Rapunzel Untangled (3 page)

She had to give him points for persistence.

Maybe.

I love a firm answer. Let’s see . . . is it Roman Goddess?

Haha.

No? How about Raging Giant?

Closer than the last one.

Regina Gregory?

No.

Rebecca Guillotine?

No.

You wait. I’ll figure it out. Answer me one question, though. Are you hot?

Rapunzel was surprised by the question. Why would he care whether she was hot or cold? Did he think the temperature of her room would give away her location?

No, I’m quite comfortable, thank you. What an odd question.

I don’t know if I should laugh or not. Are you kidding around with me?

Why would he think she was joking about this?

No. Why?

Okay then. *shrugs* Well, G2G. The parental unit is yelling for me to get off the computer.

What is G2G? And what is a parental unit?

Look it up, RG. Same time tomorrow?

She felt a happy warmth spread through her belly at the invitation. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun. In fact, she didn’t think she’d ever had this kind of fun.

Yes.

TTYL (look that one up also).

Rapunzel laughed, signing off Facebook. She Googled the terms, hoping that her mother wouldn’t discover that she’d used the computer for something other than homework. She smiled when she discovered what the terms meant. With a happy sigh, she put the computer to sleep and leaned back in her chair.

“Rapunzel?” She jerked at her name. She hadn’t realized how much time had passed. She was relieved she’d signed off before the arrival of her mother. She’d have to be more vigilant next time.

“In here, Mother!” she called, going out into the main room.

“Still doing homework?” her mother questioned suspiciously.

“Yes, I was studying for . . . the test. The one I told you about.” She hated lying to her mother but didn’t want to lose the chance to have another conversation with Fab Fane Flannigan.

She looked at Rapunzel for a few long seconds, but she should have no reason to disbelieve her. Finally she said, “Come,” and led the way into Rapunzel’s spacious bedroom. The room was dominated by a large, four-poster bed, a heavy mahogany wardrobe, and matching vanity. Rapunzel sat in the chair at the vanity as her mother picked up the brush. She pulled the brush through Rapunzel’s long tresses, beginning at the crown of her head until she reached the end of the heavy fifteen-foot length. She continued the ritual until Rapunzel’s hair softly gleamed, exactly seventy-two strokes.

“You know how important it is to keep your hair in perfect condition, Rapunzel.”

“Yes, Mother.” Rapunzel barely listened to the words, knowing the expected answers she had learned by rote.

“There are many people depending on it, Rapunzel.”

“I know, Mother.”

“Your own future depends on it. Don’t ever forget that.”

“I won’t, Mother.” She turned to look at her mother, a thought coming to her on the heel of her conversation with Fane. “Mother, what is your name?”

“Why, Rapunzel, what a strange question.” Rapunzel didn’t think the question as strange as the thought that she didn’t know her own mother’s name. “You know my name.”

“No, I don’t. I know you go by Gothel, which is our last name, but I don’t know your first name.”

“Everyone calls me Gothel.”

“Why?”

“Well, Rapunzel, is that important?” Something in her mother’s voice caught her attention and she sat up straighter. The warning tone brooked no argument. Rapunzel had learned that at an early age.

“I suppose not,” she answered slowly.

“Of course it’s not. I’m your mother. What else should you need to know?” She soothed her hands down Rapunzel’s hair as she always did before standing. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Good night . . . Mother,” Rapunzel answered.
Why won’t she tell me her name?
she wondered, disquieted.

After her mother left, Rapunzel plaited her long tresses into a thick braid. Once she was finished, she lifted the heavy mass and pulled it over her shoulder, looking down at the blonde strands. Her hair held magic. That was something she’d always known and had been drilled into her since her birth. Her mother had told her of the prophecy: that Gothel would give birth to a child with golden hair that would grow at an accelerated rate and that the fate of the world’s future rested in her mane of gold. Gothel had been told the story, seen the proof, and couldn’t deny the truth in what had been foretold. The disease, the one that prevented Rapunzel from leaving the tower, was more proof. She was only grateful that her mother could visit her. Rapunzel was impervious to her mother’s germs.

She moved to her bed and lay down in the luxurious softness. As she closed her eyes, her thoughts returned to the golden-eyed boy who made her laugh. Only twenty more hours until she could converse with him again.

 
^.*
*

Rafael Grenada? Rambo Greenleaf? Did you look up those terms from last time?

No, no, and yes. Do you have your dictionary at the ready to use more big words?

Ha-ha. I use a thesaurus. Let’s see, maybe it’s not your name. Maybe it’s an acronym (no thesaurus needed for that one). Really Great?

I am really great, but no, that’s not what it stands for. JK (see, I learn too). What classes do you take at school?

Boring ones. Are there any other kind? Romance Greeter?

LOL, what is a romance greeter? What kind of boring ones?

Ugh, please, no LOLs allowed. I HATE that particular slang! With a passion! It makes me want to hurt someone (not really). I don’t know what a romance greeter is. I thought it was you. I take calculus, language arts, history—all the usuals. I’m on the basketball team and wrestling team. Really Gregarious?

Okay, no more LOLs. Any other acronyms I took time to study and learn that I should avoid so as to not offend your acronym-sensibilities? I certainly don’t want to be responsible for someone being hurt. I don’t really know what all the usuals are as I don’t attend school. I also know nothing about basketball and wrestling. Sorry. :o( (is the frown emoticon acceptable?) Not really gregarious, either.

