“They do,” he said calmly, slipping a bookmark into the book and gently shutting it. “But usually the shooting is much better.”
“That’s harsh.”
He let out a laugh and shook his head. “That’s me, your really harsh Dad. So, are you done?”
“I think it’s best for everyone involved if I stop before I hurt anyone.” Maeve never had bad archery days. But, then again, her destiny kind-of made it impossible for her to mess up. I thought of the paper now squished in my bow bag. “And after seeing me shoot like this, can you believe Coach Rentz wants me to volunteer to teach archery at the sixth grade camp?”
He looked up again over the rim of his glasses and suppressed a laugh. “Sixth grade camp? Did anyone tell her about the cryogenically frozen Jesus fiasco?”
I didn’t need to be reminded of my last, disastrous attempt to volunteer with kids. “It’s not my fault people let six year olds watch the Science Channel. You would think Father Sam would be the first to forgive and forget.”
Dad choked back a laugh. “You and kids just aren’t a good mix. It might be a good idea if you volunteer with inanimate objects, instead.”
“Yeah. I’ll stick to knitting chemo caps and preemie hats. Less chance of getting calls from angry parents. Still,” I side-eyed him with a fake annoyed look, “thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Always, kiddo.” He pointed me back towards my bow and opened his book again. “Now, pack up and let me finish this chapter. I was just getting to the next clue in this mystery.”
17
“Sunglasses, Ms. Martins,” Mr. MacKenzie said as he passed in his usual morning “just a reminder I actually get out of my office” stroll through the hallways before the first bell.
I straightened up by pressing my back against the wall next to Em’s locker and reached up to pull off my sunglasses. The hallway was way too bright for that hour in the morning. “Okay.”
Em poured me another handful of chocolate-covered espresso beans. “You do this to yourself, you know.”
“I couldn’t stop. Timeswitch was too good.” I slouched again and dropped my sunglasses back into place. “I think it was maybe five-thirty when I finished and got to sleep.” I yawned.
“You’re the only person I know who has book hangovers.”
The first handful of espresso beans were finally starting to kick in—the world was getting a little less fuzzy. “It was worth it. I had to know if Lara and Fabien got together and saved the world.”
“Spoiler alert: they always do.” Em slammed her locker shut and I jumped at the sound. “You could have just skipped ahead and read the end.” She shouldered her bookbag and added, “That’s how I figure out if something’s even worth reading.”
“No, that ruins everything.” I yawned. “Part of a really good book is how they get to the end. And holy love triangles, it was good.”
Em opened her mouth to say something, but then she shut it and wrinkled her nose like she’d just tried some sour milk. “Ego alert.”
“Breaking the dress code rules, Phoebe?” Kris came into my line of sight, stopping and looking straight at me. He pushed back his hair in a smooth movement, even though it was already perfect, just like the rest of him. I prayed he hadn’t heard the love triangle comment.
It took a minute to remember to breathe. “Huh?” He pointed at my sunglasses and I quickly reached up to push them down and look over them like Maeve did when she first met Aedan on the hill of Tara. “Oh, I’m just rebelling against the social restrictions at this school that you try so hard to protect.” I hoped my dark circles weren’t too huge and that my sweater looked Maeve-y and wasn’t bunched weirdly at my waistband or anything.
Em poked the hand that I was using to prop up my sunglasses. “Stop doing that. You look like my Great-Aunt Simone trying to read the newspaper,” she hissed at me under her breath.
Frak. I tried to look cool as I quickly pulled the glasses off my face but I scratched my cheek in the process.
“Can I tell you a secret?” Kris said with a wry grin. He leaned closer, making my heart stop, and said, in a loud whisper, “I’d join in your rebellion if I wasn’t class president. Sunglasses are cool.”
Before I could come up with any witty banter, one of the seniors mock-punched Kris in the arm as he passed us and said, “Hey, cuz, you gonna be at the club later?”
Kris did some sort of midair guy-high-five/handshake hybrid with the senior. “Yeah, Aunt Rose needs me to help with the gala. It’ll be epic.”
