[A young adult retelling of Cinderella - LGBT]
What begins as a failed date in a tea shop leads Jay to find his fairy Godmother, the one who could make love finally come his way.
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Jay struggles with being out of the closet to his friends but getti...
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At first, I was skeptic my fairy Godmother's ability to help me get close to Jord. But Cindy has proved me wrong. By filling a form, he accomplished more than I have since the beginning of the school year.
I'm starting to treat him like a friend, because he is one now in a way.
I have to admit I wasn't that interested at first, but I actually want to know him better now. I don't have enough freedom at home to talk to Cindy for hours without drawing attention to me. You don't need to be as smart as Mara to know how that would go. So, instead, Cindy walks to school with me every morning, a half-an-hour walk to Gordonfield High.
All of this means I need to wake up earlier than usual to get to class on time. And definitely cannot not afford to postpone my waking up when the alarm rings. It's a struggle but forcing myself out of bed spares me from the silent breakfasts with Lia and Soni: a silent morning ritual between the three of us since Lia has found a new job.
After a months-long search, she now works as a hairdresser next to Washington Town, some five miles away from home.
I didn't even know she was a hairdresser to begin with, but I'm not about to start asking her questions. All I hope is that the job will make it less difficult to be around her.
By the looks of it, Cindy isn't just going to help me with guys. Avoiding mom, too. As a bonus, I don't have to deal with the awfully packed school bus. I never understood why school bus makes five turns around the neighborhood before taking a turn at the roundabout in the end of 38th street to finally head straight to Gordonfield High.
Cindy's appearance out of nowhere sometime during my walk is now something I look forward to. Maybe it is his scandalous outfits that sometimes shine, and other times seem to radiate a light of their own. Or the original hairdos that are a novelty every time I see him.
This morning he's wearing a long curly hair, tips darker and curly falling down to his back. He looks beaten up and has been silent during the whole walk for some reason. I wonder if I'd been too hard on him last night.
His magic is becoming a pain. In an attempt to help me tidy up my room last night, he painted every piece of furniture in a sick baby pink with an accidental swing of his wand. It took an hour and trying out about fifty spells to get things back to normal.
I'm sorry but I don't think I was wrong to scold him. Even so I feel obligated to start a conversation.
"Hey," I say and he turns to me. "That first night we met at the Sweet-T, you told me you needed to land some job as a fairy Godmother, but you have never really said much about where you come from."
His smile isn't as cheerful as usual and it bothers me more than I would want it to. He looks up to the sky for a brief moment, a reflective look on his face. "Things are different there," he says, his look still reflective.
