by R.K. Ryals
~Peregrine Storke~
Foster froze. “Me?” His eyes found mine, but I didn’t meet his gaze.
I glanced at King Happenstance instead. “Why are we here?”
The king watched me, his perfection marred only by the large freckle on the end of his nose. It reminded me of Christmas, of old television replays of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. I’d drawn King Happenstance during the holidays, giving him life during a time when I wanted a father the most.
“It’s Awkward,” the king said. “It’s disappearing.”
My brows creased. “Disappearing? Awkward can’t disappear. It’s not even real.”
Princess Elspeth approached me, her hand taking mine. She gripped it hard. “You can say that?” she asked. Her fingers squeezed mine. “You can say that after seeing us? After touching us?” She gestured at the group. “You may have drawn us, but it was much more than you that gave us life.”
Nimble landed on Elspeth’s shoulder, folding her violet legs Indian-style beneath her. “This is Awkward,” the fairy said, her tone level, as if her words explained everything. “You drew this world, but it was thousands upon thousands of boys and girls that brought us to life and kept us here.”
Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Foster rubbing his forehead, disbelief warring with unease on his face.
Weasel lifted his top hat and settled it on his bald, green head. “This world is built on awkwardness, on the idea that there is someplace where it’s okay to be different. Where it’s okay not to be perfect,” the troll said. “This world lives in more than one imagination. It was simply your hand that finally gave it a face.”
Queen Norma pointed at Foster, her face hard and unfriendly. It was startling. I’d never seen Norma with anything other than a smile. I’d never drawn her without one. “And it is people like him,” she accused, “that kept Awkward alive. Bullygogs.”
Once again, I dared not look at Foster. He’d been my tormentor once, but we’d been young. I may not like him much better now, but we weren’t children anymore. Foster was twenty-two years old. This was wrong. This was a child’s world. It wasn’t meant for adults.
King Happenstance shook his head. “Do you think it matters that you aren’t a child anymore?” he asked.
I stared at him, my face full of horror. I’d not said the words out loud, but this was Awkward. These were characters that often understood me better than I understood myself.
The king smiled. “Even when we grow up, the child remains. It’s the child that shapes the adult. What happens to you when you are young shapes what you become later. Whether you think you belong here or not is beside the point. The little girl that drew Awkward still lives inside of you.”
My cheeks were hot; not from embarrassment this time, but from the threat of tears. It was true. The child inside, no matter the horror a person lives through, never died. Sometimes, the child became jaded and unfeeling, but he never died.
Foster said nothing behind me, his silence a heavy blanket over the room. He was an outsider. I didn’t care what he thought anymore. I didn’t care if he belonged here.
My shoulders lifted. “What’s wrong with Awkward?” I asked.
Queen Norma gestured at Foster again. “Once, it was people like him that kept this world alive. Now, it’s people like him that is destroying it.”
Foster held up his hands. “Now, wait a minute. I’m not the enemy here. I don’t know what this is, and frankly, I don’t care. But I am not the enemy.”
I ignored him. “How?” I asked.
Elspeth frowned. It made her spectacles slide to the end of her nose. Her turquoise eyes sparkled. “There is darkness spreading across Awkward. An evil sorceress has risen here. Her magic is strong, destructive.” Elspeth paused and swallowed hard. “It’s … seductive. She’s already captured …” Elspeth’s shoulders shook. “She’s …”
Nimble patted Elspeth’s cheek with her small hand while Queen Norma wrapped an arm around her daughter’s waist, her mouth parted as she whispered, “Shhhhhhh.”
Nimble’s violet eyes grew sad. “The sorceress has bewitched Prince Dash. She’s drawn him away from here. He believes he’s in love with her.”
My heart dropped. “And this sorceress?” I asked. “Who is she?”
King Happenstance embraced his daughter from the opposite side. “Perfection,” he answered. “Her name is Perfection.”
Foster huffed. “This is ridiculous! Do you hear yourselves? Perfection? Really?” He faced the king. “This is some sort of play on reality, isn’t it? An awkward world where perfection is a risk? Do you have a problem with perfection?”
The king’s eyes narrowed. “She has a daughter much more dangerous than she is. It’s why she drew the prince away. Perfection wants Dash to marry her daughter.”
Foster shook his head. “And the daughter’s name?”
The king didn’t falter. “Stereotype.”
Foster laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” His gaze skirted all of us. “Are you trying to tell me that you wouldn’t want to be perfect? Do you think people should be awkward?”
The king’s head rose. “No,” he answered, his dark, royal gaze finding my face. “It isn’t about being awkward. It’s about not being ashamed to be awkward. It’s about embracing what makes us different. Perfection and Stereotype are threats to that.”
Something flared inside of my chest. Anger maybe. Hope possibly. Foster had grown close to me during the confrontation, and I placed a hand against his dirty T-shirt, my gaze on the princess, on her sad face and downcast eyes. It had been Elspeth I’d seen screaming in the clouds back home. Her heart had been broken. Hearts weren’t supposed to break in Awkward. In Awkward, princesses, even awkward ones, had a prince. In Awkward, princes, even damaged ones, had a princess.
“Tell me what I can do to help.”
Chapter 6
“That awkward moment when you find yourself the center of attention and the villain becomes awkward.”