“Always is.” The guy kept walking and called over his shoulder. “See you at four, then.”
Em’s expression was a combination of boredom and annoyance. “Do people even say stuff like ‘epic’ anymore?”
He ignored her comment, but gave me a little wave. “I gotta go talk to Matt before homeroom, but don’t worry, I won’t report you to the dress code police. Your rebelling is safe with me, Phoebe.”
“Thanks.” I tried to make my smile cool and mysterious, like Maeve’s, but it moved at light speed straight into what had to be an embarrassingly goofy grin.
“See you in homeroom, Katsaros.” Kris disappeared down the hallway and I leaned back against the wall to watch him.
“Not like I have a choice,” Em muttered.
Her dark cloud of disapproval popped the bubble of happy in the air around me. “Do you always have to be so rude to him?”
“Rude? That ‘club’ he was talking about is the country club off Lake Crest. You know, the fancy one that only lets people with personal gold mines and sticks up their butts join?”
I waited patiently for her point, and when one didn’t come, I said, “So? I think he just flirted with me. What’s wrong with that?”
“What’s wrong with that? Everything.” She started pushing me towards homeroom. “You’re way too nice for uppity jerks like him.”
I ignored her comment and pointed at the ceiling as the bell started going off. “You’re going to be late.”
“I’ll be fine. Now, you, don’t be late for lunch. I have a plan.” Em gave me one last push into my homeroom and hurried off before I could say anything else.
“Oh, joy.” I said to myself as I took my seat and lay my head down on my arms.
“She’s so freakin’ desperate,” Em muttered before taking a fierce bite out of her sandwich.
I hadn’t been paying attention. Looking up from where I was making notes on a Maeve/Aedan scene in my notebook, I asked, “Who are you talking about?”
She pointed the corner of her sandwich in the direction of the lunch line. “Lexie Rossel. She’s the stage manager for Phantom and, ever since we started rehearsals, she’s been using the whole stage manager thing as an excuse to hang all over Dev.”
I looked down the line until a familiar head of messy black hair jumped out at me. I couldn’t help but grin at the book spine sticking out of his backpack. Even from all the way over here, I recognized the cover art for the Sentinel series. Next to Dev, Lexie laughed at something he must have said. She reached out to untwist his backpack strap, her fingers lingering on his shoulder for a few seconds too long, and something unfamiliar rose up in me. It was like the scene in Golden where Maeve saw Deirdre flirting with Aedan. My fingers twitched and I promptly shoved my hands under my thighs to keep them from doing anything I’d regret.
“Does Dev like her?” I asked, softly. The senior always reminded me of Dax from Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. Long, shiny brown hair that, unlike mine, was naturally straight, a model’s body, and she was so confident. There wasn’t one ungainly thing about her.
“Don’t be an idiot.” Em pursed her lips when Dev let out a loud laugh, loud enough that we heard it across the lunchroom. “But it looks like he really likes the attention,” she added. She reached over the table and grabbed my arm, making me turn around to look at her. “You have to start coming to rehearsals.”
I shook free of her hand. “Like I don’t have a life outside of being
stalker-y?”
“Since you refuse to be on the crew, bring a book or knit something. You can get a ride home with me afterwards. He won’t even think about Lexie if you’re there.”
“You do realize that sounds creepy, right?”
“You realize that I saw your claw hands come out, right?” My eyes widened and I curled my fingers under the bench. “Last time you did that, it was for the last copy of that book, when the mom almost got it.”
“I did not do claw hands.”
My skin felt the warmth behind me, like a force field, before a tray slid next to my lunch bag.
“What are ‘claw hands’?” Dev asked, stepping over the bench to sit next to me. Lexie followed, like the other slice of bread in a Dev sandwich.
“Notebook,” Alec said, covering the word up with a cough, and before it could even fully register in my brain, Grace quickly reached over to shove my notebook under her lunch tray.
