"Can you believe Henry ordered blueberry pancakes?" Granny says, glancing at the order ticket. She stands behind the counter, arranging knives and forks with a plastic tray. Her hands work with a gentle and steady rhythm, her arms knowing on instinct where each piece of cutlery goes. She takes the ticket off the counter and shows it to Ruby as proof.

"He hates blueberries," Ruby responds, grabbing the order and stabbing it with the iron check spindle.

Granny shakes her head. "Exactly." Perched on a barstool, I get a whiff of her perfume as she works, and it smells like lavender and rose petals.

As Ruby turns to stash extra napkins in her apron, she adds, "He didn't order cinnamon with his hot cocoa again today. I had to offer it to him."

"He's acting strange," Granny says, worry lingering on her face. "I'm glad I'm not the only one who realizes it."

"It started ever since Neverland. Who knows what Pan did to him?"

"It's almost like he's a completely different person."

"Poor Henry." Ruby steps around the counter, balancing a loaded tray.

After their discussion and the interview with the kids, it's clear Henry's behavior isn't going unnoticed. Delilah, Emma, and Regina expressed their concerns to me, but now others are catching on. It's only a matter of time before we find out what's wrong with him.

Granny notices me wiping away tears and walks over, ready to take my order. "What happened to you? Still fussing over those damned rumors?" From that comment, I assume she doesn't believe them, either. Considering what I'm about to ask of her, that's a relief.

"You seem like you act as everyone's granny. Do you think you could act as mine for a moment?" I say, my voice shaking.

Her face softens, and she sets down her pen and pad of paper. "What's bothering you?"

"Henry brought me to town and said I'd find my parents here. I thought I was so close, but I'm further away than I started. I had fun these past two weeks, and I haven't said that in who knows how long? But everything seems fake. Like I can't have happiness, no matter how much I want it—no matter how hard I try to have it. Everyone wants me to believe that I'm Queen Anna, but...I'm not." Tears fall from my eyes, and I wish they wouldn't. How did I go from someone who held in her emotions to someone who cries all the time? How did I let myself become this weak? "I'm not anyone special," I continue. "I'm just an orphan girl, and I shouldn't have listened to Henry. I don't belong here. Ever since I arrived, I've been filled with false hope. If I stayed at the foster home, I wouldn't have seen what I can't have, and I wouldn't be hurting right now."

Granny swipes a customer's dirty mug off the countertop and sets it on the counter behind her. "Were you happy at the foster home?"

"No," I say, wiping away more tears.

"Were you hurting?"

"Yes, but I knew how to deal with that kind of pain. I've dealt with it for sixteen years; being alone and thinking I'd never have a family. I always thought one day I'd find it, but now I know I won't. The hope is gone. I've never dealt with this kind of pain before."

"If this place has been hurting you, why did you stick around for so long?"

"I told you. Because I thought I'd find my parents here."

She gives me a knowing look, like the one grannies always seem to have in movies.

"What?"

"Is that all?" she says with unwavering eye contact.

"Y-Yes. Sure, I had fun with Henry and Hook and the others and eating here, but it was fake. A reminder of the life I'll never—"

Granny picks up a dishcloth and swats it at the lowered surface behind the counter.

"What?" I say, lifting from the barstool to see what she hit. Craning my neck, I suspect she hit nothing at all. Maybe she meant the gesture as a nonverbal "Dammit!" to what I said.

"Spider," Granny says coolly.

"Oh." I lower myself back down, disappointed there wasn't a more dramatic reason for her dishcloth swatting. With spiders now on the brain, I envision Granny's silver hair to be a myriad of spun webbing on top of her head. It's soft and cushiony, like pillow fluff.

"I almost left Storybrooke," I admit. "I drove to the edge of town. There was an orange line, and I stopped the car. I don't know. I couldn't do it. I couldn't cross it." I sat at the edge of Storybrooke, watching the orange line divide my life into two halves. On one side, a life in which I'm trapped in an abusive household for two years with no hope of escape. On the other side, a life where I could be with my new friends, whom most think—even if they won't admit it—I'm a murderer. But as much as I wanted to cross that line, something held me back. I don't know what it was. Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was guilt. Whatever it was, it kept me from crossing over and leaving this life behind for good.

"Why do you think that is?" Granny prods.

