Work Text
CHAPTER ONE
Once upon a time…
There was a dashing prince astride a beautiful white steed. His wavy blond locks flowed in the wind as he…
“Couldn't think of anything to do, because his writer is an idiot.” Emma sighed and set down her pen. Writer’s block hit her hard whenever she tried to write, and her Creative Writing assignment needed to be turned in next morning. Emma checked the clock. 9:43 pm.
Emma put her head on her desk and yelled into her notebook.
“Emmy?” her dad called. “Everything okay?”
Ugh. “Yeah, dad. I'm fine.”
“Don't forget to shower tonight.”
“Okay, dad.” If only Emma had time. Being a junior in high school meant that homework took up the precious few hours Emma had to get a decent night of sleep. It took Emma way too much effort to grit her teeth and finish her short story.
His wavy blond locks flowed in the wind as he rode towards the dragon-guarded castle, where his true love… Existed. It was Domino’s Pizza.
Emma scratched it out and started a new page.
***
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
Emma's eyes flew open, and she sat up so quickly that she almost fell out of her chair. She had fallen asleep at her desk, still in the previous day’s clothes. Her story lay only half finished.
“Dang it!” Emma shouted. She struggled out of her old clothes and realized she had no clean uniform tops. She also remembered that they were out of bread for sandwiches.
This showed all the signs of being a long day. Whoopee.
The universe had definitely conspired against Emma. She walked into first period five minutes late and forgot her gym clothes. And, to top it off, she had to present her unfinished writing assignment in front of the entire class. When she reached the end of what she had written, Emma added on a few bullcrap sentences about true love and fairies. She got a D.
Emma looked forward to lunch more than any other day. Ever.
***
During lunch, older students had permission to go across the street to Savemart. Emma's dad usually didn't approve of her going, but the lack of bread that morning forced him to make an exception. Emma made arrangements to meet up with her friend Annie. Yeah, she never showed up.
Emma felt awkward walking around alone. The thought had no rationalization, of course. No one ever paid attention to a little girl. Well, Emma wasn't little. Just short. Anyways, Emma had a hard time shaking the feeling that someone had to be watching her. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a man, built like someone wearing football padding. He kept following Emma down the aisles, always a few steps behind.
When Emma reached the snack aisle, the man collided with her arm. Hard.
“Hey! Watch where you're going, will you?!” Emma snapped. She had no patience for any more bad luck.
“Watch where you're going, little girl,” the big man sneered, poking her in the chest.
Emma almost protested when a third voice joined in.
“Max, what are you doing to this young lady? Not being too harsh, are you?”
Emma turned to see a young man, no older than twenty, walking towards them.
“No sir,” Max mumbled. “Just a misunderstanding. A small lapse in personal space”
The young man looked at Emma. “Is that what happened, miss?”
Emma nodded.
“Hey, you coming, Max?” a second, equally buff man said from the other end of the aisle.
“Yeah, Bruce. Just… taking care of a few things.” The football man walked away, but Emma thought she saw a space between the man’s feet and the floor.
The young man stepped forward and held out his hand for Emma to shake. “My name’s Peter,” he said.
Emma shook his hand. “I'm Emma,” she replied. “By the way, did you see that guy? He seemed like he…”
“Like he… what?”
Emma bit her lip. Men flying? How crazy would that sound? “Nothing,” she muttered.
“Well, see you around,” Peter said.
“Yeah. Bye.” Emma walked away, feeling like an idiot. Men don’t fly! Emma shook her head, convinced that lack of sleep and the previous night’s assignment were causing her to hallucinate.
The rest of the school day went by in such a blur, Emma barely processed anything. Thank goodness it happened to be Friday. By the time school ended, a nap sounded pretty fantastic.
On the way home, Emma ran into Peter again.
“Hi!” he said, with a smile that seemed much too big for his face.
“Hey…” Emma replied sheepishly.
Peter walked backward in front of Emma so he could look at her while he talked. “Which
way are you headed?” he asked.
“Home.”
“Where’s that?”
Emma snorted. “Like I would tell you!”
“Why wouldn’t you?” Peter looked genuinely curious.
“You could be some sort of creepy stalker dude!” Emma said.
“Come on. If I were a creepy stalker dude, I would be a lot stealthier than that. And creepier,” Peter added as an afterthought.
“Okay, sure. Anyways, I, uh… I gotta go.”
Peter nodded. “Maybe I’ll see you again sometime?”
“Sure.” Emma pushed past him.
“Goodbye?” Peter sounded offended that she would leave so rudely. Emma didn’t care what he thought. He always sounded so full of himself, like he ruled over an entire island and everyone always bowed to his will.
Thank goodness, Emma saw her dad’s car in the driveway. She needed someone to talk to after the ridiculous day she had.
“Dad? I’m home,” Emma called out as she opened the front door.
The house was oddly quiet. Emma’s dad could normally be found at his computer or in the music room, which was simply a converted section of the garage.
“Dad!” Still nothing. Emma shrugged. Maybe he was in his room.
She searched the fridge for a snack, then mentally facepalmed when she remembered
oh yeah,
they were almost out of food
.
She closed the fridge and grabbed a bruised apple from the fruit bowl.
As she cut the apple into slices, her mind wandered back to Peter. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but Emma could swear that he was familiar to her. She didn’t know it it was his appearance, or how he walked, or his voice, even, but she knew she had
seen
him somewhere before.
She shrugged the thought off, summing it up as exhaustion and just trying to find something good in a bad day.
“Hey, kiddo,” Emma’s dad called. “You home?”
“Yeah. I’m in the kitchen.”
Her dad came in and ruffled Emma’s short blond hair. She had long since given up on trying to tell him that she was too old for hair-ruffles.
“How was your day? Good?”
“Not really. I got a pretty bad grade on that creative writing story I was working on.”
“The fantasy one? But, Emma, you love writing.”
“I know. But it’s hard to find something to write when it’s an assignment. I feel like I have to be more careful.”
“That makes sense. But you know, you’re only gonna get better--”
“If I work at it. Yeah, I know dad. But I’ve
been
working, and it doesn’t seem to get any easier.”
“It will. Trust me.”
“When?” Emma demanded.
“I don’t know. But it
will
get easier.”
“Okay. If you say so.” Emma took a bite of her apple and thought for a minute. “Hey, do you know anyone named Peter?”
“No. Why?”
“This dude wouldn’t leave me alone today. Kept acting weird, as if he knows me.”
“Does he go to your school?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him before.”
Her dad shrugged. “Just try to avoid him, I guess.”
"Yeah. Sure."
But the strange vibe of Emma's interaction with Peter followed her to bed, and even haunted her dreams.