Free Things I’ll Never Say by Ann Angel

mother’s stories before, was hopping from one sneakered foot to the other. “I’ll see you slowpokes back at the house.” She pulled in front of us, her legs straightened into a show-off racewalk, and disappeared around the corner by Scott’s Pharmacy and the Java Hut.
    Mrs. Kepner dropped her filter tip in a planter outside the pharmacy and put down her grocery bag. She dug into both pockets of her coat, then went through the innards of her purse. Finding nothing, she sighed theatrically, picked up the bag again, and continued her story. “So one night, after they took a boom box into the woods and woke up all the birds with their laughing and dancing, she finally went and did it.”
    When she paused, I looked up to see if she was hunting for a cigarette again, but instead she was focused straight ahead. I followed her glance. Just visible now that we’d rounded the corner, Ruthie was keeping a steady pace and had nearly reached our street.
    I, on the other hand, slowed down, even let a tangerine roll out of my bag so I’d have to stop and pick it up. I was afraid that once she got home and it was time to put the food away, Mrs. Kepner would forget about the story. Besides, my mother had made me promise never to set foot inside the house. “What?” I asked. “What did she do?”
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œThe princess,” I reminded her. “What did she finally do?”
    â€œWell, looking at the beast, you’d figure him for a pretty tough customer.” She had fallen back into the story now, was striding ahead at a steady pace. “But the princess didn’t see things that way anymore. She’d got so used to looking at that monster kisser of his every day, all she saw now was how much fun he was and how much he loved her. So she planted one on him.”
    â€œA kiss?”
    â€œSure. And on account of no one made her do it, on account of it was a kiss of True Love, it broke the spell. The beast turned into a handsome prince right there in front of her. The two of them high-fived and headed back to the palace.”
    â€œAnd lived happily ever after,” I finished for her. Even though Mrs. Kepner’s stories often threw me for a loop, I knew where this one was headed.
    But Ruthie’s mother shook her head. “At first they did,” she said. “All the new princess’s sisters were jealous of her good-looking guy and her castle full of servants. But pretty soon, life lost its punch, you know? And the princess had to admit she was downright bored. ‘Aw, come on, Harold,’ she told him. (She got to call the prince Harold after they were married, even though everyone else had to call him Your Lord Higher than High.) ‘Why can’t we do some of the kinky things we used to? Remember when we were wild? When I rode on your back and pulled your hair?’ But that stuffy prince, he didn’t remember those good times at all. He just kept telling her to be still and kiss his ring.
    â€œIt wasn’t long before the princess figured out a beast that’s fun trumps a prince that ain’t, any day. So she packed up all her stuff and ran for daylight —”
    First it was Ruthie’s scream that stopped us, then it was the fall — right on her own front steps. Just as we looked up, Ruthie’s shopping bag flew into the air like some big awkward bird. Then her legs went up, too. And came down. Hard.
    I was pretty scared by the time we got to her; she lay still as a statue on the sidewalk by the porch. Her eyelashes were fluttering, though, so I knew she wasn’t dead. I leaned over her, a mix of curiosity and fright making pictures in my head — Mrs. Kepner and me in the ambulance, Ruthie in a hospital bed, with tubes and wires and blinking lights. The same pictures must have been playing in Mrs. Kepner’s head, too, because she dropped to her knees and started sobbing. “Ruthie! Ruthie!