"Spineless!" I yelled, striking a horribly contrasting minor fifth chord on my guitar. "Stupid! Senseless!"
"Shut up!" the mirror screamed over my yelling. "I have ears too, you know! PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS GOOD!"
I gave a irritated groan and shoved my guitar harshly beside me, emitting from it a horrible, guttural sound. "I'm just so frustrated!"
The mask rolled his eyes. "Oh yes, just because you have to live up to your deeply disturbed, emotion-driven, perturbed stereotype of the starving guitarist."
"Starving artist," I said, plucking absently at the high E-string. "If you're going to pick on me, at least do it right."
The mirror sighed, and Sheep butted me in the arm with his head. "I don't want to go with Robin Hood to the barbeque," I said sleepily, draping my arm around the little wooly creature. "I feel bad, but I really don't. Sheep, will you be my date?"
He looked up at me and smiled, wagging his tail, and almost immediately flopped down on the floor and fell asleep. I turned back to the mask. "I don't think he's going to be a very good date."
The mirror made a disgusted face. "Better than Robin Hood…that man…"
"Yes, there is something odd about him."
"Most definitely," the mask nodded in muted agreement. "Most…oh crap."
"What?" He was wearing that sheepish look, not a horrified, regretful look, but a mischievous, "I'm going to enjoy being in trouble" look. I narrowed my eyes. "What did you do?"
"I forgot to tell you." He was wearing a smug grin. "You've been selected to be entertainment at the barbeque."
I stared at him, mouth wide open, eyes large. I'd only been here two weeks! I didn't sign up! "What…what am I supposed to do? I didn't even sign up for anything!"
"Well…you see, you don't sign up. You're sort of…chosen."
"All the entertainment?"
"Well…er…yes."
I slammed my fist on the ground, accidentally awaking Sheep, and with a loud bleat, he went scurrying off into my bathroom. A salmon pink sheet, looking much like the first for the barbeque, floated down from the ceiling into my other hand. It was a flyer, my face plastered across the front, my mouth in an exaggerated "O" shape and the freckles on my nose standing out more than usual. I stared at the picture, horrified.
"I'm not going to play if they use this picture. I'm not even going to play at all!" I said stubbornly, throwing the sheet on the ground and crossing my arms.
A sudden fork of lightning shone brightly out my window, thunder rolling so loudly I could feel the vibrations underneath me, even though the day had been clear. It struck again, a blinding flash of light in the darkening night. The mask crouched down in its frame, looking like it was trying to duck under something.
"I don't think you want to say that…"
"Let me guess. If I don't play, they'll cut off my hands?" I asked, grimace set harshly on my mouth.
"Something like that."
I gave another frustrated groan. "Fine! I guess I'm playing then!" The lightning automatically disappeared, just as another flash was reaching for the ground. The thunder was silenced just as if the sound had been stuffed into a sound proof box. "Not like I have a choice. Though sometimes dying seems like a better alternative than living here."
The mirror rolled his eyes. "Oh yes, I'm so sure."
"My life is hard," I said quietly, staring down at my abandoned guitar. I should probably start practicing again, for real this time, if I was going to be performing in front of the entire park in less than a week.
"Yes," the mirror replied sarcastically. "So hard. Six children in a run down trailer, deadbeat ex-husband, no job, back pain, a gimp leg, and no wand and yet you still always pull through. Really, how do you do it?"
"Shut up," I retorted, sneering. "I'm young. It's hard for me."
"Oh yes," he sighed. "The eternal excuse, 'I'm young'."
Sick of his ranting, I picked my guitar back up and struck an E-minor chord. "Um….C." C chord… "Then F seven…no, ew…G…"
The mask sighed again and disappeared. At least I had some peace. Now time for some words…
"I'm an idiot," I said dutifully. "That's a good lyric. Though I don't know how that will go over. No doubt that Andrew wouldn't mind hearing the truth…" I spent the next two hours plucking out chords that sounded good with a few of the songs I had written back in college but hadn't thought up music for. I had about two songs done by the time the clock struck eleven, and it was then I realized that I was dead tired. I would have to save the rest for tomorrow.
I was rather proud of myself, though, two songs was quite an accomplishment for only two hours. It usually took me a few days, and I did have to admit they weren't bad.
I guess there's nothing more inspirational than when you're hands are on the cutting board.
