The Story of Awkward

by R.K. Ryals

  ~Peregrine Storke~

  Foster was a surprisingly good dancer. Their dance wasn’t a fancy one with elaborate moves, like those written into a regency romance novel. It was a simple dance with Foster’s palm on Elspeth’s waist, her hand in his. He seemed taller standing next to her, his frame broader. Even as unkempt as he was, he looked chivalrous and charming. He wasn’t Elspeth’s prince—he wasn’t Dash—but he twirled her anyway, his eyes on her face. My heart clenched.

  “Elspeth,” Foster prodded, his gaze searching hers.

  She didn’t respond, her body rigid even while dancing.

  “Is this because of your prince?” Foster asked. “I know it hurts, but there’s more to you than just being Prince Dash’s princess.”

  There was no privacy in an echoing glass room. Princess Elspeth stared up at him, but her gaze was blank and glassy. She might as well have been dancing with a ghost, her hair swinging as she twirled, the strands getting more silver.

  The cliques giggled. “Talking ...” they giggled harder. “Keep trying pretty words, substitute prince. The harder you try, the funnier it will be to watch you fail.”

  Words … they wanted him to use words …

  I saw the intent in Foster’s gaze; saw what he intended to do before he even did it. It should have surprised me, but it didn’t. This was, after all, a fairytale. As a child, I’d often swooned over the romantic ending of Snow White or Sleeping Beauty. Later, as I grew older, I began to doubt it. What was so special about a kiss? What made someone fall in love without ever uttering a word?

  Foster stopped dancing, his fingers pulling Elspeth’s face up to his, his gaze finding mine on the side of the room. There was a wry glint in his eyes, an unspoken reminder of our conversation the night before, of his words when he’d asked, Are you saying my kisses aren’t powerful enough to break a spell?

  I wanted to look away when his lips met Elspeth’s, but my gaze was riveted to the scene. It was a fairytale come to life starring a guy I suddenly realized I didn’t dislike as much as I thought I did, and a girl I suddenly wished I could replace. It was an unexpected thought, and my hand lifted, my fingers finding my lips.

  The kiss was a simple one, an undemanding brush of lips, but I felt it all the way to my toes. Foster was kissing one of my drawings. It was a surreal moment made even more unreal by her sudden recognition. Her glassy gaze cleared, her eyes meeting Foster’s.

  He stared at her. “Elspeth?”

  The cliques screeched, the sound ugly and angry.

  Elspeth touched her lips. “Why did you do that?”

  Foster’s mouth quirked. “Because talking wasn’t doing me a damn lick of good.”

  Nimble clapped gleefully, her troubled face clearing, her purple grin at odds with the sad strain of music still swelling in the ballroom. The song was drawing closer to a crescendo, as if the music was seeking a tragic finale.

  Elspeth gazed at Foster. “You’re not Dash,” she murmured.

  Foster choked. “I hope not.” Elspeth’s face fell, and his grip on her chin tightened. “I didn’t mean it that way,” he soothed. “I’m not in love with you because I kissed you, Elspeth. Kisses can be tricky things. A kiss, even when it’s shared by two people, can sometimes mean different things to each of them.”

  Princess Elspeth held her heart, her palm pressing against her chest. “I’ve kissed Dash,” she admitted. I’d drawn them kissing once. It had been a sweet scene. Beautiful. Elspeth exhaled. “Could it have meant more to me than it did to him?”

  Foster glanced at the side of the room. Nimble looked away. Weasel ducked his head and Herman blushed. The cliques were fighting, throwing angry clichés at each other. I was the only one who didn’t look away, my eyes meeting his.

  Foster sighed, his gaze sliding back to Elspeth’s. “I’m going to tell you what I told my sister once after she discovered her boyfriend kissing another girl.” He lifted Elspeth’s hand. “It hurts, the pain, but ask yourself this, is love worth destroying yourself over? You have an amazing amount of love in your life.” He gestured at us. “It’s enough. If Dash truly loves you, then it only makes your life fuller, but if he doesn’t, it doesn’t make your life less rich.”

