by Emma Savant
That wasn’t a real one. Of course I didn’t want that kind of responsibility, or to be locked into the Glimmering world forever. But wouldn’t I always wonder what if?
Lily was wrong about a lot of things, but maybe she was right about this. If I had anything to regret, it was my lifetime of being a doormat. It was all the times I hadn’t made strong decisions, and all the times I’d hidden and pretended I didn’t care about who I was and what I wanted, and all the times I’d said “no” because “no” sounded safer than “yes.”
Had I ever been strong about who I was? That kind of thing took courage. I hadn’t even been brave enough to tell Imogen straight to her face that she’d hurt me.
Imogen was my best friend. She was supposed to be the safest person in the world, and instead of talking, I’d just shut her out. If I couldn’t even force myself to have a civil conversation with her, what did that say about me?
Lily was right: All my regrets were built around fear. But I knew fear best.
A chime rang in the hall, and a voice called out, “Lunchtime!” Lily didn’t move. She was too busy staring at me like she was trying to download her brain to mine through her gaze.
“The only thing that matters in this life is relationships,” she said, and she sounded like she knew that more solidly than I knew my own name. “People and your love for them are more important than anything. You’ve got to be willing to put your heart on the line for the people that matter.” She took a deep breath. “And that’s what I’m doing. I’m putting my heart on the line, because I think Evan matters.”
I was busy trying to figure out who and what mattered to me when Lily spoke again. “And maybe it’ll kill me,” she said, her voice soft but resolute. “But at least I won’t spend my whole life wondering what had happened if I’d taken a chance. That’s better, isn’t it?”
Chapter Seventeen
I couldn’t get Lily’s voice out of my head. I’d spent all night listening to her over and over: People and your love for them are more important than anything. You’ve got to be willing to put your heart on the line for the people that matter.
Imogen mattered.
That didn’t mean I wasn’t angry with her. Thinking about what she’d done still made me fiery inside. She was self-centered, and she’d hid the truth from me to get something we both wanted. But we’d been best friends for too long for me to let her go over some guy.
She knew it, if her texting me every few weeks meant anything. And I knew it now, too. I had to at least give her a chance to explain herself.
I poked a pair of rhinestone earrings through my ears and glanced in the mirror to give my hair a last once-over. Imogen had better realize how serious I was to not only show up at her sister’s wedding, but also wear makeup and honest-to-god hair product on top of it.
I’d made the short trek to Imogen’s house a thousand times growing up. It had never made me nervous before now.
And of course, I was alone. Mom had gotten back from her Quest late last night and had slept through most of the day, waking only to ask me to apologize to the Danns and let them know she was feeling under the weather. Dad was at work, and he hadn’t sent his apologies, probably assuming Mom would cover for him like always. And Daniel was stuck at his magical prep course, just like Dad had threatened.
After months of searching for the right space, Maia had decided to get married in their family’s backyard, which had been the first place anyone had suggested to her. The day had—probably with some magical help—turned out to be sunny and clear. Cars lined the streets and a motley array of broomsticks, flying carpets, and cut crystal jars of bubbles cluttered the porch behind a Humdrum glamour. Another Humdrum glamour arced over the property; if I looked over my glasses, I could see the dome shimmering over the house like a bubble.
I stepped under an archway covered in climbing roses and into the backyard, where dozens of colorful birds sat tamely on the hedges and eaves, piping songs to one another. The yard pulsed with faeries and witches and magicians all throwing their arms around each other and catching up on the latest gossip.
The Dann family’s Glimmering gatherings were the loudest celebrations I had ever attended. Imogen’s old-blood family line was as big a deal as mine, but her parents were nice, and they used their social clout mostly to throw fabulous parties. Their gatherings were about affection and laughter instead of stiff political angling.
The only bad part was getting past the dozens of acquaintances waving for my attention. I smiled and ducked under the arm of a witch reaching out for me. The cobwebby fabric of her sleeve brushed soft against my face. She looked vaguely familiar.
“Sorry,” I called over my shoulder. “Have to find someone.”
I scanned the crowd and finally spotted Imogen up front, standing in her sickly yellow bridesmaid dress next to a cluster of her sisters. They were all tall and willowy with fabulous hair. Imogen looked like a gawky little kid next to them, and given Imogen’s uncomfortably good looks, that was saying something.
Despite the dress, she looked better than the last time I’d run into her. The bags under her eyes were gone and her skin had a healthy glow. I felt an unexpected relief at the sight.
She wasn’t the only person here I recognized. Elle and Kyle stood not too far away from her, talking only to each other like they felt out of place. I waved at Elle, and she smiled and started edging toward me before Imogen’s mom caught her. Mrs. Dann was a master mingler and wanted to know everything about everyone.
Before I could catch Imogen’s eye, Mr. Dann stood up and clapped his hands for attention. Each clap sounded louder than the last, and by the time he spoke, his voice boomed as if through a loudspeaker.
“If everyone could take a seat,” he said. “We’ll be starting in just a few minutes.”
