The Story of Awkward

by R.K. Ryals

It is about me, a girl named Peregrine Storke. A girl thought to be named after a bird, but really I’m not. Peregrine means “traveler” or “pilgrim”. I’ve always liked that idea. That I was meant to go abroad. That I was meant to see great things. Instead, I am as awkward as my surname, Storke. It would be better if I were named after a bird. A bird with clipped wings.

imperfections often hide true beauty.

In my story, I was Elspeth, and I wasn't the daughter of a man lost in alcohol and a mother who was too afraid to interfere.

I was fifteen when I started throwing up. It seemed the right thing to do at the time.

By the time I was sixteen, I was too thin and throwing up blood.

By the time I was eighteen and graduating high school, I’d created an entire world of characters. All of them mine, all of them awkward.

True sorrow like true happiness comes from love.

I knew before the water struck us that we weren’t going to make it.

Dying felt like being tickled.

They were real. All of them. My drawings. My characters. I’d died, and instead of going to Heaven, I’d landed in Awkward.

It felt strange to say it out loud. I’d drawn them. I’d sketched them into a book, and now they were alive.

“Well, that’s great then. You can send me back home. My sister is stuck on the side of an embankment, alone and defenseless.” The princess shook her head. “It’s not that easy. We exhausted all of our powers to get Perri here. You were unexpected, but not entirely unwanted.

Somehow, we’d managed to travel through a raging storm in Louisiana only to be carried away by a flood that deposited us in Awkward.

Reemis’ dark eyes peered down at me; his rotten teeth bared, his bright scarlet hair like fire on top of his head.

Everything was wrong. In Awkward, bullygogs were the outcasts, horrible creatures who spouted awful poetry, but not strong enough to hurt anyone.

“That, my dear sir, was you,” she said cheerfully.

Foster is the Bullygog

“This world is built on awkwardness, on the idea that there is someplace where it’s okay to be different. Where it’s okay not to be perfect,” the troll said. “This world lives in more than one imagination. It was simply your hand that finally gave it a face.”

“Even when we grow up, the child remains. It’s the child that shapes the adult. What happens to you when you are young shapes what you become later. Whether you think you belong here or not is beside the point. The little girl that drew Awkward still lives inside of you.”

“The sorceress has bewitched Prince Dash. She’s drawn him away from here. He believes he’s in love with her.” My heart dropped. “And this sorceress?” I asked. “Who is she?” King Happenstance embraced his daughter from the opposite side. “Perfection,” he answered. “Her name is Perfection.”

“It isn’t about being awkward. It’s about not being ashamed to be awkward. It’s about embracing what makes us different. Perfection and Stereotype are threats to that.”

Hearts weren’t supposed to break in Awkward.

Awkward wasn’t sensible. It was easy, comfortable, and different. It was my life’s easy button.

Awkward was a strange mix of modern, bizarre, and antiquity.

“Words take on a life of their own.

What started as a stupid rhyme for you became a weapon for an entire school. Your words were sung to me while I was cornered in empty classrooms. It was hummed behind my back as empty candy wrappers fell from my locker taped to notes that read, ‘Starve, bitch, starve’.

*sigh* sounds like my childhood, only people would make boom noises when I walked and acted like they were falling over with every step I took

I want true love, the kind that doesn’t depend on pretending to be better than I am.”

“Love isn’t roses. It’s those little square caramels and a root beer from the gas station because he knows that’s your favorite snack. It’s watching a musical with you without groaning. It’s handing you your glasses at night because he knows you’re too blind to find your way to the bathroom without them. Love is awkward.”

We were in Awkward, my characters were alive, and I was going on a strange fairytale quest with a guy I’d always viewed with distrust and hatred.

It’s a place that embraces differences.”

“I’m supposed to record it, to make his rescue more than a simple adventure. I’m supposed to make it real.”

She handed Foster a glass ball just large enough to fit in the palm of his hand. “It changes color,” she explained. “Once it turns black, you are out of time. Each time it changes, the closer you are to defeat.”

Only those who are truly perfect are meant to succeed.” My face fell. “Only those who are truly perfect?” I asked. The king watched me. “Don’t forget that you drew this kingdom, Perri. Don’t forget that perfect means different things to different people.”

These characters are the family I never had. They accept me for who I am.”

There’s nothing worse than having someone you’ve villainized admit he was wrong. There’s nothing worse than admitting someone’s words had done more than tear you down, they’d made you angry enough to fight back. There’s nothing worse than having to forgive someone whose words gave you strength.

Being the bigger person sucks at times

Foster wasn’t evil, he was arrogant. Arrogance wasn’t a sin.

Elspeth, Weasel, Herman, and I are traveling with you!”

“What exactly happens if we don’t make it to Prince Dash before the ball turns black?” Her face fell. “Awkward dies.”

“It’s not just Awkward,” the fairy added, her gaze finding mine. “If we die, then you die. Perfection isn’t just defeating our kingdom. She won’t chance leaving alive the girl who brought us to life.”

I'd drawn a world I would die in.

Shame washed over me,

“I’m ashamed of my weaknesses,” I said suddenly. “I’m ashamed I let myself be harassed and touched without fighting back.”

“He wasn’t,” Foster revealed. “He was alive. He wasn’t going to make it. We all knew that, but we shouldn’t have left him behind.”

Foster’s shame - “Guilt, I’m sure. Maybe it robbed them of humanity.” “Foster may feel shame, but he wasn’t a terrible person. Terrible people felt no anguish, and they certainly felt no shame.”

“Your creations—the princess, troll, fairy, and worm …” Foster said suddenly. “I was wrong about them. They may not look like much, but they have the heart of lions.”

“Awkward has been dying for a long time now, destroyed by the world’s attempt to be perfect. No one wants to be awkward. If people can’t change themselves, then they pay to have themselves changed.”

Fairytales, if not played out, ceased being fairytales.

“Perfect creatures are often ugly.”

It’s an addiction.”

Seeking perfection is an addiction

“It’s like a messed up Twilight-inspired Brother’s Grimm.”

Yes!!!

For a fairytale, it’s brutal.”

A kiss … a spell broken … a reminder that love doesn’t depend solely on being in a relationship.

If you were perfect, you wouldn’t be interesting.”