original; "Gum and Roses"
Fandom: original
Title: Gum and Roses
Rating: G
Notes: A story about dress-up shoes, gum wrappers, castles. Written near the end of last year, for my creative writing class.
"Ladies first." Playing dress-up is dumb, but he kind of likes holding the door like a grown-up.
"Thanks," she says, and takes his arm when he offers it -- not because she wants to, but because his sister's dress is too big on her and it's hard to get down the attic stairs without tripping.
Sammy's mother is at the kitchen counter and she sees them come down out of the corner of her eye. "Sammy, Mel, do you guys want some lemonade?" she asks; but by the time the words are out of her mouth they've already scampered out the door with a flourish of satin and fake pearls.
Mel's dress-up shoes click on the stone tiles as she pulls Sammy out into the middle of the patio. "This is the ballroom," she announces, turning to face him, "and I'm the princess." She grabs both his hands. "We're dancing, see? You can be a prince, if you want, from somewhere far away."
As soon as Mel takes his hands Sammy is embarrassed. "I don't want to be a prince." He pulls away. "Come on, Mel, this is stupid."
"You have to call me Princess Melinda," she replies quickly, and then glares when she realizes what he's saying. "And what do you mean this is stupid? You said before we could play it!" Her chubby first-grader fists are planted on her hips; princesses are fierce when scorned.
"Yeah, but now I don't wanna." He's about to walk away, but now she looks really sad, and he knows you're not supposed to make a girl cry. "Okay, fine," he mumbles. "But only for a little while, and then I get to pick what we play."
"Okay." She brightens immediately and grabs his hands again. Soon they're waltzing around the patio. Anyone watching would be perplexed, or maybe even laugh a little at the sight -- little-boy sneakers and patent-leather shoes maneuvering awkwardly around each other -- but Mel can see the marble floor and the decorations and the thrones where the king and queen sit, and she sees a prince and princess at the royal ball.
Sammy can see it a little bit, too. Actually, spinning around with Mel and listening to her talk about the feast and the queen's dress and the wars that the knights are fighting isn't all that bad. But he's not about to admit it. Boys aren't allowed to like girly things like dancing and make-believe -- especially if that boy is a prince. Princes only like cool things, like sword fights.
"Hey, Me- um, Princess Melinda. Are there sword fights in this kingdom?"
She grins -- very un-princesslike, but he isn't about to say so. "Yeah, there are lots. I'll tell you about them."
---
When the game is over Mel leaves the purple dress and the fancy shoes on the patio. Sammy waits for her while she puts her sandals on. "Want some gum?" he asks, holding a brightly-wrapped strip out to her. Gum is a cool thing; it's a boy thing. Now he's back in his own territory.
Mel takes the gum, but instead of unwrapping it she puts it in her back pocket. "Princesses don't chew gum," she says, by way of explanation.
"Yeah, well, princes do," he shoots back, biting into a piece. Mel only shrugs and starts walking across the lawn.
He runs to catch up with her and they wander for a while. He chews his gum and she watches the clouds and for a while, they don't talk about anything.
"That was fun," she says finally, once the clouds' shapes have gotten boring and all the flavor's gone out of his gum. "Are we gonna play again tomorrow?"
He spits the gum out onto the driveway, ignoring the face Mel makes next to him. "I can't," he says. "I have a playdate with Elena."
Some of the innocence goes out of Mel's face. "Well you can't play prince and princess with her. I'm the princess." For a moment her eyes are dark with envy. There's no real reason for it -- kid jealousy is never about anything real -- but it's there.
"Why would I wanna play your stupid game anyway?" he says, but he says it quickly; princesses are fierce when scorned.
That's enough for Mel, and her eyes brighten as she flashes another un-royal grin at him. "'Kay. Let's go get some lemonade."
---
Sammy's mother has taken the dress and shoes back inside and already has two glasses of lemonade ready when they ask her for some. She brings them out on a tray to the table on the patio, where the prince and princess sit, swinging their legs. Sammy's glass has a straw in it, but Mel drinks hers straight from the cup, like a grown-up.
