Dramatically Ever After

by Isabel Bandeira

  Kris passed me on the stairs and paused to lightly touch my shoulder and nod before continuing over to the podium. I could leave the hall, but a part of me wanted to stay and hear him give his speech. As I took one of the seats near the stage stairs, I was amazed at how confident he looked as he smiled out over all of us. In his slacks and dress shirt, with his hair slicked back for the first time that week and a serious look on his face, he looked like he belonged up there.

  Then, he spoke.

  I’d read the early version of his speech, the one they included in our packets, but between the changes he must have made with his mentor and actually hearing him read it out loud, it was incredibly different. His voice carried over me and a shiver ran down my spine. His words had presence and weight. In that moment, my own speech felt like crap—light, fluffy “I think I can change the world” stuff when compared to what he talked about—legislation and protests and people our age actually changing the world.

  “Words are powerful things, but given a voice, they soar. We are the voices our country and world needs, and I’m proud to be a part of this amazing chorus.” His speech ended, breaking his spell over us all. His eyes met mine as he looked over at me, probably gloating because he knew he kicked my butt.

  So, I got up and left before he could get back down from the stage. It might have been a little bit of a diva move, but, damnit, I could be a diva if I wanted to. It was probably the only thing I had left.

  EmmieBear: @WilOfHyrule I know you don’t care, but I kicked ass today. Have a nice life with Liesel

  @EmmieBear has blocked @WilOfHyrule

  KLambert: @EmmieBear Nice job this morning.

  EmmieBear: @KLambert Thanks, you too.

  KLambert: @EmmieBear We’ve got first and second in the bag

  EmmieBear: @KLambert I hope the judges agree with you.

  KLambert: @EmmieBear Hey, are you okay?

  EmmieBear: @KLambert Okay?...?

  EmmieBear: @KLambert Oh, Right. I’m fine.

  KLambert: @EmmieBear Okay, good. Because if you need one, I’m sure I can bend Change Council rules and get a hot chocolate or something for you.

  EmmieBear: @KLambert My knight in a shining fencing suit

  KLambert: @EmmieBear ???

  EmmieBear: @KLambert I’m okay, thanks. I’m thinking of getting an apple cobbler latte later but I need to call Phoebe and get ready for tonight

  KLambert: @EmmieBear They make an apple cobbler latte?

  EmmieBear: @KLambert If you weren’t too busy hitting on the barista, you’d see it’s been on their menu this whole time

  KLambert: @EmmieBear If you weren’t too busy flirting with anything with a pulse, you’d realize me being polite isn’t “hitting on someone”

  KLambert: @EmmieBear You’ll know when I’m flirting

  EmmieBear: @KLambert Well, I—

  KLambert: @EmmieBear Speechless? (Pun intended)

  EmmieBear: @KLambert Sorry, gotta go. Feebs is calling

  “I need this so much,” I said between sips of the apple cobbler latte that had mysteriously shown up at my room door only a few minutes before. I tried not to think too hard about how it got there, and focused on the person on the other side of the phone. “You are the best best friend I could have ever picked. I still can’t believe you’re coming up.” I was cross-legged on my bed, phone pressed to my ear.

  “Whatever. What’s the point of having family in Boston if I can’t visit the city when you’re blowing everyone away with your stage presence? Thank goodness for the Acela.”

  “I don’t know about the blowing everyone away part,” I said, picking at the cookie I had swiped from the basket by the front desk after lunch.

  “What?” Her question was immediately followed by a hushed, “Sorry, sorry.” There were a whole bunch of rustling sounds on the other side of the line. “One sec, they’re kicking me out of the quiet car,” Phoebe said after a moment, her voice a low whisper.

  “Quiet car? Who sits there?”

  “People who like to read on trains in peace and quiet?”

  “They exist?”

  I could picture Phoebe standing in the little space between train cars, blowing air out of her lips like she always did when I got to her teasing limit. “Yes. Anyway, so, what happened?”

  “Beyond the fact that I’m terrified I’m going to place absolute last?”

