“Thank you for your time,” she said.
She made it to the door before Ketty called after her. “Just a moment, Ms. Story.”
The woman fumbled behind her desk and produced a small knapsack. She held it open so Indira could look inside. “Just a few supplies to get you started. Paper and pencils and all that. The stationery even has your name printed on it!”
Indira accepted the bag, and Brainstorm Ketty reached behind her desk for one more item. Indira was pleasantly surprised to see a brand-new jacket. It had a coat of arms printed on one pocket and was the most divine shade of navy blue. Indira slipped into it and was even more surprised to find that it fit perfectly. For a moment, she forgot to be disappointed by how things had turned out. She fixed her collar and quietly buttoned up.
Ketty gave an approving look. “Wear whatever you like beneath it, but the school jacket is required at all times. It helps us identify students within the school.”
Indira didn’t mind that rule at all. “Yes, ma’am.”
The brainstorm smiled politely, and Indira left. As she closed the door, she looked back and saw that Ketty had rotated the chalkboard back to her list of students. Ketty considered Indira’s name for a moment before adding another gold star to it. The woman then scribbled a note that Indira couldn’t read. Something about that second gold star felt magical, almost. Maybe Brainstorm Ketty really thought she had potential. Indira walked down the hallway in her new jacket, clutching her new knapsack.
It felt like the first step out of a very dark and dreary basement.
Indira was still admiring her blue jacket when a throat cleared. The same secretary was standing in front of her with the same eager smile on her face. Indira was starting to wonder if the woman could teleport or something.
“Last stop for the day!” The secretary handed her a leaflet. “The Adoption Agency!”
Indira glared. Those were two not-so-likeable words. Agency felt like a grown-up word. It probably hung out with words like portfolio and punctual. Adoption set off alarms too. Being adopted meant being wanted, and if something depended on being wanted…Well, what if no one wanted her at all?
“Everything all right, dear?” the secretary asked.
“I just…” She lowered her eyes. “What if no one chooses me?”
The secretary let out a surprisingly loud laugh. “Oh, no, dear. They don’t choose you.”
Indira frowned. “They don’t?”
“Of course not. You choose them.” The secretary pointed to the leaflet. “It’s all explained in the brochure. Family units are required to complete an internship before their names can be submitted to the Authors. What better way to gain experience than by raising the characters who come to Fable for school? But of course you get to choose. You’re the character, for crying out loud! Go ahead and just follow those instructions, okay?”
Indira nodded. The instructions led her outside. She followed the marked path around the corner to a building that looked like a pearl. A great, round door had already yawned its way open. Indira double-checked the instructions before ducking inside.
Everything looked exposed and industrial, as if the occupants were moving either out or in at a moment’s notice. The wide hallway led to a clerk sitting at a desk. He glanced up long enough for Indira to recognize that it was Dexter DuBrow.
“Indira,” he said, smiling. “A pleasure to see you again.”
So much had already changed since then. “You too.”
“I’m here to oversee your family assignment. We appoint families according to the Once-Upon-a-Time Act of 1837. As a potential character for a story, you will now exercise your right to choose a host family for your time here in Fable.”
Indira barely managed to nod. She would have been more nervous, but the day had already taken such a tailspin. How could it get any worse? Dexter shuffled another paper on his desk and traced a finger over the fine print.
“Let’s start by reading the prophecy that was made about you.”
Indira frowned at that. She always associated prophecies with palm readings or tarot cards. “When did someone even have the time to make a prophecy about me?”
“You took the dragoneye,” Dexter explained. “The dragons took your answer, analyzed your innermost being, and created a prophecy. It’s standard procedure.” Dexter cleared his throat, and his voice raised to a more booming volume. “ ‘Indira Story. You are a child of chance, the eventual owner of three unfortunate grudges, and the very mistress of misadventure.’ Enter and choose!”
It took all of Indira’s willpower to make one foot follow the other. She’d already messed up auditions, but according to the dragon’s prophecy, she had some grudges coming her way and she was the mistress of misadventure. None of it sounded very flattering. Not very flattering at all. She took a deep breath and reminded herself why she was there.
I’m here to pick the right family for me. That’s the first step back in the right direction.
“The showroom goes in a circle.” Dexter gestured to the right. “Please feel free to interact with the families and ask questions. Do keep in mind that other characters will be touring the showroom. We operate on a first-come, first-served policy. If you see a character talking to a family, please politely keep moving. You’re free to circle back around in case the character doesn’t end up choosing that family. Also, each room features a family unit. Unlike you—and most potential characters—these groups were imagined together. We do ask that you adopt the entire family. It’s always a little awkward when someone tries to leave behind the annoying brother.”
He pointed to an archway. “After you complete the circuit, exit here. Just let me know which family you’d like to adopt. Feel free to take your time, though. Today is about you.”
Indira followed the glittering footsteps on the walkway. The walls were tall and curved, cutting the interior into huge, drafty sections. An air-conditioning unit hummed in the darkness overhead, invisible behind hanging fluorescent lights and winding metal pipes.
The next room was a massive, open viewing space. On her left, curtains had been pulled back to reveal the interior of a chaotic living room. Indira gaped at the first family.
