by Emma Savant
I backed slowly out of the room.
Once on the other side of the door, I let myself freeze in the hallway.
Did that really just happen? I asked myself, my voice silent but my head reverberating with the question.
I thought back over the last few minutes, tracing over tiny details like the way her curly hair had been reflected in the faucet and the way the room had smelled faintly like citrus cleanser.
Yes, I thought, yes, it did.
There was really nothing to say to that. I closed my eyes tight, shook my head, and then headed back into what had suddenly become the weirdest restaurant on earth.
Chapter 8
If meeting the Faerie Queen in a restaurant bathroom had been surreal, a few hours of godmothering was enough to bring me back to reality fast. I sat on the brick wall outside the school grounds and waited for the bus while a headache gathered between my eyes.
After forging a doctor’s note excusing me from class, I’d glamoured myself invisible and spent the last few periods following Tyler Breckenridge around.
He’d spent all of lunch period chatting up his gorgeous blond not-quite-a-girlfriend. During the first half, he’d bragged about his amazing prowess at the last basketball game. During the second half hour, he’d ranted his agreement with some talk show host’s hostile stance on global warming. The rest of the day, he’d texted various girls under his desk when he thought his teachers weren’t looking.
I had a hard time conjuring up an image of anyone who would be more likely to annoy Elle Ashland. It was a match made anywhere but heaven.
Elle’s dad hadn’t been convinced by my arguments the last time we’d talked, but I’d done my research this time. Surely he’d see sense and at least bring the terms of the case down to something a little more reasonable. Maybe he’d settle for, say, “a moderately likeable individual” instead of “the most popular boy at her high school.”
Taking it down a notch from “the romance of a great teen movie” to “the satisfaction of a pretty okay evening” wouldn’t hurt either, but I wasn’t going to get crazy.
A breeze blew by and knocked a few strands of hair out of the knot on the back of my head. I’d been using my wand as a hair stick. Now, I pulled it out and tapped my phone with it.
The screen lit up and sparkled as I ran a quick tracking spell using a GPS app.
“Greg,” I whispered.
A bright purple push-pin dropped down onto the map, landing right on Pumpkin Spice.
The bus pulled up a moment later. I climbed on, my heart pounding harder than it should.
When I got to Pumpkin Spice, Greg was there, standing behind the counter and talking to his oldest stepdaughter, Mallory. They seemed to be having a pleasant enough conversation, but Elle, working the counter beside them, didn’t seem interested in joining. She took orders and threw them together without so much as glancing at her family.
I tapped the handle of my wand, now back in my hair, and sent a zing of attention toward Greg. He flinched, then stood up and looked around as if confused by what had hit him. After a moment, he saw me standing near the doorway.
I gestured for him to come over, then sat at one of the window tables and turned my back out toward the road. Elle couldn’t see me talking to her dad, and I was no Imogen—I couldn’t use one of my mediocre glamours or I’d risk confusing him even as I hid from her.
He slid into the seat opposite me. I glanced at him, then angled back to look out the window. A middle-aged woman in a bright red coat walked an ugly Pekinese past the café.
“Is everything okay?” he said.
“I need you to revise your wish,” I said.
His eyebrows went up. I kept talking.
“I found the most popular guy at Elle’s school,” I said. “He plays, like, three different sports and has twenty different girls all trying to be his girlfriend. Elle is going to hate him.”
“Why?” Greg said.
It was like he hadn’t even been listening to me last time.
Or maybe like he’d never listened to Elle in his life.
“Unless I read her completely wrong, Elle’s going to be more into a geeky poet-musician-environmentalist-artist kind of guy,” I said. “And I don’t read people wrong, usually. It’s part of being a faerie godmother. She’s going to hate him.”
He shook his head, smiling at me like I was a confused puppy.
“He sounds like a nice kid,” he said. “He must have something going for him if twenty girls all want to be with him, right?”
“I’m sure he does,” I said. “But Elle—”
“All you have to do is let them give each other a chance,” Greg said. “That’s what I want for her: to know what it’s like to be the envy of all the other girls in the school and to feel like a princess on her special night. This guy sounds like exactly what I hoped he’d be.”
Because all girls wanted out of life was to be princesses.
I dug my fingernails into my leg to keep the irritation off my face.
“Greg,” I said, keeping my voice quiet but firm. “They’re never going to hit it off. Ever.”
He leaned forward. “That’s why I hired you,” he said. He winked. “So you can use your you-know-what.”
Ignoring the innuendo, which was just dying for a That’s what she said, I turned slightly to look at him. “Even with magic, it’s not going to last. Love spells are short-term only.”
“That’s all she needs,” he said. “Just something to distract her and make her feel special for a while. Then they’ll both go off to college and can have a nice amicable breakup. All they really need is a nice summer fling. Something to keep her mind off things.”
He gestured aimlessly around.
“It’s not a good idea,” I said. Were “amicable breakups” even a thing?
He smiled.
“In my professional opinion, it’s not a good idea,” I repeated.
“I know you want to do a good job, but I also know this is your first case,” he said. “I’m her father. You’re just going to have to trust me.”
