Heroine Worship

by Sarah Kuhn

I proceeded to explain my theory about Maisy, the puppy, and custom bridal lingerie as weapon. She nodded, taking in my words. I thought the additional information I’d uncovered might make her feel better, but her face remained unsettlingly pale.

  “Maisy is only part human now, though,” I said, trying to work it out. “Does the data allow for hybrids?”

  “It is, in Bea’s words, ‘way vague,’” Evie said. “So it’s definitely possible.”

  “‘Way vague’ has got to be the most unhelpful classification ever,” I muttered.

  “Maybe it’s someone else—a non-hybridized human?” Evie said. “What about Shruti? She’s the one who was selling all these shady clothes in the first place and—with the exception of Cake My Day—she always seems to be around when the puppy’s causing trouble.”

  “So maybe she led me down the Maisy path to cover her own tracks?” I mused. “It’s possible. But she’s so . . .” So . . . what? Nice? Cool? And for whatever reason, so interested in being my friend, which I couldn’t help but find flattering? But maybe that was part of the ruse. Maybe the only reason anyone would ever want to be my friend was because it was part of their totally evil plan to take over San Francisco.

  “She seemed genuinely surprised,” I finally said, “that Maisy and Marcus Wong had cut up some of her ‘frock babies.’ I mean, who knows, maybe she’s an excellent actress. But she did lead me directly to the creepy lingerie, and if she’s the one behind everything, wouldn’t she want to keep that hidden?”

  “Given Maisy’s past, she does seem like a more likely candidate,” Evie said. “Sure, she’s been nicer to us in the wake of the big Shasta battle, but there’s no denying that she’s always out for herself.”

  I agreed. “Even when she’s kissing our asses, her ultimate goal is still to contribute to the general fame and awesomeness of Maisy Kane, supposedly reformed half-demon princess. What if she’s trying to accomplish what Shasta set out to do?”

  “If so, attacking one bride at a time seems like a pretty shitty plan,” Evie said.

  “There must be an endgame we can’t see,” I said. “Or maybe the puppy is controlling her in some way, maybe she doesn’t even know she’s doing it.”

  “So she’ll come to the engagement party like some kind of curse-wielding evil fairy godmother, and I’ll put on the lingerie,” Evie said. “Like I did with the gown, only this time—”

  “This time we know going in that that is very likely how it will choose to attack, and we can prepare for it,” I said firmly, my brain tracing the lines of the battle plan as I put it together. “I’ll rip it off of you as soon as that thing starts to affect you, and we’ll stuff it in the trap—which will be new and improved, thanks to Bea’s work, so hopefully it will stay in there this time.”

  She nodded, but she had gone pale again, her face taking on that weird, pinched quality. “You promise you’ll rip the lingerie off right away?” she said, her voice trembling a little. “So it doesn’t make me do anything I might regret? Like, you know, kill everyone at my own engagement party?” She attempted a laugh, but it sounded hollow.

  “I promise.” I gave her my best look of solemn determination.

  But even as she nodded back, I could tell my assurances weren’t enough. I could pep talk her all I wanted, I could get Bea to reverse-empath soothe her all I wanted, but those were Band-Aid solutions. Temporary and unsatisfying.

  Her face had gone from pale to an almost grayish cast and while she was obviously trying to rally, I knew her better than that. She was thinking back to the tent, back to the incident at Pussy Queen. Thinking about what would happen if she wasn’t in control of the fire. She was still scared of what the puppy might do. Or what the Maisy-puppy combo might make her do.

  “Hey,” I said, trying to make my tone light. “You still got The Heroic Trio on there?” I nodded at the iPad lying next to her mountain of pillows.

  “I do,” she said, perking up slightly.

  “Let’s watch!” I grabbed the iPad and cued up the movie. “Oh, and . . . and let’s have some sugar, too!” I snagged a bag of Kasugai lychee gummy candies from her nightstand. I felt like I was haphazardly throwing random happy-making things at her, hoping at least one of them would work. It was the only thing I could think of to do.