She had never seen so many children in such a small space. In one corner, three boys had rigged some kind of pulley mechanism with the curtains. She watched them try to send their little sister up to the loft using the rickety system. More children sat at the kitchen table playing cards. Socks and shoes littered the surface of the table like makeshift gambling chips. She spotted the mother standing by a wooden coatrack, one baby strapped to her front and another scrambling to hold on to her leg as she folded clothes. Up in the loft a disgruntled-looking teen lit matches, tossed them in a half-empty cup, and scowled.
Too much, she thought. Way, way too much.
A little wooden plaque stood in front of the display. The family’s name had been etched there, but Indira didn’t bother reading it. This family looked full. How could they possibly raise another human being? A door burst open as the father and yet another teenage girl arrived.
“Honey, I’m home!” he called.
The pulley system crashed, and the father caught his plummeting daughter just as he gave his wife a kiss on the cheek. Unexpectedly, the entire family turned to look at Indira, hopeful expressions on their faces. It was all a performance, she realized.
She gave them a polite wave before rushing on to the next room, her terror of the whole adoption experience growing with each step. The second room looked identical to the first. A great tall ceiling, curtains pulled away, and a family on a stage.
This family lacked the chaos of the first one. Instead a certain droning silence dominated the scene. Indira was drawn forward as one is to a car crash or a dental appointment. A vibrant blue light came from a flat screen on one wall. Indira couldn’t see what the
y were watching, but every now and again the light flashed a new series of images.
The parents and children had sunk right into the plush couch. Discarded wrappers littered the armrests and floor like dead soldiers. It might have been a painting, but the smallest child kept trying to work his mouth around a huge triple cheeseburger. Indira watched in awe as the boy succeeded in devouring most of the greasy mess.
“Hello?” Indira asked. She read the sign. “Are you the Masons?”
When none of the Masons replied, Indira slipped beneath the arch and moved along. She thought the third room couldn’t be any worse than the first two, but a quiet voice whispered a deeper fear: What if she didn’t find a family that fit?
Her eyes anxiously found the next stage. Upholstered couches sat untouched. A spiraling staircase led to an unlit loft. Only the kitchen was occupied. A dark-skinned man sat at one end of the table, and Phoenix sat with him. Indira stood there, trying to think of something clever to call out to her friend, before noticing that the man was crying.
Phoenix nodded as the man sobbed and spoke, sobbed and spoke. Her eyes traced the tidy room and landed on a pair of photographs attached to the refrigerator. In one, a lovely dark-skinned woman with short hair and a radiant smile stared back at her. The sign read THE RANDLES.
Realization swept through Indira. This, of course, was Mr. Randle. And the woman in the photograph had been Mrs. Randle. Her presence in the home was obvious. A blanket with watercolor lilies running around the edges. A clever painting featuring slow-dancing alligators. However, her absence was equally noted in Mr. Randle’s poorly matching tie and the dimly lit room. Indira felt a deep sadness gather in her heart as she realized he had lost his lovely wife.
Something told her that Phoenix was exactly who Mr. Randle needed.
Quietly, she slipped into the next room.
Indira had hardly crossed the fourth threshold when a burst of fire scorched the air. It cast a vibrant warmth against her face. The strangest family yet claimed this stage. Couches had been pushed aside, and the kitchen chairs stacked one on top of another. A reed-thin girl with curly hair stood fifteen feet in the air, balancing on the wobbly tower as she juggled fruit. Her twin sister stood at ground level, preparing to toss yet another banana into the circling mix. A muscular woman waited backstage, calling for the girl to juggle faster.
At stage right, a man with dazzling suspenders signaled for Indira to come closer. “Madam! Do not be afraid! What you are about to see is a trade secret of the All-for-Nots. Prepare to be amazed.” He backpedaled and clapped twice, and a pony came strutting out from behind the curtain. It was sleek and well-groomed and had a prancing gait. The man clapped a quick rhythm with his hands, and the pony obediently lowered its head. With a final signal, it wrapped its teeth around the back leg of the bottom chair of the wobbling tower and yanked.
Indira gasped as the chair ripped from the pile and the stack plunged downward. The new bottom chair tottered slightly and settled. The curly-haired girl continued to juggle, and Indira found herself clapping along with the rest of the family.
The All-for-Nots led the horse through a series of stunts, pulling one chair out after the next. It rolled, trotted backward, and even fetched one of the chairs for Indira to sit in. She enjoyed the show, and imagined how much fun it would be to live with a circus family. When the final chair was pulled, the little juggler gave a bow, and the whole family gathered around Indira.
“Jacob Fornot, at your service.” The father extended a hand.
She shook it. “Indira. It was a pleasure. You’re all so talented. And I do love your horse.”
Jacob introduced his twin daughters and wife before turning a fiery gaze on Indira.
“We’ll be straight with you. You’ll have fun with us, but we’re not very stable.”
Indira eyed him. “Meaning what?”
