Once Upon Now

by Danielle Banas

ROB’S BUSY,” John stated, placing his tray on the table across from me, “but trust me when I say I speak for him too.” I eyed him suspiciously, trying to figure out how and why Rob was absent. It was another check in Hood’s list of suspicious actions.

  “We’re behind everything,” he continued, low enough he was barely audible. “Congrats on your investigative skills. By the way, Rob said you tailed him last night. He wasn’t doing anything bad . . .”

  “He was delivering canned goods to people in need,” I relayed. “Spare me the lecture. I already know he did at least one thing worthy of applause.”

  “He’s done more than one thing,” John added. I arched a brow and he nodded. “All these thefts people have been going on about weren’t malicious. They were attempts to save the freshmen from unneeded humiliation.”

  “Save them how?”

  John sat forward and let out a slow smile. “It’s a yearly thing done around here, but it stays relatively under wraps. In a nutshell, the seniors pick out a handful of freshmen to prank. It’s an initiation of sorts, but last year it was a bit harsher than usual and this year even more so. Rob, the thief of Locksley High as he’s better known, has been keeping things from escalating.”

  “If a person’s motives are pure, perhaps the theft was justified . . .” I replayed the words as I stared at John.

  “It was better than ratting them out to the coach,” he concluded. “This way, the freshmen are spared and the seniors don’t get in trouble. It seemed like the lesser of two evils.”

  “Until one of you gets caught.” I pinched the bridge of my nose and groaned. “Where is he?” I asked again, hoping for a better answer than the one John had given me before.

  “The locker room.”

  “Then we need to find him before Sheriff Nott and Principal Chutney do.”

  We exited the school as quickly as we could and navigated the short trek to the field house. When we pushed through the back door, we were greeted with “John, tell me you didn’t.”

  Hood straightened, his eyes trained on his friend as he held a jockstrap in one hand and the team’s medical bag in the other. He seemed less than amused, primarily at the sight of me, and let out an exaggerated sigh.

  “Have you lost your mind? She’ll rat us out!”

  John placed a finger to his mouth to signal Hood’s silence. “Shh. They’re probably here.”

  “Don’t shh me!”

  “Hush,” I urged. Hood’s eyes widened with challenge. “We need to go. It’s a trap.”

  “What’s a trap?” he countered. “The laptop they think I’m going to take, or the cameras they set up to catch me?” I scowled and he mimicked the look. “You’re a few minutes late with your warning, but I’ve been doing this long enough to figure it out on my own. I need a few more minutes to get rid of this thing. Then I’ll be on my merry way.”

  “They messed with the jockstrap?” John motioned toward the white thing in Hood’s hand, scoffing in disbelief. “Poor guy. He would’ve been sore for days.”

  “No kidding.” Rob tossed the article of clothing over his shoulder and indicated the medical bag. “I’m taking this too. If the team notices the strap’s missing, they’re likely to pour the muscle cream all over his tights or jersey instead. For that matter, they might decide to pick another victim. I’d be back at this tomorrow if they did.”

  “You’re right,” John agreed. “Just hurry up and—”

  The locker room door swung open and John grabbed me as Principal Chutney and Sheriff Nott stormed inside.

  “Out the back door, now!”

  I hurried through it and escaped as the words “Caught you in the act!” flew from the accusatory sheriff.

  The next string of events I missed, primarily because the building’s metal walls left me without ample means to eavesdrop, but I was front and center as Sheriff Nott and Principal Chutney paraded the pair out of the field house and toward the school.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Help

  TWICE IN ONE DAY? Should I be happy or worried?”

  I forced a smile as Richard watched me with a frown. He was my first stop after watching Hood and John get hauled away from the field house. If anyone could help me get them out of this, it was the freshman with the only real information I’d been able to find.

  “I need your help,” I answered quickly.

  I rattled off what happened mere minutes before, and Richard’s jaw dropped until he was staring at me, dumbfounded. “You’re telling me Hood stole my cleats to help me? What planet are you living on?”