Mel watches Sammy slurp his lemonade. Her lips are sticky from her own glass, and she can taste the sour sweetness when she sticks her tongue out. Sammy isn't looking at her, just sucking on the straw. For a second Mel wonders if his mouth would taste like lemonade, too, but she's not about to find out. Kissing is icky, and only grown-ups do it.
Well, grown-ups and maybe princesses. But Mel isn't really a princess.
"I'm gonna live in a castle when I grow up," she says defiantly. It comes out of nowhere. Kid conversations are never about anything real.
Now Sammy looks at her. He knows being interested in stuff like that isn't cool, but he's too curious. "What'll it be like?" he asks her finally.
"Big," she replies, speaking on impulse, "with lots of towers and all different color flags on all their tops. And there'll be windows in some of the towers that you could climb out of, like Rapunzel. And a big moat and a drawbridge with a pretty gold chain. Maybe there'll be pretty white horses, too - y'know, the ones that fly. Pega... um..."
"That's stupid," he says, cutting her off. "Princes don't ride flying horses."
"Yeah, well, princesses do," she mocks. "Anyway, who says you'd get to live there?" To her surprise, Sammy's playful expression flickers and he looks down. "Just kidding," she says quickly, with a smile. "We can both live there, and there'll be a training field, too, if you want, for sword fights."
Sammy's composure is back in a flash. "I don't want to live in a dumb castle," he says, carelessly. But somehow by the time the lemonade is finished it has become their castle, flying horses and all.
---
Who knows how the argument starts -- it could have been a misunderstanding, an accidental insult, a disagreement over what color to paint the castle dining room. Kid fights are never about anything real, but to them it's as serious as full-scale warfare and all of a sudden they are standing in the street, screaming at each other.
"Well I don't care about your stupid castle!" Sammy shouts. "I don't want to live there and I don't want to be a prince and I'm not dancing with you ever again!"
Mel is trying not to cry, because when you're crying it gets hard to yell. "Well... well..." She can't think of anything to say, so she pulls the gum he gave her out of her pocket and throws it into the gutter. It slips through the grating and she can hear it hit the water below. The splash sounds empty and wrong, but she keeps shouting anyway. "I don't need you or your stupid gum! It rots your teeth anyway, my daddy told me!"
"Well my dad chews gum all the time," Sammy yells back, "and my dad's smarter than your dad!"
"Shut up!" Mel cries. "You think you're so cool, but you're mean, Samuel Ender, and I'd rather have a prince as a friend than you any day! Now I'm going home." She turns on her heel and storms away, leaving no glass slipper, and her would-be prince is left very much alone in the middle of the street.
When Sammy goes back inside his mother is waiting for him. "Sammy," she says gently, sitting down across from him at the kitchen table, "what's wrong? Don't cry."
"I'm not crying," Sammy says fiercely, turning his face away.
"It's all right, Sammy, boys are allowed to cry."
"Yeah," Sammy mumbles into his sleeve, "but princes aren't."
His mother smiles softly to herself. "I thought you didn't want to be a prince."
"I don't!" Sammy scowls, glaring at the table. He draws a hand across his eyes. More quietly -- "Why would I?"
His mother just puts a comforting hand on his back and sighs. Boys will be boys, after all.
---
The next morning Sammy is standing on her doorstep with a flower. Kid fights are never about anything real, but the apologies are always sincere.
He knows it's polite to apologize, and he knows girls like flowers - at least, he thinks they do. So when the door opens, he starts to talk right away.
"I'm sorry... about yesterday. I'm really sorry, Mel." He gathers the courage to look up at her. "Are... we still friends?"
Mel looks at Sammy and looks at the flower. It's a rose -- perfect for a princess. She takes it and smiles. "Okay. But only if we can play prince and princess again tomorrow."
The first thing Sammy thinks is that boys aren't supposed to like that game. But then he realizes that it's just Mel, and Mel won't care if he likes playing make-believe. So he smiles and says, "I kind of like being a prince."
