A Fairy Tale nding

I was the keeper of the book. I could know any detail at any given time that was happening in my book. I was the narrorator. If I so chose it to be, I could feel the flush of a character's skin in an embarrassing moment, the brush of the grass against legs that weren't mine, the pain of overwhelming emotions in a moment of crisis. This is my book. But now there is nothing but me in my book. There is nothing filling my ears but the sound of me choking in my own thick blood. It seems there is no longer air left to breathe. Dead bodies lay scattered around me. My friends, my enemies, those I have yet to come to peace with lay in bloody pools all around me. I would rather have that murderous teenager after my neck and still have life pulsing through his veins than to have this solitude, this lonliness and heartbreak. He didn't mean to kill me, not the first time anyways. But my insistence, my fear of forgiveness despite the good christian child I am, that is what started this war in the first place. The rage, hate, anger, and fear are what ultimately lead to the death of everything I had and loved- not the teenager's car.

"Charlie! Charlie!!" my mother called to me from twenty feet below. "Charlie Vaughnn, you have thirty seconds to get down from that tree or I will have your books from you for a week! You are going to be late to school!" I was laying int he floor of my treehouse with the sheet walls drawn all around me. Every morning I got out of bed before sunrise, slunk out to my treehouse, and read until the sound of my mother's angry voice filled the sweet air around me. I tried to pretend sleep sometimes, but she would just yell louder and louder insisting that I remove myself from that tree at once! I sighed and traced my fingers across the bumpy ink-filled pages thinking about the main character and his tragic flaw. I was only a couple of chapters into the book my deceased grandfather passed to me, but I could already tell the main character had that tragic flaw. He had friends, he had family, he even had enemies, but something he did not have was the ability to forgive. He was already exhibiting signs of it with his long grudges, his harsh words to people over the smallest things, and his anger was constantly brimming to a fine line of insanity. It was a good book, but being the good Christian boy I am, I easily saw that his incapability of forgiveness is what will lead to his fall in the end. I had this book figured out. I've read way to many to let this plot throw me for a loop. For being only fourteen years old, the book contained quite a bit of violence and bad language for my age. However, Mom gave it the stamp of approval this one time since it was a gift from my deceased Grandfather. He knew just what genre of books I liked, who my favourite character was, what my favourite ending was, what my favourite hitline from my favourite character in my most favourite book in the whole wide world was... Grandpa knew a lot about me. Not having Grandpa around anymore felt a lot like losing one of my closest friends. I think when we lost Grandpa, I did lose one of my closest friends. This book is the last remnant of him that is left for me, so that's why Mom let me read it.

"Charlie Vaughnn I hope you are quite ready now! Your friends are waiting on the front porch for you! You are going to make everybody late!" I threw the book in my backpack along with a few other things that had fallen out when it turned over. I pulled my tennis shoe over my foot without untying it, but the second shoe required a bit of hopping action to get it on. "Fire in the hole!" I yelled and threw my backback out of what I liked to call the entrance to my lair. My lair entrance actually was only composed of a split in the sheet, but it was good enough for me. My feet made a huge "thud" noise as they hammered down the wooden ladder to the ground. I slung my backback over my shoulder, grabbed my egg and cheese sandwhich from Mom's plate, and yelled my good byes all in one swooping motion. I was that good. By the time I ran around the house and reached the front porch I was desperately out of breath. I pulled out my inhaler and puffed it twice to ease the burning inflammation in my lungs. "That's just like you to keep everybody waiting, Charlie!" Ellen scowled at me. She was the only girl allowed in our group. She had long dirty-blonde hair she kept back in a pony-tail and a recent addition of boobies she tried to cover with baggy shirts. She acted more like a boy with us usually, but lately she had been getting into things like make-up and the phone and she started talking about actually liking other boys. Of course her liking didn't fall on anybody in our group, it was "Oh thsi popular boy in this class" and "that popular boy in that class", basically the biggest competition when normal boys tried to grab a kiss or a hand of the cute girls in school. With my experience anywyas, they would slap me harder than I've felt a boy punch and shriek "Don't touch me while Dereck's looking over here! I don't want him to think I'm taken by you!" Girls, pfft.

