Fairytales Aren't Perfect

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

   Melody inhaled and exhaled quickly, her almost flat chest was clearly hyperventilating—this day was just getting way too weird for her. Way to damn weird.

She rested her head against wall in the bathroom stall, sitting on the toilet in the girl’s bathroom that had been boarded up with wood since it had stopped working. For the moment it had become her safety zone.

Sure, she wasn’t getting attacked by bears or flesh eating zombies—Nah, it was simply that the characters from her book seemed to be appearing at her high school.

Training her eyes steadily on the stall door as she tried to remember how her story went, but drew up blank. Startled she stared at the door of the stall, what the hell was happening? She had been writing that book for the past year, and had just been revising it. Surely she should be able to remember something; but nothing came to mind except the flash of the gorgeous blonde women, and a name. Ian.

Melody studied the door on the stall; reading the inscriptions that people had written in various colours of permanent marker, as well as what appeared to be a lip stain. Melody felt herself laugh as she read the one in the middle of the door, in large black block letters it said;

Life it a bitch. Suck it Cinderella.

Some people are so cynical. Like any writer, or any teenage girl for that matter, Happily Ever After was one of the things to look forwards to in the future. Sure there was the lovely thought of possibly going to school for seven years so that as soon as you can escape you were up to your eyeballs in paying up loans and taxes, but love just seemed nicer.

Love, a four letter word that most people wonder and fall for. Melody had never fallen under its spell, nor had she really ever experienced it first hand, but she had a clear idea of who she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

Melody closed her eyes imagining him in her mind. He would be tall, with neatly cut blonde hair and a friendly white smile.  Tall enough so that she could rest her head on his chest and have to kiss him on her tippy toes. She imagined the feeling of him wrapping his compact muscled arms around her, his fingers lost in her hair. She felt herself shudder as if her imagination had come to life and she was actually being hugged.

She was so lost in her daydreaming that she didn’t hear the door to the bathroom open and swing shut again.

“Is anyone in here?” Came a deep raspy voice, Melody instantly recognised it.

“I doubt that anyone would want to be in here Dana,” said a higher voice, as Melody spotted pink high- heeled peep-toe shoes swinging back and forth through the air as their owner sat on the elevated counter.

“I was just checking Zoë.”  Dana snapped.

Melody looked through the hole in the door as she leaned forward on the seat, her feet resting underneath her as she sat cross-legged. Zoë was a tall blonde girl with stormy blue eyes and, according to the rumour that went around last year, a fake nose.  Zoë rolled her eyes, pouting at the mirror while dabbing at her lip-gloss.

“So how was he?”  She asked Dana.

It took a while for the girl to answer but she smirked at herself in the mirror, “Who?”

Zoë made a noise of impatience at the other girl, “Ian Wilder, Duh!”

There it was again. His name. Melody felt her heart thud against her chest and she froze—what if they could hear it? Melody mentally slapped herself, was she going crazy?