“We move around.” He snapped his fingers. The horse returned to the stage, dragging a pair of duffel bags. The twins each unzipped a bag and began removing poles and draping. Jacob went on as they worked: “A traveling troupe goes wherever the crowds gather. You’d always have a place to sleep, but it might be inconvenient for your schooling. If your story is going to be an adventurous one, though, we would certainly provide some great training for you.”
Indira glanced over his shoulder at the stage. The twins had already constructed the tents and were now restacking the chairs. Indira felt that her story would be full of adventure, but she didn’t know if that adventure would involve juggling or fire-breathing.
“I’ll tell you what,” Jacob said helpfully. “Go through the rest of the agency. If you find a family more fitting, we encourage you to join them. If you think we’re the right ones, come back. I can only promise you that life with the Fornots will be vastly entertaining.”
Indira didn’t doubt that. She thanked the family for their time and the wonderful show. As she slipped into the next room, she was positively glowing. The show had almost been entertaining enough to make her forget auditions entirely.
The fifth stage was occupied by Maxi. Indira hadn’t realized before just how easily her new friend stole the spotlight, how both her height and those dazzling eyelashes made Maxi seem like the very center of the universe.
Indira walked over to the edge of the stage to listen. This room looked similar to those before it, but the couches were a little nicer, and a set of fine bone china had been set out on the table. Indira watched a nanny flutter around the room, dusting off furniture and encouraging a young boy to focus on his homework. The boy’s parents stood in front of Maxi.
The pair had gloriously blond hair, not to mention matching tans and scarves. The father was explaining something to Maxi using both hands and a let’s talk about the weather voice.
“I travel to conferences every weekend, and Sandra runs a nonprofit on the West Coast, but Mrs. Verne will attend to your every need.” The nanny looked up and nodded sweetly at Maxi. “You’ll have a sizeable allowance, and the view from our downtown flat is divine.”
Maxi put both hands on her hips. “What about closet space? I’m a walk-in kind of girl.”
Both parents smiled like sharks, and Indira could already see Dexter DuBrow stamping their adoption papers. For the first time, Indira noticed a sign hanging in front of this particular stage: PROTAGONISTS ONLY. Indira swallowed. The family was clearly a fit for Maxi, but would they really have rejected her just for being a side character? Before Maxi could notice her standing there, Indira moved on to the next room.
And she was almost flattened by the smell of cinnamon. A middle-aged woman bustled around the kitchen, armed with oven mitts and an apron. Her auburn hair was pulled up in a neat bun, and Indira could hear her humming a pleasant song. A lamp shone in the loft, revealing a little boy curled into a beanbag chair with a picture book. He had on a pirate outfit that didn’t succeed at all in making him look frightening.
The smell of cinnamon and the softly hummed song and the pleasant lighting pulled Indira right up onto the stage. Neither of them noticed her. Indira thought about announcing her presence, but at that exact moment the woman knelt, opened the oven, and whisked out a magazine-perfect apple pie. Steam actually floated out of the slits in the center.
Indira felt her mouth begin to water as the woman turned around.
And let out a surprised shriek. The dish bobbled in the woman’s hands and crashed to the floor. Glass shattered and hot pie splashed everywhere. The woman had both hands against her heaving chest, as if holding them there was all that kept her heart from bursting through.
Indira started forward, apology on her lips, but another cry sounded behind her. She saw a flash of red as the little pirate child barreled into her. They went sprawling offstage, and Indira landed on her back with a thud. The boy had her pinned and began thwacking the side of her head with a plastic sword. Indira ward
ed off the blows until the mother plucked him off.
“Patch! We do not attack our guests!” The little boy squirmed in his mother’s arms.
Indira sat up and said, “I’m sorry for scaring you. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Not at all. I should have expected it. My name is Mrs. Pennington. And this is Patch.”
Unintentionally, Indira glanced over Mrs. Pennington’s shoulder at the empty stage. Would Mr. Pennington come through the door as with the first family? Did he have a strange profession like Jacob Fornot the fire-breather? Mrs. Pennington caught the glimpse and let out a sigh. She set her son down and knelt beside him.
“First, my little pirate, I want to thank you for coming to my rescue. As you can see, I’m quite safe with our guest. She’s here to find out more about our family. Why don’t you read for a little bit and I’ll call you down when the next dessert’s ready?”
Patch the Pirate eyed Indira warningly before wrapping a little-armed hug around his mother’s neck. He went running back toward the stairs, making cannonball noises and calling out very pirate-like commands to himself. A little warmth formed in Indira’s chest. Was this how David had always felt about her? Together, Indira and Mrs. Pennington made quick work of the mess. The two of them sat down at the table when everything was back to normal.
“You’re wondering where Mr. Pennington went. You’ve a right to know.”
Indira didn’t think she had a right to know. She almost told Mrs. Pennington so, but the woman barged on with her story. “He left Patch and myself for, as he called it, ‘greener pastures.’ I can forgive him for finding someone who interests him more.” Mrs. Pennington glanced down at her hands. Using her thumb, she traced the fading white line across her ring finger. “But there’s no greener pasture than my little Patch. For that he won’t be forgiven. For that, he’ll not be allowed to return. So if you join the Penningtons, well, we’re not much, but we are family.”
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