  She leaned against my shoulder and I tilted my head so it rested on top of hers. We ate candy and watched the movie.

  “Look at them,” Evie murmured, running a finger over the figures on the iPad screen. “Now we really are like that. Except there’s only two of us.”

  Warmth surged in my chest and just like that, we were twelve again, caught up in the costumes and theatrics and ass-kicking onscreen. The first time we’d seen it in the musty old Yamato theater, I’d reached across the seat and squeezed her hand so hard, she’d winced a little. But I couldn’t help it. I needed to know that she saw what I saw, felt what I felt. That this was a key moment of connection in our mind-meld space of best friendship—that we could be that.

  Regret stabbed at my heart, and I realized I’d missed the easy way we used to connect. That closeness we’d once shared had slipped away a little more each year as I’d got more wrapped up in my rising celebrity and she’d gotten wrapped up in suppressing her power. I’d put on a front of us still being as close as we ever were, but the truth was, the more co-dependent we became over the years, the more our actual friendship disintegrated.

  But now we’d brought it back. And I was determined not to let it go.

  As the movie continued to play, she seemed to relax a little, chewing on the candies and smiling affectionately at all of our favorite moments: Thief Catcher donning her signature goggles for the first time, Invisible Girl conversing with her hot, nerdy love interest about lilies.

  Perversely, the more she seemed to relax, the more distracted and tense I became. The thoughts piled up in my head and made it impossible to concentrate on anything except how pale her face had been only moments before and that worried crinkle that kept appearing on her forehead.

  The plan Shruti and I had discussed seemed obvious at the time, but now . . . Now I realized there was no way I could put Evie in danger that way again. I’d done it when I’d made her pose as me, and I’d done it when I’d suggested we make her a target with the whole bridal fashion show idea. I couldn’t ignore her burgeoning fear, her doubt in her ability to be a superhero, and I couldn’t risk her life.

  That wasn’t being the Aveda Jupiter I knew I could be—the Aveda Jupiter who was reclaiming her mojo and emerging more awesome than ever. It wasn’t being the friend who’d tried to protect her for so much of our shared childhood, who’d saved her all those times before.

  No, I would have to scrap the initial plan. I would have to take this thing on myself. And I would have to win.

  I just had to figure out how.

  I left Evie’s room an hour later with a renewed sense of purpose. This time, I would approach our battle plan the right way—I’d put myself smack-dab in the line of fire instead of offering Evie up like some kind of sacrificial lamb. When we were kids, I’d never let on that sometimes the bullies scared me, too. As little Kelly Graham stomped over, each step of her tiny sneakers shaking the ground like she was some kind of miniature Godzilla in pigtails, screaming taunts about our “weird eyes,” I betrayed no flash of the insidious curl of fear slithering through my stomach. No, I just made myself stand up straighter and stepped in front of Evie. She was already crying—and that meant I couldn’t.

  It was time for me to step in front of her again.

  But I still couldn’t get a handle on the how. I had to transfer the target that was currently planted firmly on Evie’s bridal back to myself. I needed to figure out some trick of “look over here!” misdirection. In the past, I’d had no problem calling attention to myself, but the evil puppy demon didn’t seem interested in picking up what I was putting down
. I mean, it had even bypassed my horrific bridesmaid’s dress. So what else could I do?

  How could I make myself more appealing to a force that only seemed interested in women with one thing in common, women who were about to embark on a major life step that I wasn’t even close to, as I’m sure my mother would be quick to remind me—

  Wait.

  “That’s it!” I shrieked into the empty space of the hall, then quickly clapped a hand over my mouth. No need to broadcast my intentions to the whole household. For now, only one person needed to know about what I had planned.

  I hustled downstairs to my bedroom and rummaged around in my assortment of old keepsake boxes until I found what I was looking for. I plucked it free, dashed back up the stairs, and knocked on Scott’s bedroom door. I bounced on my toes, waiting for what seemed like an eternity as I listened to his footsteps padding toward the door.

