Rapunzel Untangled (10 page)

“Okay. We’ll go out but only on one condition,” he said. “You’ve gotta promise not to eat the grass. It’ll
definitely
make you sick.”

Rapunzel readily nodded, a smile lighting her face.

“All right, then,” Fane said, giving her hands a little shake. “Let’s go meet the grass.”

 
^.*
*

A
re you getting hungry?”

Fane’s question pulled Rapunzel from her fascination with the grass where she was lying, reveling in the soft, prickly feel of it beneath her, smelling the clean scent and basking in the warm sun that felt as if it cocooned her.

“Are
you
hungry?” she asked.

“Of course I am. I’m a teenage guy.” He laughed. Rapunzel wasn’t sure what he meant by his comment, but laughed anyway. The thought of the long trek back through the dim, dirty cellar made her cringe. That, and the thought of leaving the amazing grass and sunshine. She’d felt the sun on her face and arms before, but not all over her body like this. And the grass . . . it felt just as she’d imagined it would and smelled even better.

“Let’s go eat, then,” she said, breathing in one last lungful of the glorious lawn before standing.

Walking through the greenhouse, Rapunzel took deep breaths, trying to memorize the smell. They went back down into what Fane laughingly called “the dungeon.” The return trip was much shorter, and in no time they were back to her rooms. They ate ham sandwiches—Rapunzel one, Fane three.

After lunch they went down the hall in the opposite direction, Fane carrying a heavy flashlight he had stored in his backpack and discovered an unlocked door that led to the lower floors of the tower. They crept through dark, cold, stone-walled rooms filled with dust and cobwebs. On the bottom level, they discovered a dark room with a door that opened to the outside on the opposite side of the room.

“I don’t think this one will trip the alarm,” Fane said, after running his fingers around the perimeter of the door.

“Why’s that?” Rapunzel asked, shivering in the dank cold that penetrated her skin and seeped into her bones.

“No connections, no wires—nothing but a wood frame.”

He twisted the handle and pulled. They flinched as the door hinges creaked and breathed a sigh of relief when no alarm sounded. Sunlight flooded the room and Rapunzel closed her eyes, soaking up the heat. She opened her eyes and glanced at Fane, only to see him staring over her into the tower room with a look of horror on his face. As she began to turn to see what caused his reaction he quickly grabbed her, holding her in place.

“I don’t think you should look, Rapunzel.”

She stared at him, trying to read his face. Finally she shook her head. “I need to look, Fane. This is my home, where I live. It can’t be any stranger than what we’ve already seen, right?” She smiled, but Fane didn’t return her smile. That strengthened her resolve to look.

Taking a breath for courage, she turned. The room was painted entirely black. A large, white, painted six-point star dominated the floor. Six repeating designs were painted on the walls in equal spacing. Sixes were hand drawn with chalk on almost every remaining available space, sometimes drawn as a number, sometimes the Roman numeral, and sometimes spelled out.

A blackened space in the center of the star on the floor indicated a fire had been burned there at some point. Rapunzel thought about what that meant, a fire burning below her on a wooden floor, she locked in her room with no escape. She looked up and saw the smoke marks on the ceiling.

The room felt even colder now that she could see it. The black walls and overabundance of sixes were overwhelming. A shiver ran through her, and Fane stepped closer. Looking at him, she could see it made him uncomfortable as well.

“We should get out of here,” he said.

Rapunzel nodded her agreement, unable to speak. Her throat tightened with the bad feeling the room gave her. She waited for Fane to lock the door, then grasped his hand tightly as they speedily made their way back through the room. She felt as if shadows chased after them. They went up the stairs, Fane insisting she go ahead of him. Once back in the warmth of the hallway, Rapunzel shivered again, this time having nothing to do with being cold.

“I think we’ve explored enough for today,” Fane said. “Should we go back to your room?”

Rapunzel didn’t answer but led the way. Once there, Fane closed the door firmly behind them. Rapunzel glanced at her floor, picturing the room with a smoke-stained ceiling beneath her own made her feel insecure.