Em’s lips turned up in the type of smile she usually reserved for her particularly evil little plots. “Oh, that’s when Feebs wants something really badly and is willing to kill for it. Her fingers get all claw-y.” She demonstrated in an exaggerated, monster-movie way.
Dev glanced curiously down to where my hands were glued to the bench and under my knees, before looking back up at the two of us. “So, what did you want?”
I threw an acidic look at Em. “Not like the whole clawhand thing actually exists, but since I wasn’t doing them, obviously nothing.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Em sing-song hummed before taking a sip of her soda.
My nails dug into the bottom of the bench—not claw hands—when I saw Lexie touch Dev’s arm to draw his attention. “So, like I was saying, I think we need to get the shop class to help us find a chain long enough for the chandelier scene.”
Maeve knew exactly what to say in a situation like this. My notebook’s blue, sparkly corner taunted me from where it peeked out from under Grace’s tray.
Dev nodded. “Em, what do you think of Lexie’s idea? She thinks we can pull off the chandelier part of the musical in the auditorium.”
Em blinked, her fingers tapping in a rolling motion up and down her soda can. “I don’t know, Lexie. Don’t you think the stage crew might be better to answer this better than me or Dev?”
Lexie looked surprised. “Whatever. It’s my job and I just want us to have a great show. Dev did come up with the zombie theme. I thought we could brainstorm about this, too.” At we, she stared pointedly at Dev.
Dev nodded. “It won’t hurt.” He nudged me in the side. “What do you think, Phoebe?”
I couldn’t even shrug since my hands were firmly and safely trapped under my butt. Logical. Maeve was calm and logical whenever she dealt with Deidre. “Would the school even allow it? If someone in the audience gets hit with anything, they’ll probably sue us all.”
Lexie stopped mid-drink, looking as if she had just downed sour milk. “You know, Em’s right. Maybe this should stay inside the theatre club. Pedestrians won’t understand.”
Deidre put her hand on Aedan’s arm. “I don’t think you should be discussing matters of the court in front of,” she threw Maeve a distasteful look, “outsiders with the potential to turn on us.”
“Phoebe’s probably right. I’ve seen the bookends some of those guys in shop tried to make.” Alec said, looking up from his textbook and making a tilting gesture with his hand. Before Lexie could retort, he went back to ignoring her and saying things in mangled French to Grace.
Maeve dug her nails so deep into her skirt, she was positive the silk would never recover. Still, she wasn’t going to stoop to Deidre’s level—not now, and not ever. “Since you’ve hinted about my goblin blood at least three times just now,” she said calmly with a smile, “I think you need to remember that it’s the reason the court still exists.” Then, she stood and walked over to give Aedan a kiss, a small part of her taking satisfaction in how Deidre was seething mad. “But, anyway, I have class, so this is whole conversation is totally moot. I’ll see you later.”
“I think—” I started to say, but Lexie cut me off at the “I” and my voice faded away on “think.”
“Oh, please, it’s a rope with a pulley setup. I doubt they could screw that up.”
A hard kick landed on my shin and I looked up to find Em grinning at me. “Well, as much fun as this was, I’m getting out of this debate right now because I have a doctor’s appointment. But I totally support using Phoebe as much as you want.”
I kicked her back even harder. Too bad my ballet flats weren’t as hard as her boots. “I’ll walk you out. We need to talk.”
Another whack to my shin. I was going to be black and blue. Em’s smile looked a little bit forced. “Dev needs your help.”
Dev watched us like a bad ping-pong game. “I don’t—“
I narrowed my eyes at her. She moved her legs so my last kick didn’t make contact.
“I need to go to my locker anyway. I forgot my history notebook.” There was no way I would last two seconds against Lexie. She was witty and I would be the invisible third wheel, totally not like Maeve, who was able to effortlessly flip Aedan’s attention away from Deidre with only a few words. And Grace and Alec were too busy practicing for their French quiz to bail me out.
“Mauviette,” Grace broke away mid conversation with Alec to kick me, too. I stuck my tongue out at her when Dev wasn’t looking. I wanted to know which French teacher thought it was smart to teach her the word for wimp.
