Rapunzel Untangled (2 page)

Outside, she slid into the driver’s seat of her car and slid down to make herself inconspicuous. A few minutes later, the young mother exited the store and walked to her own vehicle parked a short distance away. The woman watched as the mother first placed the baby in the car, securing her, before returning to her cart to place her purchased groceries into the trunk. The woman cursed herself once again—such a missed opportunity at this moment with the mother distracted.

She supposed she could force herself to be patient for this moment. She’d waited this long, hadn’t she? She would have to move quickly to prepare, but she could do it . . . she
had
to do it. The fate of her daughter rested upon her shoulders. Not just her shoulders, but also that of the young child with the magic hair. She put the car into gear and followed the unsuspecting pair from the parking lot.

 
^.*
*

R
apunzel stood in the rounded alcove separating her rooms from the outside world. Her window served a single purpose—an escape for her in case of fire. Her mother was a bit . . . overprotective. She supposed it was with good reason.

She leaned out the open window and breathed in the fresh air, letting the early morning sun warm her cheeks. It was early enough that the workers hadn’t shown up so she felt safe in doing so. Her mother would be in soon with breakfast, at exactly six o’clock, the same as every morning for Rapunzel’s life. Her mother was the only clock Rapunzel would ever need.

She gazed across the expanse of green lawn dotted with several large trees of different varieties and surrounded by lush flower beds. From her window she could see the long, gabled line of the back of the house—places she had never been because of her diagnosis—and several of the outbuildings. Once in a while she glimpsed the gardeners going in and out of the greenhouse or shed, but she always ducked low so they wouldn’t see her watching.

A bluebird flew near and landed on the sill. She smiled. “Good morning, Angel,” she said softly so as not to startle her little friend. She slowly reached a hand out and opened it, palm up, sunflower seeds exposed. Angel flittered up with a chatter of alarm, but only a few feet before landing again. Rapunzel waited patiently. Angel hopped twice, moving closer to the treat. She stopped, chattering again as she looked around in short, quick head turns. Two more hops put her even closer. She continued the pattern while Rapunzel waited, barely breathing. Finally Angel hopped into her hand and grabbed a seed, then flew to a nearby tree branch, crunching her treat while she watched Rapunzel. This was usual. She’d been doing this for a few weeks now. Still, Rapunzel waited.

Angel returned, landing directly on Rapunzel’s palm. Rapunzel gasped lightly, but Angel stayed. This time she continued to eat the seeds, all the while tickling the palm of Rapunzel’s hand with her tiny pinprick feet. A grin spread across Rapunzel’s face. Angel had never come back before, let alone stayed to eat from her palm. Suddenly Angel lifted her head in alarm and flittered away, crying out as she did so.

“Rapunzel!” Her mother’s voice, full of recrimination startled her away from the window. She turned guiltily, scattering the seeds on the ground below.

“Mother, I—”

“Do you know what could happen to you?” her mother cried out, hurrying forward to push past Rapunzel, slamming the window closed. She swung toward Rapunzel and pulled her into a painful embrace. “You could be taken from me.”

“
Taken
from you?” Rapunzel questioned. That seemed an odd way to put it.

Her mother released her and stroked her hair, almost frantically. “You know what I mean. Your
disease
,” she whispered the word as she always did, afraid that speaking it aloud would somehow cause it to take fatal hold. “You must be always careful, Rapunzel. Always vigilant.”

Rapunzel nodded. She’d been opening the window for years, and nothing bad had happened. She wondered, not for the first time, whether her mother was wrong about the severity of her disease. She would never tell her mother she often opened the window, afraid she would take away her one small freedom. Not only that, she couldn’t be absolutely certain that her mother was wrong. She could have just been lucky so far.

“Yes, Mother,” she said. “I promise to be more careful.”

“Good,” her mother purred. “Now, let’s have our breakfast and then begin your lessons.”

They left the stone alcove, which was much like a turret, through the open entry into the main room. A sitting area was to their right, with a kitchenette to the left. Rapunzel made use of the kitchen area as much as possible even though many of her meals were made downstairs by their cook, with the exception of her lunches, which she made herself most days. But she did have a fully stocked fridge and pantry from which she could bake if she really wanted to fix herself something to eat.

While they ate, Rapunzel examined her mother unobtrusively. They looked nothing alike. Her mother’s dark hair and eyes were the opposite of Rapunzel’s blonde hair and green eyes. Even their statures were different, Gothel being three inches taller than Rapunzel’s five-foot-five. Gothel was stout where Rapunzel was slender.

Once they finished their meal, with her mother sneaking constant looks at Rapunzel as if to see whether she was still all right, they moved into a second alcove slightly larger than the first, this one bearing no window. Within were her desk, computer, printer, and a large number of books. They were all books that had been required reading at some point in her schoolwork. Her mother felt that reading for pleasure was a sin. Still, Rapunzel had managed to find a way to do so without her mother’s knowledge.

They sat down together, and Rapunzel opened the book that gave her the outline of her schoolwork for the day. She placed her finger on the page and scrolled down as she read. “Today is pages 293 and 294 from the math book; read the history of the Hundred Years War; study European geography for the test next week; chapter twenty, ‘Plants and Their Structure,’ for biology—”

“Yes, yes,” her mother said, flipping her hand impatiently. Rapunzel knew that her mother hated this, the schoolwork. She remembered clearly the day when she was six and her mother had brought home her computer. She’d also brought home all of the homeschooling information she’d been able to get her hands on. She’d taught Rapunzel how to read but felt Rapunzel needed more. Her mother had tried to help her learn the computer but gave up quickly in frustration, leaving Rapunzel to figure it out on her own with the strict admonishment to use it for nothing other than schoolwork. And she had—until recently. “It seems you have it under control. Do you need my help?”