I spent the entirety of the next two days at home, working out new songs and perfecting old ones for the performance. I clipped them into a binder and practiced them repeatedly until my hand stopped fumbling over the chords and my voice stopped slipping uneasily between notes. My fingers gradually became adjusted to the new creations, and when I was practicing in the late morning on the fourth day before the picnic, I did so well as even to earn a graceful nod from the mirror.
"I have to say," he said graciously, his masculine tone rich and warm. "You do quite well under pressure."
"Thanks," I said, beaming a bit. It took a lot to get a compliment out of him. "I've been working hard."
"I know you…"
I almost jumped when there was a loud knock on the door. I hadn't been expecting anyone, and Andrew didn't come over anymore unless he had any more of my mail. Most of my bills usually came to him, being addressed to the office instead of to my trailer. These moments were awkward, and usually just consisted of a brief explanation, a shove of paper into my hand, quick thanks, and a swift walk away. I always felt frustrated and confused when he stopped by.
Sure enough, it wasn't Andrew, even though I had been hoping for just a few words with him, a glimpse of his face, no matter how awkward it would be. I missed his company. Instead, the man that stood on my porch was wearing green tights and a feather in a Yankee's baseball cap, whiskey flask hanging delicately off of his leather belt. He stood proudly, back straight, hands on his hips, as I opened the door.
"Fair, majestic Gwen," he crowed loudly, bowing. It was so hard to suppress the urge to kick him off my front step. "I have stopped by your most charming home to ask your final decision on my preposition." He stood up, his yellowish eyes gleaming. "Do you have an answer for me, my queen?"
"Erm…" I was leaning against the door; ready to push it closed in case he made any moves to come into my house. "I'm sorry, Robin, but I already have a date."
"Oh?" I couldn't say he looked disappointed, but rather amused. "Am I safe to assume that it is our dear Prinze Andrew Charming that has so captured your heart? Pardon my saying so, sweet maid, but you two are quite a topic of discussion around the park, or so Maid Marian tells me." He was beginning to blush. "I never participate in idle gossip myself." I rolled my eyes. Sure… "The fairies are not too happy about your little affair."
"I don't give a damn about what everyone else says. Besides, An…Mr. Charming and I are not dating."
Robin's mouth was somewhat tightly set, his face a bit reddened. "Begging your pardon, mademoiselle, but it is not proper for a lady to swear."
I frowned and said in something of a mocking voice, "My apologies."
"Well…" He changed position, his legs stiffening in the green tights. "My preposition still stands, Lady Kink. Will you accompany me to this anticipated event we speak of?"
"I already told you," I replied, leaning back against the door, my voice feigning an apologetic tone. "I'm sorry, but I have a date."
"Oh," he said, now seeming surprised after I told him for the second time. "That's right, excuse me. Well, thank you for considering me, at least." He bowed again and pranced off before I could mutter a brusque goodbye.
Sheep waddled to my side and pressed against my leg, giving a small bleat. I crouched down and patted his side. "That's right, hon, you're my date."
He silently bounded off into my room, and I heard a loud creaking signifying his jump onto my bed. It was followed closely by a severe hacking sound.
"No!" I yelled, running in after him. "Not on my bed…nooooo…."
The day of the barbeque came too soon - it seemed like everything was going wrong. I was bloated and my jeans wouldn't fit right, I had skinned my knee and now walked with a slight limp, and I had to bum a ride to the music store that morning to replace a string I had broken the night before.
I was pulling on my pink tank top and trying to fasten my necklace at the same time when I heard a random giggle from the living room. I walked out, shoving my feet into my sandals.
The mirror giggled again. "It's kind of funny when you swear."
I stared at him. "You were thinking about this because…"
"Oh, just because I expect to be hearing more of it soon."
"And why is that?" I glowered, shoving my hands into my pockets.
"Because you need to be there in five minutes."
"Ah damn…damn it." Mirror giggled again and began to quote Robin Hood's little speech about cursing. I ignored him and ran and got the leash, somehow able to track down Sheep (who was standing absently in the bathtub and staring loathingly at the faucet), and fastened it to his collar. I rushed him back to the living room, wrapped his leash around my wrist, stuck my binder underneath my arm, picked up my guitar, and put my hand on the doorknob. It didn't budge.
My heart jumped. I was going to lose my hands. I whirled around and almost screamed at the mirror.