I ponder over the question, and I stayed for many reasons, now that I think about it. I have questions that still need answers. People like me here. They care about me. I only used to say that about Irene, Chloe, and Mama. When you've only had three people who care about you, it's quite a dubious experience to stumble upon an entire town that also does. As humbling as it is, I can't trust it. They all turned on me in the snap of a finger. Even after the deed, they still claim to have my best interests in mind. They still think of themselves as my friends. How could I let them back in? Especially when it was so hard the first time?

And seeing what I can't have...It's been killing me.

Friendships I know won't last.

Family.

A home.

I've always wanted these things, but now that I've had a taste and my parents aren't here for me to stay, it all makes me wish I never left the foster home. At least then, I didn't know what I was truly missing. It would've been left to my imagination. I could've been wishing and dreaming to my heart's content without ever knowing the full extent of it. I should've left well enough alone. I shouldn't have let Hope fool me into chasing after those fantasies. In my experience, it's better to give in to fear than it is to hope.

I shrug. "Maybe, deep down, I know my life is worse there than here."

"Are you sure about that?" Granny asks as though I'm hiding a juicy secret, which wouldn't surprise me. We all have them, and sometimes, we don't even know what they are. A secret that's also a secret to you? I'd call that "juicy."

"Why else would I stay?" It's not like I care about you people and can no longer envision my life without your faces. It's not like I want to live here or anything. And I most definitely, definitely don't love you all. It's been two weeks, so how could I?

Granny stretches her back before responding with that look of certainty again. "I think you know." She walks down the length of the counter and goes into the kitchen without another word.

What if she's right? What if my life is better here, and I'm just being a brat? A home doesn't have to be perfect. In fact, it's more interesting if it isn't.

While sitting in my humming car at the edge of town, I transformed back into that scared little girl, forced to choose between two worlds. Both sides of that orange line hold different things. It's almost like a magic boundary. You cross it, and you're in another world. You stay, and you're in another. But I couldn't go back. Not when I know how terrible it's treated me.

Ruby walks behind the counter and sets the tray on its surface. Then, she pours herself a glass of fresh iced tea from a drink dispenser and drops in a lemon slice. "You know?" she says, coming over with the glass in hand. "If you were over twenty-one, I'd give you a drink."

I crack a smile, appreciative of the would-be gesture. "Thanks. It's the thought that counts."

She sets the glass on the counter with a soft clink. "You almost left town, huh?"

With a sigh, thorny pieces of guilt prickle at my skin. I shouldn't feel bad that I almost left, should I? Well, I was going to leave without saying "Goodbye." My only words of farewell would've been in a letter, and I wrote it so Emma, Mary Margaret, and David wouldn't worry when I didn't show up for dinner. It was only out of consideration. It'd be rude to leave without saying a word to those who've given me a roof to sleep under. Besides, I didn't want them to think I'd gone missing. Everyone else would soon get over my disappearance because they knew this was a temporary visit. They'd carry on with their lives as though I'd never been here at all.

But not them. I had to give them some kind of notice.

"You heard?" I say, my voice dripping with exhaustion, and it's still morning.

"I wasn't too far behind you," Ruby says. "I'm glad you didn't, by the way." I must appear baffled because she shrugs a shoulder and says, "You seem fun. And it's nice to talk to someone younger than me. Everyone in this town is either my age or older, and even though I'm friends with them, there's a lot of pressure. Talking to someone younger, like Henry, you, and Delilah, takes that pressure away. I can be myself without having to act a certain way." It's strange but beautiful how so many of us come from different backgrounds and grow under varying conditions, yet we have similar comforts, dreams, and fears. Our brains may be different, but our hearts are the same. We all want to be loved but seek it in various ways.

I say, "I get that. I suppose that's why I've been able to tell Henry so many things."

The bell tinkles, and we both face the door to see Mr. Gold enter. His cane makes whispering thuds against the tile as he hobbles further inside. He looks at us with a sternly sad expression, like a parent who's caught their child playing where they weren't supposed to.

Ruby forces a smile and says, "I'll be right with you." She puffs at a piece of her chocolate-colored hair when he turns away. "A word of advice—stay away from Mr. Gold. You can't trust him. If he wants to make a deal with you, don't do it, no matter what he offers you. He always twists it, and you're left with an unbearable price to pay."

We watch him as he sits in a booth and sets his cane beside him. He's the most mysterious person I've encountered in Storybrooke. No facts, no deal.

"So he's a con man?" I ask, eyeing him while he waits for service.