  “It’s the truth.”

  His eyes narrowed as he contemplated the idea. It was far-fetched, especially given Hood’s ability to come off as a jerk, but for this to work I had to get Richard on my side. If he wouldn’t believe Hood’s real intentions and John’s involvement in it, no one would.

  “Come on,” I persisted. “You’re a member of the team. You can’t tell me you haven’t heard anything about the seniors pranking the freshmen.”

  “I already told you, Annie. No one tells me anything. I’m never in the loop.” He sighed and pushed a hand through his curly hair, his mouth downturned at the admission.

  This was it; John and Hood were officially screwed. Maybe I could find time to visit them behind bars.

  I swore and moved past, trying to formulate another plan to get the pair of them out of trouble, but Richard latched onto my arm. “You’re sure they were helping me?” When I nodded, he inhaled sharply. “I might or might not be able to track down another pair of cleats.”

  “But . . . you . . .”

  “If I claim they’re the ones I lost, maybe it’ll get Rob and John off the hook.” He darted a glance around the hallway. “I can get in, but I need you to watch my back. If I end up in the principal’s office with them, I’m throwing you under the bus too.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “I know.” He shifted his backpack and headed down the hall. “If we’re going to strike, we need to do it while Nott and Chutney are preoccupied. You ready?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  We hurried to the locker room I’d escaped earlier. Richard was stealth, weaving around corners and double-checking for anyone who might be lingering around, and once he was sure the coast was clear he pointed at the cameras Hood had supposedly taken care of.

  “Check those. It’ll be hard to claim our innocence if they’ve got video proof we’re involved.”

  I beelined for one of the cameras, fidgeted with the buttons for a minute, and was sure it was off. By the time I was done, Richard had pulled open the coach’s drawer and retrieved a small golden key.

  “Wait here. I’ll grab a pair from the storage closet. If anyone comes, and I mean anyone, you’d better figure out a way to get us out of trouble.”

  “I’m a journalist for a reason,” I remarked. “If I wasn’t good with words, I wouldn’t have chosen that path.”

  He nodded in understanding and rushed out of the locker room. I, however, was left to stand there in the open while I waited for his return.

  A few minutes later, the door creaked open and I dodged behind a locker. When Richard’s head of curly brown hair passed by, I breathed a sigh of relief and stepped back into the open.

  “Did you get them?” I asked.

  When he held out a pair of cleats tied together by the laces, I could’ve hugged him.

  “You, Richard Lyons, are the best freshman I know.”

  “Make sure you remember that.”

  “Believe me, I will.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Hooded

  YOU’RE LUCKY, HOOD.”

  “I know. Thanks for the reassurance.” Rob smirked as he exited the principal’s office, clearly amused with himself. Sheriff Nott, on the other hand, looked less than thrilled to be letting him go.

  “I still don’t buy that crap about your jockstrap,” Nott grumbled, “but I can’t prove it isn’t yours, either.”

 
“Interesting,” Rob hummed. “It may be because I’m innocent.”

  “You aren’t innocent. Your story is flawed, and the cleats were a lucky break. Shame they were found.” He glared at Rob as he spoke. “Today you might have gotten off the hook, but I will get you. When that day comes, you can rest assured I’ll be the one to haul you across town.”

  “Nott, your concern warms my heart.”

  John nudged Hood along, confusion written on his face. I, however, stood there full of pride. The pair of them owed me for my unrivaled skills. Eventually, I would collect.

  “Why are you smiling like that?” Rob asked, his gaze drifting from me to Richard. “And what is he doing here?”

  “We,” I answered, motioning toward Richard, “are the reason you two are out of trouble. You can thank us now, or thank us later, but you’ll thank us either way.”

  “Feisty, feisty,” Rob said, but when John landed an elbow in his side, he winced and exclaimed, “What? I meant it as a compliment!”

