Free Fairy Tale by Cyn Balog Page A

a gentle breeze, compared with what I will do."
    I take a step back and look at Pip. He may have just peed his pants. And maybe he has good reason-if the fairy godmother in Cinderella could turn mice into horses and an ordinary pumpkin into a pretty pimped-up ride, what could this one do to me?
    Something tells me that life as a horse would probably not be all that wonderful.
    Kind and benevolent, my butt.
    She's staring at me expectantly, finger on the trigger, ready to cast that spell over me should I say the wrong thing. Though my heart is crying other things, my head says. Shut up, Morgan. I am acutely aware now that the rain has soaked me completely, and as the chill overtakes my body, one fact is obvious.
    I am going to lose my boyfriend. Forever!

Chapter Sixteen
     
    BEN &.JERRY'S S'mores ice cream is low-fat, but it defeats the purpose when you swallow an entire pint in one mouthful. But so what? My perifect boyfriend is a fairy, due to marry next month's Cosmo cover, leaving me here with a face full of worry zits and an ever-expanding waistline. Even if I were interested in finding a replacement, there are no other guys at Stevens that even compare. I might as well cancel my Rally's membership and get a frequent-diner card for Burger King.
    I've missed all of General Hospital, so my father feels it necessary to give me the blow-by-blow of who's having whose baby and which doctors ended up in bed together. As he's babbling on, my mother, thankfully, interrupts. "Are you sure you don't want any meat loaf?"
    Oblivious, I'd scooped the entire carton of B&J into my salad bowl and downed it before her latest culinary masterpiece had even come out of the oven. "Um sorry. I'm full."
    "I bet," she says, frowning at the dish, which is caked in chocolate. She's Italian, so this is blasphemy. She told me once that her mother chased one of her past boyfriends out of the house with a rolling pin for not liking pot cheese. Another got slammed against a wall for not being able to pronounce cavatelli correctly. In her family, there is no such thing as "full." And, since my father tips the scales, he fits right in. Cam used to fit in, too; my mother worshipped his appetite like Eden worships his feats on the field. Though he isn't nearly as big as my dad, his regular workouts leave him famished, so my mother would always get a little weak in the knees whenever I'd announce he'd be eating over, which was once or twice a week. I can just remember him smiling devilishly, asking, "Mrs. Sparks, would you mind if I had thirds on those manicotti?" He even pronounced it correctly, monny GOT.
    But I guess that won't be happening anymore.
    My mother's words stop me before I attempt to slash my wrists with the butter knife. "Did you happen to find out who that handsome young man is?" she asks.
    "Who?" I rub my eye, then realize she's talking about Pip. That stud. "Oh. Yeah."
    There's this long pause, and then my mother says, "Well?"
    I figured my mother would have found out by now, with her amazing abilities of perception, which include peeking in neighbors' windows and popping over to drop off some mail that was accidentally delivered to our address (though the fact is that my mother just "accidentally" got our mail out of the wrong mailbox). I don't feel like launching into the whole explanation, so I just say, "He's a cousin, I think."
    My mother asks another question, but I'm not listening. From my seat at the table, I can see the window to Cam's room. The light switches on just as my mother says, "Hon, you okay?"
    Cam is home from practice.
    I jump from my seat. "Fine!" I shout, a little too desperately, then wipe my mouth with my napkin. "May I be excused?"
    We need to talk. If he really, truly is going to be leaving me forever on his sixteenth birthday, that gives us only a week. And I have no idea who I'll be then, because I've never had to define myself without him.

Chapter Seventeen
     
    I'VE ALWAYS THOUGHT Mr. and Ms. Browne were