Other than out thriteen year old, highly distractable, girlifying member of the crew, we had Joey and Briant. Briant was a month older than me, which made him the oldest of the group. He was a typical jock, not so attractive, with sandy red hair and freckles. He wasn't exactly fat, but he certainly wasn't lean and the rolls I could see through his shirt when he sweat real bad weren't muscles. The other member was Joey. Briant and I think that Ellen has a crush on Joey in secret but she always threatened to beat us up if we said anything to him. Joey had soft blonde duck hair that swept across his eyes, a tan that made him as bronzed as a Buddha statue, and a figure leaner than the SlimJims Briant always carried around. He was shorter than the rest of us but also the youngest in our team. He was a whopping twelve and three-quarters year old. HE was the only one among us all who had not hit the "teens" age yet, so he counted his age by days and waited anxiously for his first teenth birthday. Ellen, Briant and I already had plans for his passage into manhood. Ellen, of course, had something to say about our master plans no matter how me modified them. They were gross or dirty or nasty or just plain stupid. The insults were part of the recent modification of girliness she has been going through.

I do have to admit that among all of the crew, I was the most average looking fourteen year old I'd ever seen. I have an average build, an average hair cut, an average everything. I look in the mirror occassionally thinking what it would be like to have Joey's soft hair (all the girls oogled over it) instead of my wirey horse hair, or Briant's football skills instead of my non-active reading skills, or Ellen's punch instead of my timidness. I just really blended in with the crowd. The only exception was in my books. In my books I was a leader, a conqueror, a villain, a hero; I was a thought and an action, a scene and an emotion, I was everything when I was reading. But I had to leave that world of wonder five minutes ago to my less thrilling, but more realistic, friends and school. We started our short trek to the bus stop up the road. Someone grabbed my backback while I was walking and jerked me back unexpectedly. "What the Hell?" I cursed loudly and turned around to my father. I quickly shut my mouth and tried to stare a hole in the concrete instead of looking him in the eyes after that. All of my friends huddled up a few feet away from me, abandoning me to face the consequences of my actions alone. "I think that book you're reading is a bad influence," he said gruffly. He handed me the homework I had left on the kitchen table and warned me "Don't you let your mother hear you talking like that." He glanced at Ellen, "And don't you let that foulness slip out of your mouth in the presence of a young lady either." In my mind I was cursing him up and down, punching him in the face and the stomach for embarrassing me in front of my friends, conquering the authoritive hand he likes to squash me with constantly. But in reality nobody spole the rest of the way to the bus and I didn't bring my gaze up from the concrete until after I took that first step on the school bus. Then I was in the free zone. I would save my sulking for when I got home later, give Mom the silent treatment until she fussed at Dad, and stay up in my treehouse all night long with a flashlight finishing another chapter of my book.

The school day came and passed and I not only brought my sulking home, but I brought home every other foul thing that was on my mind, prepared to show my parents the wrath of my frustration. "What did you do at school today sweetheart?" my mother questioned like she usually did. Well, I thought to myself, I goofed off with Briant, got a detention slip from the teacher for talking, and learned absolutely nothing in that brain-destroying prison people like to call a school. Joey and Ellen were a grade under Brian and I, so I didn't see them during the day at all except for lunch and walking Ellen to gym class after second period. I remained silent and dropped my bookbag at the front door. "How was your day?" she asked again. I gave her the most dreadful, angry look I could muster and dug through my backpack for my reading book. Her face twisted up in some sort of frustration and irritation and she walked swiftly out of the kitchen straight to Dad. "What did you say to him to make him so angry, Paul?" she said very sternly in her lowest voice. "Don't you worry about what I say to my own son," he responded. I could hear a slurpinng sound as he sipped from his beer. They rocketed into an arguement and I felt guilty for intentionally starting it, but they were always fighting over on ehting or another anyways. Mom wanted Dad to take up more responsibility around the house and Dad could have just settled for his freedom back. I loved my parents, but I kept them as distant as possible in case their uncoolness rubbed off on me. I slammed the front door and made my way up the wooden ladder to my treehouse. I could faintly hear the arguing coming from the house but the walls kept most of the family problems well-hidden. The walls hid my mother's anger, my father's alcoholism, and my secret wants of independence. The walls hid it all. but It hink Mom put windows in the walls so the neighbors can peek in and assume the worst. Then she could gossip later on to Mary Beth and Billy Jean across the road about how terrible my father is to her. And they can agree in low, hushed voices, "I saw you two fighting again throuh the curtains last night. It looked terrible, are you okay?" Then my mother proceeds to cry about how terrible everything is, how everything is falling apart. But all that is for tomorrow, tonight my parents will play out their drama while I play out mine and tomorrow I will worry with my mother's gossiping, my father's threats to leave, and my struggle for some independence.

