Surges of emotions cascade over me—fear, confusion...and a hint of excitement?

Did Regina use magic in front of me? Was it magic?

No, it couldn't have been. No way. Magic isn't real.

But her shoe cleaned itself. Shoes don't have that ability. They don't produce colored smoke and steam themselves clean within seconds.

What is happening?

It's clear Storybrooke holds secrets beyond anything I could've imagined. What other surprises are in store for me? How much is left to uncover about this town and its people? What other horrors and marvels does it hold?

Even after nine days in Storybrooke, I still feel like an outsider—like I don't belong here and am not meant to know these secrets. Maybe one day, I can understand and accept this new reality. Maybe not. Maybe this is all a dream I'll soon wake up from...But I don't want to.

Despite my reluctance to believe again, the idea of magic and fairytales being real is thrilling yet terrifying. If all the rumors about Regina and her evil past are true, I just engaged in a verbal battle with the Evil Queen herself. It sounds psychotic, but it's also kind of cool. Because of what she did, I'm questioning everything.

Later in the day, when the sweat induced by my vision has evaporated, Ruby invites me and Delilah to go shopping. Despite the temptation to decline and avoid spending more money, I accept. My supply of clean clothes is dwindling, and I can't deny the appeal of treating myself to a shopping spree.

"Thanks for inviting us along, Ruby," I say. The three of us rummage through racks at the boutique Mary Margaret brought me to the other day.

"Of course. We deserve it," Ruby replies with a smile, her blood-red lips outlining her teeth.

As I sift through the clothing options, I worry about my depleting money supply. I've stayed in town much longer than expected, spending most of my money at Granny's, the café, and on shopping trips. Fortunately, I'm spared from expenses whenever Mary Margaret, David, or Emma cooks and when Granny puts my order on my tab, a practice I've learned she extends to almost everyone. Emma can't remember the last time she paid. Also, I've never had to pay for gas since everything's within walking distance. Oh—And I also got my car towed on my first full day here. That was fun.

Regardless, I should get more cash before I run dry. That would mean finding a job, but I'm not sure if I'm ready for that commitment. Before, a job seemed like the perfect excuse to be away from the foster home, with the money as a bonus. Now I need a job for financial reasons, but I don't live here. I suppose I could find a temporary position, but doing so would get my hopes up. I'd start thinking I'm gonna live here and have a future in Storybrooke when that's not the case. At least for now. When I find my parents, it'll be a different story. Ugh. Life is so fucking messy. Why?

"Life's been pretty stressful, hasn't it?" I say.

"Every day's stressful if you ask me," Ruby says, examining a grey cable-knit sweater on a hanger. Between the three of us, we've gathered quite a few items. I'm holding a burgundy long-sleeved sweater with a V-neckline, ripped jeans, and a cream shawl with a grey and maroon criss-cross pattern. It's wrong to buy this stuff, but it's also wrong not to. It'd be a fashion crime not to get these pieces.

"Hey, we should try this stuff on," Delilah suggests. If I try on these clothes and see how cute I am in them, I'll get attached and compelled to buy them. I need to save my money, but then again, new friend's orders, so screw it.

In the fitting room, I drape the shawl around my shoulders, tassels hanging from the bottom. I look like a throw pillow, but a chic throw pillow that's making an effort to appear put together for once.

"How was your day with Henry?" Delilah asks from the neighboring dressing room.

"How'd you know I was with Henry?"

"Regina texted us to not let you go near him again."

"Of course she did. Because she's the dictator—" I cough, "mayor, and she can tell everyone what to do."

"Don't worry. We're not gonna listen to her. No one does when it comes to those kinds of demands. Besides, we all know you. You're not dangerous." That's what you think.

While I turn to and fro, admiring myself in the full-length mirror, my reflection is sock-footed. "Crap. I forgot about shoes."

"Try these on." Delilah slides a pair of brownish-grey short boots with block heels under the divider. And they're my size. As I sit on the bench and slip them on, Delilah says, "So you've been in Storybrooke for a while."

"Yeah, I like it."

"Are you thinking about staying?"

I freeze for a moment, then zip up the boot I was putting on. "Not really. It depends."

"Well, if you do, you'd better find a place. You can't live with the Nolans forever." Where's this coming from? Does everyone think I'm planning to settle down in Storybrooke because I stayed longer than expected? Because they think I'm a fairytale character from Henry's book?

No matter what I choose to do, Delilah's right. I can't crash at Mary Margaret's apartment for this long. It's rude. She said I could stay until I find my parents, but who knows how long that'll be? I'm freeloading. I'm a freeloader. It's already been a week, and I have no idea how much longer I'll stay in town. I need another room at Granny's Bed and Breakfast, but with what money? Like Regina would pay for it again, especially after what I said.

"No, I can't. But if I find my parents and they live here, then obviously, I'd live with them...But if I don't find them, I have to go back." I don't want to go back. Storybrooke's the best thing that's happened to me.

"Why? If you like it here, stay," Delilah counters.

"I'm sixteen."

"So? No one will find you here. And we'll help you."

"I don't know. I have school, unfortunately."

"You could enroll here. It's called Storybrooke High. I go there, so you'll have an immediate friend. Plus, there's a uniform, so you won't have to stress about what to wear each morning."

I admire my reflection again, reveling in the fashionable ensemble I've assembled. I kind of want to wear clothes like this to school every day and show off. Maybe compete with and outshine the drama queens. "I still don't know. Regina wouldn't like me staying here."

"But you're one of us."

"Henry, is that you?"

