Little Red Riding Hoodie: A Modern Fairy Tale

by Phythyon, John

  “Your mom actually calls girls harlots?” Sally said.

  “Yeah,” he admitted. “Freaky, huh?”

  “I don’t know,” Sally said. “If my dad just called girls harlots, I’d think I was pretty lucky.”

  “Oh, it’s not just that,” Brian said. “She’s got all sorts of little idiosyncrasies.”

  “What’s that?” Sally asked.

  “Weird personality traits,” Brian answered.

  “Oh,” Sally said.

  “You don’t want to know about any of them?” Brian said after a pause.

  “Only if you want to tell me,” she said. “I don’t like it when people ask me all sorts of embarrassing questions, so I figure I shouldn’t do it to anyone else.”

  “That’s cool,” he said.

  There was a pause. Sally wasn’t sure what to say or how to end this strange meeting.

  “Tell you what,” she said. “You can walk me to the top of the hill.”

  “Cool,” he said.

  They moved off across the parking lot. Little butterflies bobbed through her stomach. No boy had ever asked to walk her home before, especially one as cute as Brian Pomeroy. It scared her and delighted her at the same time. This afternoon had definitely gotten weird.

  “Mama’s not real keen on me doing Romeo and Juliet,” he said after they’d taken a few steps. “She thinks it’s a ‘dangerous distraction’ from my studies.”

  “But she hasn’t made you quit?” Sally said, sounding surprised.

  “She wants me to,” he said. “But she doesn’t want to make me. She wants me to come to that conclusion on my own. God, she keeps pressuring me, though.”

  Sally was suddenly moved. She knew what it was to have your parents not really support what you were doing. Her father had given her permission to do the play, but he never asked how it was going or encouraged her in any way. And Tommy, of course, didn’t ask. He was a little kid. He only paid attention to his own life.

  “I’m sorry,” she said to him. “That’s awful.”

  “Nah,” he said. “I just keep telling myself that I should do what I think is best. I wanted to be in the play, so I’m gonna do it.

  “It’s funny, I wanted to play football, but she wouldn’t let me. She wasn’t afraid of me getting hurt. She didn’t even think of that. She just saw it taking away from my studies. ‘All those football players do is party,’ she said. ‘They all think they’re going to play in the NFL, and when they find out they’re not good enough, they have no education to fall back on. Their lives are ruined.’”

  “That’s kind of extreme,” Sally said.

  “That’s my mama,” Brian said. “Anyway, she was mad when I went out for the play, but I told her it’s Shakespeare. It’ll make me smarter. It’ll actually help me in school. She couldn’t really argue with that. She doesn’t like me doing it, because she thinks I should come straight home and hit the books until bedtime. But as long as she thinks it’s helping my intellectual development, she lets me do it.”

  “Wow,” Sally said.

  She wasn’t sure what to think. Her dad wasn’t that interested in her schoolwork. He only seemed to care about his vodka anymore. But her life was just as hard. She had to cook, clean, and make sure Tommy did his homework and bathed and got on the bus in the morning.

  “Sit down in the rocking chair,” Grandma said.

  Five-year-old Sally did as she was told. Her eyes were bright as she stared at Grandma holding the baby.

  “Okay,” Grandma said. “Now hold your arms out.”

  Sally obeyed again, and Grandma gently set Tommy in her arms.

  “He’s just a baby, so you have to support his head,” Grandma said. “Here, like this.”

  She put Sally’s left hand under Tommy’s head and showed her how to hold it up while cradling his body with her right arm. When Sally had him secured, Grandma stepped back.

  “Well, look at you,” Grandma said. “I can tell you’re going to be a very good big sister.”

  Sally beamed at the compliment. She gazed down on Tommy. He looked so small and helpless, especially swaddled in his Thomas the Tank Engine blanket. He also looked completely at peace as he slept. Sally couldn’t believe she could hold him safely just like her mom did. Tommy didn’t fuss at all.