I opened the book, determined to read as much as possible before daylight left me. I ran my fingers across the almost unnoticeable bumps in the page that made the words while I read. The further into the chapter I read, the more I felt the main characters grudges, his anger, his frustrations. The more I read, the angrier I got at my parents, at my friends, and at myself. I read myself into a dizzying spell of rage until I was so flustered I wasn't even reading the words anymore because thoughts of hate were intercepting what my eyes were seeing. I sat up and started breathing heavily, like a hunted beast in the forest. The rage forced my mind into over-drive and soon i didn't even know what I was thinking anymore. My eyes teared up as I heard my mother shrieking "Paul, Paul! Put your hands on me and see what happens mister. You just see what happens!" She was provoking him with something he would never do, and she was provoking me to do something I have never done. I pulled my inhaler out of my pocket and puffed it twice, trying to catch my breath. Dad tried reasoning with her, but when she wouldn't listen to what he had to say t he first time he would say terrible and ugly things to her. It was getting pretty dark outside. I grabbed my book and climbed down from my treehouse. I opened the front door asw quietly as possible and left it open while I stepped inside to get my backpack. I was afraid if I shut the door then I would be trapped here in this mess forever, so I left it open for my quick escape. In a matter of minutes I was a good ways up the road and the echoes of my parents arguing could only be heard in my own mind. The cool air felt good and I finally regained sanity enough to dry my red, puffy eyes. I sniffed my snot back in my nose because it was trying to run out. It wasn't too late. A little sliver of light still came from the horizon, but the opposite side of the sky was dark and gloomy and had an aura similar to the one my house gave off. I thought in circles, unsure of where exactly I was going. I just knew for a fact that I wasn't going back home. I thought about my mom, my dad, my friends, my book... I thought about everything until I came to a halt in front of Briant's house. Through the window I could see him sitting with him family eating dinner and laughing. Everything looked picture perfect until his nineteen year old sister stomped down the stairs and straight out the front door. Braints parents shook their heads and the laughing ceased. Kayley, Briant's sister, lit a cigarette the moment she stepped out of the house. She saw me standing at the end of the walkway and held the cigarette out for me. I thought, What the Hell? and I took it. I put the cigarette to my lips and inhaled the smoke. It filled my lungs, burned, and made my eyes water to the point where I started coughing uncontrollably. I almost pulled my inhaler out, but I remembered I'd used it not too long ago and using it more frequently than needed would send me into an asthma attack. Kayley laughed at me and took the cigarette back from my hands. The edges of her black coloured kips turned upwards and the skin around her mouth wrinkled so she looked like a clown. "You're kind of cute," she said and took a huge drag from the cigarette. "You're Braint's friend aren't you?" I stood up straight, finally catching my breath and nodded. "Well," she said, throwing her burning cigarette out on the lawn, "I'll tell him you're out here."

She turned around and went back inside, hollering with a loud, harsh voice, "Briant! If you down get your ass out of this fucking house in ten seconds and go talk to your friend I am calling the police." I wondered if he had to try to be a bitch or if it came naturally. Then I wondered if Ellen was going down the same path. Briant stood from the table and pushed his chair in. He opened his mouth to say something to his rebellious sister, but chose otherwise and made his way to the front door. He came out to greet me, but we both stood in silence for a few moments before anything was said. I decided to break the ice. "So your sister-" I started. "She's not my sister!" Braint said defensively, reminding me of her place in his life. "She's my cousin and once her Dad gets well she's going back to live with her own family. They can deal with her."

"She might as well be your sister," I said as we started walking. "She's been living here for what, three years now? I don't think her old man's going to get much better." Braint didn't respond. He tucked his hands in the pockets of his jacket and we just walked into the darkness that now enveloped the entire sky. "Let's go get Ellen and Joey," he suggested. "Then we can all go hang out at your place." I shook my head no and he silently assured me he understood we weren't going back to my place and that he wasn't going to ask any questions about it. We snuck around the back of Ellen's house to throw rocks at her window so she could sneak out with us as well. I opened the gate as queitly as possible, but when it creaked there was an obvious rustle from the corner of the garden. Briant and I stood back as the bushes continued to rustle. Fear, anxoiusness, and suprise grabbed a hold of me as I thought about all the terrible things that could be hiding in a bush in the night. Ellen's head poked out from between the bushes. She pushed her sleeve back up on her shoulder and rolled her eyes when she saw it was us. "What are you doing here?" she whispered as luodly as she could without bringing her voice to a normal speaking pitch. I opened my mouth to ask her if she wanted to come with Braint and I when Joey pushed out from between the bushes as well. Briant and I looked at each other, unsure of whether to feel betrayed by them or happy they finally spent some alone time together. Joey grabbed Ellen's arm and they walked up to meet us face to face. "Where are you guys going?" Joey asked in a whisper. Briant and I looked at each other again and shrugged. Where were we going anyways? Joey looked at Ellen and said, "Hey, El... you up for a late walk? We'll come back before it gets too late if you want." It was so dark that I couldn't tell what exactly Ellen's face looked like, but the way she squirmed when he asked her on a walk, she was probably blushing or embarrassed. Regardless, they came with us and we finally had the whole crew together, even though half of us were apparently involved in some sort of a love affair. And Briant and I had no interest in each other like that.

