RULED Part 2: A Fairy Tale Reform School Short Story

Who's Side are You On?

"Wow," Jax says in amazement, "would you look at all these gifts."

"I'm looking..." I respond hesitantly, staring at the table overflowing with presents from the kingdom for the new princess.

Why so much stuff? What kind of baby is going to need this much? Not mine, that's for sure. I'm positive she will be able to live without a thousand "super cute" outfits. Or a golden spoon! What is with this personalized perfume kit? She certainly will not need these shiny hair clips for the hair she doesn't even have yet! Though, I must admit, those diapers might come in handy.

That's just the stuff on the table. Beyond it, filling the entire back section of the room is never ending baby jungle gyms. She's a newborn! What kid is going to need this much to play in? When I was younger, I learned how to make shoes in my free-time. And in the off-chance I wasn't doing that, I might have scribbled some pictures on a notebook and that was sufficient.

"Elie is going to love this stuff," Jax comments, totally not reading my mind.

I laugh out loud. "Are we looking at the same pile of stuff? She was just born. There is no way she will need any of this."

"I know, but when she's older–"

"Even that!" I respond like he's lost his mind. "It's just...sooo much. I don't want to drown her in stuff."

Jax makes a face. "The kingdom isn't drowning her, they're just showing their respects."

"Showing their respects to a baby," I remind. "A baby in which they have not met, most of them probably won't ever meet, and hasn't done anything but sleep, cry, and poop for a week."

"Woah, harsh," Jax responds, looking away.

"Hey, you know I love her more than anything," I say back, "it's just weird to have so many people giving her so much stuff that she won't even need."

He hangs his head. "But isn't it kinda nice? I'm sure she could really enjoy this stuff."

"But what if she doesn't appreciate it?"

"Why wouldn't she appreciate it?"

I gesture to the never ending jungle gym in front of me. "Look at it! How could someone appreciate something that is just handed to them? They'll never understand the value of it."

Jax bites his lip. I put my hands on my hips. "What?"

He looks back over at me. "You mean like all those 'stuck up royals'?"

"What else could I mean?" I sort of answer. "Isn't this how it starts?" Jax is starting to look irritated but I don't know why. He used to make fun of those royals as well because we both know he's not like that. Even now that we're both royal, we still mock that sometimes.

"Maybe people just want them to live a good life where they never have to go without anything," Jax fires back. "Is that really so bad?"

I cross my arms. "What are you getting so upset about?"

"What are you getting so upset about?" He's starting to use a different tone and I don't like it. "If anyone should understand where I'm coming from, it should be you."

There is a drawn out silence between us as I stare at him with cold eyes. Instant regret is drawn on his face. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know– I just," he rubs his neck, "I just mean from your childhood. Wouldn't it have been nice to be handed something every once in a while."

My back stiffens. "Maybe it would have been nice, but it wasn't life. There are things that need to be taught, lessons that need to be learned, that a child just can't learn from this treatment."

"Elie doesn't really need to learn how to be a pick-pocket," Jax snaps.

I falter. "Are you kidding me right now?" Jax's face turns red. "I became a pick-pocket because of people who were raised like this. People who were handed everything. Who never had to work for anything–"

"I was raised like this!" Jax gives me a cross look. "I guess one could say that I was given everything. That I never had to work for anything, it was all just handed to me. I'm sure there was a pile this big in this exact room after I was born..."

My eyebrows furrow. "That's...different..."

"How?" Jax responds. I'm quiet. "Exactly. Would it really be the worst thing in the world if Elie grew up like me?"

"Like you want her to grow up like you," I snap.

Jax looks at me, his violet eyes staring me down hard. "Now what is that supposed to mean?"

"You were neglected," I answer. "You acted out to get attention. Your parents didn't even pay attention to a thing you did, and when you thought they would, they sent you to a reform school!"

Both of us stand still. "Thanks for the reminder," Jax says in a low voice.

"Come on, you know I wasn't meaning to–"

"I guess that's just so easy for you to say," Jax cuts me off. "You had all the family you could ever ask for and then some. Well, sorry if I want her to have a better life than needing to steal."

"You know that's not what I want for her–" A draft picks up in the room and makes this cold moment even colder.

Jax runs his fingers through his hair. "Do I? You're not making it super clear right now."

"Why would I want her to grow up the way I did?" I argue. "I just don't want her to lose sight of what's important."

"You mean like how I did?" Jax asks.

"No!" I burst, flailing my arms to the side to release some of the built up energy in me. "You're not like the royals who rode in their pumpkin carriages down to the village just to laugh at the people who couldn't afford dinner. Not the people who obsessed over how they looked, or what shiny accessories went with what shiny outfit, or had no real grasp on what a modern citizen had to go through just to get by! That's what happens when people are just handed everything, they have no real grasp on anything!"

I've never seen Jax's face so stern in my life. "Then would you rather be back out on the streets counting bread crumbs the royals dropped to see if it was enough for dinner? Because I'm sure you could teach Elie all about that!"

My burning eyes fight back hot tears as they drift towards the door, the only spot in the room where I won't have to look at any of the presents or Jax. It grows so quiet you could hear a pin drop. I press on my nose to keep the tears from coming out.

"Gilly, I–"

I don't want to take this anymore. "So the only thing I have to offer my daughter is how to be a thief? I used to think that was just a silly nickname, not how you actually viewed me."

"No, I–"

I don't bother to look back up at him. "Maybe you are like them."

With those being the last words I can make, I kick aside a toy ball and make my way to the door as fast as possible, practically throwing myself out of it. Through the hallway, I maintain my mature demeanor, continuing to fight back the tears.

But when I finally reach my own private closet that I found a year ago (that no one else knows about, might I add), I lock the doors and let the tears start flowing in the darkness.

How could he say those things to me? How could he even think those things of me? I'm not saying 'let's throw the kid out on the streets', I'm just saying let's let her work for something every once in a while! Does he really think the only thing I can teach this child is how to be a thief? I am so much more than just a former thief. How could he not see that?