He got up and left. I stared after him, amazed at how badly that had gone.
A moment later, he was back with a steaming cup of coffee in his hands. He put the coffee on the table and pushed it toward me like a peace offering.
“This is for you,” he said. “Hazelnut latte. You’ll like it; it’s one of our most popular flavors.”
I had been craving mocha.
He leaned over with his hands on the table.
“You’re doing a great job,” he assured me. “Just stick to the wish and everything will be great.”
He offered me an encouraging—and condescending—smile and walked back across the room.
I focused my senses to see what I could read off him. He was content, even pleased with himself. He thought he’d given me a real learning moment.
No wonder Tabitha and the others were always whining about unreasonable clients. I’d thought faerie godparents just liked complaining. If Greg was anything like the average client, though, they had a lot to gripe about.
I propped my elbow on the table, then let my forehead fall down onto my hand. I rolled my head to look out the window. A couple walked by, hand-in-hand, the girl wearing a yellow sundress and gesticulating wildly, and the guy looking at her while she talked like she was the most magical thing he’d ever seen.
That was never going to be Elle and Tyler.
I sighed and sat up, then jumped. The seat that had been empty seconds before had been filled by a sandy-haired guy about my age who seemed to be made entirely out of elbows and ears.
“Hey,” he said. He offered a cheerful smile that put me immediately in mind of some happy freckled kid from fifties sitcoms, the kind of all-American boy who said things like, “Golly, pop!” and “Gee, that’s swell!” He leaned forward, putting both elbows on the table like he was worried he wouldn’t get close enough if he settled for just leaning.
“Yo
u look miserable.” He drew out the word, seeming to relish just how horrible it was.
“Thanks for noticing,” I said. I raised an eyebrow at him and held it there, waiting for him to get the message to beat it.
He, of course, did not pick up what I was putting down.
“It’s not a bad thing,” he said. “Not like you look bad, I mean. You’re kinda pretty. Don’t take that weird. I’m not hitting on you.”
Unlike with most guys who tried to pull that phrase off, I got the feeling he meant it. I tried to intuit his emotions. They were coming in loud and clear, and after a second, I leaned back. I’d been right the first time with the “gee, swell” impression.
“I feel miserable,” I said. He shrugged, like I told you so. I picked up my coffee and raised it like I was making the world’s crappiest toast. “Miserable,” I said, for emphasis. “Have you ever actually beat your head against a brick wall?”
“Nope,” he said. “Cliché.”
“That’s what I thought. But I’m about to go to the brick building next door to try it, just to make sure that is actually what I’m feeling right now.”
“Aw, come on,” he said. “It can’t be that bad. Tell me all about it.”
“I don’t even know you,” I said.
“Doesn’t stop most people,” he said, his perpetual smile quirked up into an actual grin on only one side. “But you’re not most people. You’re one of us.”
I tilted my head to look over my glasses. The kid glowed gold like he was standing outside during the sunset. In an instant, his weird mannerisms made a little more sense. We Glims could be a little more forward with each other than we could with Humdrums. There were few enough of us that running into someone in a café could be enough to make you friends.
“Yeah, I am,” I said. “Faerie. And a godmother, which is worse. What are you?”
“I’m a magician,” he said. “And a Hero.”
“Pretentious much?” I said. I sipped my coffee. It still wasn’t amazing, but it still wasn’t crap, either.
The kid grinned so widely that his entire face changed shape.
“Right?” he exclaimed. “I’m from one of those royal families that hasn’t seen the inside of a palace in more than a few generations, if you know what I mean.”
“You and everyone else and his dog,” I said.
Not-so-elite royalty made up a significant chunk of our world. Once upon a time, there had only been a few magical royal families running the world and living out most of the Stories. But they’d had grandkids and their grandkids had grandkids, and now the Glimmering world was suffering from a serious overpopulation of twentieth-generation suburban princes.
“But then a witch got mad at me for feeding her dog chocolate so I spent all of middle school as a toad,” he said.
This was moderately more interesting.
“Then I went on a Quest and lived out a Story, and now I’m a Hero. It’s on my ID card.”
He held his palm out over the table, then flipped it rapidly over and up again. When his palm was facing up again, a silver ID card had materialized in it. There, next to his photo and right above his personal stats (Magician, Prince via Ancient Persian Line IV, Underage), was emblazoned the title HERO in big black letters. He flipped his hand over again and the card disappeared.
“The toad thing also made me enormously socially awkward, if that makes you feel any better about the Hero bit,” he said. “I’ve decided to roll with it and pretend I’m just being ironic, but I actually am as socially inept as I seem.”
“All right, big shot,” I said, making a big deal out of rolling my eyes.
I couldn’t help liking him. I wondered if that was one of his gifts. Lots of magicians had charisma, and it seemed like he’d gotten a double helping. He was socially awkward, but I couldn’t imagine anyone actually seeing that as a problem past the first thirty seconds.
He held out a hand. “I’m Kyle.”
I took it and was immediately filled with a warm sense of trust and affection. I suddenly wanted to take Kyle home and feed him cupcakes. I pulled my hand sharply away.
