Prettier, even.
But I could tell that something wasoffin the way the whole world felt different after you learned Santa wasn’t real. Like, you’d always suspected the world wasn’t the way people told you it was, but you were disappointed all the same.
I squinted, trying to process what I was seeing, but my mind was fuzzy with that post-nap daze where you had no idea how long you’d slept or where you were.
Suddenly, it clicked and my eyes flew wide. Those weren’t lights overhead.
An evening sky stretched above me, periwinkle and dusty rose, sprinkled with glittering stars. Stringy clouds webbed across them like strands of spun sugar. And instead of coats creating a circle above me, there werefaces.
Some old dude hovered over my head, his long white beard tickling my nose. Then, one by one, more people came into focus, framing the sky: a guy wearing a full suit of armor, a guy with pointy ears, and a short guy with a beard.
A middle-aged man joined them, squeezing in next to the ancient dude. The new man looked like he could be someone’s dad whose one spark of joy came from his wife letting him play golf every other month—except a giant golden crown rested on his depressed-dad brow.
Maybe I should’ve been freaking out or in denial, but enough of the little girl who clung to magic was still alive inside me that Ibelieved.
I’d been transported to another world.
My first thought was: How? I’d hung out in the coatrack before and had never been shipped off to a different universe. Maybe it was the combination of things I’d brought with me. Between the groceries, a splash of wistfulness, and a side of rage, maybe I’d unwittingly created some kind of portal.
Or, if I didn’t create the portal, then for what purpose could I have been brought here?
That last question, at least, was quickly answered as the old dude leaned in closer to study me. He wrung his hands, his beard swaying in front of my eyes. “The Chosen One,” he rasped, unwinding his hands and extending one long, shaking finger until it stopped inches above my forehead.
I went cross-eyed, scrutinizing his crusty finger. So, maybe this guy had summoned me?
While part of me screamed that this was exactly what I was leaving behind from my old life—trying to be everyone’s hero—the little girl I’d bid farewell to a long time ago flipped with excitement and joy.It finally happened! I knew I was destined for more!
I glanced around to find everyone looking at me like I was their savior. Like Imattered. After months of dismissal, I couldn’t deny the warmth those looks inspired. The people-pleasing little girl inside of me basked in it.
This was my childhood dream—the grand adventure I always thought would come—
Ten years too late.
I reminded myself this wasn’t the magical world I’d had in mind as I’d sat dreaming in my coatrack. I didn’twantto be anyone’s hero anymore.
Pushing aside Old Guy’s finger, I sat up and saw my groceries laying scattered around me on the slimy cobblestone road. Then I noticed a large horde of what I knew from years watching movies and reading fairy tales could only be described aspeasantssurrounding me. In the background, some guy with his head and wrists stuck through a board was being brutally tortured via tomatoes. Flickering streetlamps reflected in the wet cobblestone road, mirroring the starlight above. White-and-brown timber-framed houses circled the courtyard. Light glowed from thick, milky windows, making the dingy scene look charming, like a Thomas Kinkade painting.
This must be a mistake. I was no Chosen One, no matter what the old dude—who was clearly supposed to be a wise wizard type—claimed.
No one wanted a burned-out twentysomething to save their world. I almost felt bad, smothering the hope-filled little girl I used to be with jaded cynicism, but I felt ridiculous, like some kind of overgrown Percy Jackson poser.
These people were too late if they wanted me to be their champion against whatever evil surely plagued them. Maybe once, when I didn’t know better, but notnow. I’d fail them on whatever quest they were about to send me on. I wasn’t hero material—and not in the way farm boys with hearts of gold told themselves they “weren’t hero material” right before they saved the world and become the poster child for “hero material.”
I was an incompetent deadbeat who paid my rent late. How could I protect anyone when my weakness for deal-hunting on sketchy websites made me a frequent victim of identity theft? I couldn’t save the world when I couldn’t even manage to save leftovers properly. I avoided commitment to the point I refused to start a Hulu miniseries; no way was I taking on this kind of responsibility. Being special was overrated. Trying to be more only ended in pain and disappointment.
Right as I decided that whatever world I had just been transported to would be better off without me, the crowd started murmuring and pointing. I turned around, and there, standing on the other end of the courtyard, was Bryce.
It finally made sense.
This wasn’t about me. It was Bryce’s birthday, Bryce’s magical awakening, Bryce’s world. I must have accidentally been dragged along for the ride.
And that was when unexpected fury began boiling in my veins. How dare he tell me to find a dream to chase, then show up here mere hours later to steal the dream I’d spent most of my life chasing? I’d tried and tried, and when I had finally given up, here he was, taking the thing I’d desperately wanted for so long as though it were easy. Fate wasn’t fair, the way it chose some and not others.
For the first time in a long time, ambition coursed through me, awakening my every nerve. Bryce was wrong. I wasn’t scared. Screw destiny and screw the universe and screw Bryce. I was taking back my dream.
I imagined all the cheering peasants hoisting me on their shoulders after I saved the day, imagined being knighted and revered andadoredwhile Bryce sulked in the shadows.
Maybe I was just a scrappy peasant, and not a Chosen One, but that meant I had grit. Bryce wasn’t that impressive. I could be a better hero than an (inconveniently pretty) accountant with a vending machine phobia. That would put him in his place if I, the giant loser that he thought was such a failure, could be a better Chosen One than him.