"WHY CAN'T I GET OUT?"
Mirror looked huffy. "I want to go, too. I wouldn't miss seeing you make a fool out of yourself for the world."
"I'm glad you have so much confidence in me." Two minutes. "How do you expect to go? You're kind of mounted on the wall."
He nodded toward a coffee table in the corner, and I ran toward it and opened the single drawer. In it was a pink cosmetic compact, and I heard a struggling sound inside. I looked back and saw that the mirror's surface was blank.
"We're leaving," I said loudly, shoving the compact in my pocket. "I'll open you when we get there."
That must have satisfied him because the door opened. One minute. I ran (limped) through the park, dragging Sheep on the leash behind me. The road met my needs, and I arrived at the courtyard with thirty seconds to spare.
"I'm here," I panted as the red fairy passed me, magicking decorative garlands up onto the oversized stage.
She smiled at me sweetly. "That's nice, dear." She began to walk away and my face reddened in frustration.
"I'm the entertainment," I replied bluntly.
She looked back at me with a faint air of annoyance. "That's the stage, darling. Don't let me keep you from setting up." She smiled again, fake sugar, and walked away.
I dragged everything up on the stage, almost tripping when the stairs flinched in surprise at my footsteps, and somehow made it to center stage without breaking a limb.
I looked around in a state of confusion. There was no microphone, no guitar jack, no speakers, nothing except for a chair, a music stand, a bobby pin, and two pills: one that glowed pink and one a deep purple. Knowing nothing else to do, I took the compact out of my pocket and opened it.
The mask glared at me from his tiny frame, obviously annoyed. "I don't like being shoved in pockets," he said bitterly.
"Oh, be a big boy," I pouted, mocking him. "And help Gwen set up."
He bowed forward. "I live to serve, your majesty."
"That's my trooper." I swung the mirror around my surroundings, letting it settle focus on the chair. "Tell me what I'm supposed to do."
"Ah, this is simple." I rolled my eyes. "Clip the pin on the sound hole of your guitar. Swallow the pink pill when you want the so called "mike" to turn on, and the purple when you want it to stop."
"So I don't get to eat or anything?" I asked, horrified at the thought of everyone listening to me smack away on tuna fish sandwiches.
"Oh, no, no. That's not how it works. You're just…a show, I guess we could call it. The actual barbeque happens later."
"Okay," I sighed. "That's better."
"Yup," he agreed, nodding deeply.
"Why did they pick me," I groaned, setting the compact on the ground as I lead Sheep backstage, tied his leash to a sturdy post, and returned to unpack my guitar. I fastened the strap around my shoulder, just in case I got jittery enough to drop my instrument.
"Well, you are one of the few talented ones in this park. Not to mention that your popularity with the fairies is a common discussion…you know, because of Andrew."
"So I've heard," I replied, shoving the purple pill into my pocket and sitting down, my shiny black guitar resting on my knee. I clipped the bobby pin into the sound hole and struck a G chord.
It rang the perfect volume throughout the courtyard. One of the fairies gave me a thumbs-up and continued to turn dandelion seeds into ugly yellow easy chairs.
"I'll keep you behind me," I said, picking the compact up and readying the pink pill as people started milling into the lawns. "And if this kills me, I'm coming back to haunt you."
He grinned as I shoved him underneath my seat. "That is to be expected."
My palms were beginning to sweat as people were seated, the pill becoming sticky in my hand. With saliva that seemed to appear out of nowhere, I swallowed it.
It suddenly went dark, and a deep booming voice came out of thin air. Spotlights of various colors swirled around the audience, eventually coming to rest on me. My face was burning from the heat and embarrassment.
"Ladies, gentlemen, and fairy tale things," the Deep Booming Voice said. "We at the Fairy Land Trailer Park are now very proud to present…Gwen."
I coughed quietly. Thankfully, the pill was smart enough to not pick up on that. I struck a chord on my guitar and my voice found the note like an old friend.
Then I saw Andrew. He was seated in the front row, holding hands with Snow White. We made eye contact and I smiled, while he broke away, obviously flustered.
I struck another chord, transitioning smoothly from warm up to the first song.
Ha, he was confused. I saw it in his eyes.
And I was ready.
The clapping was so loud I could hardly hear the Deep Booming voice say "Merchandise will be available in this area during the barbeque."
