"Henry. Heeeenry."

"What now, Paige?"

"Um. Help me?"

Henry turned round in his chair, quickly shoving the storybook into his bag and kicking it under the table. Paige peered at him from behind gold curls, grinning.

"What do you need help with?" he asked, sighing. She spun the sheet of paper round so it faced him and he scanned it, realising that it was in fact the maths paper they were supposed to have been solving for the past thirty minutes. Paige poked it with her pencil.

"Question 26 . . . I don't get it," she whined, resting her elbows on the table and entwining her fingers to rest her chin. Henry looked from the paper to Paige's wide, chocolate eyes and laughs slightly, turning back around.

"I'm sorry, Paige. I can't help you there. I'm still on Question 4." He bent over his own desk and quickly scribbled out some random numbers into the boxes provided, glancing at the distracted teacher.

He would've liked to get back to Red Riding Hood's story which he'd been reading – very different from the usual tales – but Paige was persistent. She leaned over the desk and looked over his shoulder.

"Henry, why do you always read that book?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're stubborn."

Henry allowed himself a small chuckle and turned to face her again. "So are you," he replied, turning the sheet of paper on her desk back round so it faced her again. "Now get back to work."

She poked her tongue out childishly, and looked back down at her sheet. Once sure she was back to working out Question 26, Henry pulled the book back out, and continued to read.

Paige knew for a fact that Henry, once again, wasn't working, so this time she stayed quiet. Yesterday was a disaster, she thought, cringing at the memory. Maybe today will be better.

So she rose out of her chair when the teacher wasn't looking, and then started to read over Henry's shoulder. It was a strange story . . . It was a fairytale.

Why was Henry reading fairytales? He was ten years old. She grew out of that nonsense years ago. But, curious as she was – one of her not-so-fine traits – she continued secretly reading his book.

Rumplestiltskin screamed in anger, in hatred, in pain. Belle was gone. Nothing, no, nothing meant anything to him anymore. Milah was dead. Bae was gone. Belle was dead. He screamed again and emptied his fury on his mansion, destroying everything he saw. The cabinet was smashed. Vases fell to the ground and shattered. The spinning wheel was knocked down. He threw the china cups at the wall, save one, the one with the chip in the rim. He picked it up and was ready to hurl it like any other but he couldn't. He just couldn't. It was all he had left of her.

Paige's frown grew deeper with everything she read. Rumplestiltskin and . . . Belle? The only fairytale Belle she knew of was from Beauty and the Beast. So Henry's book was saying that Rumplestiltskin was the Beast.

Well, hats off to whoever thought that one up.

He saw himself in the mirror, wide eyes, trembling, almost crushing the chipped cup in his hand. Deep breaths and calm. The cup, he decided, would go on show forever, so he placed it on a stand in the centre of the hall. "You're a monster, Rumplestiltskin," he told himself. "You're a beast."

Paige drew back, thinking. That's intense for a storybook, she thought, her eyes darting from the pages to Henry's face, deep in concentration. She watched him a moment, flick from page to page, eyes scanning the words swiftly and eyebrows drawn together.

Come on, Paige, she thought to herself, running a hand through her gold hair. Be brave.

"Henry?"

He jumped slightly, looking round at her. "Paige?" he replied, sounding a little tired. He had bags under his eyes and he stifled a yawn.

"Henry, did you sleep last night?" she asked, nervous.

"Not really."

"Why?"

"I was reading."

"Your book of twisted fairytales?"

"Yes, Paige. My book of twisted fairytales," he repeated wearily. He closed the book and leaned forward, bending over the maths work.

"Henry, talk to me . . . what's wrong?"

"Paige, we're supposed to be working. Come on."

"Didn't stop you from reading."

"Paige . . ." His tone sounded a little warning then.

"Okay, okay. I get it. No talk."