“Answer for you, m’lady.”
“Um, are we—and not that I care either way—but are we making an appearance at the winter formal?”
He sits up, mouth and eyes open wide in excitement. “Oh, darling, I thought you’d never ask!”
I give him a playful punch on the shoulder, to which he fakes injury. But after he rebounds, he adds, “Yes. I already planned my outfit.”
“Of course you did,” I say with an adoring eye roll. “What am I supposed to wear?”
“Anything you want. You always look good.”
“Thanks, but aren’t we supposed to coordinate? Isn’t that a thing?”
“I mean, I’m going to wear a shirt that has little bow ties printed all over it, with a navy suede blazer.”
“Sounds cute.”
“It is cute.” He leans in, kissing me lightly. “Though not as cute as you.” I kiss back, lacing my hands behind his neck. I should probably care that we’re in public, but I don’t, and I climb onto his lap, just as his pocket starts buzzing.
“Well, hello, sailor.”
“Sorry,” he groans. He pulls his phone from his pants and smiles at the screen.
“What?” I ask. “Who texted you?”
“Kim,” he replies, all nonchalant, unaware of how her name alone paralyzes me.
“Excuse me?” I spit, unable to filter.
He recoils in surprise. “Is that a problem?”
I move back to the bench, putting distance between us. “I mean, it seems kinda weird for her to be texting you.”
“Not really. We’re both at the mercy of this carnival craziness, and now we’re partners in Chem,” he says, tone sharpening. “We have a project to finish by Friday.”
“How convenient.” I slump back, arms crossed.
“Yes, solvents are nothing if not convenient.” He unlocks his screen, shining it toward me. “Here. See for yourself.”
Kim’s text reads,
What in the freaking freak are nonpolar solvents?
Fine. So it’s not a sexy note. Still I offer no reaction.
“You know, Amber, green is not a flattering shade for you,” Charlie says, staring at the lake.
“And you don’t think I have any reason to be upset?” I scoff.
“No, actually, I don’t.”
“Charlie, we were literally lip-to-lip, and another girl was blowing up your phone.”
“Yeah…about chemistry,” he says.
“Yeah. CHEMISTRY!” I let the word hang, but he’s not connecting the dots. “Hello?!”
“Okay.” He stands up. “I’m leaving.”
“No you’re not!” I demand. “We are still talking about this.”
“No, you are overreacting about something I already told you is not a problem. Kim is my partner: not in life, not in love, but in school. I would hope my actual partner could understand that and trust me. But clearly, you don’t, and honestly, it feels like garbage.” He storms off, quickly disappearing into the Navy Pier crowd.
“Charlie!” I call out, but he doesn’t turn around, and I can’t even chase after him because I have to return to my stupid shift. I stomp back inside, ripping off my beanie and coat before throwing them in the back room in frustration. Bob gives me a wary look as I return to my matchmaking table, annoyed at the world, but I meet his gaze with extra intensity until he’s forced to rub his rabbit’s foot and turn away.
“Amber.” Mom glides over, nose in a book and thankfully not noticing my embittered state. “I’m waiting for the Chamberlains to arrive. Please let me know when they get here.”
“Okay—wait. Which Chamberlains? Ivy and Iris?”
“No, their parents.”
“Oh. Sure.” I’m about to ask why, but Mom has already retreated back to her office. The shop is quiet, except for the vaguely mystical Pandora station we have playing in the background. A lot of chimes and gongs. Desperate for something to do, I walk over to the feather section and make sure the individual plumes are divided by their respective birds. They’re all mixed up, so I start organizing, noticing we have an excess of owl and a drought of crow. I’d think the owl would be more popular, but what do I know?
Just as everything looks neat and tidy, a real-life Barbie and Ken enter the shop, and I instantly recognize them as Ivy’s parents. Who else could produce such perfect-looking children, other than perfect specimens themselves? They look lost, clutching their designer coats and handbags. I slip into customer-service mode.