I swallowed the purple pill as people began to filter into the picnic area. I unclipped the pin and laid it on the chair. I put my guitar away, positioning it just so I could get my music folder in so I wouldn't have to carry it around.
"That was very good," the mirror said as I grabbed him and headed backstage to get Sheep.
"Thanks," I replied. "But they're easy to entertain."
He suddenly gave a loud, very fake yawn. "Well, I'm beat. Better be heading home. Bye." Before I could ask for an explanation to why he was tired, or if that was even possible for a mirror, he had vanished. I snapped the compact closed and stuck it in my pocket. Sheep was asleep on the wooden plank floor, bleating softly in his dreams. I got onto my knees and gave him a gentle nudge.
"Ready to go, date of mine?" I asked, untying his leash from the pole.
"Baaa…" he yawned, climbing sleepily to his hooves. I walked back out to the stage, greeted by the blue fairy who told me my guitar had been sent back home. I thanked her and headed to the barbeque.
It looked like the fairies had definitely let the sun back into the picnic area. About fifty yards to the east there was a crystal blue lake, reflecting the late afternoon sky. My date pranced happily before me, holding his head up high.
It was weird even more so when I thought about it, I had pulled my date out of the closet.
Never mind that, I knew why I was here. It wasn't just because I was going to get my hands chopped off, if it was that I would have left as soon as the show was over. No, it was because of Andrew. I missed him. Yes, I liked him. Probably loved him (things always seemed to happen like that in fairy tales, dang it). I was here to show him what he was missing. I was not a conquest!
No matter how appealing that idea sounded.
With Sheep on my arm, I sampled all of the dishes, except for the ones that glowed, glittered or screamed when you scooped some of it on your dish. I sat as far away as possible from Robin Hood, who looked to be trying to woo Maid Marian, and in a position where I could watch Andrew and his black-haired bimbo and where they would have to strain themselves to see me. They were no longer holding hands. Snow White seemed to be having a very interesting conversation with herself while Andrew appeared to be particularly interested in his chocolate pudding.
Sheep curled up by my side, delicately testing a selection of grass, while I sat back, munched on my potato chips, and watched the object of my affections.
Before long, a hairy, disgruntled-looking dwarf meandered over to Snow White's side. She began talking animatedly to him, batting her eyelashes and flipping her hair, while he did something that disgustingly looked like pelvic thrusting. I blanched while Andrew got up, asked for an excuse which was ignored, and started walking to the lake, disappearing in the trees.
Now was my chance.
I borrowed a blanket from the last of the three little pigs, grabbed my plate and Sheep's leash, and dragged him down to the waterfront. He seemed rather attached to the grass by my chair. I walked across the rocky shoreline a bit until I ran across Andrew, who was leaning up against a large tree, his eyes closed, head pressed back against the rough bark. His long legs were stretched out in front of him, one hand resting on his knee, the other holding up his chin.
In Shakespeare's overrated words: "Oh, that I could be a glove to touch thy cheek", or some crap like that.
In a flourish of long forgotten courage (jellyfish gone!), I approached him and plopped the blanket onto the grass. Andrew opened his eyes, startled.
"Gwen?"
"You don't mind if I sit here, do you? The picnic area was too crowded. But I still wanted someone to talk to."
"Um…"
"Thanks." I dropped Sheep's leash and stomped on it to keep him from running off. I spread the blanket out next to Andrew, set my foot down, and tied the leash to a strong branch of the tree. I picked up a potato chip and said, "How are you, Mr. Charming?"
"I'm fine…I guess." He paused. "How are y…is that your pet?"
"I'm okay, and yes." I decided against telling him that I found Sheep in my closet. "I've grown quite attached to him." I scratched him behind the ears (Sheep, not Andrew) and he bleated contentedly. "He's a good boy…most of the time."
Andrew glanced at the little wooly creature out of the corner of his eye. "Erm…yeah."
An awkward pause followed, and I stared out into the lapping waters of the lake, having the sudden urge to go swimming. I suppressed it and it was immediately replaced by another surge of unusual bravery.
"You and Show White don't seem to be getting along very well," I said casually.
He stiffened then relaxed, slumping further down the tree. I scooted over and offered him part of my blanket, which he took up with his wonderful body a bit reluctantly.