“Fane,” she said, turning to see he was also staring at the floor. He glanced up at her voice. “The door to outside, was it locked?”

“Yes, it had a bolt.” He shrugged. “That doesn’t mean someone else hasn’t been sneaking in and using the room.”

Rapunzel shuddered at the thought of strangers sneaking into her home, setting fires two floors below. “There’s no way I can tell my mother about it without her knowing I’ve been out.”

“Do you think she’d be that upset you were out of your room?” Fane sounded a bit incredulous.

Rapunzel thought about it. It did seem odd that she’d be in trouble for leaving her rooms to walk around in her own home. And yet, something told her that the little freedom she’d obtained would be immediately taken away if Gothel knew what she’d done.

“Yes, I do. I can’t tell her. She would wonder how I’d even gotten out of my room.”

“Yeah, there aren’t too many moms who would be happy their daughter has been sneaking a boy into her room.”

Rapunzel didn’t know if that was true or not. It was true for her because of her SCIDs, but she had no idea what was normal for healthy girls. She supposed she’d have to assume it was true if Fane said so.

He pulled a laptop out of his backpack. “I brought this so I can show you how to use Skype,” he said. “Oh, wait, I forgot you said the camera was broken. So I guess there’s no point in setting it up.”

Rapunzel still wasn’t sure it was a good idea, but the thought of not being able to
see
Fane when they spoke on the Internet was enough to make her willing to at least try it.

“Um, well, actually . . . it’s not broken.” He looked at her, brow lifted, and she shrugged. “I didn’t know you. I wasn’t sure I could trust you. So I said it was broken so I didn’t have to send a picture.”

Fane laughed. “You’re a quick thinker.”

“You’re not mad?”

“No. That was smart of you. Kinda like giving a stranger your phone number with one number off.”

She scrunched her brows in confusion. Did people do that?

“Never mind.” He grinned. “C’mon, let’s set it up.”

He loaded the program on her computer, linked their accounts, and showed her how to work it. She laughed when his face first came up on her screen from where he sat in the other room. His image was a bit jerky, and though she could hear his words clearly, his image sometimes froze for a second or two before catching up. Still, she thought it wondrous and was excited to talk to him using it.

He handed her a bag full of bite-sized candy bars, none of which she’d ever tasted—or even heard of for that matter. She tried one of each kind, her stomach grumbling at the chocolate overload.

“Take it easy,” Fane said. “They’re not going anywhere. You can save them and eat them later. You don’t have to eat them all at once.”

Rapunzel looked at the bag of candy, wondering how she could keep it. She couldn’t explain it to her mother. She looked around, trying to spy somewhere she could safely hide such a treasure.

“One more treat,” he said. “Sorry.”

“Sorry? For what?”

“No,” he said, grinning. He pulled a square box out of his bag, with the word “Sorry” printed in large letters across the top. “It’s a game.”

“Why is it called Sorry?” she asked.

“Because the game is all about cruelty and vengeance, so you end up saying sorry a lot.”

Rapunzel was intrigued. Unfortunately she wasn’t as proficient at this game as with poker, but she had fun—even if he beat her three times in a row.

She made him dinner. Contentment at having him here in her rooms while she did something for him filled her.

“I wish I could take you out,” he said. “You know, to a real restaurant, where they cook for you.”

“I can have my food cooked for me anytime I want,” she said. “I prefer to cook myself.”

“It’s not so much about the food being cooked for you,” he said, walking into the kitchen and leaning against the counter, watching while she cooked the stir-fry in her wok. “It’s more about the people, the ambiance. It’s about being out in public, seeing other people.”

Rapunzel smiled at him. “Now
that
part sounds wonderful.”

After they ate, they watched a couple of movies on Fane’s laptop while relaxing on the couch, a delight that felt somehow devious. Fane popped her some microwave popcorn.

“If you keep coming over, I’m going to weigh five hundred pounds,” Rapunzel said, tossing another greasy, delicious handful of the puffs into her mouth.

“That’s such a girl thing to say,” Fane said, elbowing her lightly as he dug into the popcorn himself.

“Well, I better go,” Fane said later after the second movie. “If I’m not home by ten with school tomorrow my mom will ground me for sure.”

