Fairytale Green
: Chapter 1

If my life was a fairy-tale, the birds would be singing, and the light would be shining through the windowpane.

I thought it was a load of shit.

My home at the first level of the apartments on Luther Street was not high enough for the birds to be chirping and there was no light source due to the other block of apartments across the road blocking the sun. The buildings were situated in a way that at mornings, the rising sun would peer through the window and ruin my plans to sleep until noon.

If my life was a coming-of-age movie, I would be trying on clothes at this moment in time to a nineties pop band.

My room was currently quieter than a graveyard and my clothes only consisted of two styles. The styles being graphic band tees or plain black ones.

Sometimes the colour of my room added to the overall shittiness of my life. The walls were sickeningly plain white. Not white as snow or as white as ice cream. I could not quite think of a way to describe the void of colour apart from miserable.

It was a colour that reflected how abandoned the apartment was.

A long-lengthened mirror hung on one of the plain white walls. Above that was a photo collage. Smiling back at me in one of the pictures was my freshman self and my best friend Lana.

It felt as if it was only yesterday that the photo was taken. The only evidence that it was an old photo was that my current green hair was nowhere to be found.

My best friend Lana looked the same, however.

She had always been beautiful with her long blonde hair and her rosy cheeks that decorated her porcelain skin in the form of two red circles. Her permanent blush and smile gave her a girl-next-door charm.

Lana and I had originally bonded over our lazy habits of watching trash television and watching life pass us by. Although, a massive difference between the two of us was that she was going places.

I imagined myself being her number one fan and right by her side when she finally would be scouted by a record labelling company. I imagined going to all of her tours when she decided to release one of her songs that she had written to the world.

It was that or I would rot in the four walls of my bedroom. I could always curl up with my books and hide away from the world.

A familiar voice was shouting from outside and it broke me out of the study of my room.

Starting at the photo had made me summon the song-writing devil.

I jumped up from my bed to race to the window, trying not to fall over the huge pile of to-be-read books stacked up on my floor.

It was always a challenging task to cross my bedroom floor without standing on a hardback classic. My room had gotten so bad a mess that I had forgot what colour my carpet was.

On top of the unread book pile was one that had already been read. Several times. It was a collection of poems by Edgar Allan Poe. The bound poems was one of my favorite things to read. It was a place that I went to over and over again when I wanted to escape the walls of my bedroom.

Perhaps if a one-word speaking raven showed up or a telltale heartbeat appeared underneath me then my life would not be so lonely or mundane.

The books that filled my apartment were my escape from reality. Sometimes I felt like I lived in the pages of the books I read. In the confined space away from the outside world, I was somebody.

It was no secret that fictional worlds were much better than reality. Unless it was a dystopian world.

The only good thing about living in a high block apartment building was the view of the seafront. My street was on a slight inclined hill that overlooked the promenade and ocean.

From my bedroom window, I could see the august sun setting outside. The orange sky was melting into a red horizon beyond the waves.

I stared at the sunset and let out a curse.

‘Ella!’ Lana sang threateningly from the street below ‘If you don’t get out here in the next two seconds then I am leaving you behind!’

I looked down to see my best friend standing on the sidewalk outside the building. She had her hands on her hip despite the large friendly smile on her face.

Grabbing my black denim jacket from the bed, I quickly rushed along the hallway of my cramped two-bedroom apartment and then I raced down the main stairway of the building.

Lana was patient and it was a good thing to. She had accepted that punctuality was not my strong point. A recurring theme in our friendship was my lateness and her tolerance to it.

A cool bitter breeze hit my face and reddened my nose as I pushed open the door and walked outside.

She greeted me with a faux expression of anger. She appeared more like a cute little puppy with scrunched eyebrows and pout on her face.

‘You do know that you don’t look scary.’ I remarked with laugh ‘A little constipated but not scary.’

Both of us began leisurely strolling down the street. Our arms linked together, and I rose a little on my toes that we appeared more the same height.

‘Just because you look like The Hulk when you are mad.’ She giggled, her angry expression history ‘Especially with that green hair of yours. You are Bruce Banner if he wore a Thrasher t-shirt and black combat boots.’

