Dramatically Ever After

by Isabel Bandeira

  “Oh, hey Em.” Illinois looked up with surprise, but shot me a smile like he hadn’t just been trashing me two seconds before.

  Without saying a word, I waved and kept moving, trying to ignore the nausea that replaced the annoyance rolling through me from a few seconds before. It was hard enough to feel like I wasn’t faking that I belonged in the summit, but I didn’t need to be reminded of it when I was supposed to be having fun. Maybe my speech wasn’t anything like their deep analyses of global policies, but it wasn’t their right to decide whether or not I “deserved” to be a part of this. Before I could get my breathing back to normal, though, our tour guide called us all together to hear her speech about the obelisk and the history of the site, and I kept to the back to get a minute for myself.

  “Hey, you okay?” The girl from Puerto Rico whispered to me, touching my arm gently.

  I nodded. The last thing I needed was to break down in front of everyone just to prove to them even more that I didn’t belong in their polished change-making elite. Like Puerto Rico, who had her gap year already set up to help at a local charity instead of going straight to college for some complicated science degree I couldn’t even pronounce. “I’m just a little tired,” I finally squeezed out, forcing my spine out of its slump and smoothing my expression into something super perky that would have made Shirley Temple proud.

  Everyone grew quiet when the guide started speaking and her practiced spiel was what I needed to refocus. I couldn’t let what I’d heard from Illinois and Kansas get to me. Of course my friends were right, and of course, Kris wasn’t my only competitor, but in that moment, the only thing I could control was my plan. Plus, a little part of me had to admit it was a fun way to take my mind off everyone else. So when the guide said some of the funds for building the obelisk came from a fair and bake sale, I grabbed that opening. I craned my neck to find Kris on the other side of the semi-circle and, the second I caught his attention, stuck my tongue out at him. His head shake was worth the annoyance that crossed New York’s face as she clutched at his shirt sleeve.

  Afterwards, when we were given free rein to explore the museums and obelisk, Kris came up and poked me in the shoulder. “That was really mature.”

  A little satisfied feeling rose up in me when I noticed he’d ditched New York and the rest of his groupies, but I didn’t let him see it.

  “Says the guy who was pretending to be a Revolutionary war zombie,” I countered. “Just in case you missed the point, Sarah Hale raised funds for this,” I gestured at the giant white obelisk looking over the site, “with a bake sale. Now, what were you saying about little things not making an impact?” At least teasing Kris helped push away some of the low-level nausea that had washed over me.

  “She was a famous author with a ton of fans and she auctioned off letters from Revolutionary War heroes during the sale. I doubt your bake sales raise enough for monuments.”

  “Not the point. Do you concede that I’m right?”

  “No.”

  “Stubborn.” I couldn’t explain the kindergarten impulse that came over me, making me tap him on the shoulder and say, “Catch me before I get to the top of the obelisk and maybe I won’t hold this over your head the whole rest of this trip,” before taking off towards the obelisk entrance. I didn’t look back to see if he was following.

  Luckily, the prospect of almost three hundred steps scared off most of our group and I easily dodged around the few who were on the first ten steps of the stairway. By step thirty, my legs were burning and I started slowing down. This was stupid and childish and…

  “I can hear you slowing down,” Kris’ voice echoed through the curving stairwell and I upped my pace, exhaustion be damned. I knew how hard it was for him to turn down a good challenge. Usually, it wasn’t so literal, but maybe he would get so tired he’d drop out of the competition out of exhaustion. I ignored the fact that my own body thrilled at this game, giving me a burst of energy I didn’t have seconds before.

  By step one hundred, I slowed down again and hoped that Kris wasn’t some sort of superhuman. I also wished I hadn’t been so lazy in gym glass when Coach Rentz was trying to build our endurance and hoped Kris was as much of a slacker as me. Not with a body like that, my oxygen-deprived brain pointed out, and I shoved logic aside as I powered up the stairway, taking the barest second to peek out the window and freak out a little bit over how high we already were. Then, it was back to focusing on the endless curve of stairs.

