Wednesday's Word: An Excerpt from The Fairy Tale Thief

 Welcome to Wednesday's Words where I share a snippet from one of my stories using yesterday's word from the New York game Wordle. Yesterday's Wordle was AMASS. Since I haven't used the word AMASS in any of my books, I've used today's Wordle. (But I won't reveal the word until tomorrow.)

An excerpt from The Fairy Tale Thief. Listen for free on YouTube

“What do you think?” Mom asked, standing back to admire her handiwork. Playbills for Shakespearean productions and Mark Twain memes shared wall space with the whiteboard. A large bookshelf and an overstuffed chair complete with an ottoman filled a corner. Jeanie affectionately called this “the reading nook.” She’d had a similar corner at Salmon Dale High that her students—with perhaps even more affection—called the “hookup nook,” for obvious reasons of which Jeanie was blissfully unaware.

With her thick brown hair tied back in a ponytail and the smattering of freckles on her nose, Grace’s mom would have looked more like one of her students than a teacher if it wasn’t for the worried pinch between her eyebrows. Jeanie had her hands on her jeans-clad hips and a sad smile on her face. “It’s nice, huh?”

Grace had to admit, her mom was right. It looked a lot nicer than the English classroom at Salmon Dale High, but Grace worried if anyone would use the same adjective to describe the students at Saint Mags. The Salmon Dale High parking lot had been filled with beater VW vans, pickup trucks held together with Bondo, and Frankenstein-type vehicles salvaged and created from the scrapheap. The Santa Magdalena High School lot would be wildly different; the bright and shiny cars would make her bike look shabby. And the common adjectives to describe the student body would probably be rich, spoiled, and entitled. Maybe nice would be on the list, but Grace doubted it.

Grace unpacked the last box of books, lining them up on the top shelf. “I’m going to go to the shop.”

“Are you sure you want to spend one of your last days of vacation working?” Jeanie asked.

“What would I do instead?” Grace asked, using the back of her hand to wipe sweat off her forehead.

Jeanie stared at her with sad eyes. “I’m sorry. I know you’d rather be with Kelly and Jenna than here, but you’ll make new friends. Soon you’ll have twice as many as before.”

“Mom, stop. It’s not like you can swap out people.”

Jeanie pursed her lips, stepped closer, and tucked a loose strand of hair behind Grace’s ear. “You’re so beautiful, smart, and funny, you’ll make new friends.” She held up her hand to stop Grace’s protest. “I know that new friends can’t replace your old ones, but at least you have Heather, me, and Tobs.”

Grace noticed her mom didn’t include her grandparents on the shortlist. “I want to go home,” Grace said, leaning into Jeanie and inhaling her warm vanilla scent.

Jeanie patted Grace’s back. “We will.”

“Eighteen months is a really long time.”

“But we’re already thirty days in. It’s only seventeen months now. That’s only a little longer than a year.”

“Stupid military,” Grace muttered.

Jeanie looked around in mock horror. “Hush! They will hear you!”

Jeanie meant it as a joke, but since Grandpa Hank watched political programs every night and filled their heads with conspiracy theories, Grace found it hard to smile.

Jeanie must have noticed because she changed the subject. “So, what’s this Cordelia Brockbank like?”

“She’s beautiful,” Grace said.

“Like you?”

“No, totally opposite. She’s tall, blonde—she reminds me of Glinda the Good Witch.”

Jeanie’s lips twitched. “So, does she have a crown, wand, and a band of Munchkins?”

Grace remembered the little people she’d met on the sidewalk. She hadn’t told anyone about them, and quickly decided now was not the time to start.

“You’ll like her. She’s about your age. Maybe you could be friends.” But Grace knew Jeanie probably wouldn’t take the time to make friends. Between caring for her kids, her parents, and seventy-plus students, Jeanie would be lucky to get eight hours of sleep a night.

Laughter floated through the window. A group of girls carrying lacrosse sticks trooped past. Most had long swingy ponytails. They looked pretty and carefree. It amazed Grace that she could tell their parents were wealthy even though they weren’t wearing designer clothes. In fact, they weren’t wearing much at all, and yet, still, they looked like they belonged in a magazine.

In comparison, Grace felt dull, like a blackened penny in a pot of gold.