  John ignored his friend. “Thank you both. My parents would have a conniption fit if we actually ended up with charges. Rob thanks you too. He won’t say it because he’s incapable of thanking anyone, but he knows you did him a solid.”

  “Um, Rob is standing here and fully capable of offering his own thanks,” Hood complained.

  John rolled his eyes, but Hood ignored him and ambled down the hall. I wasn’t surprised he’d play off our involvement in his rescue. He was far too arrogant to acknowledge anyone’s help.

  “You’re welcome too, Hood,” I stated, not willing to let him get away so easy. “We saved you. You know it. We know it. You might as well admit it and get it over with.”

  Rob pivoted with a smile pasted to his face. “Admit what?” When I continued to look at him, he shrugged. “I do the saving, remember?”

  “Right,” I agreed. “You take from the rich, give to the poor, and occasionally protect the freshmen from embarrassment. Did I miss anything?”

  “Nope. I’d say that’s a pretty fair assessment.”

  “He calls it ‘getting hooded,’ ” John commented from beside me. “We’re thinking of a better name, but that’s what he insists on.”

  “Hooded?” I repeated. “That’s the best you could do?”

  “It’s witty,” Rob defended, “and call it what you want, but at the end of the day the purpose remains the same. I help those who can’t help themselves. It’s admirable, if I do say so myself.”

  “Locksley’s most notorious delinquent is actually a good guy in disguise,” I mused. “Who would’ve thought? By the way, your reputation is ruined now that I know. Never again will you be intimidating. Congratulations.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Keep it a secret and I get to keep my bad-boy status intact. What do you say?”

  “Me? Keep your alter ego a secret? Why would I do that?”

  “Because I’m Rob Hood, babe,” he said, putting his arm around my shoulder. “The man, the myth, the mystery.”

  Sleeping Beauty Syndrome

  ali novak

  CHAPTER ONE

  Asleep

  I WAKE TO A DARKNESS so thick I feel it pressing against my chest.

  I don’t know where I am except that it’s underground somewhere. The air is damp and heavy with the smell of earth and decay. Beneath me is a bed of dirt, and twisting roots dig into my back like the knobby hands of an old woman.

  Dread traces an icy claw down my spine. Even without my sight, I know I am not alone. There is someone else, something else, lurking in the shadows that surround me.

  I hold my breath and pray the feeling will pass, but then I hear it—a low, throaty growl. The sound jolts through me like a strike of lightning, and I scramble to my feet. Arms extended in front of me, I stretch and reach until I find what must be a rock wall. It’s jagged and slick with moisture, and yet it’s my only grounding element. I race forward along it, moving as fast as the dark and my feet will allow, until the suffocating blackness recedes.

  When I emerge from the mouth of a cave and spill into a forest, I gulp down the first fresh air I’ve had since waking. My lungs burn, and I don’t know if it’s from the frigid air or running. Maybe it’s from the fear. All around me, the trees are dipped in the silver of the moon.

  They’re breathtakingly beautiful.

  But I still don’t feel safe.

  I never feel safe anymore.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Awake

  FRIDAY MORNING.

  Right now I should be cursing my alarm clock. Dragging myself out of bed so I don’t miss the nine a.m. lecture that I thought was a good idea those many weeks ago. I should be nursing a hangover from last night and tugging on a sweatshirt and yoga pants, the uniform of college girls everywhere.

  But I’m not. Instead, I’m sitting on the couch in my mom’s Upper West Side apartment, trying to find something entertaining on Netflix. Which is a major challenge. I’ve already seen everything good. For a moment, I consider Gilmore Girls, but I’ve already watched all seven seasons . . . twice.

  Millie glides into the kitchen wearing what she calls her work armor: stilettos and Giorgio Armani blazer. I haven’t called her Mom since Dad left. Probably because she’s been more of a businesswoman than a mother.

  “Morning, darling. You’re up early,” she greets.

  “And you’re late,” I respond. I don’t tell her that I never went to bed. She wants me to stick to a normal routine since sleep deprivation can trigger an episode, but “normal” and I don’t coexist anymore.

