Bookishly Ever After

by Isabel Bandeira

  On the other side of the glass door, the marchers were scrambling into their uniforms while the nonmarchers thawed under the heating vents. I stared longingly at the closest vent for a minute before turning back to Em. “Thanks for not saying anything.”

  “What could I possibly say beyond telling Dev you’re absolutely insane?” Em invaded my personal space and reached into my bag before I could stop her. She pulled out the notebook and flipped to one of my carefully laid-out pages where I’d taped a scene I’d copied from Golden. My handwriting was all over the page in little notes and annotations that analyzed every single word in the scene where Maeve first met Aedan.

  At that moment, I had to become Maeve. Brave, bold, and with my eyes trained on Em so she wouldn’t see how I wanted to snatch back my notebook and curl up behind the snare drums. “Don’t criticize my way of figuring out how to deal with guys and I won’t criticize yours.”

  “You’re so…bookish.” Em pursed her lips and flipped through to another section. “You know people have been hooking up for millennia without the help of books, right?” She turned the page and her eyebrows shot up again, “Whoa, but I totally approve of this one. You should totally just march up to Dev right now and pretend he’s this Aedan guy because this,” she poked at the page enthusiastically, “is make-out gold.”

  I snatched the composition book out of her hands and hugged it to my chest. “Don’t you have lines to memorize or something?”

  “Later. Right now I’m too busy memorizing the look on your face so I can use it the next time I have to act really embarrassed.” Another look at my face and she reached out to give my arm a comforting squeeze before opening the door onto the overwhelming, clashing noise of marchers warming up. “Sorry. But you’re kinda asking for it.”

  I made my way towards the double doors that opened closest to the football field, where a lot of the marchers and nonmarchers were already clumping in groups. “No, I’m not.”

  “You don’t use this, uh…method…for everything, do you?”

  “No.”

  “It would explain a lot about you.”

  This time, I poked her in the arm. “You walk around in character all the time.”

  “That’s for roles. I’m an actress. It’s completely different.” Another look over her shoulder at me and she shut her eyes with a “saints preserve me” expression. “Fine. Do your bookthing, bookworm. I’ll be here to help when you decide to embrace reality again.”

  I hugged my notebook tighter. “Fiction is the best kind of reality.”

  “No, reality is the best kind of reality.”

  “Can one of you help me out?” The voice came from behind us and I turned around to see Dev pulling on his marching hat, its orange feather drooping over the edge of the red column of silliness. “I can’t get this stupid braid untwisted without taking off the jacket.”

  Em took my notebook out of my arms and shoved me at Dev. “Go, put your research to use.”

  Because we were standing right in front of Dev, I held back my urge to run and, instead, tried becoming Marissa when she flirt-fixed Dan’s tie at the dance.

  “Let me get that for you,” I quoted straight from that scene, and stepped half a step closer than necessary. But, as much as I tried to go even remotely flirty while straightening out the gold braid hanging off his epaulets, I couldn’t stop giggling. Our school’s over-the-top red uniform with its rows of brass buttons made Dev look like a reject from the Steadfast Tin Soldier fairy tale, down to the elastic squishing Dev’s ears to his head. “There,” I said, still echoing Marissa’s words, if not her tone. “Better.” I stepped back and pretended to check if the braids were even and, in perfect imitation of Marissa, bit my lip and tilted my head while studying him.

  Biting my lip hurt, and I had to fight not to cringe.

  Dev looked up from checking his braid and frowned the moment he saw my face. “Are you okay? Are you bleeding?”

  I covered my embarrassment up with another giggle, trying to hide my mouth by holding my hand in front of it in a cutesy way, like Min in Cityedge whenever she laughed. “No, I’m fine.”

  Dev opened his mouth to answer, but before he could, Osoba yelled out over the noise in the room. “Line up!” All the marchers snapped to attention, hurrying into freakishly straight lines while us nonmarchers watched in amusement.

  “Gotta go.” He grinned and waved his clarinet at me as he hurried in the direction of the other clarinets. “Thanks, Phoebe.”

