by Tamiko Gondai and Craig Franklin
A modern tale of Sleeping Beauty and her prince, where she gets to be the hero of her own story.
CHAPTER 1 –– How It All Began
PJ –– 7 Years Ago
Don’t call me Peanut.
If anyone does, I beat ’em up. That’s how I met the girl I love.
Fifth grade, I kept getting into fights because I was short and kids called me Peanut. That was the nickname my mother gave me, which was okay because she loved me. But then one day my chauffeur picked me up after school and yelled “Peanut!” loud enough for everyone to hear and the name stuck like stink. Kids used it to make me feel small and weak. So I fought back. A lot. Which is why three private schools kicked me out. My last councilor said I had a “rep-pu-tay-shun.” He spit the word at me like wet bullets.
A month before summer vacation I got sent down the hill to a public school in Santa Monica. It didn’t take long for my rep-pu-tay-shun to catch up. Someone called me Peanut and we went at it. The school blamed me, of course, even though I was the one with the bloody nose and broken glasses. I expected to get kicked out again, or at least a long lecture, but all they did was make me sit in the vice-principal’s office. They didn’t call Father because he was never home. Only Juleus, Hector, and Consuelo. But servants can’t act like parents unless it’s an emergency. Juleus told me Father was paying my new school lots of money to “handle any problems.” So when I got in trouble, I sat.
One day I was sitting in the vice-principal’s office looking out the window when I saw this girl on the playground in a fluffy pink dress, twirling around as if she was the center of everything. I never really liked girls but suddenly did. I was sitting and she was spinning and every good thing I ever felt was happening to me right at that moment.
The next day this kid called me Peanut and I pushed him into the flowerbed and got sent to the office and there she was again, across the yard with the fourth graders. As they chased around in their little kid games, she stood alone in a fluffy purple dress and sparkly crown, pointing at the air as if commanding an army. One of the boys came up and must have said something mean because she stomped her foot and ordered him away. He shoved her but she kept her balance and pushed back hard, sending him to the ground.
That’s when I knew I was in love.
I finally got the nerve to meet her on the last day of school. Kids and parents jammed the hallways and parking lot, carrying all their stuff and saying goodbye for summer, but I didn’t see the girl anywhere. When Hector came to pick me up, I tossed my backpack in the back of the limo and told him to wait. I searched everywhere, getting desperate, until I checked the playground. She was all alone on a bench near the back fence, next to the giant swing set we called “The Monster.” She wore a fluffy blue dress and crown and was reading a book. I hung back, waiting for my heart to slow down. Then I spotted Ritchie Bratton and five of his buddies walking toward The Monster. Ritchie was big and mean and my sworn enemy, though he didn’t know it because I hadn’t told him yet. If he called me Peanut, I pretended not to hear.
All six boys surrounded the girl and her book flew out. They were laughing and poking at her but she fought back, pushing one boy down and shooting through the gap. Then she surprised everybody by climbing up a leg of The Monster and crawling along the high crossbar, somehow holding on with hands and knees, her dress puffed up like an angry blue cat. The boys looked around for things to throw and started yelling, “Humpty Dumpty! Humpty Dumpty! Make her fall! Make her fall!”
I wanted to save her but something inside my head suddenly exploded with all the scary things I see in nightmares. The grassy playground turned into a desert of swirling black wind. Bright red lightning filled the sky. Thousands of screaming birds flew at me. I had this dream many times, but never in daytime and never this bad. I knew it wasn’t real but my legs went limp and my throat got so tight I couldn’t even shout. All I could do was watch.
Ritchie shook a can of soda and sent the spray flying up at the girl as the other boys rattled the chains on the swings and threw rocks. Somehow she kept dodging and holding on, but the crown flew off her long black hair and got stomped to pieces. She screeched and looked my way. I reached down and hit my dead legs, pinched them, lifted them one at a time. After a few steps, the wind and lightning and birds faded and I was able to make it across the yard.
“I’m here to help,” I said, but it came out squeaky.
Ritchie whipped around and the yelling stopped. “Hey, Peanut. We’re making an omelet. She’s the egg.”
I ignored him and limped under The Monster. “Don’t be afraid. Jump down. I’ll catch you.”
Ritchie gave an ugly laugh when he realized I was there to help her, not him. “Oh darling, I’ll catch you,” he sang, imitating my squeaky voice.