"That's cool," Mel says.
Title: Gum and Roses
Rating: G
Notes: A story about dress-up shoes, gum wrappers, castles. Written near the end of last year, for my creative writing class.
"Ladies first." Playing dress-up is dumb, but he kind of likes holding the door like a grown-up.
"Thanks," she says, and takes his arm when he offers it -- not because she wants to, but because his sister's dress is too big on her and it's hard to get down the attic stairs without tripping.
Sammy's mother is at the kitchen counter and she sees them come down out of the corner of her eye. "Sammy, Mel, do you guys want some lemonade?" she asks; but by the time the words are out of her mouth they've already scampered out the door with a flourish of satin and fake pearls.
Mel's dress-up shoes click on the stone tiles as she pulls Sammy out into the middle of the patio. "This is the ballroom," she announces, turning to face him, "and I'm the princess." She grabs both his hands. "We're dancing, see? You can be a prince, if you want, from somewhere far away."
As soon as Mel takes his hands Sammy is embarrassed. "I don't want to be a prince." He pulls away. "Come on, Mel, this is stupid."
"You have to call me Princess Melinda," she replies quickly, and then glares when she realizes what he's saying. "And what do you mean this is stupid? You said before we could play it!" Her chubby first-grader fists are planted on her hips; princesses are fierce when scorned.
"Yeah, but now I don't wanna." He's about to walk away, but now she looks really sad, and he knows you're not supposed to make a girl cry. "Okay, fine," he mumbles. "But only for a little while, and then I get to pick what we play."
"Okay." She brightens immediately and grabs his hands again. Soon they're waltzing around the patio. Anyone watching would be perplexed, or maybe even laugh a little at the sight -- little-boy sneakers and patent-leather shoes maneuvering awkwardly around each other -- but Mel can see the marble floor and the decorations and the thrones where the king and queen sit, and she sees a prince and princess at the royal ball.
Sammy can see it a little bit, too. Actually, spinning around with Mel and listening to her talk about the feast and the queen's dress and the wars that the knights are fighting isn't all that bad. But he's not about to admit it. Boys aren't allowed to like girly things like dancing and make-believe -- especially if that boy is a prince. Princes only like cool things, like sword fights.
"Hey, Me- um, Princess Melinda. Are there sword fights in this kingdom?"
She grins -- very un-princesslike, but he isn't about to say so. "Yeah, there are lots. I'll tell you about them."
---
When the game is over Mel leaves the purple dress and the fancy shoes on the patio. Sammy waits for her while she puts her sandals on. "Want some gum?" he asks, holding a brightly-wrapped strip out to her. Gum is a cool thing; it's a boy thing. Now he's back in his own territory.
Mel takes the gum, but instead of unwrapping it she puts it in her back pocket. "Princesses don't chew gum," she says, by way of explanation.
"Yeah, well, princes do," he shoots back, biting into a piece. Mel only shrugs and starts walking across the lawn.
He runs to catch up with her and they wander for a while. He chews his gum and she watches the clouds and for a while, they don't talk about anything.
"That was fun," she says finally, once the clouds' shapes have gotten boring and all the flavor's gone out of his gum. "Are we gonna play again tomorrow?"
He spits the gum out onto the driveway, ignoring the face Mel makes next to him. "I can't," he says. "I have a playdate with Elena."
Some of the innocence goes out of Mel's face. "Well you can't play prince and princess with her. I'm the princess." For a moment her eyes are dark with envy. There's no real reason for it -- kid jealousy is never about anything real -- but it's there.
"Why would I wanna play your stupid game anyway?" he says, but he says it quickly; princesses are fierce when scorned.
That's enough for Mel, and her eyes brighten as she flashes another un-royal grin at him. "'Kay. Let's go get some lemonade."
---
Sammy's mother has taken the dress and shoes back inside and already has two glasses of lemonade ready when they ask her for some. She brings them out on a tray to the table on the patio, where the prince and princess sit, swinging their legs. Sammy's glass has a straw in it, but Mel drinks hers straight from the cup, like a grown-up.