“No.” Rapunzel’s answer was expected. It had been the same since she first learned how to find answers herself. Her mother never touched the computer; she felt it was an item that brought evil into their home but had been forced to allow it when she became too busy to spend the time needed teaching Rapunzel. It had been drilled into Rapunzel how important it was to expand her education.

“Well, then, I’ll leave you to it.” She stood, running a hand down Rapunzel’s hair and moved toward the alcove entrance, stopping there to turn back. “I have errands to run that will take me all day. Shall I have a tray sent up for dinner?”

“No, I’ll make my own today.”

“Fine. I’ll be back later tonight, then.”

Rapunzel waved at her, waiting until she heard the outer door close and lock before she pushed her workbook aside and turned excitedly to her computer. She bounced eagerly in her chair while waiting for it to boot up. Finally it came on and she clicked the little icon that brought the world into her little room.

She had accidentally discovered this new site called Facebook when searching for information on facial structure for biology and had hit enter after typing in face. Well, probably not a
new
site, but definitely new to her. On it, millions of people who existed in the real world connected in ways she could only dream of. She could click on any number of names and read small amounts of information about people who lived a normal life and were not confined to a two-thousand-square-foot world in fear of death by being exposed to any foreign germs. She’d had to create an account, which terrified her. What if her mother found out?

She began her usual clicking, hungrily reading about all their lives. Then she had an idea. She went to the search bar and typed in the name of the local high school. Immediately a long list of names came up beneath. She caught her breath. Here were other kids her age that lived nearby. Kids that she’d be going to school with, be
friends
with, if it weren’t for her stupid disease.

She slowly scrolled down the list, tears pricking the corners of her eyes as she scanned their names and faces and imagined knowing them. One name in particular caught her attention and she stopped, staring at the face that grinned back at her. The name read
Fab Fane Flannigan
.

She clicked on his name. His page opened up to reveal a bigger photo grinning at her. His hair was dark, brushing his collar at the back, two loose strands framing golden eyes that laughed, a patch of hair on his chin. Next to that picture lined up a few other photos: Fab Fane Flannigan with various groups of kids, laughing in all of them. Her eyes moved to the
Add Friend
link. She moved her cursor over, hovering above the button, her mind swirling with the potential consequences of clicking on it. Her gaze was drawn back to the laughing face of Fab Fane Flannigan and, with breath held, she clicked the button.

 
^.*
*

R
apunzel paced back and forth in the small kitchen area as she ate her macaroni and cheese. It wasn’t exactly a healthy dinner, but it was quick, hot, and she could carry the bowl while fidgeting. She walked to the alcove entrance and stared at the computer.

Still no answer.

She felt foolish. She shouldn’t have done it. If she knew how to retract the friend request, she would. What would he think? She looked down at the bowl of mac and cheese. It had congealed into a lumpy orange glob. She dropped it into the sink, her appetite gone. Grabbing the edge of the sink, she took deep breaths, trying to calm her frantic pulse. Then she heard it—the small noise telling her she had a message in her email.

She ran to the alcove, dropping into her chair as she read the words.
Fab Fane Flannigan has accepted your friend request.
She grinned, then shuddered. What now? Almost immediately a second message popped up.
You have a message from Fab Fane Flannigan.
She stared at it in consternation. What did that mean? She clicked on it and her Facebook page opened to the messages page.

Hi, mysterious friend. There isn’t much info on your page. Who are you, RG?

Rapunzel stilled. Of course he would want to know who she was. She was surprised he’d even said yes to the request, not knowing who she was. She didn’t have any information on her own page that would give away her identity. She was careful of that. Finally, she lifted her fingers to the keyboard.

Hi, Fab Fane Flannigan.

She took a breath then continued.

I don’t mean to be mysterious. You wouldn’t know who I am, but I live in the same city as you. I don’t go to your school.

As she hit the enter button, the message popped up in a small window at the bottom right of her computer, startling her. When he answered, it came up in the same window.

Ahh, the mystery deepens. You say you don’t go to my school, indicating that you are my age, anyway. Are you? Or are you one of those creepy stalkers who hunts down innocent children on the Internet and invites them into the back of your van for some candy?

Rapunzel’s mouth dropped open.

I assure you I am not a stalker!

Just what a stalker would say.

I am NOT a stalker. I am a seventeen-year-old girl.

Well, that makes sense then. All the girls want me.

Rapunzel was offended. What an arrogant—

Just kidding!

Oh. I thought you were serious.

Sorry, I forget sometimes that my sarcasm doesn’t translate well through the written word.

Rapunzel smiled, enjoying the first conversation she’d had outside her mother in . . . ever—if this could be called a conversation.

I’ll keep that in mind for future reference when you say something ridiculous.

So, you’re saying we have a future together?

She laughed.

Like that. Good example, Fab Fane Flannigan.

You’re learning. And you can just call me Fane. Or Fab. I answer to either one. What shall I call you, besides RG? That’s very . . . androgynous.

Her stomach tightened. If there was one thing she was certain of, it was that she couldn’t give away her identity. She decided to try a different tactic and see if he would drop the question.

Big word, Fane (Please note the lack of Fab). Did you have to look that one up?

Har-har. Is that sarcasm from the mysterious RG who is avoiding the question and refusing to tell me her name?

I can’t tell you my name.

Rapunzel held her fingers over the keyboard, debating. Finally she decided she could be honest. She felt protected by the anonymity of the Internet.

My mother doesn’t know I am on this site. I’m trying to stay incognito (do you need to look that up as well?).

Incognito: having one’s identity concealed, as under an assumed name, especially to avoid notice or formal attention.

Very good.

Thanks. If I guess your name, will you confirm (ala Rumplestiltskin)?