We were turning the corner away from my block when I raised my eyebrow and pointed out ‘I am just impressed you know The Hulk’s name.’ Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ FɪndNøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

‘Why are we in such a rush?’ She went on to ask before adding ‘The pier is not going to be that busy. Everyone has school on Monday. People have essays to finish.’

‘No. That is just you.’ I rebutted with a haughty smile, knowing that she still had her English project waiting for her at home ‘Some people don’t wait until the last minute to start on their English essays. You now have two days to plan and write an essay and I wish you the best of luck.’

Lana was more of a creative person. She was in her own world writing songs and singing them to herself when nobody was watching. Her whole life was music.

I was somewhat creative myself in a more literary way. I could not sing but I could come up with a good story. The difference between us was that I could put my creativeness to paper and finish my schoolwork on time.

‘That is plenty of time.’ She tried to argue, waving me off.

‘Oh really?’ I replied, ‘It took you a month to write a half-page and it was a personal essay.’

‘Maybe you are just a massive nerd, Freak Show.’ She stuck out her tongue at me while nudging her hip against mine ‘Ever think about that?’

‘Freak show?’ I repeated before scoffing ‘You wish you were as cool dressed like me.’

If I was being honest, then I was kind of envious of her colourful wardrobe. Ever since I dyed my hair luminous green, I found myself wearing black more.

‘I will give you the fact that you can pull off a pink dress better than me.’ I admitted, motioning down to her sundress.

We tried swapping wardrobes for a joke one time and it did not turn out well. The results made me look like something found in a pantomime or a circus.

Dark clothes and dark make-up was the only thing that suited me.

If I had a flowery fashion sense then I would look less like an eighteen year old girl and more like a china doll.

People were always quick to comment on my pixie-like appearances. My facial features were dainty and small apart from my large bug-eyes. The bright colour and the long length of my hair added to the whimsical look.

The sparkly silver eyeshadow and sharp black eyeliner might have had something to do with it as well.

We eventually arrived at the main seafront and the long promenade. The Santa Monica pier was a place of good food and a place that held a bustling atmosphere. It was the most visited attraction of the city, and it was also where Lana and I spent our nights when we were free of homework.

When the neon lights from the Ferris wheel and the other attractions were so close that they lit up the sidewalk, my phone made a buzzing noise.

The first thing I noticed about the text was the name of the person. The second thing was the details of where they wanted to meet up.

I replied with a quick text of acknowledgement before putting my phone back in my pocket.

I cringed when I realised that I had to gently break the news to Lana that our two would soon become a three.

Chase Andrews was the quarterback and captain of the football team at our school, and he was my current fling. He was popular and cocky and everything that filled the criteria of the cliche football player.

The footballer and I were not confirmed girlfriend and boyfriend or even exclusively dating. We made out and we fooled around. We hung out and we understood each other. I was not interested in entering a relationship with him and he had never shown any interest in entering a relationship with me.

Lana seemed to be admiring the lights of the pier reflecting on the sea when she hummed “Who were you texting?’

I gently delivered ‘So…Chase is going to meet us on the pier.’

‘What?’ She whined, obviously not jumping up and down with joy at the news ‘Chase is coming?’

‘If you don’t want to meet up with then I will ditch him. No questions asked.’ I assured her sternly before adding humorously ‘We will pull the period and sore stomach card and run away.’

My voice was light-hearted and playful, but I was deadly serious.

She laughed but then her face contorted to confusion when she questioned ‘Do you even like him, Ella?’

Chase and I had been seeing each other for the two months. I had already known him for a few years prior, but we had just been merely classmates that spoke a few words when passing. I went to one of his parties and we got talking and that was that.

He was nice enough. When I felt alone at my house and when going to Lana’s house too often would make her suspicious of my loneliness then he was a place I could go to.

‘I know opposites attract and all but is he really boyfriend material for you?’ My best friend voiced rhetorically, her tone giving away what she really thought.

Not knowing how to answer the liking him part of her question, I mustered up a weak reply “I don’t want a boyfriend.’

Lana frowned before softly explaining ‘I just think that you need somebody that challenges you.’