I squinted up and our eyes met for the first time. Hers were brown and very wide.
“Just let go,” I said and she did, swinging down and dropping. We tumbled to the mat with her elbow smacking my nose. Ritchie tried to grab her but she leapt up and kicked him between the legs. A piggy squeal blew from his lips as he went to his knees. I stood, adjusted my glasses, and gave a tough look around the circle. The other boys were chicken soup without Ritchie. The girl and I backed away to where she’d left her backpack on the bench. I grabbed it, along with her torn book with a pink unicorn on the cover. Ritchie hollered at us, his voice squeaky for real as we jumped the back fence and took off down the alley. As soon as we hit a busy street I stopped and handed her the book and backpack. I hoped she didn’t see me shaking or care how small I was, shorter than her even though I was a grade ahead. I rubbed the buzz cut on my head and wished I could pull myself up an inch or two.
“You’re bleeding!” she gasped. I looked down to see red pouring from my nose all over my white shirt. “Follow me.” She led me to a park with sunshine and flowers all in bloom. We sat on the edge of a fountain where she wetted her handkerchief to wipe my face. That’s when I saw her hands were scraped and cut. “You’re hurt too!” I said.
“I’m okay. But I couldn’t hang on much longer. I was waiting for you. I knew you’d come.”
Was she joking? Had she seen me cowering?
She rinsed the handkerchief and pressed it over my nose with one hand, her other hand tugging at a pretty blue rock on her necklace. The rock glowed and my skin fizzed hot and wonderful under her touch.
“I’ve seen you before,” she said.
“You hab?” I sputtered through the handkerchief.
“You’re Peanut. You fight a lot.”
I rolled my eyes and nodded.
“How come?” she asked.
“I hade da name Peanud.”
“You hate the name Peanut? Then what should I call you?”
“PJ.”
“PJ?” She laughed. “What does the ‘J’ stand for? Jelly? Is your last name Sandwich?”
“What should I call you?”
“I’m Rose.”
Finally my love had a name. She lifted the handkerchief and I breathed her perfume. “You smell good. Like candy and flowers,” I told her.
We laughed and talked and ate marshmallow treats from her backpack. She was smart, funny, brave, beautiful and everything I wanted in the world.
“I wish we could be friends forever!” I gushed.
Her face turned sad. “We can’t.”
“Why not?”
She squeezed the wet handkerchief over the pond and watched red drops make trails in the water. “Because people die before forever.”
“Then…let’s be friends almost forever.”
That made her brighten. “Yes. We could do that.” She wetted her hand to sprinkle water on my head. “I anoint thee Friend Almost Forever.”
“I accept! What are my duties?”
“You must promise never to leave me until Almost Forever is over.” She swept her hand around the park. “This is our domain. We shall gather petals of daisy and perform the sacred vows to reign as King and Queen.”
“Does that mean we’re married?”
She giggled. “I’m not sure I want to be Mrs. PJ Sandwich.”
“But you can’t be my Queen unless I ask properly. Give me your hand.” I took it and my eyes went wide. “Rose! Your cuts! They’re gone!”
“Well of course, silly.”
“You’re amazing!”
“I knew you’d come,” she said seriously.
“So will you marry me? Someday?”
Our game of pretend had suddenly become an aching possibility. She stared in my eyes for an agonizing two seconds before answering. “Yes. I believe I shall.”
I had never kissed anyone but she leaned toward me and my whole body tingled as our faces came—
“Yoo-hoo! Rose dear!”
Her chin hit my cheek as she looked up.
“Oh,” she sighed. “It’s my Aunt Flibby.” I glanced over my shoulder to see a round woman with purple hair and polka dot dress chugging across the lawn. “And that’s my Aunt Thea in the Volvo.” A woman with orange hair waved out the car window.
I stood, pulling Rose to her feet and blurting, “You have to visit me! Three-two-five Crestview Drive!”
“Oh, no, I can’t. My aunts would never allow it. But maybe…” She picked up her backpack and tore off a round plastic nametag. “Here’s where I live. Come see me tomorrow.”
“I will! I promise!”
She let me kiss her hand before running to her aunt, who looked suspiciously at my bloody shirt. I was too happy to care. I would see Rose tomorrow. That was a promise.
But it was a promise I would never keep.
If you have accidentally stumbled across this sample of Slumber, thank you for reading. My daughter and I would love to hear your comments.
Craig Franklin 