“Welcome to Windy City Magic,” I say in the sweetest tone I can muster. “Can I help you?”
“Yes, we’re looking for Lucille Sand. We have an appointment. We’re the Chamberlains,” says Ivy’s mom. I stare at her for a moment longer than I mean to, only because she has the most precise hairstyling I’ve ever seen; absolutely flawless pin curls frame her face. I must look like a wildebeest in her eyes.
“Any relation to Ivy Chamberlain?” I ask innocently.
“She’s our daughter.” They both smile proudly. “You know her?”
“Oh yes, we go to school together.”
“Wonderful!” The mom beams. “It’s so nice to meet more of Ivy’s friends. She’s had so few come by the house lately.”
Interesting. “My mom is expecting you; please, right this way.” I guide them toward the back of the shop, deciding it best to end the Ivy exchange before my true feelings wiggle out. Mom seats them around her star-print tablecloth, instantly lighting some serenity incense. She must be nervous about how to approach the very sensitive topic of one’s daughter switching species. But for the first time in the history of ever, she doesn’t pull the velvet curtain closed tight, leaving a small gap through which I can hear every word. I soak up the opportunity.
“Thank you for coming,” Mom begins.
“Yes, you said this had something to do with Iris and Brooke? Is something wrong?” Ivy’s mom asks.
“Not wrong, per se. But as a mother to a mother, I have a concern.” Everyone shuffles uncomfortably in their seats, waiting for the reveal. “As you know, Iris is considering renouncing her siren heritage to become a mermaid. She came to me about performing the spell and I turned her away, expressing my opinions.”
“Why did you refuse her?” asks Ivy’s dad.
“Because of the complexity of the spell, the possible ramifications. It takes a tremendous amount of energy for something like this to be successful.” Mom pauses. Her voice lacks the confidence it usually has when talking magic, like she isn’t quite sure how to phrase her thoughts. I picture her face creased in worry. “And, quite frankly, I was concerned. She’s young, only twenty. This isn’t something she could reverse if she decides later it was a mistake.”
The Pandora playlist fills the empty space, soft pan flute warbling while Barbie and Ken must be gathering their thoughts. It’s not like Mom is friends with these people. Who knows how they’ll react to what is essentially her judgment of their parenting? Hopefully they don’t fly off the handle like when Ivy and Iris went all primal in their sitting room.
“We appreciate your looking out for her,” Barbie begins, “but Iris is not the first in my bloodline to have done this. Sirens and mermaids have a long and tangled history; we are one and the same.” This surprises me. Sirens become mermaids on the regular? Somehow I pictured Iris as a revolutionary, paving the way for aquatically challenged love affairs everywhere. Mom made it seem like the Fates would lose their shit if this happened, but maybe that’s not the case?
“Yes, but—” Mom tries to interject.
Barbie continues. “Brooke is a lovely girl, and we’ve never seen Iris so happy. Ever since they met, it’s like she’s found herself.”
“I’m not trying to undermine their relationship—”
“Iris is an adult, and we support her decision,” Ken adds. “We trust her to know what she needs.”
Mom takes a deep breath, trying to maintain her Zen. “You are her parents, and you know her best. But what I know b
est is magic, and the witch Iris has chosen to complete this spell is not to be trusted. She will not take your daughter’s well-being or safety into consideration; she only cares about her own personal gain. Performing a spell like this…it will give her access to power she will not handle with care.” Mom’s voice wavers, making her argument all the less convincing. She’s not one to cower in the presence of other supernaturals, but she’s definitely not leading the charge here.
“With all due respect, Ms. Sand, it sounds like you regret passing up the opportunity to wield such a magnificent spell, and are now trying to discredit a colleague.”
I almost gag upon hearing “colleague,” since putting Mom and Victoria on the same level is like comparing buttercream frosting to tar.
“That is not—”
“We’ve heard what you have to say, but we both have very early mornings, so we’ll need to cut this short. Good night,” says Barbie.