The chairs on the lawn were formed out of vines that grew up from the ground and twisted together to form swirly green wicker seats. Gold cushions had been placed on them for comfort. I sat halfway to the front as a quartet of violinists and a harpist began playing. Conversations around me rose and fell against the music.
I watched Imogen as she walked past the crowd and behind a grape arbor, where other members of the wedding party seemed to be gathering behind the thick green leaves.
Ten minutes later, the procession started. As was customary at Glim weddings, the guests sent sparks and fairy dust in arcs over the aisle, showering the bridesmaids and groomsmen with light and making the event look like the inside of a firework. I flicked my wand over Imogen when she passed on the arm of an awkward-looking college guy, hoping she would somehow feel it and know my purple glitter was a tiny peace offering.
The groom, Andrew, was tall and skinny, with knees and elbows that seemed to take up too much of his attention. He wore rectangular wire glasses and bounced on the balls of his toes. He looked like a dork—a nice one.
Then the music changed to a sweeping march, and Maia came down the aisle. She was radiant, but my attention rapidly switched from her face to her gown. Thousands of downy white feathers trailed down from her hip and splashed across the skirt, foaming around her ankles like a pillow had exploded. I could only imagine Imogen’s face when she’d seen it. But Imogen had figured out how to control her expression between then and now, and she watched Maia with a vacant, pleasant face that revealed nothing going on in her head.
The ornithologist groom clasped his hands together as though trying to keep them from flying away. His bouncing increased as Maia approached, making him look like a kid who was about to be handed a lollipop.
It was hard to keep from liking a guy who could get that excited over Maia in a terrifying bird dress.
And then they said a bunch of corny things to each other, and the faerie who married them pronounced them man and wife. They kissed and the backyard exploded into cheers. Sparkles and golden ribbons shot out of people’s fingers and wands, a dozen brightly plumed parrots were released from a magician’s top hat and promptly fled
, squawking, to hide in one of the trees, and I ducked to avoid a pointed witch’s hat that had been thrown in celebration and come down on the wrong side of the aisle.
Wedding melded into reception in a matter of minutes. With a whisk of Mr. Dann’s hand, the chairs swiveled to face the empty expanse of the lawn, their vines creaking. Mrs. Dann and one of Imogen’s sisters both pointed their wands out toward the lawn. The grass bent down as though in a heavy wind, and thousands of tiny blades wove together and stiffened into a springy green dance floor. Lights twinkled on in the trees circling the lawn and the violinists and harpist started up with livelier music.
“I love this song!” a woman behind me shrieked, and she dragged two of her friends onto the dance floor with her.
In moments, it was full of people moving their bodies in every way imaginable. Some wiggled their butts and waved their arms like they were at a nightclub, others leapt into waltzes and foxtrots that didn’t quite match the music, and one faerie in the corner seemed to be performing a one-woman ballet.
Despite the differences, they were united in being happy that one more set of young lovers had found each other. For a moment, my heart flushed with the glow of my community. I forgot it most of the time, but these were my people every bit as much as my dad’s self-important friends were. This kind of raucous celebration was just as Glim as prestigious magic schools and godmothering jobs. I didn’t get to see it much, but there was another side to my world—and it was pretty darn okay.
I caught a glimpse of Imogen on the other side of the dance floor. One of her sisters, Nicole, was talking to her. Imogen’s arms were folded and her mouth was pressed into a thin line. I had a feeling Nicole was being pressuring her to dance or do photos.
I hadn’t been there for her through any of this. The guilt in my stomach felt like a living thing.
I had taken two steps toward her when I caught a conversation between two women still sitting on the vine chairs.
“She thinks it’s haunted,” one said. Her hair was swept up into a silver beehive, and it wobbled as she nodded toward the other woman.
As happened every time I heard that word, haunted, my thoughts flickered to the silver ring hidden under my clothes.
“Humdrums do seem fond of that idea.”
The other woman, about the same age but with a dark, spiked pixie cut, didn’t seem impressed. She tugged on one of her enormous dangling red earrings.
“I had a woman in my neighborhood saying the same thing,” she said. “Electrical failure? It’s haunted. Can’t find their keys? Haunted. I swear, for not believing in our world, they seem obsessed with magic.”
“This one’s different,” the silver-haired woman said. “She had me come over, and there was something strange going on in that house. Something strange, I’m telling you. I couldn’t narrow it down. Normally I can find the source of a spell, as you well know. Could have gotten rid of the problem for her. But this one I just couldn’t track.”
“She knows you’re Glim?”
“No, nothing like that.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Just a younger woman in the neighborhood, comes to me with her parenting questions. She has two kids under seven and all mine turned out to manage adulthood well enough, so she likes my advice.”
She patted the back of her hair.
I held my breath to hear more of the conversation, but they’d moved on. The red-earring woman started talking about her youngest granddaughter’s first birthday and how she only wanted to eat the frosting flowers on her cake after Grandma enchanted them to sparkle.
I wanted to sit and wait for the conversation to circle back around, or to just point-blank ask them for more, but I couldn’t. Imogen had detached herself from her sister and stood alone.
I sent a tiny pulse of energy toward her, hoping to catch her attention before someone else did. She looked up sharply, and then her eyes met mine. I waited for a smile, or at least a look that said she didn’t want me to leave. But her face stayed blank, and her eyes stayed cool.
