Richie Tennyson

On Monday, I realise that everyone has found out Stu’s secret. Only, it doesn’t seem to be a secret at all. Between my morning classes, I overhear Lisa telling Carrie that Stu was openly mentioning his ex-boyfriend at Lambchop Hill on the weekend. “He told me they were together for seven months,” Lisa says. “He said they were probably going to break up anyway, but obviously they had to when Stu’s family moved away.” “Did you see a photo of the guy?” Carrie asks. “No, but

In the morning, Dad’s back in the kitchen. I guess Saturday breakfasts with Dad are part of our new separated-parent routine. At least Vicky is a lot less hostile this morning. She digs into Dad’s bacon and eggs with vigour, and gloats about her detentions. “I still don’t think it’s wise to make enemies of the faculty,” Mum says. “Yes,” Dad agrees. “You still have two and a half years there.” “It’s people like you who allowed the Nazis to rise to power,” Vicky says. She learnt

After school, I meet Harriet at the front gates. Her backpack is bulging with books. It’s nearly as big as she is. “Have you checked out half the library?” I ask. “I’m reading more about Charles Dickens for context,” she says. “There’s a biography about him that’s meant to be fascinating. He worked in a blacking factory when he was a child, while his father was in a debtor’s prison.” “His father went to debtor’s prison? Just like—” “Mr Micawber. Yes, exactly. So I’m start

In the morning, Nicholas is waiting for me at the front gates. It’s been exactly one week since we last spoke. A week since we even made eye contact. Straight away, my hopes lift, my heart lifts. Our eyes meet and he gives me a half-smile. A single ray of sunlight has broken through the clouds. I try to hold back and only return the half-smile he gave me, but I automatically break into a big stupid grin. “Hi!” I say. “Can we talk?” he asks. “Yeah!” I can’t keep the excite

“Sit with us at lunchtime,” Vicky insists on the way to school on Monday. I mumble something that isn’t quite a yes or a no. I know she’s trying to help, but the prospect of another lunch with her loud Year 10 friends is too awful, and pity-friends are worse than no friends at all. As I pass through the school gates, I look around for Nicholas, out of habit. I don’t see him, but I do see the waiter from Sizzler’s, Stu. With his white-blonde hair and earring, he looks like a time-trav

Friday’s a little better, because I arrive at school knowing I’ll be alone all day. I am prepared to ready to take on my new role as the Ghost of Crampton Collegiate. I hear whispers about what parties everyone’s going to this weekend. Girls giggle about boys, boys grunt about girls. I don’t see Nicholas anywhere and, of course, nobody else invites me to anything. Nobody else even speaks to me, including Darren Park. Maybe he doesn’t feel like calling me a mean name today. On the bright si

The tips of his pointy ears are pink from the cold, but I know his hands will still be as warm as two slices of toast. But of course I won’t touch him – not here, in front of everyone – so I just inhale his clean laundry smell. “So, did you do it?” Nicholas asks. “Did you tell your parents?” “Well, I tried,” I say. “But they didn’t hear me. What happened was—” “Thank God.” Nicholas breathes a giant sigh of relief. “I almost called you last night to try to stop you. I think you

Sixteen-year-old Richard plans to come out to his parents - as he's in love with his best friend Nicholas - but his parents have a shocking surprise of their own. When he turns to Nicholas for support, it turns out Nicholas has a surprise for Richard too... I originally put this story on here around 7 years ago but I have made a lot of updates to it, so decided to republish. Enjoy!

Mum, Dad. I’m gay. I’m gay. I’m gay. I’m gay. Even the word itself sounds gay. It falls away – there’s no hard consonant at the end, no confirmation that you’ve finished. Not like faggot. But with faggot, you’ve got the opposite problem – the end is too hard, like a punching a brick wall. Maybe I can use another word. Mum, Dad. There’s something I need to tell you. I’m a homosexual. No, I shouldn’t say ‘sexual’. I don’t want to make them think about sex.

