Climbing Higher

"The world would be a much better place without all this fairytale shit."

Freshman year of high school and Honors English had just assigned the impossible task of reading the entire Brothers Grimm fairy tales, then writing a fantasy fiction story of your own with similar plots to what you had read. My best friend since fifth grade, Tommy, chucked his copy of The Original Folk and Fairy Tales of the Brothers Grimm: The Complete First Edition at the wall, leaving a smudge and earning him a dark look from our teacher. I laughed out loud as I annotated, the dark ink bleeding through the thin pages. Our English teacher seemed obsessed with fairy tales; her desk was lined with all sorts of mythical creatures and sprinkled with broken shards of rainbow-colored glass.

I ambled up to her desk and set my book down so hard, I sent glass shards flying everywhere.

The teacher sighed. "Yes, Mr. Maitland?"

"I, uh, could you check my annotations and see if they're accurate?" I mumbled.

While she checked my work, my eyes kept straying to Alice Barton's desk. She had only been at Mater Dei High a few months, having transferred from some school unknown to us. People were saying that she was the hottest girl in the school. Her pencil moved gracefully over her book, and she kept her eyes focused on her work.

Something about her was odd. Something about her was different. Something about her was-

"MR. MAITLAND! Are you even listening to me?" the teacher's shrill voice blasted through my thoughts.

"Yup, I am." The class giggled; making the teacher angry was a standard that everyone tried to follow.

"I hardly know what to think! Tell me, what do you mean when you say the moral of Hansel and Gretel is to always feed your children?"

"Well, if Hansel and Gretel's dad had fed them more food before they set out into the woods, they might not have been lured into the gingerbread house and killed the witch. However, there is a loophole in that theory, because if Hansel and Gretel's dad HAD fed them lots of food before they went into the woods, and they were STILL lured in by the gingerbread house, that would imply that they are a bunch of ungrateful little children who are fat and greedy."

At this, Alice suddenly looked up and chuckled softly.

Our English teacher sank down and folded her arms. "When do I get to retire?"

I walked back to my desk, feeling victorious.

"Duuuude. Did you see Alice? You were the first one to get her to do anything!" Tommy looked at me in awe.

For the rest of the class, I kept a close eye on Alice Barton. When the bell rang, she quietly gathered her things and left, leaving a wisp of sweet air.

As Tommy and I made our way to the quad for break, we walked past Keegan Wright and a group of his cronies. Keegan was rich, and really popular among everyone. He didn't tolerate shit and was pretty humble unless it came to his massive shoe collection that was worth over eight thousand dollars. Keegan had been trying to get Alice's attention since she transferred here and now he took out a small box. He had bought Alice a bracelet, and attached to it, was a unicorn horn charm.

She took it, looking over it in disgust. Then, without a word, she handed it back to Keegan, who wasn't used to getting rejected.

"Don't you like it?" he asked.

Before he could finish talking, Alice had floated down the hall and was disappearing around a corner.

"Told ya you shoulda bought her those chocolate lipsticks." muttered one of his friends.

"Hey Keegan, ya know Adam here got her to laugh in English today?" Tommy piped up.

I had never talked to Keegan in my life. I shrugged. "I legit wasn't even trying."

"Yeah, well you should quit trying, if you were. I've been trying for months, and it's pretty clear she doesn't date." Keegan shrugged and put the bracelet back into his pocket.

Later, in history, I sat two rows behind Alice. As usual, she didn't pay attention to anyone. She carefully took notes in a spiral notebook as the teacher lectured us and never raised her hand to participate.

When the last bell rang, she packed up quicker than everyone else, as usual. Then, instead of floating away, she lingered back a little longer than usual, just enough time for me to finish packing up and leave. On my way out, I felt something small slip into the side pocket of my backpack. It was a crumpled sticky note. I uncrumpled it and smoothed it out as much as I could as I walked down the halls.

There, on the paper, was a symbol drawn in blue ink. Two triangles formed by the pointer, middle, and pinkie fingers on both hands. I dismissed the note as some kind of joke and stuffed it back into my backpack, expecting to never use or see it again.