talked about the bear prince from time to time, but always carefully. They didn’t speculate about where he was or what had happened to make him go away.Both girls knew without saying it that a prince who looked like a bear was as vulnerable to a hunter’s bullet as any other animal.
“Remember when we used to kick him?” Pearl asked the question like she was horrified at herself—because she was.
Ruby laughed. “Yes. Why were we so mean? You especially. You’re the sweet one.”
“I don’t know. But I was rolling out dough before, and it made me think of it. How we’d lie on our backs and pummel him with our feet. He seemed so chubby and invulnerable … like we couldn’t be doing more than tickling him. But he was small for a bear. Not much older than we were.”
I wonder where he is now
, Pearl thought.
“Remember what he used to ask us?” Ruby said. “Straight out of the fairy tale?”
They recited it together:
“Snow White, Rose Red, will you beat your lover dead?”
“Mom hated that,” Pearl said.
“She didn’t think it was appropriate for eight-year-olds to have a lover.”
“Well, it’s not.” Pearl laughed. “But I still thought of him as our boyfriend.”
“Me, too.”
“You’re lucky you didn’t keep a diary. It was hard to know how to write about a bear romantically. I think I just called him ‘the prince.’ ”
“You did,” Ruby said.
“What?” Pearl came out of the kitchen. “How would you know?”
“I used to read your diary.
Obviously
.”
“Ruby!”
“Don’t act surprised! Mom told us to share everything. And you didn’t hide the key very well.”
They were laughing—Pearl threatening to pelt her sister with sprinkles, Ruby protesting, “No, I’ll have to sweep up again!”—when there was a
tock
sound against the front window.
“A bear?” Ruby said.
“I doubt it. Sounds like someone throwing a rock.”
“I’ll go see who it is.”
“Wait for me,” Pearl said, undoing her apron. They’d been through plenty of sketchy situations and always came out okay, but she never let Ruby walk into trouble without her. Pearl worried that the fairy’s blessing—the magic that kept them safe—only worked when they were together.
They’d flipped the
Closed
sign and locked up an hour ago, but occasionally people saw the lights on and tried to get in for a late-night coffee. Ruby unlocked the door and stepped out onto the street; Pearl followed immediately after. The rose trees’ fragrance was strong in the sultry night air.
At first they didn’t see anyone, but then Ruby motioned to a spindly man bent almost double near the bike rack, where the girls’ bikes were stowed. The man was twisting around, tugging at something—a scarf?—that had tangled around Pearl’s bike chain and trapped him.
“What are you doing?” Ruby called out. She held her broom like a weapon.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” the man shouted. “I’m trying to get free!”
“You’re stuck?” Pearl asked.
“ ‘You’re stuck?’ ”
the man mimicked. “Now, isn’t she observant? Yes, you useless twit, I’m stuck. Thank you
so much
for your help.”
As he turned to scowl at them, Pearl realized just
what
was stuck: not a scarf but his beard. A long white beard stretched between his chin and the bike chain like a ratty piece of wool.
“Don’t get feisty,” Ruby told him. “We’ll help you. But how did you manage to get your beard caught?”
“I was
trying
to free my bike from this contraption, and the light is so poor outside this idiotic shop—”
“That’s my sister’s bike,” Ruby told him.
“Are those hedge clippers?” Pearl asked. She saw them now that she was closer: an open pair of hedge clippers lying on the ground next to him. “Were you trying to steal my bike?”
“How should I know whose bike it is?” the man screeched. “This street isn’t well lit and I feel very unsafe! Why are you harassing me? Get my beard
“Remember when we used to kick him?” Pearl asked the question like she was horrified at herself—because she was.
Ruby laughed. “Yes. Why were we so mean? You especially. You’re the sweet one.”
“I don’t know. But I was rolling out dough before, and it made me think of it. How we’d lie on our backs and pummel him with our feet. He seemed so chubby and invulnerable … like we couldn’t be doing more than tickling him. But he was small for a bear. Not much older than we were.”
I wonder where he is now
, Pearl thought.
“Remember what he used to ask us?” Ruby said. “Straight out of the fairy tale?”
They recited it together:
“Snow White, Rose Red, will you beat your lover dead?”
“Mom hated that,” Pearl said.
“She didn’t think it was appropriate for eight-year-olds to have a lover.”
“Well, it’s not.” Pearl laughed. “But I still thought of him as our boyfriend.”
“Me, too.”
“You’re lucky you didn’t keep a diary. It was hard to know how to write about a bear romantically. I think I just called him ‘the prince.’ ”
“You did,” Ruby said.
“What?” Pearl came out of the kitchen. “How would you know?”
“I used to read your diary.
Obviously
.”
“Ruby!”
“Don’t act surprised! Mom told us to share everything. And you didn’t hide the key very well.”
They were laughing—Pearl threatening to pelt her sister with sprinkles, Ruby protesting, “No, I’ll have to sweep up again!”—when there was a
tock
sound against the front window.
“A bear?” Ruby said.
“I doubt it. Sounds like someone throwing a rock.”
“I’ll go see who it is.”
“Wait for me,” Pearl said, undoing her apron. They’d been through plenty of sketchy situations and always came out okay, but she never let Ruby walk into trouble without her. Pearl worried that the fairy’s blessing—the magic that kept them safe—only worked when they were together.
They’d flipped the
Closed
sign and locked up an hour ago, but occasionally people saw the lights on and tried to get in for a late-night coffee. Ruby unlocked the door and stepped out onto the street; Pearl followed immediately after. The rose trees’ fragrance was strong in the sultry night air.
At first they didn’t see anyone, but then Ruby motioned to a spindly man bent almost double near the bike rack, where the girls’ bikes were stowed. The man was twisting around, tugging at something—a scarf?—that had tangled around Pearl’s bike chain and trapped him.
“What are you doing?” Ruby called out. She held her broom like a weapon.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” the man shouted. “I’m trying to get free!”
“You’re stuck?” Pearl asked.
“ ‘You’re stuck?’ ”
the man mimicked. “Now, isn’t she observant? Yes, you useless twit, I’m stuck. Thank you
so much
for your help.”
As he turned to scowl at them, Pearl realized just
what
was stuck: not a scarf but his beard. A long white beard stretched between his chin and the bike chain like a ratty piece of wool.
“Don’t get feisty,” Ruby told him. “We’ll help you. But how did you manage to get your beard caught?”
“I was
trying
to free my bike from this contraption, and the light is so poor outside this idiotic shop—”
“That’s my sister’s bike,” Ruby told him.
“Are those hedge clippers?” Pearl asked. She saw them now that she was closer: an open pair of hedge clippers lying on the ground next to him. “Were you trying to steal my bike?”
“How should I know whose bike it is?” the man screeched. “This street isn’t well lit and I feel very unsafe! Why are you harassing me? Get my beard
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