Raggedly Gabled? Emoticons are fine, and I can live with most acronyms without danger of violence, especially as you took the time to learn them. Do you live under a rock? Just curious since you HAD to study all the annoying acronyms, you don’t attend school (how do you get away with that? It seems to support my creepy older stalker theory, BTW), and you don’t know anything about basketball. Wrestling I can understand, I guess—but basketball? Who doesn’t know anything about basketball? Maybe someone named Rushing Gorgonzola?

Haha on the names, and no as well. I don’t live under a rock. I live high above them, in fact. I said I don’t ATTEND school. I didn’t say I am not of school age. I get my schooling at my home. Is it unusual to not know about basketball? I suppose I better do more studying.

Actually, if there were an argument for you really being a teenage girl named Rough Gollum, it’s the fact that you don’t know about them. You are home schooled? Why? Too smart for public school, or . . .

I’m not too smart, no. I can’t

Rapunzel hesitated, taking a bite out of the crisp apple sitting on her desk. How much did she dare tell him?

leave my house. What is a Gollum?

WHAT???? You don’t know who Gollum is? You MUST live under a rock. Haven’t you ever read The Hobbit? Or Lord of the Rings? Or seen the LOTR movies??? Wait . . . what do you mean you can’t leave your house? Grounded for life?

She quickly went to a new window and Googled “grounded.” It took her a few minutes of reading through the various links that came up to finally decide he must be referring to the punishment definition of the word.

Hello?

I’m here. No, I’m not grounded. It’s a long story, and one I’m not ready to share yet. No, I haven’t read those books or seen the movies. Should I?

Asking if you should is like asking if you should breathe. The answer is a resounding yes! Okay, I won’t push for an answer to this new mystery, but I’m begging, PLEASE, for some kind of hint on your name.

How about this: my first name begins with an R and my last name begins with G.

You’re killing me, Smalls.

Smalls. Another character I should know about?

Yes, but I’m not going to tell you where. You’ll have to discover that on your own.

Rapunzel closed her eyes tightly, thinking, debating. Then, before she could change her mind, she quickly typed:

Rapunzel

There was nothing but her flashing cursor, then

Rapunzel? That’s your name?

Yes.

You’re not kidding around?

No.

Unusual. Rapunzel. Never heard of it. I like it.

Please don’t try to guess my last name.

Okay, you win. For now. Rapunzel. I’ll give you an answer as well. When you’re seeking out the LOTR movies to watch (as I know you will based on my awesome recommendation), then also look for The Sandlot. One of the best movies ever.

It’s now on my list of Awesome Recommendations by Fab Fane Flannigan. Thank you.

You’ll be thanking me even more after you read/watch them all. Rapunzel. We shall then discuss. Rapunzel.

Are you going to keep repeating my name like that?

Yes. Rapunzel. I like your name very much. I like the way it looks. Rapunzel.

Rapunzel cringed. What if he started telling people about her, and word got back to her mother?

But you won’t . . . I mean, remember what I told you about my mother?

I remember. Your secret is safe with me. I haven’t told anyone about my mysterious FB friend. Who would believe me that I have some hot, enigmatic, strange correspondence with you?

Rapunzel blushed. She had since looked up other uses for the word “hot” and suspected she knew which usage he meant each time he said it.

Been hitting the thesaurus again? Just curious: what makes you think I’m hot? I may look like a gargoyle. And . . . thank you for keeping my secret.

Even if you look like a gargoyle (which would mean you’re about 3 feet tall and made of stone) I think your MIND is hot. Even if you find mine so lacking, you think every conversation requires a thesaurus.

I don’t think . . . okay, DID you use a thesaurus?

Maybe. And that’s the only answer you’re getting.

I don’t think your mind is lacking, for the record.

You’re welcome (for keeping your secret).

Rapunzel smiled, then glanced at the little digital clock at the bottom of her computer. She could talk to Fane forever, but unfortunately it was almost six, which meant her mother would soon be coming for dinner.

G2G.

TTYT.

You misspelled that. It’s TTYL.

No I didn’t. It means talk to you tomorrow. I WILL talk to you tomorrow, right?

Right.

Good.

Rapunzel signed off the computer, writing down the names of the books he had told her about. She didn’t know how she could talk her mother into movies to watch, but she could easily convince her of the books. She hoped.

 
^.*
*

I
need a few books for my language arts course,” Rapunzel told her mother. She took a breath and in a rush said, “And I’ll need a couple movies because they go with the books and I have to write a paper on the differences.”

“Movies?” her mother asked. “You need to purchase movies as well as books?”

Rapunzel chewed her lip as she nodded, thankful that in this one area, her mother preferred to not get involved. She wished Rapunzel’s education to be just that:
Rapunzel’s
education. “But there’s a place on the Internet where you can watch as many movies as you’d like if you pay a monthly fee. Sort of like renting them instead of buying them.” Fane had told her of the site, of course.

“Oh. Well then why don’t you just do that, Rapunzel, if you need it for your education?”

Rapunzel cringed at her deception. Her mother had given Rapunzel a credit card to use when ordering necessities for school, though she gave Rapunzel the address of her office to have the items sent. She said she didn’t want delivery men bringing their germs to their door, which didn’t make sense since Rapunzel knew there were construction workers around most days.

“Now, I need to talk to you about something important,” her mother continued, the conversation about movies forgotten. Rapunzel sat in the chair and turned for her mother to begin her ritualistic brushing, always done in counts of six. It was Rapunzel’s responsibility to keep track on the little clickers used for just such a purpose. One clicker kept the individual tally up to six, which was then reset. The second clicker kept track of how many times they’d cycled through the first. When it reached twelve, they were done.

“Coming up is a trip I must take.”

Rapunzel jerked around at the announcement. Her mother had never been gone for more than a day, always returning for their nightly ritual. She felt panicked at the thought of being alone.