I claim no ownership to Once Upon a Time characters or story lines. They belong to Disney. No copyright infringement intended. My only take away for me, when it comes to my stories, is the satisfaction of my readers.
My life is made up of the stuff many would call a delusional work of fiction. My grandmothers, adopted and birth, are both possess actual magical powers. Grandma Regina is the Queen of the United Realms. Emma, as she prefers to go by, is the deputy of Storybrooke. My only living grandfather is over 200 years old and a pirate, to boot. My only living great grandparents are equally as old and just as famous. Please tell me anyone that hasn't been told about Snow White and Prince Charming? I have gone to great pains to fabricate a story of my origins when necessary. Otherwise, I just avoid group interactions when its possible. I may have been raised in the real world but my birth had been in another realm.
I had been able to hide it after the final curse, good curse, had been cast. As I grew up, it got harder and harder to keep my true story under wraps. The first two years of high school had gone by without many issues. My classmates had found it odd that I chose to go to all the dances by myself, alone, stag. It worked like a charm. I never had to explain any potential unexplainable situations.
Leave it to my junior year history teacher to put me into a catch 22 that pitted my conscience against my reality.
"History, despite what most of you sleeping beauties believe, isn't an impersonal, irrelevant, nap-inducing subject. History requires human action for it to be told. Everything I teach has had some effect on your ancestors." The teacher put the assignment on the wall.
I tried not to show my distress at the prospect of having to deal head on with my worst fear. The person next to me glared at me after the thousandth click of my ball point pen. Call it a fidget, a clear indicator of my growing anxiety.
"Your assignment is to create a family tree diagram and present it to the class. You have two family tree formats in the class folder on the computer. I will extend extra credit to the students that can bring in at least one family member on that tree. That extra credit will go on your final exam score at the end of the semester." The teacher tapped the desk of jello-necked head-bobber that had lost in a nap.
A wave of discomfort had washed over me and the receded back out sea, like the warning signs of an impending tsunami. The monster wave of panic slammed into me with the last stipulations.
"Integrity is one of those rules, I personally, live by. Absolute honesty, no fabrications of fact. If I detect even the slightest attempts at artistic license, I will call it a zero." The teacher set his eyes on me.
My heart rate sped up, and with enough force, had threatened fling itself free from my chest. My favorite sweat shirt might as well have been a heavy-duty parka. I had thought about shedding my sweatshirt but a brief peek into the neck had reminded me that I hadn't wore anything under it. It had taken all the self-control within me to not allow a full-fledged panic attack. The rest of the class groaned while I whimpered inside my head. They'd feared the time it would take to do the work rather than spend their limited free time doing anything but that.
"The due date for each individual is found in the class folder labeled "Family Tree" assignment. Remember ladies and gentlemen, honesty is the only policy with me." The teacher turned on the classroom lights and turned off the overhead projector.
The bell rang, allowing me to make a hasty retreat to my locker and out the school's double doors toward home.
We live two miles from the school in an area just inches away from Storybrooke's side of the Enchanted Forest. I thought about begging dad to move us into Storybrooke where situations like this would never happen for obvious reasons. I eliminated the option after the first half mile of the journey because I knew my dad would never let me run from my problems. That had left me with the two remaining, non-viable options to pick from.
Dad had been sitting at the table when I'd entered, my head down and bag dragging on the floor.
"Lucy, how was…" I thought I heard dad greet me.
Mom had been in the bedroom napping soundly. She'd been abnormally tired, even for her in the last month.
Dad smiles all the time and mom acts as if she's carrying around a secret of her own.
His tall shadow covered me.
"Rough day at school, kiddo?" Dad called from the door frame.
At the time, I had preferred to bypass the long dad-daughter lecture-discussion. I required answers, not more frustration.
"Is Emma and Killian home?" I attempted to avoid the inevitable.
As predicted, he let out a sigh and slumped against the door frame. The light from the hallway had acted as a spotlight on my bag, like I'd needed a reminder about my predicament.
"I think. Let's go." Dad relented, causing me to feel guilty for my decision.
Snow and Charming had been home with Hope. Two small children were in the background giggling like partners in crime plotting a surprise attack on Charming. Emma and Killian sometimes escaped the stress of parenthood by going to the Jolly Roger, where their daughter hadn't been allowed to go yet. Made sense. A toddler on a pirate ship had so many disastrous possibilities for unfortunate mishaps.
