Love Is Red by Sophie Jaff Page B

stepbrother’s friends made a halfhearted pass at me. Our parents were away for the weekend and school was almost over, so he threw a party. Blink-182 and the Chemical Brothers played at screaming volumein the living room, but as the night progressed the party gravitated to the backyard, where joints were being lit and make-out sessions were possible. There was no one in the kitchen and “Your Woman” by White Town was playing. It is impossible not to dance to that song, and I did my own sexy shimmy all the way through the darkened kitchen to the fridge, pretending that I was the prettiest girl at the party. I opened the door, grabbed an apple. In the light of the fridge I saw that a guy was in the corner, leaning against the sink, watching me. His name came to me. Brady. He was a friend of my stepbrother’s and I had seen him a number of times at the house. I had noticed him—he was a good-looking guy with reddish hair and lean features—but as a senior he was as far removed from me as a Roman god would be from a mere mortal. I had never even thought to say hello.
    â€œNice moves.” He smiled.
    I was mortified. I wondered how long he’d been there. I muttered something unintelligible and made to walk past him. He reached out, grabbed my wrist, and pulled me toward him. Up close I could see his high cheekbones and a peppering of pale freckles. Before I could speak he leaned forward and kissed me gently on the lips, then harder. My mouth opened under his. He tasted of beer, and behind that faintly of mint gum. I closed my eyes, feeling a guy’s tongue in my mouth for the first time. After a moment he stumbled away to the garden. I stayed, weak and crumpled, in the kitchen. I can still taste that first beery kiss.
    I cultivated a passion for him for months afterward. Whole diary entries were dedicated to him. You are more in love when you’re fourteen then in any time after.
    I fill a glass from the gleaming tap in Sael’s spotless kitchen and I’m on my way back to the bedroom when I see it.
    It lies next to my crumpled underwear, which is now nothingmore than a thin, damp shred of material. He must have cut my underwear off me as I stood. I look at it. A small pocketknife with a red handle, the gently curved blade so sharp that it cut off my underwear in seconds. No hacking or sawing necessary. I pick it up; it’s light; it has a comfortable feel in my palm.
    I knew a girl in college whose boyfriend, it was rumored, hit her. She was a well-educated woman. She had long dark hair and a good laugh. She wasn’t a close friend, but even I could see that she wore sunglasses when there was no sun. She wore turtlenecks on warm days. Everyone wondered, Why doesn’t she leave him?
    I think she moved to Canada. We lost touch.
    â€œKatherine,” Sael calls again, “come to bed.”
    I stand looking at the knife in my hand.
    â€œKatherine?”
    I put the knife down. I turn and walk back into his room, closing the door behind me.

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    The Maiden of Morwyn Castle | PART THREE
    HE WORD SPREAD, AND BY AND BY A noble knight clad in shining armor came to the village upon a great white horse. The horse bore a caparison with a great serpent coiled around a golden sword, the crest of the House of Morwyn.
    The knight proclaimed, “I am sent by the Lord of Morwyn Castle, for word has reached him of this Maiden and her heady brews, sweet songs, and dark beauty that have turned men to fools and fighting.”
    The Maiden was brought forth, and the knight saw that her hair was as black as a starless night, her brow was as white as milk, and her eyes were like glowing embers. He said, “You must come with me, for His Lordship would wish it so.”
    And so she went with him upon his horse, and the men of the town were sorely vexed to see her go but their wives rejoiced in their hearts.
    So the Maiden was brought before Lord August de Villias of Morwyn Castle,