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He was utterly useless. He couldn’t do anything right. He couldn’t talk to girls, his father didn’t understand him, and everything he tried to do failed miserably.
Brighton Shivers was laying down on the floor of the nursery. He didn’t know where his dad was, where Autumn was, or where her dog was. Probably doing something useful, he thought to himself with a pout.
This was why he preferred reading. It was a solitary activity, and something he was actually good at. Then again, Autumn was also a reader and she even had Brighton’s dream job: working at the library! Autumn seemed like she was better at reading than even Brighton. It would be no surprise to him if she’d read all the books in the library.
That is, if Autumn ever talked to Brighton. Of course, they had had a couple of conversations since being stuck together in the mansion, but Brighton had made a complete fool of himself, and Autumn clearly didn’t even want to be in his proximity.
It didn’t help that his dad was cracking jokes left and right. On any other occasion, he would have chucked or even laughed at them, but in this situation it was just embarrassing. They were stuck in a mansion and Autumn wasn’t laughing (she didn’t seem like the type to, anyway).
He thought getting the Wand of Flame would earn him some points in Autumn’s favour, but she just skittered away and wouldn’t even look at him. And he had a Wand of Flame. That was, like, the coolest thing Brighton had ever held and lighting the fireplace was the coolest thing he had ever done in his life. He was just like the characters in his books—confident, suave, and with epic superpowers! If only Brighton was like that in real life. If only.
He had thought trying to melt the ice in the basement with the wand was the best plan. It would thaw quickly and, okay, maybe he wanted to show off to Autumn and prove he wasn't a complete fool. But Brighton had just solidified his fool-ness and Autumn wasn’t even in the room. While he was thankful she didn’t watch him fail at trying to do some good, he would have liked to tell her about his success.
And now he didn’t even have the Wand of Flame. He had tried to melt the terrifying knight, but the wand had only gone and melted itself into a useless lump of something or other.
Brighton wasn’t meant for saving anybody, it seemed. So that was why he found himself curled up in the nursery, tears rolling down his cheeks, and hugging his backpack for comfort. I’m useless, utterly useless. The words swirled in his head, making him spiral deeper and deeper into self-doubt. Even the dog could wield a chainsaw! And what had Brighton done? Absolutely nothing.
After a moment when Brighton had calmed himself enough that he wasn’t shaking or feeling light headed, he got up to inspect the types of books in the bookshelf next to the ghost boy’s bed. Most of them were fairy tales, old ones too.
Brighton opened up the thickest book on the shelf, a collection of fairy tales, and flipped to a random page. A colourful picture of a young knight with a sword, fighting a dragon, and trying to save a princess trapped in a tower greeted him. The knight’s mouth was set in a determined line, his eyes looking like they were made of fire. Brighton knew this boy could talk to girls without his tongue getting twisted. He knew this boy could triumph over the seemingly impossible obstacle. He flipped to the end of the story, where the knight and the princess eventually got married. Those familiar words stared up at him: Happily Ever After.
Would Brighton ever get his own Happily Ever After? Or was he doomed to grow old and alone, with only his books for company? He knew better than to think that he was going to save Autumn and then get married to her. They were only thirteen, afterall. But couldn’t he be cut some slack once in a while? Couldn’t luck be on his side for a change?
With a sigh, Brighton flipped back to the start of the fairy tale, his eyes skimming over the unfamiliar words but familiar story of bravery, courageousness, and adventure. Soon enough, he was enrapt by what was unfolding. When the young knight, who grew up in a poor family, heard about the kidnapping of the princess, he immediately set out to save her. He didn’t even think twice. He just knew saving the princess was the right thing to do.
And, even when the dragon seemed to have the upper hand and the knight felt like all was hopeless, all the knight had to do was remember his family back home who were expecting him back for a festival. In the face of adversity, the knight fought the dragon anyway, fighting for the future. Whether that was marrying the princess or going home to celebrate a bountiful harvest, the knight fought.
By the end of the story, Brighton felt infinitely better. He wasn’t useless. He could be of help in beating the scary knight. So what if it might fail? He couldn’t just sit around and mope. It didn’t matter what Autumn thought about him, he and his dad were going to go out for pizza afterwards and enjoy themselves.
With a rush, Brighton stepped into the study where he could see his dad. In the doorway into the parlor, the knight was slowly becoming unfrozen. His armour glimmered and, although he was what all the heroes in fairy tales looked like, all Brighton saw was a big, bad, dragon.
Brighton dug into his backpack and pulled out the first thing his hand came in contact with. It was a rubber bouncy ball, something he had gotten from one of those gumball machines a couple of weeks ago.
Brighton took a deep breath, winded up to throw the ball into the knight’s face, and chucked it as hard as he could. He thought of his dad who, despite not understanding him all that well and cracking jokes at inappropriate times, still loved him dearly. And Brighton loved his dad just as much.
The ball thwacked against the knight’s face shield. Pride bloomed in his chest even though he knew he hadn’t stopped the knight entirely. But he had done something. He finally had something go his way. A smile blooming on his face, Brighton muttered under his breath, “that’s what I’m referring to!”