  “I doubt that. And I’m sure that professor you wanted to impress will be happy with how you did no matter where you place.”

  I tugged at a loose thread in the quilt. “I think…” I started slowly, “a lot of this isn’t about Dr. Lladros or the scholarship anymore.”

  She was quiet for a moment, then prompted me with, “Okay, so what is it about?”

  I pulled at the thread until it bunched up the stitching in that part of the quilt. First the wall, now a quilt. I was becoming a repeat vandal. “I’m just so tired of not being taken seriously. I’m more than fluff, no matter what some of them think.” The words that had been building up in me over the past few days bubbled to the surface, tumbling out before I could stop and edit myself. “I wanted to show I’m just as good as Kris or those snotty-ass speechwriting political nerds. I want to kick the hell out of all their asses to prove I belong here as much as they do because being awesome at acting doesn’t mean I couldn’t and didn’t write the best speech anyone ever heard.”

  “And the scholarship would be nice,” Phoebe prompted, with something that sounded a little like pride in her voice.

  “True, especially if it lets me show Mom and Dad that I can succeed on my own terms, too.” I walked over to the window and stared out at the quiet Boston street in front of the inn that was starting to feel as familiar as my street back home. When I’d walked on that street for the first time a week ago, I had no idea how much things could change in such a short time.

  “You did it. I believe in you,” she said, sounding just like a Disney princess, and the comfort in her voice was like being wrapped in one of her cozy knit shawls. It was nice knowing my friends always believed in me, no matter what. “I missed your confidence, by the way.”

  “Well…”

  “There’s something I’m missing, isn’t there?”

  “Um… I kind of kissed Kris last night.” I closed my eyes and cringed, imagining Phoebe’s reaction. It sounded awful even coming out of my own mouth.

  She was speechless for a moment. “Oh frack, ouch. How do you kind of kiss someone?”

  I waved my hand vaguely in the air even though she couldn’t see me. “I don’t know. It just happened.”

  “Did you deduct kiss-status points because he’s not that great of a kisser? Is that how it became kind of?” Her voice melted into pure sympathy.

  “No.” Memory of last night’s kiss rushed across my skin and suddenly the room felt a little too warm. No kiss had ever done that to me before. “He’s amazing, like ‘I thought my panties were going to catch on fire’ amazing.” I had to fan myself as I spoke and my coffee became too hot to drink.

  “First, don’t say that word. It icks me out.”

  “Amazing?” I teased.

  “No, the p- word. Stupid name. Second, eww. Fiery underpants? Seriously?”

  My face split into a wide grin. It was way too easy to tease her. “Doesn’t Dev make your—”

  “Please don’t go there.”

  “Right. Super holy virgin and all that.”

  Phoebe made an insulted sound, her voice going a little squeaky. “You’re evil.”

  My grin faded as I leaned my forehead against the window, watching as people passed by in their uncomplicated Saturday afternoon lives. “Thanks for not saying ‘I told you so’ about the whole flirt-Kris-to-failure thing.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. You’ll get enough of that from Grace when you get home on Sunday.”

  “I’m not looking forward to that.” Hiding out in Boston forever sounded like a good idea at the moment. Maybe I could get a job as one of the
historical re-enactors, like Historical Hottie.

  “So…you kissed Kris? On purpose?”

  Sometimes, Phoebe’s innocent world-view was beyond ridiculous. “No, I just tripped and happened to fall onto his face,” I said sarcastically.

  “That actually happened in Starstruck.” She was probably talking about another book.

  “Well, this isn’t a book,” I pointed out, then got up and paced the room.

  “You never know. Stuff like that happens in real life.”

  “Well, in ‘real life’ what’s happening is I think I’m falling for Kris and I think he was just playing me as much as I was playing him. You were all right, my plan backfired spectacularly and I’m so screwed.”

  “Did he…kiss you back?” She sounded a little choked on “kiss,” like it was a dirty word or something. “From what I remember, Kris really gets into it.”