We walked for about fifteen minutes in some random directions, mainly following the sidewalks. We were safe to speak normally out here. There weren't many houses nearby the road and we were getting close to the school. I guess the school was the only place we really knew to go outside of home. "Let's climb the fence in the back of the school and go swimming," I suggested.

"No!" Ellen shrieked. "I didn't bring a swimsuit with me!" "It's never stopped you before," I replied. She crossed her arms over her chest and watched the concrete pass as we walked. "I think that's a great idea," Briant seconded. After a moment of hesitation and a glance at Ellen, Joey finalized the decision. We continued to walk in silence until it seemed eerie and awkward. "So, I got to the third chapter in my book and so far. He's stuck in this forest and they just found out peace has been proclaimed across the land-" I started. Ellen cut me off by saying, "Listen, Charlie. It's more fun to read the books than to hear about them. That's your thing. I don't know when the last time any of us has picked up a book outside of school and personally, the million schoolbooks we do have to read and we do have to carry around are plenty for me." I was angry at her. Since when did she get so cocky and demanding? I used to talk about the books I read all the time and everyone was interested, well they seemed interested anyways. Her comment made my insecurities surface and I wondered obsessively if all I ever did waws bore everybody to death while they listened to my book summaries for the sake of my happiness alone. We talked about insignificant things as we thought of them, but most of us held our tongues in fear of Ellen's new wrath. I was actually considering banning her from the group, then I wondered what kind of tension that would create between Joey and I. But I had Briant to the bitter end, anyways. We finally reached the crosswalk to the school. We looked left, then right, then left again out of habit. Ellen went ahead and stepped out in the road and I scolded her. "Wait, Ellen. There isn't a crossing guard here and it's dark outside. You have to make sure there aren't any cars coming." We heard a rustling sound that sounded like an engine far off, but the longer we heard it the more we were convinced it was the wind. The rest of us stepped off of the curb into the street to join Ellen. We slunk across the asphalt, worried some adult might pop out of nowhere, catch us, and force us back home. We were over halfway across the asphalt when that rustling sound became significatnly louder. It was definitely a car. We all looked around looking for lights to see where the car was coming from. "Quick, walk across really fast! The speed limit is only 30 so if we go fast they won't hit us." We followed her lead. The engine noise got louder and more distinct. We were almost there. There were no lights. There were no parking lights. There was nothing but the loud engine roaring and Def Lepard coming from the cab of the car. The music must have been really loud inside the car for me to hear it outside.

Nobody really saw it coming. When we realized they were going far over thirty miles an hour and didn't have their lights on, we all tried to bolt for it. We were scattered a bit and I was standing the furthest from the oncoming car. Everything slowed down, my heart jumped up in my throat, and I habituatlly reached for my inhaler. It all happened so fast I didn't even have time to pull my puffer from my pocket. Ellen was sucked under the car, Briant was thrown over it, Joey was hit straight on so his body flew straight out to the side, and I was next. The car had slowed down significantly after the impact with Ellen, but my shock and hesitation stopped me long enough that I couldn't get out of the way in time. I saw the car and then the sky and then I was face to face with the concrete. I heard a huge crash and tried to focus my eyes through the blood and grit from the asphalt. The car had smashed into a telephone pole. Some girl flew through the crushed windshield. As her face turned toward me mid-air and black lipstick smeared most of her face with blood, I recogniezed her as Kayley. and the driver's door fell open. An older teenage boy fell out fo the drivers side onto the conrete. Nobody was moving. The airbag hadn't deployed. There was blood on the inside of the back seat windows. There must have been passengers in the back as well. I felt my breath slipping from me. It became harder and harder to breath. My eyes slowly wavered from the car to the book laying open on the asphalt. It was my grandfather's book. I tried to reach out for it but I couldn't move my arms. I was choking in my own blood. My vision started fading. i tried to call to Ellen, Joey, Briant, anybody, but I could feel the muscle from my cheek scraping the ground below me. It was extremely painful and I knew I had lost half of my face in my fall. The last thing I thought before losing all sensation was about how much I hated that boy who fell out of the car for being too ignorant to pay attention. I wasn't as concered with how my friends were as I was hopeful that boy was dead as he fell from the driver's side. I was so angry, I couldn't feel the physical pain anymore. I didn't have time to think about the physical or the eomtional pain. All I felt was rage and shock and then I closed my eyes.