  I felt something brush at my waist just as I took my last step into the top floor of the obelisk and immediately hunched over to catch my breath.

  “Caught you,” Kris’ voice reached my ears, sounding as out of breath as me. His hand caught my wrist and suddenly my throat tightened a little bit more. I was so hot at the moment; I regretted my long sleeves.

  “No way,” I choked out, and leaned on what looked like some sort of cannon with a hole in it, clutching at the stitch in my side. He still didn’t let go of my arm. “I said catch me before I reach the top.” We were the only ones at the top of the obelisk and my voice echoed in the round room. At least I could focus without Kris’ usual entourage around.

  “And I touched your back when you were still on the steps.” Kris leaned flat against the wall next to me and tilted his head to look at me. “Which means no more bake sale talk.”

  “Really? Because I bet my grandmom’s mini tea cake recipe could get us a monument just as tall as this one…” I said teasingly. My lungs still felt like a giant had played hopscotch on them, but the feeling had died down to a small giant instead of King Kong. My heart still tried to escape out of my chest.

  “Breaking your end of the bargain already. I should know never to trust the competition.” Kris squeezed my wrist and pulled us over to one of the windows. Boston lay before us, the harbor beautiful and sparkling. “Whoa. This might be worth not being able to walk for the rest of the week.”

  “I may never climb a staircase again, but yeah.” I took the opportunity to stick my head right next to Kris’ and pointed at one of the white spires, my finger pressing against the window pane. “That’s Faneuil hall, I think.”

  “I think you’re right.”

  “This is the second time this week you’ve said that.” I pretended to check my phone. “And darn, I wasn’t recording. Want to say it again for posterity?”

  “You really like egging people on, don’t you?”

  “It’s fun with certain people. I like seeing how they react.” I smiled and stared out at the city below us, remembering a similar conversation I had with Wil right before Junior Prom. “Wil would agree with you on that.” He never took the bait, no matter how hard I tried. Unlike Kris, Wil was perfect that way, never getting ruffled over anything, even though it killed any possible fun flirt-fights.

  Kris copied my posture, and made a noise that was half laugh-half exhale. “I can’t even imagine what it must be like to date you.”

  I turned my head and said, archly, “I’ll have you know that it’s a truly amazing experience. I’m the perfect girlfriend.” But, as I said it, my lips curled up and I scrunched my nose. I was secure enough to find humor in my imperfections, even around my arch-enemy.

  “I believe you,” he said, playing along, but his grin matched mine. “Speaking of, are you guys still dating? I saw through the social media grapevine that you and foreign exchange student are no more.”

  My smile disappeared as quickly as it had come. I turned back to looking out the window so he couldn’t see my face. “Well, you saw wrong. He knows how important this competition is to me and he’s just giving me space.”

  “Oh, come on. I can’t believe Em Katsaros, self-proclaimed relationship expert, is in denial about a break-up.”

  And, it began. I was surprised he hadn’t waited until closer to the judging to start showing his real self. I forced myself to keep my voice level. “‘Self-proclaimed?’ You’re just annoyed that, because of my expert help, Phoebe ended up dating Dev
instead of you.”

  “Actually, no.” His totally non-combative, conversational tone made me look back at him in surprise. “I got to spend a lot of time with her when we set up the reading in the schools week. She’s definitely one of the nicest people at our school,” he paused, then added, “at least, she’s a lot nicer than any of her friends,” at that, he looked pointedly at me, “but it was like last year she was trying to be someone else. It’s really weird. The real her is kind of better than the fake her, but not really my type, if you know what I mean.”

  “Oh, you don’t know the half of it.” Last year, Phoebe had tried to turn herself into her favorite book characters to get both Dev’s and Kris’ attention, but thankfully ended up realizing she liked Dev better. I was surprised Kris was perceptive enough to notice

  “I’m not putting down your friend, by the way. I still like her a lot—” at my side-eye, he quickly added, “—as a friend, but her and Jacobs are perfect for each other.”

  “You can thank the relationship expert for that one.”