  “Didn’t I tell you?” she says, pulling a carton of orange juice from the fridge. “I’ll be in London for the weekend. My flight’s at eleven.”

  Millie’s the best event planner in New York City, but she travels all over the world for her clients. Last week she did a wedding in Tokyo, and the week before that it was LA for a charity ball. Her schedule has been so hectic lately, she hasn’t bothered telling me the whens and wheres of her job.

  Not sure how to respond, I pick at a snag in my sweater. I’m not upset that she’s leaving, but I’m not throwing confetti either. Because if she’s gone, that means—

  “Don’t worry. Hannah will stay here until I get back.”

  My shoulders slump. “Fantastic.”

  “Her last class ends at three,” Millie says, oblivious to my sarcasm. “Think you’ll be okay until then?”

  I press my lips together and look away. When I’m not in an episode, I don’t need to be watched like a child. I’m a perfectly healthy adult who can take care of herself—something Millie has yet to grasp. It’s been two years since my diagnosis and she still doesn’t have a thorough understanding of my condition. I don’t think she ever intends to really try to, either.

  “Rory?”

  “She doesn’t need to come home. It’s only three days. I’ll be fine.”

  Hannah is a freshman at NYU, and I hate that my problems are affecting her life almost as much as they do my own. She should be hanging out with her friends on the track team or partying with her roommate. I’m afraid if she spends one more weekend here playing Monopoly and having Harry Potter movie marathons, she’ll resent me. And more than the guilt and fear, I have this overwhelming sense of shame.

  No twenty-one-year-old wants to be babysat by their little sister.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Rory,” Millie scoffs at me over her glass of vitamin C. “I’m not leaving you unsupervised.”

  A sigh escapes my lips and I turn toward the window. There’s a breathtaking view of Central Park from my spot in the living room. Sometimes I like to pretend I’ve been whisked away to another land, and that the stretch of greenery below is an enchanted forest.

  I suppose that makes this apartment my tower prison.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Asleep

  THE SOUND OF A BLARING horn wakes me, and I open my eyes in a field of roses.

  It’s nighttime. The stars hang low in the sky, like fireflies frozen in time,
and the air is sweet and humid. A gentle breeze sweeps across the meadow, making the flowers ripple and sway.

  Everything seems peaceful, but my skin is prickling. I know in my gut something isn’t right.

  The horn blasts again. Only, it’s not a horn. It’s a blood-curdling roar that rips through the dark.

  I throw my head back and blink. Soaring above me is a creature with scaled wings and a tail dripping in spikes. A dinosaur brought back to life. A dragon. I watch for a horrified moment as it glides over the moon.

  How is this real?

  . . . Is it real?

  Another thundering roar answers my question.

  A painful feeling rises in my chest, and I realize a moment too late that what I’m hearing is my own scream. The dragon twists toward me before tucking its wings and falling out of the sky with the precision of a dive-bomber. I jump to my feet. Thorns as thick as branches reach out to grab me, tearing at my skin as I flee. They slice my arms and legs, and I leave behind drops of blood like a trail of rose petals.

  Faster, I urge my legs. Faster, faster!

  But it’s too late—I can already feel the dragon’s hot breath on the back of my neck.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Awake

  THERE ARE ONLY TWO THINGS in this world that truly terrify me.

  The first is sleep and the hallucinations that accompany it. The second, and more prominent, of my fears is waking up—because what if I do and another month of my life has slipped away, just like the last time and the time before that?

  I wasn’t always like this, afraid of something as trivial and ordinary as sleeping. But a few weeks after I turned nineteen, I came down with the flu. Instead of recovering, I became increasingly exhausted. I remember skipping a Shakespeare lecture one afternoon to catch up on some sleep, hoping that when I woke I’d feel better. But the next time I opened my eyes, fifteen days of my life had disappeared.

  It was my first KLS episode.