Fairy Tale by Cyn Balog

Author:Cyn Balog [Balog, Cyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-0-375-89102-1
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2009-06-27T16:00:00+00:00

’M SITTING AT my desk, eating a Hot Pocket and trying to scrape a smear of tomato sauce off my homework, when my mother opens the door a crack. Without knocking, of course. I’m about to launch into my standard “Hello? Privacy!” rant, but she’s already talking loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear. “We received a call this morning from Mrs. Nelson. She wanted to thank me for the sfogliatelle, and inform me that some young lady I might know was”—and she whispers this part, though even her whisper is louder than regular speech—“fornicating on her front lawn?”

“We weren’t…. I mean, seriously,” I blubber, so mortified I can barely hold my pencil. “She’s been watching too much late-night cable. I just had an urge to … play in the sprinklers.”

As the excuse leaves my mouth, I am fully aware of how dumb it sounds.

“At one in the morning?”

I shrug. “Serves her right for watering her lawn in October. She needs to let it go.”

She rolls her eyes. “She probably forgot to turn off the automatic setting. Mrs. Nelson is going through a very trying time, what with poor Gracie.”

“Is Gracie any better?” I ask, grateful to sway the conversation away from our late-night improprieties. I mean, seriously, adults can so overreact.

“No. Mrs. Nelson told me it will be any day now.”

“Oh, that’s horrible. Maybe your sfogliatelle will help bring a miracle,” I say, though I truly doubt it. I’m just being angelic in hopes of cleansing her of the mental image of her only child doing the nasty on the front lawn.

“Maybe,” she says. She continues to stare at the ground, lost in thought.

“I have homework,” I finally say, hoping to nudge her out the door. “Anything else?”

“Oh.” She opens the door a little more, and I see Pip standing there. He’s wearing another Gap outfit, and it’s cute to see that he really has been making an effort to muss up his hair the way I taught him to.

“Good,” I say, leaning over and pulling him into the room.

“I’ll just leave you two alone,” my mother says, beaming. And, get this, she actually closes the bedroom door behind her! Now, she’s never had anything against Cam, but why is she so head-over-heels for Pip? Is it because Cam oozes sex, and Pip carries the Good Mothering Seal of Approval on his forehead?

I’m still contemplating this when I realize he’s fidgeting. “Sit down. We have work to do.”

He glances at my bed, which is the only open seat in my room, and then, bashful, Indian-squats on the rug.

I pull the paper off my desk and wave it in front of him. “Voilà. I wrote everything out to make sure we’re all clear.”

“Does Cameron know about this?”

Last night, despite his protests, I’d managed to convince Cam that I would love him no matter what and that staying with me, no matter how he looked, was better than leaving. He agreed wholeheartedly that he didn’t want to leave me, but his big concern was that I would drop him because of a few silly wings.

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