UnEnchanted (An Unfortunate Fairy Tale 1)

“Brody!” Mrs. Carmichael yelled simultaneously.

Mina froze, she didn’t know what was worse, facing her long time crush with a brown chocolate milk stain on her jacket or the fact that he had just run over her pathetic bike with his expensive sports car.

The driver’s door opened and Brody jumped out of the car. “Mina, I’m sorry! Are you okay?”

Brody started to run up to them, but then seemed to hesitate, stopping about halfway through.

Mortified that Brody ran over her bike and with no good explanation as to why she was at his house, Mina could only think of one thing to do. Run.

It was obviously a terrible mistake that had sent her to the Carmichaels’ house, and a cruel twist of fate that led to Brody driving up and crushing her red bike. Maybe if he drove up and hit her car, it wouldn’t have seemed so pathetic, but all Mina could think about was how when he asked his mother why she was there, it would seem like she was stalking him. It wasn’t until she’d reached the main gates and ran through them that she realized she had dropped the info packet on the ground. Oh, no! He would know that her mom cleaned houses for a living.

Mina heard someone call her name, but she ignored it and turned the corner. While she ran, tears formed in her eyes and the cold wind swept them away. She wanted to die of embarrassment. Everyone at school would hear about how Mina made up some excuse to stalk Brody at his own house. How she made up a fake pamphlet so she could talk to him. How she was so desperate and poor that she rode her broken bicycle up to the mansion and how it was crushed like tin foil beneath Brody’s expensive car.

If Mina was a stronger person she would have confronted him about the bike, but when her whole reason for being there seemed fabricated, she lost her resolve.

It took Mina fifteen minutes to ride to the Carmichaels’ house on her bike from school, but an hour to walk home from the Carmichaels’. She was tired, sore and grateful that the rain had stopped shortly after sixth period. She couldn’t imagine making this walk home in the rain.

When she finally reached the restaurant, Mrs. Wong called out to her. “Woo Hoo! Meenha. I seen you in pahper today. You beeg celebrity.” She walked out holding a newspaper with a picture of Mina splattered across the front page.

The article must have been written before the assembly, since they used Mina’s high school yearbook picture. Mina grabbed the paper and stared in shock. It was the worst photo of Mina in school history. She remembered that horrible day all too well. Mina had attempted to wear makeup, even put her hair in rollers so it would look like Savannah White’s, and tried to wear something nicer than her signature hoodie. In the end, Sara got a flat tire so Mina had to ride her bike, in the rain. Mina’s makeup, curls and clothes were drenched for the photo shoot.

“Oh no!” Mina grabbed the paper and crumpled it up. “Has my mom seen this?”

“Yes.” Mrs. Wong smiled proudly. “I show her as soon as she got home. See!” she pointed to the front window of her restaurant where she had made a collage of Mina’s face as part of a giant display. “I advertise we have big star, live above us. Good for business. I bought every pahper from the store for miles.” Sure enough there were five stacks of newspapers piled neatly against the red and gold door. “Everyone that comes tonight gets complementary free sample and pahper. Business is dooming.”

Mina groaned and handed the paper back to Mrs. Wong. “You mean booming?”

“That’s what I say, dooming.” Mrs. Wong smiled, her eyes disappearing behind her cheeks.

Mina trudged up the stairs and unlocked the door to their flat. The neat and tidy apartment looked as if a storm had blown through. “Mom!” Mina called out.

Sara tore out of her bedroom with armloads of clothes and a wild look in her eye. She dumped them into an open suitcase on their kitchen table and turned and pointed at Mina. “YOU! Go pack!”

“Mom, why? What’s going on?”

“Don’t you Mom me.” Sara looked panicked. “Do as I say, we’re leaving.” She flipped the lid on the suitcase and zipped it. Mina grabbed the suitcase from her mother and they tugged on it until Mina won.

“No, I’m not packing unless you tell me why. This is crazy.”

“Mina, we have to. It’s for your own good.” Mina noticed her mother’s eyes were rimmed in red, but if she didn’t get answers now, she never would.

“That may have worked on me when I was younger, but not anymore. Charlie will listen to you without arguing, but I won’t. What’s good for me is to stay here. I have friends. Well, a friend.” For a split second Mina almost decided that moving across country wouldn’t be such a bad idea, after the terrible last two days. But another look at her frantic mother gave Mina the determination she needed to make it through whatever disaster would unfold.

>The main house sat back from the street, three stories tall with a terracotta roof. Majestic statues of horses were scattered throughout the estate and Mina could see gardeners trimming hedges and mowing the manicured grass. Behind the estate were training yards and stables for the Carmichael’s horses. Their prized racehorses were probably at another facility.

This was the first time Mina felt acutely aware of her family’s small income in comparison to others. She didn’t really care about money, but she understood the phrase "out of her league."

She was embarrassed when she got to the steps of the main house and couldn’t decide where to leave her bike. With the kickstand broken, Mina tried to lean it against a pillar and got a heated look from a maid. She went to lean it against a bush and received a horrified stare from the gardener. Giving up, Mina let it lay in the driveway, its back wheel spinning pathetically.

She took the front steps two a time and found herself in front of huge mahogany double doors with a silver mustang knocker. Knocking, Mina decided she would count to ten Mississippis and if no one answered she would do leave the packet and go home. She only got to seven when Mrs. Carmichael herself opened the door.

Mina recognized the soft eyes and elegant smile, not to mention signature pearls and perfect coif, from the tabloid magazines.

“Yes?” she asked sweetly.

“Hi, I’m Mina. I’m supposed to deliver this Happy Maids’ packet on behalf of my mom.” Mina thrust the packet toward Mrs. Carmichael, hoping to get this delivery over with. Mrs. Carmichael wasn’t cooperating because she didn’t take the packet.

“I’m sorry, what?” Her brow furrowed in confusion.