Chapter One: He Loves Me Not
"He loves me."
*pluck*
"He loves me not."
*pluck*
"He loves me."
*pluck*
"He loves me... not. Oh drat." Novel Gold looked at the defrocked flower as if willing one more petal to grow. She tossed the dead plant aside. It was a stupid idea anyway. She thought, rising to shake the grass out of her new dress... oh God her new dress! She spun around, twisting her neck painfully in an effort to see if she'd gotten grass-stains on her posterior; rather like a dog chasing its tail she just kept spinning until a tall dark haired boy stopped her with a firm hand on her shoulder.
"Calm yourself love." the boy said, casually swiping grass off her dress with his free hand, "If he 'loves you not' then he's not worth the fuss, and your dress..." he took her hand and raised her into a balletic spin which shook off most of the rest of the grass, "...is just fine."
"Oh, Jolly!" Novel said, her face growing red at being discovered in such a state, "I know it must seem terribly childish to you, but I read it in a book and..."
Her friend shushed her by placing one long finger over her lips, "Novel Gold," he said, removing the finger now that it had done its job, "I've known you to be many things, but childish was never one of them." Well not high on the list anyway. She smiled her thanks for the compliment and took the arm he offered as the two teenagers began the short walk back to town. "Who is he by the way?" Roger Jones, known popularly as 'Jolly', asked. "The fool who 'loves you not'." he added, knowing full well she had understood him the first time.
Once again Novel's face grew red and she took her time in answering. "Roland Hood." she finally admitted with a resigned sigh. She looked Roger in the eye, almost daring him to make fun of her, (which admittedly WAS Jolly's favorite pastime).
Roger whistled low and long, "Wow." he finally said, "Just like your mother I see... into older men." he quipped.
Novel suppressed a giggle, "Your mother too, as I recall." she let the giggle escape briefly before silencing it with her hand, an action who only served to make her body shake all the harder with ill suppressed mirth. "But really, Jolly." she managed to say once the giggle fit had passed, "He's not that old. He's barely twenty-two. Seven years is hardly unusual ...especially in this town." she added with smile.
"And he's just sooo gorgeous!" Jolly said, affecting a girlish squeal.
Novel punched him (playfully) in the gut and he fell to his knees (he was mostly acting of course). Mollified by his feigned fall, Novel offered him her hand, "He is rather gorgeous isn't he?" she admitted as she pulled Roger to his feet. Friends again they once more turned their feet towards home; a nice quiet little town in Maine called Storybrooke.