I leaned back on the ground and rested my hands on my stomach, looking over at him. He mimicked me, except fixing his gaze on the green branches high above our heads. I decided to move my eyes there, in case my stare made him uncomfortable (undoubtedly).
"Mr. Charming," I began.
He automatically corrected me. "Andrew."
I sighed. "Andrew. I'm sorry I insulted…"
"Stop it, Gwen." He turned to face me, and our eyes met. His smooth hazel eyes…ah…I was getting sucked in again, dang it. How was I ever going to learn to survive a handsome face?
It was funny, really. Our faces were only inches apart, but the last thing on my mind was kissing him. I was more afraid of him suddenly biting me if anything, no matter how ridiculous that sounds. He wasn't Hannibal Lector.
"Stop what?" I demanded.
"Apologizing." He rolled his head back and slipped his arms underneath his neck, propping his fine head off of the ground. "I was being a jerk. You have the right to not like me. I was just upset because I was so sure…" He stopped talking and rolled back over onto his side. "I have only one favor to ask you…even if it is all fake. Would you let me kiss you?"
I almost laughed out loud, but before I could shout out the most definite "yes" I ever planned to say in my life, Andrew's hand was entangled in my hair and his mouth was nearing my lips.
"Excuse me, Miss?" A high, lisping voice made Andrew break away from me, red faced. I sat up, fumbling for a grasp on reality, to see a young, round faced girl with blond curls in a swimsuit approaching us, gesturing wildly at Sheep. Damn kid.
"Miss! You found Lamb!"
I stared at her. "Huh?"
"Lamb!" Sheep blinked dumbly at her, not a hint of recognition in his usually warm gaze.
Andrew grimaced at me, obviously still quite embarrassed. "You know," he prompted. "Mary had a little lamb…? Gwen, meet Mary."
"But he's my pet!" I couldn't help blurting out, quite selfishly, as I ignored Andrew.
The girl suddenly burst into tears. I was jealous of how some kids just pull automatic guild trips like that. My heart was already melting.
"I-I found him in my closet," I admitted quietly.
"He's mine!" Mary screamed, in a spectacularly quick move, unhooking Sheep's leash from his collar. True to the nursery rhyme, Sheep followed her loyally as she ran laughing back to the picnic area.
Dang kid ruined everything.
"Excuse me for a minute," I quickly apologized to Andrew and sprinted (as fast I could with the scraped knee) off after the brat.
I found her by the punchbowl, ladling sparkling juice onto Sheep's (Lamb's, whatever) snow-white wool.
"Mary." I approached her. She ignored me, continuing to spoon punch, while Sheep's ears flickered in annoyance.
"Mary," I repeated, grabbing Sheep by the collar. He leaned into my as if for protection. She finally stopped ladling and glanced loathingly at me. "Who took your sheep?" I asked. "…Lamb?"
"You did," she replied bitterly, pulling Sheep back to her. He bleated angrily. "You're the one who had him."
"I found him in my closet," I replied, deciding to give up the tug-o-war that had begun. "I didn't take him. A witch used to live in my trailer."
"Oh." Awkward pause. "Well." Awkward pause. "Okay. He-he likes you better. You can keep him." She looked like she was on the verge of tears again, those disgustingly clear blue eyes brimming with salty water.
Overtaken by an odd feeling of pity, I made a decision.
"No," I said, gazing sadly at my former pet and patting him on the head. I'm sorry, Sheep! "He's rightfully yours. I'll miss him, but you should keep him."
Mary sniffled. "Th-thank you."
I turned and began to walk away, but I had to stop when a rosy colored hand caught the crook of my arm.
"Gwen." The red fairy was smiling mischievously, maybe a bit insanely. "I didn't compliment you on your performance."
I waited for her to with a raised eyebrow, but she didn't.
"I saw what you just did. Good girl. Any way, I noticed that your songs were kind of missing something. You're an artist, you were lacking the irony, the bitterness. Any one could write about love." Her smile twitched a bit, I could sense that she was thinking I had written them about Andrew. The truth was I had written them long before I had met the boy. "So I have a gift for you." She wiggled her fingers, and an odd tingling sensation spread from my scalp to my toes. "Gwen, I grant you the gift of sarcasm."
Great, I thought, I really needed that.
Thank you to everyone who has been a contant reviewer. And to everyone else, please review and make a poor girl's day!