Em threw me a pointed look, and then softened when she saw my face. “C’mon codependent.”
I grabbed my bags and notebook and followed her away from the table with an apologetic little wave at a very confused Dev.
“I couldn’t stay there. It’s bad enough trying to be a part of the conversation when you’re there to help me. Lexie would eat me for lunch.”
Em shook her head at me. “You’re using me as an excuse because you didn’t know what to say? That kinda sucks.” She elbowed me. “You did fine in English class.”
“But that was different.” We passed the sixth grade camp counselor volunteer sign-up table and I stopped short, Coach Rentz’s words about volunteering running through my head.
“We really need to work on your witty banter.” Em had walked a few feet ahead before realizing I wasn’t next to her. Turning around, she made a face when she saw what I was looking at. “You really want to be a counselor for sixth grade camp?”
“It’s only a week.”
“In the woods. With no real showers. And ten year olds.” Em waved her pass at the door monitor as we made our way out of the cafeteria. The monitor didn’t even blink at me, one of the perks of being a notorious rule follower. “You’re not seriously thinking about it, are you?”
“You should be supporting me when I try to branch out to new experiences.” We reached the front entrance and I poked her in the side. “But, if it makes you feel any better, I’m not.”
“Good, because if you can’t even stand up to Lexie, I can’t imagine you standing up to a cabin full of kids.” She poked me back, then added, “Call me tonight. We need to talk about growing you a spine.” She waved her phone at me, and the sound of her pushing open the doors echoed in the empty hallway. “Later.”
I watched her back as she made her way out of the double doors before heading to my locker. Being spineless felt like a good option at the moment.
Golden series book 1: Golden PG 210
The arrow hit the target dead on. The second shot was even better than the first. Third, fourth, fifth—all of the arrows were crowded at the heart of the swinging target.
Aedan turned to look at Maeve, the shock on his face mirroring hers. He quickly schooled his features back to neutral. “And you didn’t lie about not having training?”
“It has to be part of being the Harper.” Those weird, creepy powers were taking her over like some sort of superhero-y disease. Her body didn’t feel like her own anymore. She
dropped the bow4 even though her fingers ached to shoot some more, just like her entire being was dying to touch the harp again.
“It could be that I’m an incredible instructor.”
Maeve snorted. Did Aedan just make a joke? “Or, I’m just amazing. Maeve, the Goblin Slayer.” She mimed a slashing motion.
Aedan stiffened up, all humor draining out of his features. “Harper or not, you’ve never been in battle. We are only working on this so you can defend yourself if the goblins break our lines.” His hand gently brushed her arm. “You’re not a warrior.”
The whole ‘you’re a weak human’ thing was starting to get on her nerves. She drew herself up, looking him straight in the eye. “I am part goblin, you know.” She bared her teeth in what had to be an awful grimace. “My ancestors probably had yours for dinner.”
Aedan stared at me for a moment before breaking into a laugh. “I think you might win the battle on witty commentary5 alone.” “Then, you agree. I can be on the front lines,” she said lightly, rolling an arrow between her fingers.
Aedan grew dead serious. “Only if you want to be killed6. I can’t defend the gates if I need to protect you.”
“Oh, you’re worried about protecting me because I’m weak?” Somehow, her body just knew what to do. Without a second thought, she yanked the brooch off his cloak and threw it in the air, whipping her bow into position and letting an arrow fly. The arrow hit the wooden pillar with a thunk, the circular brooch swirling around its shaft. “I disagree.”
18
“What are the chances, between ‘No way in hell’ and maniacal laughter, that this might actually work?”
“In my time, we’d say we have the same chance as a cat in hell without claws.”
“Thanks for the confidence.”—Marissa and Cyril—The Hidden House series book 3, Found
I nocked my arrow and pulled back, anchoring at my chin as I took aim before letting it fly. Completely off the mark. “So, how are things with you and Wilhelm?”
Bookishly Ever After Page 9