I waited until I was close enough to talk without shouting.
“Hey,” I said.
“You came.” Her words were clipped and distant. Around her, over the edges of my glasses, a strange pale pearly glamour shimmered. Her glamours had never felt or looked like that before. She’d probably thrown herself into her Glim studies after we’d stopped talking and learned all kinds of new enchantments.
I bit the inside of my cheek. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around,” I said.
“It’s fine.”
She looked away, scanning the crowd like I wasn’t even there.
“Obviously not.”
Not thirty seconds into the conversation, and my tone had gotten dry and sarcastic. I tried again, keeping it carefully casual, like I didn’t really care about the answer and supported her no matter what decisions she made.
“Is Lucas here?”
She snorted, or whatever the elegant, composed version of a snort was.
“He’s a Humdrum, Olivia,” she said, like I was a toddler. “Clearly he wasn’t invited.”
“Oh,” I said. “Right. Well… I just meant, it was okay if he was.”
“Of course it would be okay if he was,” she said, each word slow and clear. “He’s my boyfriend. Why wouldn’t it be okay for him to be at my sister’s wedding?”
Everything I said just crammed my foot further into my mouth. I pinched my lips shut, then let out a sigh, hoping my muscles would take the hint and relax.
“Look,” I said. “I know you’re mad at me and I’m sorry. Can we talk?”
“Not the best time,” Imogen said. “Kind of in the middle of something.”
She wouldn’t look at me. She just kept scrolling her eyes past the crowd behind my head, waiting for anything more interesting to get her away from the tedium of my company.
I sucked on the inside of my cheek. I had to stay calm.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I came to support you. How about tomorrow?”
“Not a good time either,” Imogen said. “Actually, you know what? There is no good time. Like, ever.”
With no warning, my eyes started to prickle. I blinked the sensation back down.
“What’s wrong with you?” I said, and again my voice was sharper than I meant. “I’m trying to apologize.”
Imogen snapped her gaze to me. The force of the anger blazing in her eyes made me step back.
“I know he’s been texting you,” she said. “He’s been weird around me for days, and then I saw your name on his phone. Your name, Olivia.”
A dozen responses flew into my head, all reminding her that she had been dishonest with me first. And then they were followed by puzzlement, because actually, Lucas hadn’t been texting me. Unless she meant—
“You’re not talking about the other week?” I said. “Imogen, that was about you. Lucas is worried about you because you’ve been all weird, and he thinks you and I need to fix this broken, crappy thing we used to call a friendship. I happen to agree.”
She laughed. The sound made the hairs on my arms prickle like she’d just run her fingernails over a chalkboard.
“Like I want to be friends with you,” she said.
People around us were starting to look. Her voice was rising, and I wanted to grab her and make her quiet down, but didn’t dare. Her fingers twitched at her sides and yellow sparks shot from them.
“As if I want to spend all my time dealing with your neuroses and trying to coach you into not being terrified of scary boys and listening to you whine about biology school and your parent’s shitty marriage falling apart!”
The last words ended on a yell. The lawn around us fell silent. A woman paused with a glass of red wine halfway to her lips. I saw Mrs. Dann put a silent hand over her mouth before grabbing one of Imogen’s sisters and pushing her towards us.
I couldn’t move. Imogen’s face began to blur as hot tears rushed to my eyes and made the whole world look like it was swimming. My mou
th opened and closed a few times, but nothing came out.
I hadn’t even made her promise not to tell anyone that. I’d trusted her. Even when we weren’t talking, I’d been stupid enough to assume I wouldn’t need to ask her not to tell.
“I hate you,” I whispered. It was the only thing I knew.
My hands clenched at my sides, but still I couldn’t move.
And then a gentle hand was on my arm, and someone’s voice in my ear said, “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
I glanced to see who it was, and the tiny movement sent the tears spilling out onto my face. Elle spun me before Imogen could see. She wrapped a firm arm around me and walked with me, guiding me past the blurry shapes of people and toward the front gate.
“Not cool,” Kyle said to Imogen, his voice carrying across the lawn and over the sound of the musicians still playing. His strong, pulsing magician energy flared as he turned to follow us.
I felt everything.
I felt Elle’s static anger crackling next to me, and Kyle warming the air behind us, and the shock and concern and even smug satisfaction of the strangers who surrounded me. And I felt Imogen’s hate boiling out, heavy and charcoal-black and laced with spite.
I could have pinned down the feelings of every last person there if the world hadn’t been rushing in on me with such force that it was all I could do to keep walking. The crowd’s emotions pressed against my skin and filled my ears with a dull roar.
I put one foot in front of the other. Elle’s breathing beside me was a roaring wind. She held me tight, and I kept putting one foot in front of the other until the sounds started to fade. By the time we reached the end of Imogen’s block, my heartbeat was louder than their collective feelings. When we were all the way to the next one, there was finally room in my head to think again.
“You guys didn’t have to leave,” I said.
My voice sounded dead to my own ears. Elle squeezed my shoulders.
“Imogen was a jerk,” she said.
