Prince Charming (Revised)

The teacher cast a quick glance towards the class and then she nodded. “You are allowed to go outside.” She said, watching as her students got up from their desks and filed their papers away. Her eyes looked towards a sad faced child in the back. His books old and tattered, something that she had to find in order to give to him, her eyes lingered on the bruise that stained his jaw and the way that he limped when he walked; he was a vulnerable and the children that were weak were the ones that were picked on by the ones that would one day be the leaders.

He walked past her, his eyes darting nervously to her as if afraid that she would lash out at him. He gave her a weak smile, a slight wave before he moved quickly out of the door and closed it behind him. He walked outside, his head lowered and his eyes looking at the ground as he walked. He avoided the children that clustered in groups and moved to the edge of the yard, standing in the shade of the trees. He tried to keep out of the overcast clouds, worried about the snow that always seemed to be falling in his area.

While he tried to blend into the dark edges of the woods, nothing about him enabled him to blend in. While the shadows hid those that better fit into the darkness, nothing about his appearance was dark. Shaggy blond hair hung into his narrow face, his teeth worried his chapped lower lip till it bled. His face was thin, his eyes shadowed, his frame was narrow. His body was bordering on malnourished, his clothes threadbare and worn and when he stood; his shoulders were slumped as if the weight of the world was bearing down on his shoulders.

He seemed to be debating with himself. His eyes closed, a bead of sweat running down over his brow. Something seemed to draw him up, and he lifted his head. He looked around quickly, spotting a patch of yellow flowers. He hurried pulled them up by the stems, haphazardly holding them in his hand while he held another parcel under his arm. He walked across the yard, his left leg holding a limp, breaking what would be a straight and slow stride. His jade eyes were fastened on only one person.

She was a lovely child. She had richly dark skin, pale eyes and a smile that reminded him of someone that he always thought that he could forget. He stood behind her with his bunch of flowers and a battered book that held all the fairy tales that his mother had ever written for him. That she had painstakingly pulled from her memory so that he would be able to remember her when she was gone. His soft green eyes were nervous and a blush covered his normally sad face. He shifted awkwardly from foot to foot as he looked at her and then away from her. As if she were like a Sun, able for him to look at for a brief span of time but never able to take in her full majesty. He never thought that it would be so difficult for him to ask a girl to be his friend. “I don’t want to be here anymore.” He whispered to himself. He hated being in that school for children of the upper Echelon. He was not like the others; he was not rich, or smart. He had no idea who his father was, or have a concrete idea of who is mother was.

He had lurking memories; sometimes he would think that he could hear her voice among the crowds of people. Or sometimes he fancied that he could smell her perfume. Yet, that was all it was for him. His imagination trying to compromise for a person that he had met only once before she died.

Before he realized it, he found that he was standing behind her, nervously trying to decide what he was going to say, how he was going to say it. He had no desire to draw attention to himself, his plan was to get her away from her friends before he asked if she would be his friend as well. He did not have many friends, other than his twin brother. It was he and his brother, it was always them.

“Clarice…? That freak is standing behind you…”

The voice cut him to the quick and his heart sunk to the pit of his stomach. For a moment, he forgot how to breathe only to have to inhale sharply as he looked up, worried. He saw a smaller boy around his own age glaring at him. The tip of his ears turned red and he lowered his head. He already wished that he had stayed in the shadows, where he normally was. He knew that to all of his classmates, he was considered a freak. There was nothing about him that had any redeeming quality. At ten years old, he was too tall, all arm and leg. He did not blend in to the darker skinned children with the pale eyes and rich parents. He tripped over his own two feet where they were graceful and more often than not, he was a nuisance. He talked when he should stay quiet; he stayed quiet when he should talk. The only people that seemed to understand him were his teacher and his brother. To everyone else nothing about him was right.

When Clarice refused to look at him, he took a deep, steadying breath and reached out to tap her shoulder. “Clarice?”

She kept her back to him, her long black hair falling richly down her violet sweater. She laughed at one of her friend’s jokes, pretending that she had not heard what had been said to her. She turned her head slightly, just enough to prove to her that her friends were telling the truth. She smirked; turning a bit more till her eyes met Kross’ and then her back to him. She continued on with her conversation, talking as if nothing had changed, like he was not behind her.

He stopped fidgeting, a spark of stubborn pride lighting in his eyes and squared his shoulders. A wise man would back down, tuck his tail between his legs and slink off, but he was no wise man. He was a boy that wanted nothing more than to be given a chance and if he was not able to have a chance given to him then he would make his own chance. “Clarice?” He tried again, this time he slid around her, positioning himself so that he was standing within her circle of friends, facing away from the group, presenting himself to her. He lifted his chin and smiled shyly. “H-hi. I’m in your class; I sit in the same row as you and-“

“Duh.” She cut in smoothly and tossed her hair over one shoulder with a flick of her wrist, copying what the older girls on the playground did. She was trying to act older than she was in order to keep her position as the girl that everyone else wanted to emulate. “You’re Kross or something.” She said, ready to end the conversation. She had given him attention, she knew his name. That should be enough for him. What else does he want? A pat on the head like a good little dog? Maybe he wants the scraps from my lunch; he never brings his own food to school. She thought to herself.