‘You were the one that kept pushing me and him together.’ I noted.

‘Yeah, but that was way before we got to know him.’ Her nose crinkled a little in the middle as she spoke ‘He is so full of himself.’

I could see the flashbacks of encounters with him whizz around in her brain. The one where he punched a guy on the football field in gym class. The time he got expelled for peeing into a Starbucks cup at the back of the class. The one time he got drunk, and strip teased the whole school at a party.

‘He is fun.’ I shrugged, looking down as I spoke ‘Also, you don’t come and see sci-fi movies with me, so I end up going with him.’

The wind blew her blonde hair across her face as she gave a shrug.

‘I am not expecting my epic cheesy love story anytime soon.’ I said so that she did not get any ideas about matchmaking me with somebody again.

I knew fair well that none of the boys at Leavendale High had a romantic bone in their body.

‘Deny it all you want but we both know you are a helpless romantic.’ A grin broke out on her face as she teased ‘I saw you tear up at the end of the Notebook when we watched it at my place.’

‘I don’t remember that.’ I lied, crossing my arms and keeping them close to my chest.

She laughed at my dishonesty before exclaiming ‘You claimed you were allergic to my bed duvet covers!’

It sounded like the worst lie at the time but now it seems like the most idiotic thing I had ever said. I just did not want to admit the ending of some chick flick movie made me cry.

Not knowing what to say, I stayed quiet when we crossed the road.

‘Don’t worry, Little Lana.’ I reassure her as we neared our destination ‘We will find you a new beau soon.’

‘Who are you calling little?’ She sassed ‘You are way smaller than me.’

I rolled my eyes, letting out a huff.

‘Maybe Chase prefers taller girls.’ She joked.

I punched her arm, faking to her and myself that the idea of him being stolen away offended me.

‘You have six inches on me max.’ I stated, making the measurement with my two fingers to point out the size ‘Don’t get ahead of yourself.’

‘I am more his type.’ She remarked, reaching out and messing up my hair.

Wrapping my arm around her so it rested on her shoulder, I smiled evilly up at her ‘You are so right. Bimbos are his thing.’

Lana was the furthest thing from a bimbo but out relationship thrived on teasing and taunting one another.

One time a girl moved to our school, and we were assigned to show her around. We invited her to lunch and by the end of it, she reported us to the principal for bullying each other. She just did not understand our loving torment to one other was just part of our relationship. It was fine anyway because she and I worked better as a duo.

We complimented each other perfectly. I was book-smart, and she was socially smart.

‘If Chase doesn’t win me the biggest teddy on the pier, then I will riot.’ I informed her very seriously ‘He might run to you after I am finished with him. This stuffed toy is pretty much a dealbreaker in our not-so relationship.’

‘You can keep your playboy.’ She tutted, her big blue eyes sparkling with amusement.

I burst out laughing ‘Like you were not drooling over the football team photo in the school hallway a matter of weeks ago.’

Her reaction was to elbow me in the ribs before she mumbled ‘Take it back, Drizella.’

I cringed at her use of my full name. She knew that my name was one of my most guarded secrets and that I planned on keeping it that way until someone had to see my death certificate.

Drizella was a horrible reminder of my mother’s fascination with the fairy-tale of Cinderella. Drizella was a painful reminder that she named me after the ugly wicked stepsister and not the heroine herself.

I would wring Lana’s neck if she told another living soul my real name.

The sun was almost gone from the sky. The only acceptable time to go to the pier was at night. The colours were something that the Northern Lights would be envious of. At night was also the only time the hot dogs were sold. A reason itself to go was the food.

‘So what am I meant to do while you go canoodling with Chase?’ She asked and I did not miss the meaning behind her eyes.

She did not want me ditching so that I could go make out behind the cotton candy stall.

‘We will not be canoodling.’ I delivered with a roll of my eyes ‘He is simply there so he can win me a massive teddy.’

Her eyebrow raise was full of scepticism.

‘I can not throw far enough with my short arms.’ I explained while waving my hands around in a Mexican wave motion.

‘So you are not coming on the Ferris wheel with me then?’ Her face was full of mischief as she said it.