"I'm serious. Ruby could convince Granny to give you a room at the inn until you find someplace more permanent." Great. More freeloading. "And if we all gang up on Regina, she'll grant you Storybrooke citizenship and have you enrolled at the high school in no time."

"And what about supporting myself?"

"Granny could give you a job at the diner. Or you could work at the library. I'm sure Belle would love to have an assistant. You could work the front desk or help with inventory."

"Don't I need to go into foster care?"

"Storybrooke doesn't have a foster system." No system? Total freedom?

No way. Not possible.

"How?"

"We just don't have one. And I guess Regina didn't think we'd need one in place. We had this issue during the curse, actually. Hansel and Gretel were on their own, and Emma was going to drive them to a group home in Boston, but their father decided to take them in instead."

"Then that. The foster care system of Boston or Maine or whatever. Doesn't Storybrooke have to abide by those policies?"

"Not since the curse broke. And because of the cloaking spell, Storybrooke's cut off from the rest of the world. We can pretty much do whatever we want—within reason, of course. You can't go around robbing and killing people."

"Lawless, yet civilized," I say, my hands on my hips.

"Exactly. Sort of. Sure."

I place a charcoal wide-brimmed hat on my head and say, "I'll think about it."

To live in Storybrooke? Now that's a fairytale.

* * *

Back in my previous clothes, I make my way to the Nolan loft, carrying my shopping bags. The people on Main Street go about their day dressed in comfortable attire, enjoying the sunshine. They laugh, exchange greetings, and engage in conversations. I can see myself being one of them. Actually, I'm becoming one of them.

I'm smiling without a reason, holding shopping bags. I'm wearing fashionable clothes and am as light as a feather. I'm not floating. I'm not lost. Storybrooke found me. There's a future here, but the thought of it snaps a heartstring. I can't live here—Am I insane? Delilah made it sound so marvelous, but I can't do it. It's not reality. These people may feel like family, but Storybrooke isn't my home. Unless my parents are here.

When I step into the apartment, I use my foot to close the door and stop short when I spot an envelope resting on the dining table. I place my bags on the floor and step over to examine it. My name is written in neat, over-thought cursive across the front. I open it, contemplating whether it's a note from Emma, Mary Margaret, or David. But wouldn't they have texted or scribbled a message on a torn piece of paper or a sticky note? It's too formal to leave a letter sealed in an envelope.

𝒟𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝐵𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒶,

𝐼 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓁𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓁, 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝒶𝓃𝓃𝑒𝓇 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁𝓈 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒. 𝐻𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇, 𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓃𝑜 𝒸𝒽𝑜𝒾𝒸𝑒 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓂𝓅𝓉 𝓇𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓃𝑒𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃. 𝒜𝓁𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓃𝑜 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇 𝓇𝑒𝓂𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝓂𝑒, 𝐼 𝓇𝑒𝓂𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝑜𝑜 𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓁. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑒𝓂𝑜𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜𝑔𝑒𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇 𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓂𝒾𝓈𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝑒𝓍𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈.

𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝒾𝓃 𝒮𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓎𝒷𝓇𝑜𝑜𝓀𝑒, 𝒽𝒾𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓃 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝒾𝓃 𝓈𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝓎 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝒻𝒶𝓇 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹. 𝒜 𝒹𝒶𝓇𝓀𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝒾𝓈 𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓇𝑜𝒶𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒻𝒶𝓈𝓉. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑜𝑒𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓂 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓃𝑜 𝓂𝒶𝓉𝒸𝒽 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝓃𝓃𝑒𝒹. 𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝓂𝓎 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒, 𝒽𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓀𝑒𝓎 𝓉𝑜 𝒾𝓉 𝒶𝓁𝓁. 𝐼 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒷𝓎 𝓂𝓎 𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒, 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝑜𝑔𝑒𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇, 𝓌𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓇𝑒𝒾𝑔𝓃 𝒶𝓈 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓆𝓊𝑒𝑒𝓃.𝒯𝑜 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝑒𝓃, 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓇𝑒𝓂𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝓂𝒶𝑔𝒾𝒸 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝑜𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝑒 𝑜𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝓈𝒽𝒶𝓇𝑒𝒹. 𝒟𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓁𝑒𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝒹𝑒𝒸𝑒𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝒹𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒷𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓈 𝒶𝓉 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉. 𝒪𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝓉𝓇𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝓅𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝑒.

𝐼𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝒽𝑜𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒿𝑜𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝑒, 𝓌𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓇𝓊𝓁𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓁𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝑜𝑔𝑒𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇. 𝐼𝒻 𝓃𝑜𝓉, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓈𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓈 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒷𝑒 𝒹𝒾𝓇𝑒.

𝒞𝒽𝑜𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓈𝑒𝓁𝓎, 𝓂𝓎 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝓊𝓉𝓊𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒮𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓎𝒷𝓇𝑜𝑜𝓀𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓈.

𝒴𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈,

𝑀

I read the letter over and over, trying to make sense of its contents. Something terrible for Storybrooke? Ruling over the town? They know me? Who's "M?" It couldn't be Mary Margaret, could it? That's too obvious. What about Melody from the café? If this letter is from Melody, why would she send it to me? We're not close. It can't be her. It has to be from a guy. They want me to be their queen. Could it be Mr. Gold? That's weird. No. It can't be him, either.

Oh, God! I don't know what to do. I have to show this letter to someone, but who? Where can I turn? How can I trust anyone after this? I'm tempted to rip the letter into a hundred pieces, but it's evidence of a potential upcoming crime.

My phone dings, and I take it out of my pocket to read the text.

Hey! It's Delilah. Want 2 meet at the cafe for coffee?

Good moments. Live good moments. I had a bad one; now let's live another good one.

I send a quick message back.

I'd be dumb to miss out on that mocha.

I guess I'll have to wait before I can unravel the mystery of this letter.