawn when I was fourteen. He looked scarier brought to life.

  “Get far away from here,” he repeated. “There’s something far darker in this kingdom to fear.”

  Any response I would have given him was cut off by the strange, high-pitched scream of the bullygog as he was thrown backward.

  Foster’s hand replaced the villain’s weight. “Come on!” he commanded.

  I took it because fighting him now would have been ridiculous. Foster pulled me upward, his hand guiding me into the palace. As the door closed, I caught a glimpse of scarlet hair slinking into the cover of the forest leaves. Everything was wrong. In Awkward, bullygogs were the outcasts, horrible creatures who spouted awful poetry, but not strong enough to hurt anyone.

  “What was that?” Foster asked.

  It was Queen Norma who came to stand beside him, her short figure swallowed up by his height. She wasn’t the least bit intimidated; her blue squinted eyes sparkling and her rotund cheeks rosy. “That, my dear sir, was you,” she said cheerfully.

  If there was ever a moment for an earthquake in Awkward, it was now.

  Chapter 5

  “That awkward moment when you’re forced to tell a person you’ve known for years that you don’t particularly like them.”