“I’m Kross, you know me.” He said happily, his eyes lighting up when he heard her say his name. “I remembered that it was your birthday today and I just wanted to bring you a present.” “It’s to say Happy birthday to you. I remember that you brought in a fairy tale book to show the class so I thought that you’d like another book.”

“Creepy.” One boy muttered, glaring at Kross for daring to interrupt their conversation. He scoffed and rolled his eyes, breaking the circle as he stepped closer to Kross. “You make it a habit of keeping track of what Clarice brings in?”

“Stalker.” One girl chimed in, playing off of one another’s dislike for the boy as she stepped closer to Kross as well, her hands itching to shove him out of their circle and put him back into his place. How dare he? He was nothing more than a freak, not someone that should be talking to them.

He tried ignoring them, his lower lip quivering as he held out the flowers and the book. The flowers were already wilting and as the book was shifted, a page drifted out and fell to the ground. He hurriedly bent down to save the paper, putting it back into the book.“I couldn’t get any wrapping paper…”

“Because your parents were too poor.” One of Clarice’s friends jeered at him, watching as Kross bent down to kick him viciously in his side, sending him sprawling. “That’s where you belong.” He said, putting his foot on him, pushing down. “Don’t think that you belong on the same level as us.”

“He doesn’t have any parents! He just has those people. My parents said that they only reason that they keep him is because they get money. They have to get paid in order to keep him.” Another one chimed in and laughed at the cruel treatment that she saw. She treated it as a game, clapping her hands.

Kross’ face paled, and he struggled, the air knocked from his chest. his shook. “P-please…” He begged, looking up to Clarice. “It’s…just for your birthday.” He said, trying to hold the book and the flowers up to her. “Clarice…” He half pleaded. “Here, Happy Birthday.” “Please.”

“Get off of him.” She ordered with a dark look at the boy that was keeping him down. “Do you want Madam to see you? We’d all get in trouble.” She said and waited till Kross was able to scramble to his feet. The dark haired girl reached out and took the book and the flowers. She pretended to look over the gifts. Turning the book over, taking in the battered cover, the illegible title before she disdainfully handed it over for her friends “Look at that.” She ordered them, her attention shifting back to Kross. “That’s really sweet of you.” She said, her voice laced with honey though her eyes were as deadly and cold as a viper’s.

She had the childish desire to hurt, to wound and to make sure that he never came back to her. “I don’t want your book of fairy tales. I’m too old for them. That book that I brought in was a collector’s item. My daddy bought it for me. I never read it.” She said, casting a glance over her shoulder to see if she should keep going or if they were ready to go onto a better sport. When she saw the look that her friends were giving her, it was a look akin to an animal that was about to go for the throat. “And really, I don’t think that my daddy would want me to take presents from you. Look at you, you’re disgusting. Your clothes are all raggy, everything about you is from charity. Everyone knows it. How you ever got into this school…no one knows. My daddy said that he was going to write a letter to the school to get you kicked out but that he changed his mind only so that I would learn that there are people in the world that get things that they don’t deserve. He said that it was my place to keep you in line.”

The boy nodded, he felt the ground tilt, and he wished that it would crack open and swallow him. He wanted to disappear but her group kept getting and closer to him. They saw weakness and they were about to tear into him. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face and his hands went clammy, his breathing came in rough pants, his eyes wide with fear as he tried to save face.“But you could have two now and the one that I gave you, it’s different. It’s the only book like that ever written, your father couldn’t buy you one.”

“You think that I care that you have the only garbage fairy tale book? It looks disgusting. Look at he pages, they are falling out and they are yellow. I can’t even read what it says. You couldn’t even get me a new present? You had to give me something that you already used? No wonder your parents don’t love you. No wonder they left you and no one wants you.” She cut into him harshly, going back to his lack of parents and waiting for her friends to back her up.

“They did not leave me! They had no choice!” Kross protested suddenly, his voice cracking with the uncertainty of his own words. He did not know what happened to his parents, no one ever gave him the full story about them. He stepped back and looked around, trying to find a place where he could escape to. The yard seemed to have gone eerily quiet as if it were holding its breath and waiting for the next move to be made. “My parents didn’t leave me, they just…they just… they couldn’t stay, they are going to come back.” He said defiantly, wanting to believe his own lies, not wanting to admit that his parents had left him. That all the words that Clarice was saying could be true. He did not know where his parents were. They got lost trying to find me? He thought to himself. They were going to come back but they got lost. They never would have left me here. They may not have been rich or famous but they were the best parents that anyone could ever want. They weren’t like Clarice’s daddy or mommy. They were nothing like them. They were perfect.