  “Hi,” I said when he answered. I held out the keepsake I’d gone in search of: a cheap plastic ring with flaking-off gold paint and a giant fake ruby in the center. “I need you to propose to me.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  FOR A MOMENT, Scott just stared at me. Then at the ring. Then back at me again. Finally, he ran a hand over his face and shook his head in confusion.

  “What?” he said.

  I jiggled the plastic ring at him. “Propose. Ask me to marry you. It doesn’t have to be fancy, you don’t even have to get down on one knee—”

  “Annie!” He gave me a look of barely contained exasperation. “I . . . why don’t you come in?”

  He stepped back from the doorway to allow me through. I entered and he shut the door behind us. I looked around for a place to sit, but he didn’t have much in the way of furniture, just a few of his beloved surfboards propped against the wall, and the bed, which was just a queen-sized mattress on the floor, no frame to speak of. I lowered myself to perch on the edge of it.

  “This kind of looks like you’re still in college—perfect if you end up going back to school,” I said, gesturing to the room. My fingertips brushed his plain white comforter, and I was surprised at how soft it was, definitely a high thread-count. “Though this is very nice.” I patted the comforter. “Silky. Luxurious, even.” I was babbling to fill the space since he seemed determined not to say anything. I couldn’t help it. I was giddy with the idea that I might be able to finally beat the thing that had been vexing us so much. He sat down next to me and didn’t respond, just kept looking at me with that exasperated expression. “I’ve never been in here,” I blurted out. “Why would I be, I guess.”

  “Why would you be?” he echoed. He scrubbed a hand over his face again and studied me. “So what’s going on?”

  “I . . .” Oh. I had Hurricane Annie-ed again. Just barged in and spat out a bunch of words without providing any context. And it probably seemed extra weird since the last time we’d talked one-on-one, that day in the lab, I had shut down our burgeoning intimacy and pulled away from him.

  I knew it was for the greater good, all in the name of banishing Annie Chang so I could be Aveda Jupiter to the fullest—but he didn’t know that. For him, my extreme fluctuating reactions were probably just confusing. Writhing around on the gym floor with him one minute, acting like it had never happened the next.

  He was still studying me, and I saw that flash of seriousness again, that little window into what he was feeling beneath his easygoing exterior. And this time, he looked hurt.

  I could handle him being angry, I could handle him being frustrated, but the hurt pierced straight to my heart and made me think of that scrawny, screaming, red-faced little boy he’d once been, his rage masking deep wounds he didn’t want anyone to see. I turned away and studied his surfboards—pleasant hunks of plastic in gentle shades like aquamarine and pale pink. They had a soothing, almost meditative quality.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I . . . Things have been so chaotic lately and I didn’t mean to crash in here and demand something of you without explaining. Let me back up. I need you to propose to me so I will officially be a bride-to-be and can draw our friend the evil puppy demon to me instead of Evie. It won’t be real, of course, but the demon won’t know that.” I turned to face him and held out the plastic ring again. This time, he took it, holding it between his thumb and forefinger, studying it thoughtfully.

  I wondered if he recognized it. But, no—he probably didn’t remember. I should have grabbed something with less potential baggage attached, but I didn’t actually own any other rings. Rings got in the way of punching things.

  “Is this a ruse we have to maintain for anyone other than the puppy demon?” he asked. “What about our friends?”

  “Oh, god, of course not,” I said.

  “Your parents?”

  “Double of course not.”

  “And this fake engagement idea is occurring to you now because . . . ?”

  “Right, I should probably back up even further.” I filled him in on what Shruti and I had discovered and my theory about Maisy being connected to the puppy.

  “So I’ll let Evie think we’re still going along with the ‘Evie as bait’ plan—but instead of putting her in the line of fire again, I’ll greet Maisy when she arrives and intercept the lingerie,” I said, working it out. “Evie will be distracted by all the other guests—and hopefully by the amazing time she’s having. I’ll steal away to the bathroom and try it on. It will attack me. If you can’t pull it out with the spell you’ve been working on, do things the old fashioned-way. Rip it off me and stuff it in the trap, which Bea will have perfected by then. And . . . we win!”

