A Fairy Tale Read Online Free PDF Page B

front of us. “Good, isn’t it?”
    I nod.
    We walk on; I can barely make out the small boat in between the big waves in the next painting.
    My dad says, “When that man goes home tonight and has his dinner, he’ll remember us and know that he was the one who gave us the chance to see these paintings. His dinner will taste better.”
    I’m told to look closely at each painting. Then my dad says, “What can you see?”
    At first I just answer him. I tell him I can see a man on a seawall. A man on a horse.
    â€œNo,” my dad says. “Look properly.”
    I’m about to open my mouth to speak.
    â€œNo,” he says. “Keep looking at it.”
    We stand there for a long time. When I open my mouth but no words come out, my dad gives me a really big hug.
    â€œThat’s right,” he says.

“F riends visit each other,” says the boy in the courtyard. “Today I’m going to show you where I live.”
    He takes my hand and I follow him.
    We walk up the back stairs; my hand sweats inside his. He has the key on a leather string around his neck and he doesn’t let go of me until he has to unlock the door.
    The kitchen we enter is big; our apartment could fit inside it several times. The cupboard doors shine, everything looks as if it has a place of its own. And yet there’s a slightly sour smell, as if the residents have gone on holiday and forgotten something in the fridge.
    The apartment is quiet, we’re alone. The boy drags me through a passage and into a room that’s pale blue and smells of perfume. On one wall is a big mirror with photos of teenagers wedged into the frame.
    The boy goes over to the dresser; he pulls out bras and panties and throws them on the floor. Eventually he finds a newspaper cutting at the bottom of the drawer. He unfolds it and puts it on the bed so I can see it.
    Summer girl , reads the caption underneath the picture of a naked girl who’s smiling at the camera. She holds a beach ball over her head and looks as if she’s just about to throw it.
    â€œThat’s my sister,” the boy says. “She has lots of hairs on her pussy. It’s so you don’t see her crack.”
    The boy grabs my hand and drags me into the living room.
    The carpet is dark red and so thick my feet sink into it. A big leather sofa is pushed up against the wall; a porcelain vase with Chinese characters and golden dragons stands at each end of it. The television is huge, black, and shiny.
    He pushes it and it wobbles on its wheels.
    â€œHow about we smash it up? You decide. Wanna smash it up?”
    When I make no reply, he grabs my sleeve and drags me back out into the kitchen again.
    He climbs up on the kitchen table. There’s a small padlock on one of the cupboard doors.
    He tells me to get a knife from a drawer; I hand him a butter knife. He sticks it in between the cupboard door and the cupboard, wiggles it back and forth. To begin with the door gives only a little: it creaks and a wooden splinter flies off and lands on the kitchen table.
    The boy pushes his hair behind his ears and applies greater force. The door gives off a loud bang and flies open; a piece of wood is still attached to the padlock.
    I jump to avoid being hit by bags of fruit gums and licorice. The boy stands on tiptoes and sweeps the shelves with the knife. Sweets rain down on us, boxes and bars of chocolate, fruit gums, hard candy, and toffees.
    We sit on the kitchen floor surrounded by sweets. The boy tears open the bags. Multicoloured, sugar-coated licorice balls roll across the floor.
    â€œEat!” he orders me.
    I do as I’m told. I carry on eating until my tongue hurts and swells up in my mouth, sour, salty, sweet, my teeth are made of wood.
    â€œYou look like a darkie,” the boy calls out and points to my chocolate-smeared fingers.
    â€œWon’t your parents get mad?” I ask him, my mouth stuffed full of gummy