Fairy Tale Read Online Free PDF Page B

looking over to Auntie Em to make sure she approves. I figure that once she sees I'm the Girl Scout type, she'll feel bad for ever using that harsh tone of voice with me and apologize profusely. But, unfortunately, she just shrugs and waves us off.
    I lead him out the door as No-Pants and Goth Girl stare after me like I've just offered to sell my soul to the devil. But it never hurts to be nice, right?
    As we walk down the hall, I notice he's not. Walking, I mean. He shuffles, toes pointed outward, like he's sweeping the floor with his sneakers.
    Swish, swish, swish. He's like a human Swiffer.
    Thank God the hallways are empty, so I don't have to explain why I'm with him. He's clutching a paper bag in his pale hands, and a little red plastic box. Is that a... wait. Is that a pencil box? Like the kind we used in first grade? Oh, hell.
    "Um, so...," I start as we swish along. "I guess you're new."
    I steal a glance at him and realize he's so flushed, you can see the red of his scalp peeking out from between the greased-back shards of hair on his head. "Er, no, I'm fifteen years of age," he says softly.
    "I mean, like, new to the school?"
    "Ah. Er. Yes. This is my first day at this facility," he says.
    Facility? Who refers to a school in the same way they'd refer to a toilet? Huh, he has a point. Still, I'm convinced I saw this guy profiled on America's Most Wanted last Sunday. "He was a quiet kid, always kept to himself," they'd said.
    I'm holding his locker-assignment slip by one crumpled comer, since it is still kind of-ew-clammy from being in his hands. We pass a hundred aqua-colored doors in the science wing, finally landing at number 16S. "Here you go," I say. I reach over and fiddle with the knob. "See, all you have to do is go fourteen this way, then one full turn to twenty-eight, and then back this way to zero. Simple."
    He watches, completely perplexed, as I lift the handle and the door swings open. "I see," he mumbles, and it's obvious that he doesn't.
    I demonstrate the technique another three times and then have him try. He fails on the first attempt but gets the hang of it after I talk him through it.
    "Didn't they have lockers in your old school?" I ask, though I'm guessing they must carry their books from class to class on his home planet.
    He shakes his head and blushes clear through to his scalp once again. It's kind of cute, in a pitiful way.
    "Where are you from?" I ask a generic question, since we have nothing, nothing, nothing, in common. At least, I hope.
    "Up north," he answers.
    I laugh. "Like, North Jersey... or the Arctic?"
    "Oh, uh...," he stammers. "The Arctic."
    I stare back at him, waiting for him to laugh, to tell me he's just joking. Nothing; total poker face. Fine, I'll play along. "It must be very cold up there."
    He nods and closes the locker door. Uh-huh. Fascinating conversation.
    I look down at the bag and pencil box in his hands and realize he hasn't put a thing inside. "You want to put your lunch in there?"
    "My?" he asks, confused.
    I point at the paper bag. "Isn't that your lunch?"
    "No, it's my..." He pauses just long enough for me to mentally fill in the blank with some scary thoughts: bodily fluid; severed human head; science experiment ("I'm breeding slugs!"), Finally, he says, "Yes, it's my lunch," which is a dead giveaway that it's not.
    "Don't you want to put it in your locker?"
    He shrugs and I again help him to open it. He carefully lays the paper bag on the top shelf, his eyes lingering on it for a moment, and then closes the door.
    We walk to the other side of the building in silence because I'm wondering if I could be charged with aiding and abetting for telling him to dispose of his victim's severed head in a locker. Finally, we stop outside the door to Tanner's geometry class.
    I figure it's time for a final goodwill gesture, since I plan to never, ever, ever have any contact with this guy again. I extend my hand. "Well, welcome to Stevens."
    He looks at it for a moment,