‘What Kind of Story?’ by AJ Lee

Once upon a time, a young person lived with their parents in a narrow townhouse. Their parents believed the young person loved them, as parents often do, but our young person resented them, as all grown children will. They — let’s call them Jacky — wanted to make their own way in the world. They wanted to build their own life.

But you know that, of course. And you know what it’s like out here in once-upon-a-time. So you know our Jacky was on Tinder. Or Bumble, or maybe even OKCupid. Whatever. And they found the perfect match.

They didn’t message The Match right away. They screencapped the page and sent it to their best friend to make sure it wasn’t too good to be true. They weren’t stupid. But by the time they had composed the perfect reply, the profile was gone. 

Oh, they wailed and they cried, they fumed and they smoked. They checked the app again and again and again. The first night, there was nothing, and their mother said there were plenty of fish in the sea if only you would do something about your hair. The second night, there was nothing, and their father told them to be quiet down there and put out that fucking cigarette, you ingrate.

On the third night, Jacky’s best friend texted: the prince was having a ball. Maybe The Match would be there? The Match’s photo — all hair and haze and sharp glittering eye — certainly looked like the sort of friend a prince might have. 

Jacky laced up their sneakers and left through the back door. The sun hadn’t quite set, the air was humid and reeking, and our young person was going to the ball. They took the streetcar, dropping their last token into the machine.
 
A reveller in a lopsided mask let our Jacky in. Jacky, bare-faced and hoodie-clad, felt naked, but they walked through the party toward the throne, shoving past goblins and fairies and humans dressed up as goblins and fairies. Someone put a red cup in their hand, but it’s like I said earlier: Jacky’s not stupid. They didn’t drink.

“Hey,” the prince said. They were gorgeous. Princely, even. “Did someone get you a drink?”
 
“I’m looking for someone,” Jacky said.

“Maybe they’re here,” the prince said. “It’s a pretty big party.”

“Maybe.”

“Have another drink.” 

Jacky’s best friend had taught them this spell: incant “I’m good,” lift your cup in the air. 

The prince nodded. “Stick around. Maybe your match will show.”