Unwanted Assignment

"This is seriously the easiest class in the world." One of the airheads from my Modern Takes On Classic Literature class was gushing once again.

"I know. This has been the best."

God, I hated it when they gushed over this class. This class had literally been the bane of my existence. I had actually pushed this class off until the very last possible semester. I wanted to be a journalist. I wanted to write stories about what was going on in the world. I wanted to write something that could change the world.

I did not, however, want to write about what classic fairy tales have to do with me or the way they were relevant to the modern world. In my opinion, those nausea inducing, misogyny filled, snooze fests weren't relevant at all. How could they be?

I mean, was Prince Charming going to come rushing in to save the day if my sneaker slipped off my foot? Am I going to marry the random stranger that walks up to me and says 'milady, I found thee slipper'.

Yeah, that sure as hell won't be happening at all, ever.

I had no worries whatsoever that I could pass this class. That wasn't going to be the problem. No, the issue was that I had never liked fairy tales. Not once, when I was growing up, did I dream of being a princess that was rescued by a prince.

Nope. I had my prince already. My dad who busted his ass everyday, working hard to raise me on his own after my mom ran away with her boyfriend. I was two the last time that I saw her and I am happy to say that I don't recall a single fucking memory of her.

My dad would always tell me: 'Alex, you need to be strong and take care of yourself, baby girl. Don't wait for nobody to just show up and do it for you'. That was the way I wanted to live my life. That was just one of the many wise pieces of advice that my dad had given me while I was growing up. And by god, I was going to do just what he taught me to.

His teachings, though, completely went against fairy tales, where women just wait around for the big strong men to try and fix things for them. And this entire class was centered around fairy tales. Isn't that just great?

My professor, Justine Quill, was obsessed with fairy tales and loved this class more than any other. I couldn't graduate without taking this class either. Professor Quill was part of the Journalism faculty board and she had made certain that this class was a requirement to graduate. That meant that this class that I hated so much, and that others took for an easy A, was all that was standing between me and my diploma.

I was counting down the minutes until this torture was over. I just needed to follow along long enough to get an A and be done. Let it be over already.

"Oh, before I forget." Professor Quill called out to us. "I am making a change to the syllabus. The end of term project, that you should all be thinking about soon, will not just be a reflection piece anymore. I want you all to find a fairy tale that suits you and rewrite it. Put yourself into it. You don't have to be the main character, but you need to be vital to the story. Put yourself into the story and rewrite it to fit you personally. Maybe Cinderella didn't lose her slipper that night, or maybe Sleeping Beauty never went to sleep. You tell me what you would change if you were in the story and knew what was going to happen ahead of time."

I could hear the excitement in her voice. There was so much that was wrong with what she was saying. In the past, she had just made the students write a reflection piece on what they learned and how the stories affected them. That was what all the other Journalism students had told me. Why was she changing it? Why was she going against that now? This was wrong, so very wrong.

I just know that my face had to be showing what it was that I was feeling. Everyone around me turned to look away when they saw the angry, frustrated, and likely irate look on my face.

'Why? WHY? Why did she have to go and change things on me like this?'

After I gathered my things I was walking to the door, hoping to speed away from here as quickly as I could. Someone else had other plans for me though.

"Miss Cook?" Professor Quill called out to me. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure thing." I put on a fake smile and walked over to her.

She didn't say anything right away. In fact, she waited until everyone else had left the lecture hall before she looked at me, and spoke again.

"Look Alexis, I know that you're not happy with this class or the change in the end of term assignment." I saw a stern look on her face as she spoke to me. It was like she was personally disappointed in me.

"Whether I am happy or not makes no difference. I am here to learn, that is all."

"Hmm." She looked as though she were even more disappointed with that response.

"Look, Professor Quill, we're both adults so I am going to speak frankly. I don't like fairy tales. No offense to you or anyone who does, but they're just not my thing. I am here because this class is a requirement for me to graduate and that is all. I am going to try and keep my opinion to myself, as best as I can, but apparently, I haven't done the greatest job of doing that. I will work harder on it and I will do each and every assignment that you give me without fail."

"I am glad that you will do them. That is why I am giving you a special assignment. There is a book in the library here that I want you to use. It's called 'Unconventional Fairy Tales' and it is meant for people much like you. It was written by a cynical woman named Harmony Andrews and it's very rare. For your final piece, I want you to use that book to do your assignment. That is, unless you think that you can manage with the traditional stories."

She was looking at me with knowing eyes and I could just tell that she was trying to bait me. Why the hell was she doing this to me?

"I will check it out." I nodded at her and started to leave.

"You might want to hurry. There was a gentleman in my other class that I sent to the library as well. He might get to it before you do."

"Yup, sure thing. I will check it out later." Maybe. That last part I only added in my head, so that she didn't hear it and get all pissed off at me.

Right now, I just wanted to forget about this assignment and this class. I just wanted to get away from anything that had to do with fairy tales and all that stupid bullshit. All I wanted to do was head to my dad's shop and work away the rest of the afternoon. That would be the only thing that would make me feel better.

I put in my earbuds and started walking home. This was the only effective way for me to ignore everyone and everything that tried to catch my attention while I walked. The annoying peppy girls that were always standing around with one petition or another were drowned out by the thumping of the bass in my ears. The sounds of the jocks catcalling to all the pretty girls walking down the street, I couldn't hear them at all.

Thinking about those jocks and the girls made me think about myself a little. They never catcalled me, which was more than fine in my opinion. The reason they never tried to hit on me or called out to me was because I didn't try to show off my body.

I wasn't ugly. If my dad and all the guys at the shop were to be believed, I was actually pretty. The problem was that I never paid much attention to the way that I looked or anything like that. My hair was usually just hanging loosely down the middle of my back, or pulled into a messy ponytail so that I could work without it getting in the way. I didn't even know how to put makeup on myself. And the last time I wore a dress, I was seven. I would much rather wear jeans and a t-shirt, preferably one from the many different anime that I liked. And I never wore heels or those strappy sandals, it was all sneakers for me.

I was told my looks were unique too. That alone could make people think that I was either pretty or ugly based on how they interpreted that uniqueness of my looks. What was so unique about me? My hair for one. I had been born one of those toe head babies. You know, the babies with hair so light it's actually white. Well, unlike more tow heads, my hair didn't turn blonde. Instead my hair started turning brown, or should I say tan. It was still more of a tan than brown right now. It was so light that it made most people think that I bleached it or something. And my eyes weren't normal either. They were an amber color, which isn't unheard of, but it was definitely more rare than most.

Aside from my unusual hair and eye color, I was pretty average: five feet five inches tall, one hundred and twenty pounds, athletically fit. All pretty average compared to most people. It was just the coloring that was different about me.

Oh well, it is what it is. I didn't care one way or the other. I just wanted to get home right now. Or to the place that I considered home away from home. And that was why I ignored the way that people were looking at me while I got onto the bus. Or the way that just one person was looking at me. I had never noticed him watching me at all.