  “So,” Em said, handing me back my book and zipping up her coat, “was giggling uncontrollably like a middle schooler at a boy band meet-and-greet a part of whatever book you were trying to copy?”

  “Yes,” I said, wiping at my lip and trying to pull together my dignity. I crammed my red-and-orange beret on my head and tilted my chin up in the air as I headed out the side door back to the stadium with all the other nonmarchers. “All part of the plan.”

  15

  “I can’t believe you dragged me away from my one day off to come here.” I half-spoke, half yawned. I had been up until four am finishing This Side of Darkness and it was way too early to tolerate the mall.

  Em pulled me through the mall doors and headed for the escalator. “Grace and Leia said they’ll meet us at the bookstore,” she dangled that last word over her shoulder with a grin. “You need some time away from that notebook and I need coffee, so we figured this would be a good compromise.”

  I had a to-be-read pile about as tall as me back home, but I’d never say no to a bookstore. “I like your compromise.”

  “And then I was thinking we could catch the matinee for that movie based off Fallen Leaves, Fallen Hearts.” Em said, winning me over in one mention of our favorite K-drama. “I can’t wait to see Han Min-Su being his hot, cute self in English.”

  “Let me guess, you’re going with me instead of Wil because you’re afraid he’ll get jealous of your celebrity crush?” I asked jokingly.

  Em waved her hand dismissively as she stepped off the escalator. “Nah, I just want to spend some quality girl time with my best friend.” She scrunched her nose at me and added, “Well, my best friend and Han Min-Su.”

  I froze. I had friends and better friends, but no one in sixteen years had ever called me a best friend. It was weird and awesome at the same time. My cheeks stretched almost painfully into one of the biggest grins of my life. I paused awkwardly, unsure of what to say without sounding incredibly uncool, then, to cover up the pause, grabbed her arm and practically started dragging her towards the bookstore. Time to change the subject. “Speaking of hot guys, Kris said hi to me the other day.”

  “Alert the media,” Em said, twirling her finger in the air. “Dev. You need to focus on Dev. How many times do I have to tell you that Kris is a tool?” She pursed her lips like she’d just bitten into a lemon. “You know what he said in homeroom the other day? He said band and theatre suck up resources we could use for ‘better’ things. That guy is such an ass and I can’t believe you think he poops gold.”

  I ignored her rant—Em was only biased against Kris because he wasn’t Jon or Dev or any of the other guys she’d picked out for me. “I bet you heard that out of context. Kris is definitely into supporting the arts. His best friend’s in the theatre club,” I reminded her.

  “I bet you’re wrong and need to admit I’m right. You should listen to my wise advice and give up on him.”

  “Whatever.”

  As we walked into the bookstore, Em grabbed a book off the new release display with a picture of a hot guy. “Who’s your favorite book guy?”

  “That’s a weird question,” I said, making a beeline for the new YA releases bookshelf. “Um, it’s hard to choose.”

  “Pick one.”

  Ooooh, the new Marcus Easton paranormal romance was out on the shelves. A few days early. I grabbed a precious copy.

  “Okay, Cyril from the Hidden House books. Marissa loves him, but if she touches him, he’ll possess her. He’s
just so swoonworthy.”

  Em shoved the book she had been holding into a random shelf, making me cringe, and stared at me for a second. “You realize how messed up that sounds, right?”

  “He won’t risk touching her. It’s so romantic, and the tension between them?” I fanned myself with the book.

  “I’m not going to psychoanalyze you, but no wonder you have a thing for a guy who doesn’t know you exist.”

  I couldn’t take it anymore. I pulled the incorrectly shelved book out and dropped it onto a reshelving cart. “He does know I exist. He said hi.”

  “Who said hi?” A familiar voice came from behind me and I turned around to see Dev making his way towards us.

  I quickly mouthed, “What’s he doing here?” to Em before forcing a smile at Dev. “No one.” Suddenly, my ‘In love with fictional dead boys’ t-shirt felt incredibly silly. I should have listened to Grace’s advice when she wanted to toss all my t-shirts.

  Em tapped me on the arm with a hardcover she must have pulled from the new releases. “I’m going to go see if Grace and Leia are at the café yet.” She ignored my pleading look and practically skipped away.