  I gave him what I hoped was an ingratiating smile and made jazz hands. He stared at me. But at least the hurt had mostly disappeared.

  “Or maybe we don’t totally win, but we’ll have trapped it, and once the party’s over, we’ll figure out how to destroy it or send it back to the Otherworld,” I said. “Maybe you’ll be able to connect with it again, get more information. And Evie will have a great party without having to worry about any of this.”

  Scott frowned. “What about Maisy?”

  “What about her?”

  “We don’t know what the nature of her connection to the puppy is,” he said. “She could be the one controlling it, which means she’s actually targeting brides-to-be. And she knows you’re not a bride-to-be.”

  “Mmm, good point,” I said. “I’ll let it slip to her that I’m engaged, but it’s absolutely top secret. Even Evie doesn’t know and I’m . . . I’m giving her a huge scoop! But only if she keeps it to herself until after the party’s over.”

  He kept frowning. “There are still so many unknowns about how this thing works. And do we need to worry about capturing and subduing Maisy as well?”

  I thought about it. “If she is the one behind all this, it seems like she needs the puppy demon to do her evil bidding. Like, she can’t do it herself—otherwise why would she use such an odd and not always terribly effective method? So once we neutralize her source of power, we can quietly take her into custody.”

  He studied the plastic ring, still looking doubtful.

  “Think of it this way: if I’m a bride-to-be, it makes me a target for all future encounters,” I said. “Meaning that no matter what happens, I can finally be in direct contact with this thing. And I can protect Evie.”

  He shook his head, as if trying to wrap his brain around everything. “So why not tell Evie—and the others—what you’re doing?”

  “Because it would make her feel like less of a hero,” I said. “She’s already doubting herself so much and it would look like I think she can’t handle this—and I don’t think that. I just can’t put her in danger again. Only you and I need to know about this plan.” I gave my most authoritative Aveda Jupiter nod.

  He stared at me. He still didn’t look convinced—but he appeared to be listening, taking in what I was saying.
r />   “You and me,” I said slowly. “I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye—to put it mildly. But we’ve been making decent strides in our quest to be friends. And one thing we have always been able to come together on is protecting Evie. This thing is getting under her skin in a way that’s threatening to undo all the progress she’s made in her life—the way she’s become a hero and found love and is about to be the most beautiful bride . . . and I can’t let all of that be undone. I just can’t. No one deserves to be happy more than she does.” My voice quavered and I realized I was on the dangerous verge of tears. “Please?”

  He studied me for a long moment. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking and I was so sure he was going to hand back my cheap piece of plastic and tell me to get lost.

  Instead he met my eyes and held the ring up.

  “Marry me.”

  I shook my head, sure I had misheard. “Wh-what?”

  Amusement flickered through his eyes for the first time since I’d entered the room, and I saw a flash of the Scott that was so familiar, the Scott that was always trying to make me laugh.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “Was that not good enough?”

  He lowered himself the short distance from mattress to floor, affected an exaggerated deathly serious face, and held out the ring as one might hand a sacred offering to a priestess.

  “Annie Chang,” he said, making his voice as deep and serious as one of those “in a world” movie announcers. “Will you do me the supreme honor of—”

  “All right, all right, very funny,” I said, unable to suppress my smile. I held out my hand and waggled my fingers. “Ring me.”

  He slid the cheap piece of plastic onto my finger, then squeezed my hand and brushed a quick kiss against my knuckles.

  “Hey,” I said, my cheeks warming. “I think we’re going to need to establish some ground rules for our fake engagement, since we’re trying to be friends.”

  “Is that what we’re trying to do?” he said, keeping his tone light. “Because I don’t think the way we used the gym the other day was very . . . friend-like.”