Bookishly Ever After

by Isabel Bandeira

“You two make being melodramatic like a Regency heroine kind-of impossible.”

  “Well, this isn’t one of your books. I’m not a fan of the whole ‘spend the next few months crying into a pillow while listening to depressing music’ thing. Please don’t tell me you’re planning on doing that, because if you are, I’ll have to change lunch tables.”

  Nudging her with a teasing expression, Leia said, “We’re supposed to be supportive, Grace.”

  “You don’t go to our school. You don’t get a vote.” But Grace’s voice was light and she winked at me. “Fair enough, you get a pass on a few days of moping. But if you start acting like Alec did when Katie broke up with him, I’ll personally escort you to the outcast table.”

  That made me smile again. “If I start writing really bad poetry and reciting it every time Dev’s in earshot, you have my permission to send me to Coventry.” At their shared look of confusion, I added, “You know, exile me? Regency?” Leia had an excuse because it was impossible to know what they taught in her snobby private school, but Grace really should have gotten the reference. “We learned that in English class last year during the Jane Austen module? You two seriously need to read more.”

  Leia dropped her chin in her hand and winked at Grace. “Sounds to me like she’s feeling better already.”

  Grace studied me for a second and nodded. “Totally agree. She’s saying English nerd stuff already.”

  “I think I liked her when she was a little bit depressed and not so much of a know-it-all,” Leia said in a bored tone.

  I feigned offense. “Hey! Thanks to that comment, I’m taking back what I said about you being awesome.”

  “Aww, you actually liked me?” Leia twiddled her fingers in an evil-professor fashion. “My world domination plan is slowly taking effect.”

  I laughed, then sobered up, leaning back to get them both in my line of sight. “Thank you for making me forget the whole miserable feeling of rejection thing for a little while.”

  Grace reached over and squished me in a one-armed hug. “I’m glad we could help. Plus, I put a lot of hard work into making you look presentable and I don’t want you to use this as a reason to slip back into your old ways.” She tilted her head and grinned at me. “You’re coming to my New Year’s party, right?”

  “Of course. Why?”

  “So’s Dev. We’re going to make you so gorgeous, he’ll see you at the party and regret not picking you. And then you can ring in the New Year looking like you stepped out of Vogue.”

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea…”

  “Trust me, it’ll be fun. Being a little bit evil always is.”

  Sunday.

  All I wanted to do all day was go through my notebook and figure out what could have gone wrong. Or fall into a pile of books and only come up for air when I’d forgotten the last few weeks. But every book I picked up was as substantial as onion skin, without that magical spark that usually dragged me into a story until I forgot everything. And reading about feeling like my heart was put through the blender definitely paled in comparison to the real thing.

  I slipped the record out of its sleeve and carefully positioned side two on the vintage record player Trixie had bought in Philly during her senior year. Bouncy 70’s guitar filled the room and I dropped onto my bed. Mom had stolen this Partridge Family album from Grandmom’s house and I had stolen it from the rec room record player.

  David Cassidy started into a cheesy voiceover monologue about wanting to be wanted and being lonely and a wave of nausea rolled over me. If I was honest with myself, my pride hurt as much as, or more than, my heart. None of this would have happened if Em hadn’t told me about Dev. I could happily still have kept dreaming about Kris. From afar.

  It was embarrassing enough I’d let myself get carried away like I did. Dev was probably laughing over the whole thing right now while cuddling with Lexie before his flight. A suffocated, overwhelming feeling rushed over me at the thought, but I forced in a deep breath and pulled myself together. I could be cold and heartless, like Marissa after Cyril disappeared. Or at least, I could work on not feeling anything.

  I swiped the back of my sleeve across my face and coughed from my clenched throat. I needed to do something. Something that would channel these feelings out so I could keep going on. I stood and changed into one of the tight-fitting workout shirts and a slim fleece Trixie had bought for me to use in the winter when I’d complained about how it was hard to practice outside in a jacket.

  Shooting things always made me feel better.