The Chamberlains exit, looking only slightly ruffled, with Mom emerging after they’re gone, rubbing the corners of her eyes, shaking her head slightly. She’s defeated, but for a brief second, I have to wonder: Did Barbie and Ken have a point? Was it out of concern or regret that Mom brought them in? I know Mom is worried about Victoria’s involvement, but is there a small part of her wishing she were doing the spell? Is there a witchcraft “transformation” merit badge she’s missing out on now? I know she’s not one to throw herself into a power struggle, but her involvement in this whole thing has been murky. I feel like there’s another reason why she rejected Iris in the first place that has yet to be revealed.
“Well, that could’ve gone a lot worse,” I say, trying to comfort her.
Mom’s looking toward the shop door, but her gaze is much farther out. “They are only very loosely tied to the supernatural community, so they don’t understand. And I can’t make them.” She disappears back behind the curtain, this time pulling it completely shut.
Later, from the comfort of my bed, I send a simple sorry text Charlie’s way. I should not have attacked him like that; he has every right to be upset because he hasn’t done anything wrong. I’m the one projecting the details of a yet-to-be-lived romance onto his actions, and without knowing the truth about his match, he has no way to understand my actions. Maybe I should just tell him, follow through with my matchmaking duties and get it over with, only I’m so scared that information will lead him straight into Kim’s arms, I can’t bring myself to do it.
A few minutes later, he responds with an it’s okay, but I know it’s not. I’m so afraid of getting burned, and yet I can’t stop sticking my fingers in the flames.
I decide it’s time to stop being a baby and just mail my Culinary Institute application already. What’s the worst that can happen? They reject me and my life plan flushes down the toilet? Ha-ha-ha, see if I care. (I care immensely. Please don’t let that happen.)
I stand before the corner mailbox, my hopes and dreams compacted in an eight-by-ten envelope, and drop it below, wondering how something so important can lie in wait next to the humdrum of cable bills and get-well-soon cards. I instantly wish I had coated the package with one of Mom’s tracking serums so I could at least know when my application was being reviewed. I contemplate bashing into the box to get my envelope back, but I’m not in the mood to be arrested for mail fraud.
In a weird twist of fate, I have the afternoon off to do as I please. Ah, if only I had someone to share it with! I was supposed to be catering a bridal shower with Ella, but I guess the bride got cold feet, and now Ella’s left with four dozen champagne cupcakes (there are worse problems, to be sure). Charlie is tagging along with his dad to some Chicago Bears event (ugh, sports), and when I called Amani, she and Kim were shopping for formal dresses, which is not exactly “my jam.” I didn’t realize the two of them were spending separate friendship time together, but I try not to let it consume my thoughts. I go for a long walk, wandering around aimlessly, until I find myself in Ivy’s neighborhood. Knowing full well the Ice Queen will be at cheerleading practice, I figure there’s no harm in trying to chat up her sister to gain any more insight into what’s going on in her head.
Just as I’m walking up the front steps, Iris emerges from the front door, wrapped in a long white coat, giving her an angelic silhouette. I’ve never understood how people can wear such bold blocks of white; if I slipped my arms in that coat, I’d somehow instantly stain it with chocolate or mud, even if I wasn’t in close proximity to either. Her wardrobe choice alone makes Iris intimidating, but she’s also giving me a perplexing scowl, despite the fact I confirmed her true love status.
“Oh, hello, Amber,” she says coolly, locking the door behind her. “Are you looking for Ivy?”
I stifle a laugh. “No, actually, I wanted to talk to you.”
“About?”
“Well, I was just curious, I guess, about how everything’s going. With your girlfriend.” My mind races, trying to find a probable reason for me being here. “I like to follow up on my matches, from time to time.”
Iris looks at her watch, distracted. “Um, that’s very kind of you, but I’m on my way to an appointment.”
“I can walk with you, if that’s okay. I won’t take much of your time.”
Her mouth bends in a slight grimace, but unlike her sister, she’s not inclined to instantly banish those she doesn’t need. “Well…sure.” She brightens, consciously changing her disposition. “It’s always nice to have company.”