  I looked up at Dev. Okay, time to be cute, like Marissa. “Funny seeing you here. I thought you were an illiterate degenerate or something like that.” I inwardly cringed at my miserable attempt at flirty teasing and hoped he didn’t take it the wrong way. I made a mental note to tear out all the cute insult passages in my notebook.

  He didn’t seem to notice, or at least ignored it if he did. He held up the book he was carrying. Sentinel Twenty.

  “You’ve converted me. Just finished the first Sentinel and I had to get the next one.” His lips curved into the nicest smile, like he was sharing a secret with me.

  Realizing that I was staring, I quickly tried to take in his whole face and found myself talking to his left cheekbone. “That series gets such good reviews.” I flipped the book in my hands so the utterly embarrassing cover of a girl wrapped in a guy’s arms wasn’t facing out.

  “Good? I was up half the night because I couldn’t put the first one down.”

  I think my heart skipped a beat. I shifted from foot to foot, trying to find something that didn’t sound stupid. “I’ll have to move that to the top of my reading pile, then.” My gaze unconsciously drifted back down to his lips, a line from Golden popping into my head. Aedan’s lips left hers and started trailing their way down her neck. She gasped and arched back, melting into a puddle of sensation as his hot breath tickled her collarbone. His hands burned, tickling the line of exposed skin between her shirt and jeans. It looked like he didn’t mind modern clothes now…

  As my face grew warmer, I forced my eyes to focus on a bookshelf over his shoulder. What if he noticed me staring at his mouth? I resisted the urge to dive behind the shelves.

  “Phoebe, are you okay?” Dev asked, concern in his voice.

  “Um, yeah. I’m just…” Distraction. I darted my hand out and grabbed the first familiar book off that shelf. “amazed they put this out in paperback.”

  “That’s really—”

  Grace’s face appeared over Dev’s shoulder. I’ve never been so happy to see that bouncy blonde ponytail in my life. “We’re here to steal Phoebe. She’s supposed to be hanging with us.”

  Leia, pixie-tiny, showed up at my side and grabbed my arm. “Sorry for breaking in on your cute little flirt-fest.” Her short black and purple hair swung into her eyes and she pushed it back with a swipe of her hand.

  I gave her a death glare and shrugged free of her hold. Just because she was with Grace didn’t mean she could tease me. “I gotta go, I guess. Have fun with Sentinel.”

  He tilted his head and smiled confusedly. “Thanks. See you Monday.”

  “Don’t stay up too late with that one,” I called out, and then wanted to kick myself.

  Luckily, Grace’s nails digging into my arm was enough to keep me moving.

  “We came to rescue you. That looked painful,” she said softly as she dragged me towards the café.

  Leia gave me that preschool-teacher-in-training smile of hers. “Someone has a crush,” she said in a singsong voice. “You were so red, I thought you were going to combust.” She and Grace had been dating since Grace’s sweet sixteen that summer and Leia seemed to assume all of us instantly became her friends, too. From the minute Leia first met me and said in her sing-song voice that my “little knitting hobby” was just so “archaically adorable,” her voice always grated on me. Being around her was like knitting with bargain bin acrylic yarn.

  I wanted to punch her. Maeve probably would. “Flirt-fest, Leia? Really?”

  “It’s so adorable how you wouldn’t even look at him.” I never really knew if Leia took me seriously. She always made it sound like everything I did was little-kid-like, as if I was the baby of the group. It was annoying, like she thought of herself as so sophisticated compared to me. “You’re just so cute sometimes.”

  We reached Em and the table. I widened my eyes in a pleading look at Em and reluctantly took the latte she held out. “Help,” I mouthed silently at her.

  “So, did you ask him out?” Leia slipped into the seat next to mine.

  “No! I can’t do that.” I didn’t need Leia jumping into my personal life, too. Em and Grace were bad enough.

  Leia pat me on the arm and said, “You should—”

  Em poked Leia in the arm with a still-wrapped straw. “I’m tired of talking about Phoebe and Dev. She’s hopeless,” she said, emphasizing “hopeless” and rolling her eyes in an over-the-top way. “Let’s talk about something else, okay? I need your opinions on what I’m thinking of getting Wilhelm for Christmas.”