  Tears spilled over Elspeth’s cheeks, her nose turning red. Her glasses slipped down her nose.

  Foster straightened her spectacles gently before winking. “If he doesn’t love you, it’s not because you can’t kiss.”

  His statement startled Elspeth, and she laughed in surprise, the sound breaking the tension in the room. The music met in a final tragic series of notes. Weasel, Herman, and Nimble chuckled, the sound sending a tinkling echo through the chamber. Laughter, like yawns, was often contagious.

  My heart swelled, the mirth causing me to snigger. My gaze moved to the glass walls, and I froze. Horror gripped me. It wasn’t horror at my reflection. It was fear.

  Water slid down the glass, as if the walls had been made out of ice, the frosty surface melting with each joyous giggle. The laughter was destroying the room!

  “No!” I shouted. “Stop!”

  Joy, once begun, isn’t easily ended. Foster’s gaze locked with mine in the glass, his eyes widening.

  “Run!” he yelled. He grabbed Elspeth by the wrist, forcing her across the room toward the exit. Behind them, a wall of glass shattered and fell.

  Nimble screamed, her wings propelling her into Foster’s side. He snagged her by the tiny dress she wore and threw her onto his shoulder. Weasel shoved me from behind, his quick, lumbering form driving me into the cavern corridor beyond. Behind us, glass continued to crash to the ground.

  My gaze went over my shoulder, my eyes watching the way the glass sparkled as it fell. Instead of dying, the music inside the cavern swelled again, growing dangerous and eerie. It chased us, its haunting tune burning its way into my soul.

  A lonely dance in a cold, glass ballroom.

  The cliques cried out, their pain-filled screams breaking my heart. Even as evil as they’d seemed, they’d been characters I’d drawn, and had been deceived by Perfection. My steps slowed, and I fell behind. The music increased, the tune a harbinger of doom.

  A kiss … a spell broken … a reminder that love doesn’t depend solely on being in a relationship.

  The cavern shook, small rocks and dirt rolling down the sides of the cave, loose fragments raining down over our heads.

  “Faster!” Foster yelled. He was practically carrying Elspeth and Nimble now, Weasel on his heels. The cave’s opening sat just ahead, rain and sun greeting us in a gleaming downpour.

  The cave trembled and Foster went to his knees. The movement threw Nimble into the open forest, her small frame free of the grotto. Foster shoved Elspeth after her, his eyes searching the darkness.

  The quaking forced me to the ground, a wall of dirt covering my legs and pinning me. I kicked furiously, fighting to pull free.

  Ahead of me, Foster helped Weasel and Herman through the cave’s opening before sliding backward, his hand searching the darkness. I reached for him, my fingers grazing his. There was no more light behind us, just gloom, haunting music, and collapsing rock.

  Foster slid further back, his hand gripping mine, his face strained as he worked to pull me free. I thrashed harder, the dirt falling away from my legs. It trapped my boots, and I kicked free of them, leaving the shoes behind in the rubble, my fingers digging into Foster’s biceps.

  He grunted. “Never let it be said knowing you is boring.”

  I coughed, dust cloaking my laughter as we pushed through the exit. Rain beat down on us, my bare toes sinking into the cool mud. The cave collapsed, the rock dissolving, the debris blending with the ground as if it had never existed. There was a final strain of music.

  My gaze searched the ground where the cave had been, my chest heaving.

  A lonely dance. A kiss. A cascade of shimmering glass.

  My world—my beautiful, awkward world—was falling to pieces, the characte
rs within seduced by the promise of perfection. I inhaled, my gaze finding the group in the forest, my fingers still clutching Foster.

  The harsh reality slammed into me. My world was dying, and I was dying with it.

  Chapter 19

  “That awkward moment when the bullygog suddenly becomes a rather interesting prince.”