Thanks @Valkyrie and thanks @Cia for re-posting 🙂 I’m really delighted some readers have enjoyed it!

Thanks for the comment! Really delighted you enjoyed it

@stlstage Thanks, feel free to let me know what you think 🙂

@Bart V Thanks for the comment - I'm especially glad to know it gave you some laughs!

@alexlittel I'll take that as a compliment 😉

@Nana Atuwa Thanks for reading! I love your reaction/comments, that you found it strange but also readable & thought-provoking. 😃

Hmm yeah this is one plot point of the story I grappled with - how to convey this in a convincing way... "The Terrorist" chapter outlines that Bjorn was 'deviant' and anti-convention from a young age. This led into his 'career' as a "Fairytale Objector", protesting fairytales in relatively trivial ways. Bjorn then met, and fell in love with, Patricia - that's when he saw an opportunity to 'protest'/sabotage fairytales to a much bigger audience. Presumably Patricia would've required a lot of persuading. Ultimately (as she briefly mentions in this final chapter) she calculated the damage to the company would be manageable - and possibly her love for Bjorn tipped the scales to take the risk. Also, Patricia stayed in control the entire time, so could have ejected him from the fairytale if she changed her mind.

@ObicanDecko Thanks for your great compliment - and especially about Dorothy's wedding scene. It's a less "showy" scene than others but I really wanted to give as much insight into Dorothy, as she can be a bit unlikeable on the surface

My interpretation of the traditional Cinderella narrative (and most fairytales) is that Prince Charming was predominantly motivated by her physical attributes - it is a fundamental problem with the "love at first sight" trope in fairytales. Thanks again for reading and commenting, it's been much appreciated

@Talo Segura Haha, thanks - I learn something new every day!

Mid-twirl, Cinderella seemed to evaporate. The salty air became stuffier, the sunlight faded into a dull fluorescent tube above Ryan’s head, and the ground hardened and levelled out beneath his feet. Walls went up on all sides and, for a few seconds, he didn’t understand what he was looking at. He stood there blinking, adjusting back to reality. A takeaway coffee cup with lipstick smudged around the edge, rolled-up shirt sleeves bunching around elbows, the smell of body odour, someone’s phone be

Behind the castle, Ryan and Cinderella were climbing down the jagged rocks towards the water. Ryan was struggling to drag a heavy old rowboat that they had lifted out of the castle moat. Halfway down the rocks, Ryan was beginning to realise that he had probably made a terrible, irreversible mistake. He was not the only one having doubts. “I don’t know if this is a good idea, Your Highness!” Cinderella cried for the tenth time. “The wedding is about to start!” Ryan had interrupted Cin

Ryan was woken up by the crowing of at least thirty roosters from down in the village. He’d never felt so desperate for sleep before. He tried pressing cushions over his ears but it didn’t help. It sounded like the birds were right there in the room. Eventually, the roosters calmed down, but just as Ryan was on the brink of falling back asleep, someone knocked at his door. “Go away!” Ryan shouted. The Royal Tailors had returned and this time Ryan didn’t even try to resist. They dragg

@Talo Segura Thanks for posting - a really interesting read, especially given everything I've been thinking about with this story Thanks for reading and commenting

@Bard Simpson I love this observation. Traditional incarnations of the Cinderella character are rarely witty or intelligent (although more modern/recent ones have been slightly better). But historically she is often completely passive - and perhaps a bit whiny even!

The King’s lecture on “bedroom duties” dragged on for nearly an hour. By the end of it, Ryan felt that he knew even less about women, but he told the King it’d been a most informative session. “Well, I don’t know about you,” the King said, “but all that talk has really worked up my appetite. You must be hungry, too.” “Not in the least,” Ryan said. Nonetheless, he followed the King into the castle for dinner. It wasn’t as if Ryan had anything better to do. The royal dining table