  My eyes met Em’s and a tiny smile flitted across her lips. It was nice having a best friend.

  16

  My arrow skimmed the top of the target and slammed into the fabric backdrop we’d hung up on the far wall of the gym before practice. I grimaced and nocked another arrow. I couldn’t even get a group of arrows to cluster all practice long, much less get anything to land anywhere remotely near the ten point circle.

  Coach Rentz came up behind me and I could feel her gaze move over me, taking in my positioning.

  “You need to relax your grip. That’s why your arrows are all over the place.” When I looked over at her, she was focused on my bow hand. “You’ve been practicing with that other bow again, haven’t you?”

  I almost said yes, but then decided not to since she’d probably confiscate my wonderfully Maeve-y carved bow until after my next competition. “No…I just can’t focus today.” At least that was the truth. Another disastrous lunch period, where I’d ended up stumbling in the heels I’d worn in an attempt to be more Marissa-like and barely missed dumping my lunch on Dev by inches kept haunting me, popping up when I needed to focus.

  Coach Rentz raised one eyebrow and shook her head, letting me know she didn’t buy my excuse, then tapped my hand before moving over to fix another archer’s stance. “Relax that grip,” she said to me over her shoulder.

  I shook out my bow hand, then took a deep breath and aimed, my arms shaking the tiniest bit as I tried to get my sight perfectly dead center. My bowl of southwestern quinoa salad landing right next to Dev’s feet popped into my head again and I lost focus as I released the arrow. It wasn’t a huge surprise that it almost missed the target altogether. I needed a break to clear my head. I stepped off the line and tried to look like I was checking my bow.

  “Phoebe, do you have a minute?”

  I paused midway through adjusting my sight and smiled up at Coach Rentz. “Sorry, I promise I’ll do better at tomorrow’s practice. I’m just a little distracted today.”

  Coach shook her head, but smiled as she did it. “A lot distracted, and that other bow of yours isn’t helping. But,” she waved a paper at me, “that’s not why I wanted to talk to you.”

  She hadn’t mentioned any new competitions in her team announcements, but the paper looked suspiciously like
an application.

  “Okay?” I said, warily, squinting at the paper to try to make out the writing on it.

  “They want to run an archery range at sixth grade camp this year and Mr. Cooper asked me if any of my archers would be able to help out. Since you’re certified to teach, I thought this might be a good experience for you.”

  I regretted letting Coach talk me into getting my level one certification last summer. The thought of teaching a bunch of eleven year olds about aiming at targets and not at each other made my stomach turn. Instead of looking back up at her, I twirled one of my arrows between my fingers, watching the teal and black vanes blur together.

  “I don’t know. I’m not really good at this kind of thing.” A camp book series I’d read over the summer popped into my head, tempting me with the idea of s’mores and cute campers singing around campfires and hot counselors, but I pushed those thoughts away as quickly as they had come. “I don’t think I’m good at teaching.”

  “You really don’t give yourself enough credit. I’ve seen you helping out new archers and think you do a great job.” She handed me the application and pat me on the arm. “Think about it.” As she walked away, she turned around and walked backwards to look at me while adding, “And if I catch you with that other bow, I’m confiscating it. Understand?”

  “Um, okay,” I said with crossed fingers. As soon as she turned around again, I shoved the application into the black hole at the bottom of my bow bag, down under a few folded up old targets. Camp, just like shooting a perfect session a few minutes earlier, wasn’t going to happen.

  Propping my bow in its stand, I checked the gym bleachers behind me. Dad always came for the last half of practice, waiting on the bleachers with the two or three other parents who came to watch. Most of the other kids hated when their parents watched practice, but I kind of loved that archery was something he and I shared, even though he refused to even hold a bow.

  I dropped down next to his feet and looked up at him, slipping my blue shooting glasses onto the top of my head. “You know, most people who come to watch practice actually watch.” I pointed with one of my arrows at the thick mystery bestseller he was balancing on his knees.