  The Hidden House series book 1: Hidden PG 240

  My sweater slips off my shoulder and I don’t bother to push it up. In fact, I’m glad I’m wearing it today. It’s bright red and bold and as non-Victorian as I can get. I pull myself up and stare at the back of the bathroom door, gathering the courage to go out there and confront Cyril.

  He doesn’t want to fight for us, and if he really does still love Virginia—even though she’s been dead for over a hundred years—then I have to stop caring about him, too. I need to be strong and draw this line in the sand between us.

  Especially since it’s like someone asks me to tear my own heart out of my chest every time I see him.

  “Screw this,” I say to my bath towel and combs before opening my bathroom door.

  Just as I cross into my room, though, the dried tussie-mussie catches my eye. I turn on my heel to grab the little Victorian-style bouquet, head back into the bathroom, slide up my window and screen, and throw it as hard as I can into the night. A little bowl of potpourri that mom had put in my bathroom follows, and then the dried rose I saved from the dance.

  Throwing things feels amazing9.

  27

  I nocked another arrow and took a shot, not even pausing before my quickly numbing fingers reached into the bucket of the school’s loaner arrows to grab and nock another one. It was wonderfully mechanical. Whoosh, thunk, shoot again. The already calloused tips of my fingers were turning red from the continuous motion and my arms were burning. There was definitely something therapeutic about this. Maeve was right.

  Maeve’s shoulder ached, but that distracted her from the ice that was slowly taking over her heart. The memory of Aedan’s blank stare snuck back into her brain and she let out a frustrated scream as she let fly another arrow.

  “What the hell are you doing out here? It’s freakin’ cold, you know.” Em jogged up next to me, looking from my bow and me to the overloaded target. “Holy crap, Feebs. Don’t you think that’s a little overkill?”

  I let another arrow fly. It just skimmed an arrow in the red of the target. “No.”

  Images flashed through Maeve’s mind and she punched them away. Memory upon memory. Aedan, leaning a little bit too close when he blocked her during their last training session. Pushing his hair out of his eyes as he joked with her. Holding her in his arms and comforting her after watching their friends die in the last battle. They came fast and relentless and she hit harder until her knuckles left dots of blood on the dummy.

  Alec came up on my other side, wheezing a bit from the run. “Damn. Remind me never to piss you off. I forget that you like turning things into pincushions.”

  “Very funny.” Two arrows left. I shot them off in succession, then lay down my bow and marched over to the target to start pulling them out.

  “Grace told us all about last night. I know I said I was staying out of things, but I think you might have read too much into what you saw,” Em said, close on my heels.

  Instead of wiggling the nearest arrow out, I yanked hard until it popped free. Coach would be having a heart attack right now. “Em, you don’t have to defend Dev. And I really don’t need to talk about this.”

  Em joined me in pulling out the arrows, except she was much gentler on the target than me.

  “Alec, tell Phoebe she’s being an idiot.”

  Alec came into my line of sight, carrying my bow and plucking at the bowstring. I was too worked up about Dev an
d trying to sound like I didn’t care about the whole situation to ream Alec out for touching it. He shook his head.

  “I don’t know why you’re dragging me into the middle of this, but Dev’s not dating Lexie. At least, not the way he made it sound when we hung out this morning. She’s just the hugging type, I guess.” He flipped the bow over in his hands. “These carvings are awesome. Why don’t we get to shoot with bows like this?”

  “Because ‘bows like this’ cost hundreds of dollars.” I said, reaching over to extract my baby from his hands. I finished yanking all of the arrows free and marched back with my bucket to a line about five feet past where I had been shooting. Barely waiting for them to move out of my way, I started shooting again.

  “Okay, now you’re just being freakishly dramatic. Normal people eat a pint of Chunky Monkey and move on. And didn’t you hear what Alec just said?”

  I shrugged, then adjusted my aim to make up for the extra distance. “Guys don’t really talk about the girls they like with other guys.”

  This time, Alec snorted. “Right, like you’re the expert on guys. You know, he asked me if I knew if he did anything to piss you off last night.”

  I froze mid-draw. “He did?”

  “Yeah. I told him that it was probably your introvert nature kicking in.”