We head off, down the prim and proper sidewalks of Lincoln Park. Row after row of distinguished brownstones look down at us, as ice-covered tree branches sparkle in the sun.
“It’s very sweet of you to ask about Brooke,” Iris begins, smiling as her lady’s name graces her lips. “It’s been a difficult couple of weeks.”
“How so?”
“Well, as you know, Ivy’s really having a hard time with it all. The transformation, I mean.”
“She must love you a lot.”
Iris nods. “And I love her too. I’m not doing this to hurt her. It’s not like I will disappear from her life. I think that’s what she’s worried about.”
I don’t really know if this is my place, but I seize the moment anyway. “Honestly, it seems like she’s more worried about what will happen to you.”
Iris’s brows crinkle. “What do you mean?”
“Well, Ivy will obviously miss you. But I think she’s scared about what you’ll be missing out on. Like, it will be kinda hard to come home and open presents Christmas morning unless there’s a kiddie pool under the tree. And living in international waters will make it pretty impossible to run for Congress.”
Her face hardens. “She told you about that?”
“Even if she hadn’t told me, I can totally picture it. I remember when you used to give speeches for student council; you are the only person who’s ever made me feel even a glimmer of school spirit. You have a real gift; you could change the world.” And in that moment, for the first time, I’m truly worried Iris is making a mistake. It’s not that I didn’t hear both Ivy’s and Mom’s concerns before, but somehow, talking out these points makes it clear how Iris’s plan is miscalculated. What if it doesn’t work out? As a matchmaker, I want to take solace in knowing Brooke is her match, but who even knows if that’s enough? It goes against everything I believe in, but right now, I feel strongly that love won’t even the scales. I want them to be happy, yes. But there are so many factors that play into a relationship’s success. Brooke isn’t giving up anything, while Iris is changing her entire world. What if Iris hates being a mermaid and regrets giving up her dreams? What if this life change is too much? What if the love in her heart cannot overpower her sacrifice? Just because you love someone doesn’t always mean it’s meant to be, a reality I struggle with every day.
“But how can I change the world when my world feels incomplete?” Iris continues. “I can’t turn my back on Brooke. Being separated from her is like missing a part of myself.”
“It will be a transition, I’m sure.” Her head tilts to the sky, sunlight kissing her cheeks. She looks happy, confident, secure in her decision. If I were about to switch species, I would be a complete mess. Hell, I am a mess, and this isn’t even happening to me. “Not doing it would be the bigger risk. And besides, I’ve always loved to swim,” she says with a wink.
I’d like to smile in affirmation, but I can’t. While Iris has no qualms about going full-on Ariel, I worry about her future. I think about that day she saved me from bullies; she didn’t even know me, yet she cared enough to help. How can I repay the favor? She stopped a fist from hitting my face, and I need to stop a witch from ruining her life. But how?
“You know, I’m glad you stopped by, actually,” Iris says, suddenly scooping her arm around mine. “Would you mind going to this appointment with me? I’m a little nervous, so it’d be nice to have some support.”
“Uh, sure.” I don’t have anything else to do, and maybe if we spend more time together, I can convince her to change her mind. “Where are we going?”
“Well, I have to meet the witch who’s helping me with my transition. She’s been gathering all the elements for her spell, and I guess she needs one last thing from me.”
Alarm bells ring in my skull, causing me to temporarily seize by her side. Luckily, I happen to spaz out right in front of a coffee shop, giving me a logical cover. “Okay,” I say, trying to smooth any visible shaking. “Mind if I grab a latte real quick?”
“Of course, I’ll wait out here.”
I run inside and instantly start blowing up Mom’s cell. She doesn’t answer, so I call the shop, but Bob answers, reciting our shop spiel at the speed of sloth.
“Thank…you, for calling…Windy City Magic, where…magic is…”
“Bob!” I yell, trying to break his auto response. “Is Mom there?”
The Sweetest Kind of Fate Page 8