"He's known as the Dark One in our world. I wouldn't trust that beast for anything." At least now I know Belle's not a gold digger. Together, Belle and Gold are the Beauty and the Beast. "Another word of advice—stay away from villains. They all know how to get to your deepest fears and weaknesses." Is it me, or does the word "villain" mean something else to these people? They say Hook's a villain, but I can't imagine it. He may be dressed as one, but he's never acted like one around me. And he helped rescue Henry. That's not a villain in my storybook.

"What defines a villain? Just that they did a couple of bad things?"

Ruby is appalled and puts her hands flat on the counter. "A couple of bad—Do you know how many people Rumplestiltskin and the Evil Queen have killed and tortured?"

"No, but I'm saying not all villains stay that way. Look at Hook. People think he's a villain, but he helped you guys save Henry. A villain wouldn't do that."

"I suppose he redeemed himself," she says, composing. "I still don't trust Regina, though." Ruby lifts her glass, revealing a water ring, and takes a sip of iced tea.

"I can't argue with that." How does someone like Regina get elected into office? I'll never understand politics.

After a deep swallow, Ruby says, "I think she's the one behind the winged monkeys." Other than a government experiment, I haven't found a logical explanation for those, but I doubt Regina's responsible.

"How would she do that?"

"Beats me. She's powerful. Gold taught her everything he knows." That's a frightening picture.

I may not be able to talk about flying monkeys with logic, so I might as well talk about them like everyone else—fairytale style. "Flying monkeys are from Oz, though. Aren't you guys from the Enchanted Forest?"

Ruby pushes back from the counter, realizing this for the first time. "Yeah."

"So if these creatures aren't from your world, how could Regina be behind it all?"

"She finds a way. She always does."

Girls' night could be fun. It could be good. I just need something—anything to get my mind off all that's gone wrong. I want tonight to prove I made the right choice in staying.

But it'll be awkward. The last best friend I had fell out of a window. I don't know if I can still make friends. Sure, I'm friendly with the people in town, but are we friends? Have I let them in enough? What if we're still acquaintances? Are we acquaintances?

Making friends when you're younger is so much easier than making friends as a teenager. We overthink everything, like our clothes, hair, face, body language, what we say. It's such a draining process because we make it scientific instead of just making friends. But who cares what people think? If they don't like me for me, then I won't be friends with that person. Why can't I put that in my head? Be real. People appreciate that. I do. If I'm fake, they'll like my character, not me. That's not what I want. It's one thing when you're young and still learning the ins and outs of friendships, but now that I'm all grown up, I'm ready? Ready to make some real friends by being myself?

I have to stop worrying. I know Ruby and, most likely, whoever else will be there. Everything's gonna be fine. Who knows? By the night's end, maybe I'll be part of a sisterhood.

"Any-who, I want to accept your invite to ladies' night," I say, trying to sound enthusiastic instead of filled with anxiety.

"Really?" Ruby says with a smile.

"Yeah. It could be fun. The problem is—I have nothing to wear."

"Oh, that's okay. Why don't you come over later, and I can dress you up?" Dress-up? As in trying on a friend's clothes? Isn't that like the epitome of friendship?

"To your house? Like, wear your clothes?" I ask as though she's made a terrible mistake.

"Of course." She stands on her tippy toes to get a better view of me. "You look about my size. I could lend you something."

Still in utter shock that she'd let me borrow her clothes, I say, "Thank you."

"Sure. We live at 24 Carp Drive in Hunter's Grove. It's very simple getting there." She raises her arm and moves it around as she gives me directions. "Take Main Street all the way down to Water Lane and go up 1st Avenue. Then, take a right on Goldman Road. Carp's the second left."

"Alright then. It's settled."

Before I can fall into a reverie about later, Mr. Gold barks, "What does it take to get service around here?"

With a sigh, Ruby says, "Wish me luck." She locks eyes on him as she heads to his booth, taking her iced tea with her.

As soon as she leaves the counter, the bell jingles and someone sits on the stool next to me. "Glad I caught you."

I freeze, staring ahead at the espresso machine. I hoped to return to the apartment before the others could find my letter. Guess not.

I spin my stool with hesitation to face David, who wears a serious yet saddened face that makes me want to burst out with apologies. I've never seen the expression on him before, and it depresses me that I'm the one who caused it.

"I went into your room to ask if you wanted to grab breakfast together and found something interesting." He rests his elbow on the countertop with my letter in hand. Seeing it wrinkled from the several read-throughs he must've done to believe what I wrote hurts me more than his face. David unfolds the piece of paper and says, "Care to explain?"