An unwelcome image flashed through my head after dad brought the car to a stop. Nobody wants to envision their grandparents rolling around naked in the bed below the decks. It doesn't leave your head. If anything, it sticks in there like some bad movie you'd been forced to watch.
The boat wasn't rocking and all had been quiet when our feet hit the gangway. A good sign. Only the squeak of wood and the gentle slap of the water against the hull surrounded us. I'd almost banished the nightmarish image in my head until Killian came up from below decks buttoning the last button of his shirt and his hook conspicuously absent.
Dad turned red and I looked away in embarrassment.
"I hope we weren't interrupting anything?" Dad jammed his hands into his jeans.
Killian rubbed his lips and smirked.
"Just a late breakfast. Emma is a master at pancakes. I can't resist." Killian stumbled through his explanation.
Dad looked back at Killian, obviously confused. It was a reference of something that we hadn't witnessed.
Killian's guilty behavior and stupid smirk gave away the obvious, true answer.
"Sorry to interrupt Killian, but I needed to talk to you and Emma. I need advice." I changed the subject for the sake of my comfort and Killian's dignity.
"Who is it Killian?" Emma's voice echoed off the interior of the cabin's walls.
"Lucy and Henry, love." Killian turned around, staring down into the darkness as if he'd had x-ray vision.
That had been one time that had been glad that I'd been otherwise normal. Reading Killian's mind would've created a sudden need to jump into the water just to clean out my mind.
"If it's okay with you Killian, I'm going to go to Granny's for a cup of coffee." Dad turned to dismiss himself.
"Sure Henry. Take what time you need. I don't get to see my favorite granddaughter all that often." Killian nodded for him to leave.
I watched dad walk off the brow and to the car.
"It must be important." Killian's left arm rested on my tense shoulders.
"Believe me… it is. I'd talk to dad, but one of two things would happen, a lecture or an embarrassing conference between my teacher and dad. Neither of them sounds good to me right now. It's already awkward enough as it is." I looked into his blue eyes.
He stretched out his legs.
"I have to do a family tree for my history class. It has to be normal and honest, two things that contradict each other in this family." I admitted, the last part tumbling out in a mindless way.
Killian's face had soured at first and then turned into a relaxed chuckle.
"I see. Honest, we are. Normal, definitely not." Killian pulled me into his shoulder.
Yoda's voice had snuck into my ears when Killian spoke those words.
Emma's footsteps interrupted the conversation. I forgot about my problem when I observed Killian's reaction to her presence. The love in his eyes had been the stuff not found anywhere in the real world. It was the look of a man absolutely, lost-forever in love with the lady he loved.
"You didn't have to come up, darling." He took his arm from my shoulder and caressed her cheek.
The two of them kissed in front of me, reaffirming my previous suspicions.
A sudden uncontrollable need to cough arose in my throat.
Emma blushed and slid Killian's hook back in place.
"I did. You know about the world within the United Realms. I know about the world beyond Storybrooke." Emma massaged his shoulder.
Killian stood up and Emma took his place at my side. Killian stayed standing.
"You need our advice about how you're supposed to explain this…family." Emma guessed.
I saw understanding in her eyes, a motherly softness she'd reserved for select people.
"Do you have paper and a pen on you?" Emma's face lit up.
I hadn't thought to bring it with me. I wished in my head that I'd had one on hand.
A small note book and pen materialized in my sweatshirt handwarmer.
Strange.
Where had it come from?
A work of Emma's magic?
Couldn't have been my doing. No magic powers here.
"If it sounds too much like a strange fairy tale, it's an instant zero." Emma smiled back at me.
Killian smiled back down at Emma, interjecting what I would have said had I been fast enough.
"From what Lucy told me, love, it has to be the truth and…"
I had to finish the thought, even though it had been too obvious.
"Normal. Truthful and normal."
Emma's eyes hadn't lost their light even after knowing the stipulations.
"There is a way, Lucy. Listen and write. It'll sound normal to the teacher and anyone else in the class." Emma reassured me.
Killian's head angled in interest.
"What I am about to tell you is the truth. Life in Storybrooke, the cursed version, had been closer to normal." Emma instructed in a way that gave me the added hope I had been seeking in a hopeless situation.
Stay tuned. To be continued in chapter 2.-TP