  The mental image of Kris kissing my best friend annoyed the hell out of me, but I knew that tone of voice. She was definitely screwing up her nose in disgust at the memory. “I’m pretty sure he kissed me back, but maybe it was because I kind of threw myself at him last night. He was being so sweet about Wil sending me the Photogram of him and his new girl-toy…”

  She cut me off with a, “Holy frack, what?”

  “Oh, yeah. The Wil and Em show is officially over. I’m pretty sure I was right about the supermodel thing, too. Except her name’s Liesel.”

  “I’m so sorry, Em.” Phoebe’s voice was gentle, like a verbal hug.

  My shoulders went up and down in a shrug. Talking it out made it feel like it had happened to someone else a long time ago. “At least I was right.” There wasn’t as much pain wrapping around my heart as I thought would be when talking about Wil.

  “He’s a jerk.”

  “That’s pretty much what Kris said.” I picked at the curtain for a moment before burying my face in its velvet. “But instead of just saying thanks, I tried to set his pants on fire. Because I’m an idiot. And then, we go to do our speeches this morning and he had to give this amazing speech. People were sniffling in the audience, Feebs. Hell, I almost cried.”

  “What’s with you and fiery pants? Isn’t that what happens to liars?”

  I let a frustrated puff of air through my lips. “When you’re five. What do you and Dev do in his room? Macramé?”

  “Hey, first, what my boyfriend and I have decided we are comfortable doing or not doing is our business and second, don’t take your frustration out on me,” she said, her voice a cross between squeaky and insulted.

  She was right, I was touchier than usual. “Sorry, I just had a fantastically craptastic few days. I’ll try harder to pretend everything’s peachy.”

  “I think this might be a good thing. The competition part is over and maybe now you’ll believe Kris isn’t as awful as you thought. Maybe you two might get together and, I don’t know, set more pants on fire?”

  I loved Phoebe, but she was so naïve. “Sure, Feebs. We’ll totally forget ten years of despising each other because we got along for less than a week? This isn’t one of your books where everything ties up nice and neat at the end. We’ll probably just go back to barely tolerating each other when we get home.” Barely tolerating each other from a distance, I added silently. As far as possible from those eyes and that body and the lemon-verbena soap he used.

  “Right.” A muffled sound filled the background and she waited for it to finish. “We’re almost at the station, so I have to go. We’ll talk tonight.”

  “Go, I don’t want to be the reason you end up in Rhode Island or something.” Before I hung up, I added, softly, “I’m so glad you’re going to be here.”

  “Of course. I’d never miss this. Forget Wil and Kris, and I’m sure you did great. Did I miss anything?”

  “Maybe the part about how I’m just the most amazing person on the planet?”

  “Bye, Em.”

  I laughed as she hung up.

  They made us sit in the same order as we had for the entire conference, which meant I was back next to Kris as we filed into Faneuil Hall. It was so hard to believe we’d been there only a week ago—it seemed like forever since he and I had been on the stage, having a showdown. And now, I was thankful I was ahead of him in line. No excuses to even look his way at all, even though I wanted to. He was still in his dress shirt and slacks from the morning and looked like he’d stepped right off a movie screen.

  In a sea of mostly black, grey, and blue, my bright yellow drapey jacket stood out. I played with my belt, tying my bow a little neater. I sat down and crossed my legs, smiling at the quirky yellow shoes that Phoebe, Grace, and Alec had gotten together to give me on my birthday. It was like my best friends were right there with me.

  “Em!” A tiny, familiar voice squeaked over the crowd and I looked up into the galley to see Chloe hanging over the railing, arms flailing wildly. Just like I was impossible to miss in yellow, her bright green jumper and cowboy boots stood out against the white railing, proof that my impeccable taste in clothes was rubbing off on her. Behind her, Mom, Dad, and Phoebe were also waving and laughing at the same time. I faked a smile and princess-waved up at my baby sister, who let out a musical giggle and princess-waved right back.

  “Is that your little sister? She’s cute.” Kris whispered from beside me, and I managed a slight nod without actually looking at him. Of course she was adorable—we shared the same genes.

  I fidgeted my way through the pledge of allegiance, national anthem, and Ms. Shawnee’s long speech about the conference and growth and how we were amazing young people who were going to change the world.