The book flew the air and caught him hard in the shoulder, causing his eyes to fill with tears that were from more than just pain, knocking him from his thoughts. He raised his hand to his shoulder and covered the spot where the book had hit him. He looked around the assembled group and saw one of the boys looking at him with a smirk on his face. He shuddered and looked back at Clarice. “Tell them to leave me alone.” He ordered, “I was just trying to give you a present for your birthday.” He said, trying to sound like the attack had nott hurt him, but his voice wavered, the tears shining in his eyes and threatening to fall. Barely, he was able to control himself. He looked around the circle, trying to find an escape point even as his last escape was blocked by a child that joined the group.

The tide turned suddenly, the boy that had attacked Kross suddenly turned on Clarice.“He thinks that he can be your Prince Charming! Hey Prince Charming, you look a bit small.” He taunted, stepping up to stand next to Clarice. “Go on Clarice, you should kiss him.” The boy shoved her towards Kross, causing her to stumble forward and crash into him.“That’s how all fairy tales end. You have to kiss him.”

Her face flamed in anger and she balled her fists tight against her sides. She raised her hands and shoved Kross, forcing him back away from her. “That’s disgusting! I would never kiss him! Just look at him!” She yelled, “I want nothing to do with him. He’s dirty, he’s lower than us. He doesn’t belong here.” She yelled. Her heel dug into the ground, leaving a small divot as she stepped back into the safety of her group. “He belongs with the bugs in the dirt, he belongs away from me.” She said shortly, her eyes daring Kross to try and defend himself further, more cutting words on the tip of her tongue.

He winced at her words and bent down to pick up the book. The cover had bent and the book was stained with dirt. He lifted his shirt up and tried to wipe it away and fix the cover but it was forever marred from the children’s cruelties. He held the book close to his chest, cradling it as if he could protect it, like it could protect him from further abuse. He looked up at Clarice with a broken expression in his eyes. His face was pale, the bruise on his jaw standing out in stark relief and as she looked him over arrogantly, her eyes fixated on his shoulder where she saw more bruises hinted at underneath his shirt. She shuddered in disgust, wondering how badly he had to behave at home in order to have gotten such a punishment.

She faltered when she saw the state that she brought to boy to, but there was more laughter behind her, egging her on. She scoffed and looked down at him, reducing him to nothing with her eyes. “You’re no Prince Charming…and no matter how many times someone kisses you, you’re never going to be anything but a disgusting nobody. You’re never going to be anyone’s prince charming, you’re never going to fit in and no one is ever going to love you.” She hissed before she stepped forward and shoved him hard. “Get out of here before I tell the teacher that you won’t leave us alone.”

It was all that he could bear. A sob broke through the boy’s lips. He turned away from the group of the children. His shoulders slumped, his head lowered in shame. He heard the laughter and he started to walk, the clock chimed, telling him that he should head back to class and he hurried for the gate to the school. He heard the teacher call out for him, and he started to jog, his feet putting out a beat that mirrored the way that his heart was beating. When he heard the warning whistle, he started to run knowing that it would not be long before she realized the dogs that would chase after him and herd him back for a punishment that would involve a parent teacher meeting and a beating when his foster parents brought him back to their house., When he reached the edge of the playground, he ran faster. He could not stop, her face was in front of him, their laughter was behind him and not even the fear of his foster parents could stop him from racing home. He ran until he reached the street and past the Elite that stared after him. They took in the worn cut of his uniform and allowed him to pass. Even if he was poor, it was still noted in their minds that he was being sponsored by someone. It was not in their best interests to anger his sponsor.

The boy ran across the streets. He ran till the pain spiked in his side and beyond it, he ran until the tears blinded him, till he could not breathe because he was crying too hard. He ran until he tore open the door to his house and ran up the stairs. He crashed into the sparse room that he and his brother shared, glad to see that his brother was still at school. With an angry yell, he threw the book and the flowers away from him. The book hit the wall and the pages fell to the floor, the petals falling from the flowers to land as if weeping on the broken book. He fell to his bed pulled the pillow over his head to stifle the tears.

Clarice was right. He was no one’s Prince Charming. No one loved him, no one would ever love him and as he heard the creak of the stairs and the loud bellowing of his foster father, he curled up tight in a ball. He had left his door open, and as the man walked in and saw the mess, Kross tensed. The man was quiet, and as the door was closed, Kross couldn’t help but whimper in fear.

The book lay discarded and forgotten; its fall had forced it to land with its front cover open. The boy could not look down, to afraid of the punishment that he was about to receive. He could not bear to see the elegant script that crossed over the page.

To my Prince Charming on his first birthday, love always, Momma.