She knew fair well that I would rather sell all my clothes, organs and all other possessions than go on that death trap that they called an amusement ride.

‘No way!’ I uttered in horror ‘I am not letting that thing go all Final Destination Three on my ass.’

‘The Ferris wheel is the slowest ride ever.’ She dragged out the syllables to taunt me while not hiding her amusement ‘And Final Destination Three is a rollercoaster. Not a metal wheel.’

‘Final Destination Six then.’ I sassed, trying not to turn green at the thought of going on ‘The new instalment starring yours truly.’

Like a true best friend, she should have shown support and comforted me. She should have told me that I did not need to go on any rides if I felt uncomfortable. However, I felt like if we were not already at the pier then she would have been googling quotes from the wacky horror movie or making chicken noises.

The pier had the best ice cream parlour and the best mini amusement park in all of California. The lights from the rides lit up the now dark sky and the music was blaring from the speakers. The waves hit up on the wooden structure of the pier adding to the atmosphere of the place.

It was quiet for a Saturday night. It was unusually quiet which had me wondering where everyone had gone to.

Maybe there was more Lana’s than Ella’s in the world. Maybe there was people that had to give up a night at the pier to go and finish their assignments due at the start of the semester.

As we walked past the ice cream place and passed the first stall, my phone went off again. It was Chase letting me know he had arrived at the meeting point.

‘Not even a love heart on his contact name.’ Lana tutted as she peered over my shoulder at my phone screen.

I texted back and kept my gaze on my phone while replying ‘We are just speaking casually. I’m not expecting a declaration of undying love with my candy floss.’

It was partly true. I did not expect a full-blown Drew Barrymore rom-com love story in my life but it was dishonest of me to say that I did not go home and read romance novels every night and wish that my life was somewhat like that.

I read a lot of books about love. A few were of the erotica genre, but most were Bronte and Austen and other classical romance authors.

Where Lana was publicly known as boy obsessed, I was more of a secret sucker for romance. In the comfort of my bedroom was where I obsessed over literary males and lived a vigorous romance through the pages of a good book.

Lana had never had a boyfriend because she was waiting for the one. Sometimes I sat and wondered if she thought a knight on a white horse would turn up and sweep her off her feet.

Even with only a few people traversing the pier, the place was in full swing. The lights and the music made everything seem alive and I allowed my eyes to shut momentarily.

I closed my eyes taking in the smell of cotton candy and other sweet treats.

‘How I wish rides played good music.’ I eyed the waltzers in disgust.

Lana bobbed her head to the music but not before telling me to shut up.

‘Who are you telling to shut up?’ I asked before mentioning ‘It is not like the ride going to hear me and be offended.’

She rolled her eyes, but her smile was still intact

‘It is like the rides think to themselves what could make a spinning chair with migraine causing light worse.’ I told her with a sigh ‘So they decide to blast some overrated and repetitive song. Waltzer? More like torture?’

We had conversations about our contrasting music taste not long ago and it seemed clear our tastes could not be further apart.

‘What is wrong with this song?’ She laughed, her eyes flicking down to my wardrobe ‘It is not like they are going to play Smells Like Teen Spirit. This is a tourist attraction. Not a convention for emo’s.’

‘Why not?’ I asked pointedly ‘I might actually attempt to go on the puke machine if Nirvana was on. Plus, I heard Celine Dion playing one night next to the teacups.’

‘So?’

‘So…that is a stupidly slow song. That does not really set the mood either.’ I answered.

‘Maybe it is because it reminds you of Titanic.’ She landed the blow in her sweet as honey voice ‘Did you cry at that movie too?’

‘It was my allergies.’

‘Sure.’ She let out a small giggle ‘You know I really hope you unleash your inner romantic one day.’

‘Never!’ I gasped like the idea was ludicrous while sticking my arms in front of me as if love was going to sucker punch me in the face.

‘Ella,’ My best friend sighed ‘I am pretty certain that if you met the love of your life on this very pier tonight, you would run away from him.’

I dismissed the idea entirely ‘It is a good thing I am not planning on meeting Prince Charming tonight.’