  Right. Maybe people like Kris could do that with their charities and grand political plans. Me, I was relegated to a lifetime of bake sales and just talking about change, if the difference between our speeches meant anything.

  Finally, she started announcing the top twenty speeches, working backwards. I bounced in my seat impatiently, my fingers crossed and fake-clapping for everyone whose names were called. We had bonded enough over the past week that I was really happy when some of my friends were called, but it was still hard to feel excited when my insides were churning, waiting for the results to be over. When Kris’s name was announced for ninth place and he stood to go get his plaque, my entire body slumped. If he got ninth, that meant I didn’t even make it in any of the scholarship slots. Probably fiftieth or one hundredth place.

  “Congrats,” I murmured to him when he got back to his seat, pasting that same fake smile on my face. Kris was beaming, despite his placement. “Sorry you didn’t get first.”

  “There are some pretty amazing speeches here. Being in the top ten isn’t bad.”

  I tilted my head back, staring at the painting hanging above the stage and willing the whole ceremony to finish as fast as possible so I could go eat something fantastically fattening. I closed my eyes and let Shawnee’s voice turn into a drone until something jostled my arm. I turned to give Kris a dirty look, and he pointed to the stage. “That’s you, Em.” I stared blankly at him and he and the guy from New Hampshire practically shoved me to standing. “Third place? Go.”

  Shock ran through my system, along with an unholy mix of disappointment for not winning first and the happy realization I didn’t suck major suckage. I was like Judy Garland in my yellow-brick-road shoes, blinking at the brightness around me as I made my way up onto the stage, in such shock I couldn’t even manage to fake-smile. Ms. Shawnee squeezed my hand tight, handing me a plaque and turning me around for a photo-op where I must have looked like a deer in headlights before I was passed over to the judges, who whispered things like “good job” as they shook my hand. One older man with a smile that stretched across his wrinkled face and touched his dark eyes nodded as he shook my hand and said, “Incredible speech, young lady. I’ll be requesting a copy of your competition recording for my school.”

  I gaped at him for a moment before finding my voice. “Thank you.” I was passed on to a few more judges b
efore stumbling off the stage and getting engulfed in a giant ocean-scented hug.

  “I told you the speech was fantastic. Congratulations.” Lauren pulled back, studying me at arm’s length before hugging me again. “Now, breathe. You look a little lost.” I started walking back to my seat, but she held on to my arm. “You can stay here for now. They’re going to want pictures with you and the first- and second-place winners afterwards.”

  With all the hugging and handshaking, I’d missed hearing second place, but seeing the girl from Wisconsin stumble down the steps with a dazed expression that reflected what I felt pretty much let me know she was second. We high-fived and shared a grin before she went to stand by her mentor.

  Ms. Shawnee went into the usual “drag things out as much as uncomfortably possible” with vague praises about all the speeches and how this winning one blew away the judges, etc, etc, before finally getting to the point. “And this year’s US Youth Change Council speech competition first-place winner is Geoff Stirling from Louisiana.”

  A whoop came up from the crowd, joined by whistles and cheers from my fellow competitors. Geoff was sweet and fun, and it was impossible not to feel happy for him. I picked Ann out of the crowd and she was bouncing up and down, clapping a in a way I never expected my sometimes uptight roommate to act. After all the handshakes, Geoff stepped up to the podium, started his speech, and I had to admit it was awesome. In the span of five minutes, he ran us through a range of emotions, starting and ending with laughter. If I had to lose to anyone, at least it was a speech that unquestionably deserved first place. The little jealousy monster in me picked out any mistakes and places where mine was better, but I squashed back that monster and my disappointment at not making first as hard as I could.

  Third place out of over one hundred speeches was huge, and the ten-thousand-dollar scholarship that came with it wasn’t bad, either. Which Phoebe and my parents told me over and over again as they swarmed me after the awards ceremony. Chloe had claimed my plaque and was walking around showing everyone how my name was really spelled. If it weren’t so cute, I’d strangle her.