  Kris gave me a ‘Yeah, sure’ look, and said, “Anyway, you completely changed the subject away from your ex-boyfriend and your denial.”

  He wasn’t going to let it go and it was grating on my nerves. “Wil and I are fine. Better than fine. In fact, he’s coming here during winter break to visit me,” I said, tilting up my chin in a “Don’t challenge me” fashion.

  Kris shook his head at that comment, and cleared his throat in a way that made it sound like he was trying not to laugh. “I’d check to see if he bothers to follow you back again on Photogram before you make any plans.”

  “You obviously don’t understand the nuances of our mature relationship.” I pulled up one of Wil’s latest Photogram posts of a late-blooming yellow rose and hit the translate button for the text. “See? ‘Thinking of a beautiful—’ okay, whatever that word is didn’t translate, but whatever— ‘girl.’” I popped my phone back into my pocket. “He’s talking about me.”

  “He could be talking about another girl.”

  “No, yellow’s my favorite color. Everyone knows that. Hell, you even know that. And stop being a jerk just to prove some wrong point you’re trying to make.” I drew myself up even straighter and stuck my nose up in the air. As if he thought he had a right to comment on my relationship with Wil. “Profound and abiding love like what Wil and I have won’t get hurt by a little time not talking online.”

  “Please, it’s not like you two could have had a really deep relationship. Did you ever even talk?”

  It was so weird how his jab made it sound like he’d been listening in on me, Ann, and Lia at the colonial dinner. Or listening in on any of my conversations with Phoebe or Grace and Leia. The thought dropped to the pit of my stomach like a rock, but I decided not to let him get to me. Wil and I talked enough, especially considering our language barrier. Time to change the subject before I decided to shove him down the stairs. “Enough about my personal life. I didn’t climb almost three hundred steps to hear your wrong theories.” I bumped him with my shoulder. “Pretty nice view for something built thanks to a bake sale, huh?”

  He turned to look at me and shook his head, but his lips were pressed together as if he was trying not to smile. “You’re really not going to let that go, are you?”

  I leaned in closer as if I was about to share a secret. “I’m stubborn. You should know that by now.”

  He didn’t move back or break eye contact. “So I ran up here and tagged you on the top step for nothing?”

  “I was already at the top. And you got a great view, some exercise, and amazing company.”

  “Well, if you were smarter you wouldn’t have worn a skirt that short to run up stairs in front of someone…” he started, then laughed as I whacked him in the arm. “Just kidding. I was too busy trying not to trip and break my neck on the stairs.”

  Luckily, my skin tone meant a blush just looked like I was wearing a little more makeup, but I could feel the heat creeping up my neck and over my cheeks. “You better not have seen anything.” I was thankful I had worn thick tights even with the warm weather. “Perv.”

  “Uh-uh. I’m a perfect gentleman. Momma Lambert would kill me otherwise. That’s why I’m also going to ignore the fact that you cheated and broke your own rules.”

  “Right. Smooth answer.” Looking straight into his eyes made my guard slip the tiniest bit. “How do you do it?”

  His brows furrowed together. “Do what? Ignore your Em-rule-breaking?”

  I tilted one of my shoulders up in a weak shrug before folding my arms in that tiny space between us. “Give these perfectly scripted answers. Never let stuff faze you.” I glanced out the window again and added, “Just…this place. It’s, like, how much tinier can we be? People fought and died and so many of them were around our age. And what have we done, really?” Kansas’ words echoed back at me and I wanted to kick her and myself for making me so weak in front of my adversary.

  “It’s not as if I’m confident all the time,” he said. I looked back up at him, thrown off by that whisper, but his focus was completely on the city below. “And just because we’re not ambushing redcoats doesn’t mean we’re not making a difference.” We were so close, and when he tilted his chin towards the stairway again, it nearly grazed my cheek, bringing my pulse back up to its running-upstairs pace. “Ready to head back down? No racing this time, because we need to be in one piece to compete on Saturday.”

  I met his gaze again and forced a “confident” smile. “No winning through forfeit?”