I did not let many people in. I did not let anyone get close enough to do that. I had trained myself to be talkative so that it covered up the anxiety I had of socialising.

Smiling large enough and telling people over and over again what they wanted to hear was how to avoid suspicion.

Lana tilted her head slightly and mentioned the song choice of the pier again ‘My Heart Will Go On is a good song.’

‘For a funeral, Lana.’ I deadpanned before adding ‘To think you are meant to be the musical one of us.’

The blonde girl tutted ‘Well, it is a good thing that you are dressed for a funeral.’

My eyes fell to the edge of the pier where the railing was the only thing stopping someone from falling into the ocean below.

Everything felt like it was going in slow motion. Everything apart from chest that was moving erratically.

Our walk to the hook-a-duck stall felt like the longest walk of my life as I tried to keep my gaze on anything but the ocean below.

‘Ella?’ Lana’s voice was no longer teasing, and it had been replaced with a soft tone as she spoke ‘You would tell me if you were not alright. Wouldn’t you?’

I nodded once and I painted a smile on my face. I knew that if I spoke then it would be very possible that I would be sick.

The answer to her question flashed in my mind. Like a big neon sign. It was brighter than any other light on the pier.

I was not ready to talk about it. I was not ready to talk about my mother at all.

All I wanted was for this night to be carefree. I did not want it to take a full one-eighty.

One thing that nobody could call me was a buzzkill.

‘I am fine.’ I voiced the same words I had told her for the last year ‘You don’t have to worry about me.’

She searched my face looking for any sign of lying. I held eye-contact with her and counted to three to try and make it convincing

If I said it enough, then it would come true.

Lana looked away. I was not sure if she bought it. She was my oldest and probably my only true friend. She had probably smelt the lie from me stronger than she smelt the sea air, but she never said anymore.

‘Don’t worry about me.’ I repeated before referencing ‘I am merely the support person. I am just the sidekick in this story, but it is fine because I like Robin a lot better than Batman.’

She raised one of her light eyebrows as she challenged ‘Like you would ever sit back and watch things happen and life pass by.’

‘What is that supposed to mean?’ I questioned, a cold chill shooting you, my spine.

‘Sidekicks usually just sit and do nothing.’ She mentioned before laughing the next few words ‘You have a big mouth, and you are not afraid of conflict.’

She was right but I stuck my tongue out at her anyway while putting my hands in my jacket pockets to warm them up.

A small circular object touched my hand as I rested my hands inside the small denim holes. Wondering what it was, I pulled out the mystery object and inspected it.

It was a quarter piece that I had probably just stuffed into my pocket when I had got change for something.

I looked around for some pinball machine to get rid of the coin.

My eyes skimmed over the open space before eventually landing on a solution. A solution in the form of a rectangular shaped green box with a mannequin-like figure inside.

I walked over to the box that was randomly placed in the middle of nowhere. No other stalls were situated near it.

Through the window of the box was the top-half of a dummy holding a crystal ball. The mannequin of the old fortune-teller had grey hair and a purple waistcoat which had the letters Ht. Rowknad written on it.

It was weird and whimsical looking but the coin slot part of the machine read twenty-five cents, so I knew what to do.

The reflection on the box showed Lana laughing.

She questioned my actions as I stuck the quarter in the slot ‘I thought you said you did not believe in fortune tellers and fate.’

‘I need to get rid of the change.’ I mentioned to her as the man in the box moved around ‘All things like this are a massive waste of money. They give you fortunes that are quite open ended and interpretable. The same one it gives to fifty other people the same day.’

The machine made a small bell-like noise and a piece of paper slipped out of another opening that was not for the money.

Lana beat me to it and grabbed the small piece of paper. Her blue irises flicked over the words on the slip of paper before she burst out laughing.

‘What is it?’ I asked, moving closer to see what she was laughing at.

Her reply came in the form of a series of giggles ‘You will meet your soulmate here tonight.’

I grabbed the paper out of her hand and read it for myself only to find out she was telling the truth.

You will meet your soulmate tonight.

Without much more thought about it, I crumpled the sheet and threw it in the nearest trash can as Lana and I walked further along the pier.

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