  “Now remember, Sally,” Grandma said. “You’re the big sister, so you have to look after Baby Tommy. You have to protect him.”

  Sally sighed. She’d had no idea what she’d promised her grandmother when she swore to take care of Tommy. She wondered if her grandmother could have known what she was asking. She didn’t mind doing it, because he was her brother. But it was a terrible burden. She longed for a break. Like Brian, she didn’t have much free time.

  “What’s your dad like?” she said.

  “He’s not really around,” Brian answered.

  Sally looked at him regretfully. She’d just told him she didn’t ask prying questions, and then she’d done it and gotten an uncomfortable reply.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “Don’t be,” he said, but he sounded bitter. “If he were interested in me and my brother, he wouldn’t have left. And that’s his problem, not mine.”

  Sally knew he didn’t believe that. She wanted to think it about her mother, but she just couldn’t. Things happened. Parents couldn’t always do what it seemed like they should. It wasn’t their fault.

  A burst of cold air hit them suddenly. Sally shivered and put up her hood. Brian chuckled.

  “What?” she said.

  “Little Red Riding Hoodie,” he said.

  “Please don’t call me that,” she said.

  “Sorry,” he said. “It’s just everyone—”

  “Calls me Little Red Riding Hoodie. I know. I hate it. It’s what Molly and The Set call me, and they’re really mean about it.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I didn’t think of that. Stupid of me.”

  “It’s okay,” she said.

  They walked in silence for a bit. Both of them started puffing as they hit the steepest part of the hill.

  “Why do you always wear that sweatshirt,” he asked. “It’s old, and it doesn’t fit you. Everybody makes fun of you for it. Why do you keep wearing it if you don’t want to be Little Red Riding Hoodie?”

  She was shocked at how direct he was. Hadn’t she told him she didn’t like people asking her questions like that? She supposed, though, that the rules had changed. Brian had told her very private things about himself. And she’d probed. She’d asked to know more. It wasn’t really fair of her to stand by her usual rules.

  “My mom isn’t around either,” she said. “She left a few years ago. I don’t get to see her very much.

  “My grandma – her mom – gave me this hoodie. We used to go to her house all the time. She was always really nice to me. Nicer even than Mom. Or Dad. I used to like visiting her.

  “But she had a stroke a couple months after Mom left, and she’s in a nursing home now. Mom says they don’t want children running around there, and she says Grandma’s not really the same anymore. She says she’s not sure Grandma would remember us and it would be bad to confuse her.

  “This sweatshirt is the last thing she ever gave me. I got it like a week before Mom left. I s’pose I’ll grow out of it one day. Maybe even this year. But until then, I’m wearing it as much as I can.”

  She fell silent. She’d never really admitted that to anyone before, not even Alison, although her best friend got it without probing too much.

  “I understand,” Brian said.

  She looked at him. He was staring ahead as he walked. His eyes seemed to be looking at a memory – someone else in another time. Sally sympathized. She often did the same.

  They walked in silence for a short distance. Neither seemed to quite know what to say in the wake of Sally’s admission.

  “Well,” he said at last. “I guess this is where I get off?”

  Sally looked confused for a second.
Then she realized they had made it to the top of the hill.

  “Oh, yeah,” she said.

  She didn’t want to say goodbye to Brian just yet. She was sharing with him, bonding with him, in a way she never had with anyone except Alison. She hated to let it go already.

  “Ride carefully,” Brian said. He put a melodramatic tone in his voice. “I want to see you safe and sound tomorrow morning, my fair Juliet.”

  Sally giggled.

  “Alas,” she said. “Parting is such sweet sorrow.”

  “Is that from the play,” Brian asked, frowning.

  “Not exactly,” Sally answered. “It’s from Hamlet. It is Shakespeare, though.”

  “Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast!” Brian recited. “Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to thy rest!”

  “Very good,” Sally said, impressed. “You’ve been practicing.”

  “Well I can’t have you upstaging me, can I?” he mocked. Sally punched him in the arm. “Ouch! Okay, okay. I’ve been working hard to make sure I’m as good as you are.”