“None of that,” I said, though I knew he probably couldn’t help it. “I’m Olivia.”
“Olivia?” he said. “No way. You’re Elle’s friend.”
I glanced toward the counter. Elle was there, talking to Mallory and not saying terribly nice things, judging from the way the older girl had her arms folded on her chest and seemed to be pulling away from the conversation.
“How do you know Elle?” I said.
“How do I not know Elle?” Kyle said. “I’m her best friend. We practically get pedicures together.” Before I could even start trying to intuit him again, he added, “And no, I’m not gay, so you can stop with the faerie feely-sneaky thing.” He swatted at the air in front of himself, as if my abilities were a fly he could shoo away.
I realized I knew who he was. Elle had mentioned him last night: My best friend Kyle and I are going to a sci-fi convention in May. I narrowed my eyes and tried to picture him in a blue X-Men costume. He was definitely the kid from half her profile pictures. It was amazing how different he looked without green face paint or pointy latex elf ears.
“Does she know you’re Glim?” I said.
That had the potential to be a game-changer. But he shook his head.
“Nope,” he said. “She’s a Hum and I’m not super in the mood for an inquisition from the Faerie Queen.”
The Faerie Queen, whom I’d met in a restaurant bathroom. The idea was still too weird to wrap my mind around.
“What’s Elle like?” I asked.
Something about him made me want to get straight to the point. I knew it was probably just his charisma getting the better of me, but I didn’t have the energy to be anything other than direct.
He leaned back and steepled his fingers. Apparently this was a question requiring great deliberation and wisdom. I half-expected a snarky answer to come out of his mouth, but when he spoke, his reply was thoughtful.
“She’s tough,” he said. “She’s resourceful. She has a lot of baggage and could probably use some therapy, but she’s not likely to ever actually go to therapy, so we’re all just going to have to live with her.”
“What kind of baggage?” I said.
“Going for the big guns there, tiger,” he said. “But okay. Her mom died when she was like nine. It screwed her up, and her dad’s not exactly the world’s greatest listener.”
“You’re kidding,” I said. I didn’t have to work to put fake shock into my tone. The words came out as flat and burned-out as I felt.
“And her stepmom, you’ll want to know about that,” he said. “She’s not a bad person—don’t tell Elle I said that—but she’s the kind of woman who actually wants diamonds for her birthday, and Elle’s the kind of person who likes to lecture people about the horrors of blood diamonds. So you can imagine how they get along.”
“What about the stepsisters?” I asked.
“What you see is what you get.” He gestured toward the counter. “Older one’s ready to get out of the house. Younger one’s made out of bubblegum and lollipops.”
“What about friends?”
“Lots of casual acquaintances, only a few close friends. That’s why I’m excited to meet you. Elle said you were cool. She doesn’t say that about a lot of people.”
I was touched for a second, until he added, “Good thing you’re her faerie godmother.”
I held up a hand. “I did not say I was her—”
“Save it,” he said. “I might be dumb but I’m not that dumb. Girls like Elle don’t just go make new friends. You went after her. And I’m cool with that. Every last one of that girl’s wishes should come true.”
He was almost too sweet, but I didn’t want him to be anything different. Not wanting to miss this gold mine of information, I said, “What else? Who is she? What does she care about?”
“Saving the world,” he said. “She goes to conventio
ns dressed up as a superhero and then comes home and tries to be one, too. She’s ridiculously creative. She’s probably the most unique, interesting person I’ve ever met. And she’s crazy about this place. She wants to buy it from her dad and I’m going to help her run it. She’s going to do amazing things.”
Strong vibes were coming off him. I stopped listening for a second to tune in. The air felt expansive. A sweet fresh scent rolled over the warm earthiness of the café, like flowers after a rainstorm.
And you’re in love with her, I almost said, then stopped myself.
I didn’t want to know if he was. Making his wishes come true wasn’t my job, even if he seemed like he probably deserved a few.
My job was getting Elle and that idiot to prom.
Kyle shut his mouth and looked pointedly over toward the counter. Elle was walking toward us with a smile I hadn’t expected to see on her face. She pulled her hair tie out and refastened her ponytail as she crossed the café.
“Hi!” she said. She held out both hands, one toward each of us. “How do you two know each other?”
“We don’t,” I said. “He just sat down and decided we were going to be friends.”
Her smile faded to a smirk that managed to crinkle the corners of her eyes. “Of course he did,” she said. “I swear, Kyle, you would make friends with a fire hydrant if it happened to be the only thing sitting next to you.”
“Fire hydrants are people too,” he said.
Elle leaned against the edge of our table. “What are you up to?” she asked me. “I loved that article you posted on Facebook, by the way, about the conservation stuff in Africa. Seriously, when are people going to realize that the earth can heal itself if we just back off for a second?”
I didn’t think I was supposed to like my clients this much, but I couldn’t help thinking she had the potential to be my new best friend if Imogen ever got tired of the job. Then I pulled myself back to reality.
“There’s an elephant preserve you should check out,” I said. “I’ll send you the link later. And I came to see if the coffee really is as lame as you made it out to be,” I said. I held up my cup and tilted it back and forth. “It’s not the worst.”