Mel watches Sammy slurp his lemonade. Her lips are sticky from her own glass, and she can taste the sour sweetness when she sticks her tongue out. Sammy isn't looking at her, just sucking on the straw. For a second Mel wonders if his mouth would taste like lemonade, too, but she's not about to find out. Kissing is icky, and only grown-ups do it.
Well, grown-ups and maybe princesses. But Mel isn't really a princess.
"I'm gonna live in a castle when I grow up," she says defiantly. It comes out of nowhere. Kid conversations are never about anything real.
Now Sammy looks at her. He knows being interested in stuff like that isn't cool, but he's too curious. "What'll it be like?" he asks her finally.
"Big," she replies, speaking on impulse, "with lots of towers and all different color flags on all their tops. And there'll be windows in some of the towers that you could climb out of, like Rapunzel. And a big moat and a drawbridge with a pretty gold chain. Maybe there'll be pretty white horses, too - y'know, the ones that fly. Pega... um..."
"That's stupid," he says, cutting her off. "Princes don't ride flying horses."
"Yeah, well, princesses do," she mocks. "Anyway, who says you'd get to live there?" To her surprise, Sammy's playful expression flickers and he looks down. "Just kidding," she says quickly, with a smile. "We can both live there, and there'll be a training field, too, if you want, for sword fights."
Sammy's composure is back in a flash. "I don't want to live in a dumb castle," he says, carelessly. But somehow by the time the lemonade is finished it has become their castle, flying horses and all.
---
Who knows how the argument starts -- it could have been a misunderstanding, an accidental insult, a disagreement over what color to paint the castle dining room. Kid fights are never about anything real, but to them it's as serious as full-scale warfare and all of a sudden they are standing in the street, screaming at each other.
"Well I don't care about your stupid castle!" Sammy shouts. "I don't want to live there and I don't want to be a prince and I'm not dancing with you ever again!"
Mel is trying not to cry, because when you're crying it gets hard to yell. "Well... well..." She can't think of anything to say, so she pulls the gum he gave her out of her pocket and throws it into the gutter. It slips through the grating and she can hear it hit the water below. The splash sounds empty and wrong, but she keeps shouting anyway. "I don't need you or your stupid gum! It rots your teeth anyway, my daddy told me!"
"Well my dad chews gum all the time," Sammy yells back, "and my dad's smarter than your dad!"
"Shut up!" Mel cries. "You think you're so cool, but you're mean, Samuel Ender, and I'd rather have a prince as a friend than you any day! Now I'm going home." She turns on her heel and storms away, leaving no glass slipper, and her would-be prince is left very much alone in the middle of the street.
When Sammy goes back inside his mother is waiting for him. "Sammy," she says gently, sitting down across from him at the kitchen table, "what's wrong? Don't cry."
"I'm not crying," Sammy says fiercely, turning his face away.
"It's all right, Sammy, boys are allowed to cry."
"Yeah," Sammy mumbles into his sleeve, "but princes aren't."
His mother smiles softly to herself. "I thought you didn't want to be a prince."
"I don't!" Sammy scowls, glaring at the table. He draws a hand across his eyes. More quietly -- "Why would I?"
His mother just puts a comforting hand on his back and sighs. Boys will be boys, after all.
---
The next morning Sammy is standing on her doorstep with a flower. Kid fights are never about anything real, but the apologies are always sincere.
He knows it's polite to apologize, and he knows girls like flowers - at least, he thinks they do. So when the door opens, he starts to talk right away.
"I'm sorry... about yesterday. I'm really sorry, Mel." He gathers the courage to look up at her. "Are... we still friends?"
Mel looks at Sammy and looks at the flower. It's a rose -- perfect for a princess. She takes it and smiles. "Okay. But only if we can play prince and princess again tomorrow."
The first thing Sammy thinks is that boys aren't supposed to like that game. But then he realizes that it's just Mel, and Mel won't care if he likes playing make-believe. So he smiles and says, "I kind of like being a prince."
"That's cool," Mel says.