Rapunzel dreaded him going, knowing she would be completely alone in the house. She wasn’t sure why it bothered her since she never knew if anyone was here or not. She thought of the black room two floors below her and shuddered.

“Should I walk you down?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “I’ve got the flashlight, so I can find my way in the dark.”

Rapunzel was a little disappointed that he didn’t want her to walk with him and immensely relieved that she wouldn’t have to make the return trip alone. She had a feeling that without Fane by her side, her courage would fail.

“Be careful,” she admonished as he stepped away from her room.

“Scouts honor,” he said, holding two fingers up. The words confused Rapunzel but she could sense the promise in them. She closed the door once he disappeared from view and ran to the window. Only then did she realize she wouldn’t be able to see him leave from this side of the house. Still, she waited.

Eventually he came around the corner, his face turned toward her window. When he caught sight of her there, he waved, and she released a breath of relief, waving back. She closed the window and went to her computer. She pulled up her Facebook page and sent him a message.

Thank you, Fane, for spending the day with me. I haven’t ever enjoyed a day so much. I had fun with you. And, let’s face it, the chocolate helped sway my opinion of you to the definite positive.

She shut the computer down and went to bed. Once tucked under her covers, she closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around her middle, pretending it was Fane’s arms once again as it had been when he fell through the window. For the second night in a row, she fell asleep with a smile on her face.

 
^.*
*

T
hat night, she dreamt.

She lay in a field of grass, green as far as the eye could see, the only thing breaking up the bright color were dots of pink roses, each one sprouting from the grass on a single stem. The sun warmed her skin, lighting her. As she inhaled the scents that had become dear to her in such a brief time, she laughed aloud in pure joy.

She heard him call her name. She pushed to her knees as she watched him jog across the emerald expanse. It occurred to her that if she stood, he might hug her again.

She placed her hands against the lush grass to do just that but stopped at the feeling beneath her hands. She looked down; the grass disappeared, replaced by a soft green blanket decorated with pink rosebuds. Her hands had formed into those of an infant. Unable to manage standing, she turned her head to search for him. Wooden slats replaced the expanse of lawn, and beyond that, the green color morphed into light pink walls. He was gone.

Confused, she rolled onto her back. Above her head a baby’s mobile twisted, playing a song she could almost hear, but not quite. A pair of hands reached for her. Startled, she glanced beyond them to see a woman with soft blonde hair, her features indiscernible. She reached for the woman, wanting nothing more than to be held by her when suddenly everything vanished. She was lying on a hard wooden floor, staring up at a blackened circle on the wooden ceiling above.

Terror gripped her, and she abruptly sat up, grown again. The room’s ghostly darkness and walls strewn with drawn sixes surrounded her. She lay, suffocating, centered on the black star splayed across the cold floor. She couldn’t take her eyes off the smoldered circle above her head. A low murmur drew her attention. Six figures dressed in black capes pulled low over their heads swayed around the perimeter of the star, chanting in low tones.

Horror filled her, and she quickly stood, looking for the door. The figures all stood also, slowly, never breaking from their chant. She took a step forward, and the walls moved closer. She stopped, frightened by the strange occurrence. A second step brought the walls closer yet again, and a third. She didn’t take a fourth. Her fear intensified with each breath.

“Mommy,” she murmured. At her word, one of the figures stepped from the circle toward her. She tried to back away but was unable, as if a wall were at her back. The figure reached up to push the hood from its head. As the dark hair, eyes, and familiar face emerged, she opened her mouth and—

Rapunzel’s scream woke her up. She was sitting up in her bed, tears streaming down her face, her chest heaving. Fear still squeezed her throat in spite of the fact that she knew she was safe in her room, in her bed. She pushed the covers back and stumbled to the bathroom, flipping the switch and flooding the room with welcome light.

She wet a washcloth and wiped her face with the cool cloth. Glancing at herself in the mirror, she laughed shakily. What a strange dream. She tried to think of the part that had woken her up, but it was lost. She remembered the walls closing in, though she was sure something had come after, something terrible.