To The Moon And Back | ON HOLD

15 | Omereth

E L L I E

"You grow up thinking the fairy tale is real, and more than that, you think you're entitled to live it." Even I've come to the realization that it's ridiculous that I can quote a Nicholas Sparks novel word for word without actually ever having read it. But why is that? It's because I've found a common ground with every lovesick-riddled character he has jotted down onto a blank page.

I do believe that I am entitled to live a fairy tale life. I believe so because all my life I've been handed the short end of the stick and right when the possibility of me recovering from such a disaster appeared, the stick became increasingly shorter.

Why shouldn't the universe make me happy? Why shouldn't every person in the world who has been done wrong find their fairy tale ending?

I know the answer to that.

It's because life isn't a storybook. It isn't meant to please every living organism that treks the earth. If we were all given the long end of the stick there would be no suffering, no despair, no heartache. That sounds like a beautiful world doesn't it? But it would also be an unbalanced world.

Without the pain, we wouldn't be able to cherish the happiness for what it is. We go through hardships in life and we're like the rock standing firmly on the sea bed as cold whipping water thrashes against us when the tide rises and the storm brews. But how does that saying go again?

 After every storm comes a rainbow.

Only then can we truly appreciate the rainbow because we know what it feels like to have lost it. So no, maybe I don't deserve a fairy tale story. But one thing I know is I deserve a rainbow. "No, don't let go, hold on tighter!" I squealed as I wrapped my hand around Stewart's head, balancing myself on his shoulders.

He groaned in pain as my nails dug into his skin and I quickly retracted my hands when I was sure I had the hang of it. Standing before us, torso buried in the clear water was Alec holding onto Lizzie's legs as she propped herself onto his shoulders.

We were playing a game of chicken fight and Xavier was our referee. Said referee was propped up on the edge of the pool, a whistle which he bought on the way here dangling from his neck. We were surrounded by people who were also enjoying their time in the pools but played them no mind.

We were here to have fun!

"Okay, rules! You obviously know whoever gets knocked down into the water first loses. However, we'll have three tries. The person who falls the most is the loser and they have to carry one of the guys on their shoulders for the second round."

"You mean the 200-pound guys holding us up right now!?" Lizzie exclaimed in bewilderment.

Xavier nodded his head nonchalantly, a devilish smirk etched on his lips, "I mean the 200-pound guys holding you up right now," he reiterated.

"200 pounds!? I'm 195 pounds, thank you very much." Alec scoffed in offence. "What's the difference?" Stewart asked incredulously. Alec's eyes narrowed and a look that could only be interpreted as 'what the hell did you just ask Bitch?' Flickered across his face. "The difference is 5 pounds, 5 whole pounds! I don't go to the gym to be insulted like this."

"Okay enough bickering! The game starts in 3, 2, 1!" Xavier was barely done speaking before the ground began to move beneath me as Stewart moved swiftly towards Alec and Lizzie–I mean as swiftly as the water would allow him. Lizzie's arms were already outstretched towards me when we got to them.

Our fingers intertwined and with as much force as I could muster up, I fought to push her back, squealing each time that I rocked unsteadily against Stewart's shoulders. Our arms widened, then enclosed, moved forward, then back until the pattern had become tiring.