  “Much better,” Sally pronounced.

  They smiled at each other a little longer without speaking. Then Brian shoved his hands in his pockets and took a step backward.

  “You know, Sal,” he said, “I kind of like that you’re Little Red Riding Hoodie. It’s like you’re a character from a fairy tale. Magical, ya know?”

  Her eyes misted over. He liked it? She suddenly felt warm.

  “Okay,” she said. “You can call me Red.”

  He smiled. His brown eyes gleamed, and his white teeth shone against his dark skin, seeming to burn with a light of their own.

  “Cool,” he said.

  “Just you, though,” she cautioned. “No one else.”

  “You got it.”

  They stood staring at each other for another minute. Sally didn’t want it to end.

  “Well, see you tomorrow,” he said.

  He walked backwards several steps before turning around and heading back down Parker Drive. Sally felt sick at his departure.

  “Bye!” she called out to him. He raised his right hand and waved without turning back.

  ***

  Sally knew something was wrong as soon as she got home. Tommy wasn’t playing videogames like usual. He sat at the kitchen table, scowling. Rather than watching TV on the couch, her father was also in the kitchen. He was pouring himself a drink. Judging by the half-melted ice in the glass, it wasn’t his first.

  As soon as she opened the door, she could feel the tension inside. It slapped her in the face.

  “What’s going on?” she said, coming into the kitchen.

  “What’s going on?” her father repeated. “Tell her, Tommy. Tell your sister what’s going on.”

  Sally looked to her little brother. He continued to scowl at the table. He said nothing.

  “What’s going on,” her father said, “is that your brother got suspended from school today.”

  “What?” Sally whispered, shocked. Tommy put his head down. “Why?”

  “Fighting,” her father pronounced.

  Sally’s eyes grew wider. She went to the table.

  “You got in a fight?” she said to Tommy.

  “No,” her father said. “He started a fight. He continued a fight. And he finished a fight.”

  Sally looked up at her father. Fury poured off him as he sipped his drink and glared at her brother.

  “What do you mean,” she asked.

  “He wasn’t really fighting,” her father replied. “Fighting implies two people were throwing punches. He just beat up a girl.”

  “What!”

  Tommy refused to look at her. His expression grew darker. She’d never known him to be violent before. He’d certainly never hit a girl.

  “Tommy, why would you do that?” she said.

  Tommy said nothing. Her father threw back more of his drink.

  “Some girl said something he didn’t like,” her father said. “So he thought that meant he had a right to beat her up.”

  “What did she say,” Sally asked, returning her attention to Tommy. Still he remained silent.

  “He won’t tell me,” her father said. “But it doesn’t matter. He beat up a girl, which is bad enough. On top of that, he got himself suspended. That’s a district rule – automatic three-day suspension for fighting.”

  Sally knew that. It was the same at her school. She’d been fearing that would happen to Alison when she stuck up for Sally.

  “And worst,” her father continued, “they’re sending a social worker to talk to me.”

  “What?”

  “Oh, yes,” he said. “If he’d just hit this girl, they might have just suspended him. But because he knocked her down and hit her several times after that, they’re concerned about what his home life might be like. They worry there may be domestic abuse issues at home. They think that level of aggression is very unusual, and they want to make sure there’s nothing else they need to be worried about.”

  He threw back the rest of his drink. Then he aimed his fiercest glare at Tommy.

  “Because he couldn’t control his temper, I could lose the both of you!” her father shouted.

  Cold horror crawled over Sally’s heart at that thought. Was it true? Would a social worker take them away? Would they go to a foster family? What if it was at a different school? She wouldn’t see Alison or Brian anymore. She wouldn’t get to do Romeo and Juliet! They couldn’t take her away. They couldn’t! What would she do without her dad?

  “Don’t worry, Dad,” she said. “I won’t let that happen. I’ll make sure they can’t take us away from you.”