  “I never forfeit. And I always win.” Kris broke away and headed towards the stairs, leaving me even more breathless than the stupid race. I leaned against the window and he stopped on the top step. “You coming?”

  “Yeah.” I broke out of my reverie and hurried towards the stairs, brushing past him on the way down. “See you at the bottom.”

  From: Change Council Scholarship Team (ccscholarshipteam@uschangecouncil.org)

  To: Undisclosed Recipients

  Subject: Expected Behavior for Change Council Conference Attendees

  Dear Students,

  It was brought to our attention from US Park Service employees and tourists that some of you were exhibiting behavior unbecoming of US Change Council state representatives while visiting the Breed’s Hill historic site the other night. Remember that, while you are attending the conference, you are representing both the US Change Council and your respective states and that we expect professional behavior at all times. Please respect your national monuments.

  The following behaviors will not be tolerated and may result in either reprimands or removal from the competition:

  1.Excessive roughhousing

  2.Pretending to be secret service agents protecting a foreign diplomat (note: the Boston police did not appreciate this behavior)

  3.Excessive use of vulgar language at a national park (no, we don’t care if you’re recreating a historic battle. And for historical accuracy, our revolutionary war soldiers did not become zombies)

  4.Mooning

  You have put in a lot of hard work to get this far in the competition, and are proud of all of you. We know that you are all very conscientious citizens and likely did not mean to disrupt public peace or disrespect our country’s historical sites, and that this behavior will cease. Your chaperones are present to reinforce proper behavior. Please listen to them.

  Final note: Remember that students are not allowed off inn grounds without Change Council supervision. This includes the coffee shop next to the inn.

  Sincerely,

  The US Change Council Scholarship team

  * * *

  WilOfHyrule: @HokageAlec I cannot believe you still are talking about the last game. I demand a rematch.

  HokageAlec: @WilOfHyrule Bring it on. I tackled you and won fair and square last time.

  WilOfHyrule: @HokageAlec I’ll be around soon. We can rematch then.

  By Wednesday morning, I still c
ouldn’t get the roller-coaster conversation I had with Kris in the obelisk out of my head. I hated feeling out of control, and those few minutes had thrown me off-balance the rest of the day. Even breakfast was filled with this uncomfortable tension that kept both of us from really speaking up or arguing. It drove me crazy because I couldn’t tell who had the upper hand in this weird mind game going on between us.

  It was also exhausting to deal with Ann’s optimism or the soul-sucking reminders from some of the others that I wasn’t Change Council material. I was usually the “hang out with people as much as possible”-type, but needed to regain my balance and a quiet afternoon on my own would be perfect for that.

  As we got on line to get into the Museum of Fine Arts, a shadow fell over me and I looked up to find Kris practically breathing over my shoulder. I took a deep breath and turned on flirty-Em mode, looking up at him through my eyelashes.

  “I’m surprised you picked the museum over Fenway. Isn’t baseball a rite of passage for the American male?” Letting a teasing smile curve up my lips, I added, “Oh, wait, I forgot. You hate athletes.”

  Kris laughed. He stood close enough I could feel his chest shaking in tiny almost-touches against my shoulder. “First, I don’t hate athletes. I happen to be a fencer, in case you didn’t know. It’s just not a school team. And you and your friends are really good at taking things out of context.”

  “You’ve campaigned on cutting funding to sports teams every year since, like, sixth grade.”

  “Guilty. But that’s because they were usually the last to see cuts in our school. The hockey team got their ice time paid for the year because two of the parents are on the school board, but your precious theatre club got denied funding for the spring musical scripts. Mr. Landry and I had to do some creative alumni networking to make that happen.”

  I didn’t know about the scripts, which were freakishly expensive and the reason why we had a few years of doing cheaper, older musicals my freshman and sophomore year, and why our fall plays were sometimes written by one of the seniors in creative writing class. But I wasn’t going to let him off that easily. “And, you were the one who used the term ‘football rejects’ in a conversation with my best friend. In front of a lot of people who have friends on the football team.”