  She ran over and hugged him. She held on tightly. Life was hard. It wasn’t really good. But she didn’t want it to get worse. She couldn’t lose her father and Alison and Brian. That would be too much.

  Tommy got up from the table and ran down the hall into his room. He slammed the door after him.

  “Hey! I didn’t say you could get up!” her father shouted after him, but he didn’t make a move to do anything about it.

  Sally withdrew. There was a lot to be done.

  “Don’t worry, Dad,” she said. “I’ll take care of everything.”

  She put her backpack down and went to the refrigerator in search of something to make for supper. Her father fixed himself another drink.

  “Sally,” he said, “do you think you could stay home from school the next couple days? I’ll call you in sick.”

  She snapped her head around to look at him. He kept his eyes on his glass, as he poured vodka in it. Was he serious?

  “Dad, no,” she said. “I can’t miss that much school.”

  “Well, what am I supposed to do!” he said, raising his voice. “I can’t take off work that long. I could lose my job!”

  Sally gaped at him. She didn’t know what she was supposed to say.

  “Dad, I can’t miss school. I’ll get too far behind. And they’ll kick me out of the play.”

  “The play!” he shouted. “How can you think about that now?”

  Sally’s mouth fell open further. Was he suggesting she quit Romeo and Juliet?

  “What am I supposed to think about?” she said. “I come home every day and cook for everyone. I clean the house. I said I’ll take care of everything so the social worker won’t take us away. What the hell else am I supposed to do?”

  “You think the social worker won’t take you away if I lose my job?” he shot back. “You have to have money to pay the rent and feed your kids. If I can’t do that, they’ll take you.”

  “That’s not my fault!” she screamed. “I didn’t do any of this! I do what I’m supposed to, more than! Why do I have to give up everything because he misbehaved?”

  “He did more than misbehave.”

  “I didn’t! I’m a good girl! I take care of everyone and still go to school and get decent grades. Why can’t I have one thing I want? Why do I have to give up the play because Tommy g
ot suspended and you’re too drunk to take care of him!”

  He took a step towards her and cocked his arm to deliver a backhand. She didn’t move.

  “Go ahead, Dad,” she said, her voice calm and even. “Hit me. That’ll fix everything. That’s just what the social worker would want you to do.”

  He stopped. Tears began pouring out of his eyes as he stood there, frozen in mid-swing. She kept glaring at him.

  Finally, he lowered his arm. He turned towards the counter and put his hands on it. His shoulders shook with great sobs. This time, she felt no desire to comfort him.

  “I’m sorry, Sally,” he said. “You’re a good girl. I’m sorry.”

  Her heart pounded in her chest. Adrenaline coursed through her. She was afraid to move, afraid to speak. She had no idea what would happen next.

  At last, he took up his drink and left the kitchen. She watched as he flopped onto the couch, grabbed the remote and turned on the TV.

  Her hands started shaking. She felt like she wanted to throw up. She had no idea if he would make her stay home from school or not.

  She wanted to cry. Why did these things keep happening? When would it ever get better?

  ***

  Sally stood in the hall of mirrors again. She wasn’t sure why she thought of them as mirrors, since they didn’t cast reflections. They were more like TV’s. But they had big frames on them like mirrors did, and many of them were oval, so the image stuck with her.

  She saw Tommy running for his life from the giant dogs. She pounded on the glass, trying to get in to save him.

  It was no use, though. She stayed exactly where she was.

  “Tommy!” she screamed.

  This time, instead of falling, he made it to a house. It was Grandma’s house!

  He tried to open the door, but it was locked. He banged on the door, and yelled for someone to let him in. He grabbed the doorknob and shook it fiercely. Just as the glass in the hall of mirrors would not yield to Sally, Grandma’s door refused to allow him in to safety.

  The dogs came roaring out of the woods. They never slowed their pace. They leaped on him at full speed. Tommy screamed and disappeared in a fury of blood and thick, white fur.

  “No!” Sally cried.

  And then, just a few feet away from Sally’s vantage, Shakir walked into the picture. Sally gasped and drew back.