  “Thanks,” I said dryly.

  “Look, he’s leaving for India,” Em checked the clock on her cellphone, “about now, and I doubt your phone lets you do international texts, but you’re going to have to step things up when he comes back. Like at Grace’s New Year’s party. He’ll be there.”

  “What about Lexie?” I turned to Alec for help, but he was too busy checking out the arrows and eyeing my bow. With a sigh, I handed the bow over to him. “Go for it. But if you break my bow, I break your gaming stuff.”

  Em shoved her phone in her coat pocket and kept her hands in there. “What about her? I’m telling you, yesterday was a fluke.”

  I bit my lip and picked at the fletching on one of the damaged arrows. Distantly, I noticed that my nail beds were turning purplish-blue from the cold.

  “I just don’t want to keep making an idiot out of myself and putting everything out there, only to find out this was some kind of joke or a bet, like in those old 80’s movies.”

  Em looked at me like I just said I hated her favorite puppy. “Do you think I’d ever do that to you?”

  “No,” I said, shuffling my feet in the grass. Some frostcoated blades made a snapping sound as I moved. “But who knows what goes through guys’ heads.”

  “I thought you just said you did,” Alec said as he let an arrow fly miserably off-target.

  “Very funny.” I reached for the bow, but he held it over my head. “Give me that so I can go back to practicing.”

  He managed to stretch it even higher above him. “No way. We’re going somewhere warm before you start looking like the white witch.”

  “Narnia reference, I’m impressed.” I dropped my hands to my hips and tried to put on my toughest face. “So don’t make me go all Susan on you and beat you up with my arrows.”

  “Kinky. But you might want to try that with Dev, instead.”

  “Gross,” I shot back, but when he wouldn’t give me my bow, I gave up with a huff. “At least Grace and Leia were comforting. You both are just being bossy. I’m so sick of people giving me advice and telling me what to do.” My neck grew hot as my frustration bubbled over. I bet my nails weren’t purple anymore. “Look at where all of your help has gotten me. This is my life and these are my choices to make. For once, I’d love to just be left alone to decide what I want to do and how I feel.”

  Alec looked sheepish and lowered my bow enough so I could swipe it out of his hands. Em took on a hurt air before turning away from me and looking at Alec.

  “Let’s go. She’s obviously not interested in our help.” “Obviously.” I faced the target again and reached for an

  arrow. The overwhelming urge to turn around and apologize bubbled up in my stomach, but I kept steady, nocking the arrow. They seemed to hesitate, but then I heard their footsteps as they left a few seconds later. I let out the breath

  I held and relaxed my posture.

  I was a cold huntress, the target my only focus. Feelings were irrelevant distractions. Resisting the urge to scream out my frustrations, I pulled back my arrow and let it fly.

  28

  “Distance is good sometimes. It keeps me from strangling people.” —Marissa, Hidden

  The following week of school was awkward. Something in me still mad about Sunday wouldn’t let me accept Em’s and Alec’s apologies, even with Grace playing peacemaker. After two torturous lunch periods, I ended up eating my lunch in one of the band practice rooms the rest of the week and, at home, locking myself in my room every afternoon. Even though I missed them, I couldn’t let my so-called friends push me around anymore. It was time to start growing a spine, like they were always telling me to.

  I Think I Love You blasted from my record player and I rolled onto my back, belting out the chorus at the top of my lungs. My phone rang halfway through the instrumental break and I answered without bothering to get up and lower the volume.

  “Is—Is that seventies music playing in the background?” Em sounded distracted, like she hadn’t meant to ask the question but couldn’t help it.

  I padded over to the record player and gently lifted the needle so the music was replaced with the hum of the speakers.

  Holding back the urge to say hi, I responded with a clipped, “Yes it is. Don’t judge.” I looked over at my alarm clock, checking the time. I’d give her one minute before hanging up.

  “Right.” There was a deep breath on the other side of the line before Em continued in the most depressed voice I’d ever heard, “I’ve fallen into the deepest pits of despair.”

  I froze halfway to the bed, my plan to grow a spine crumbling with that one sentence. Em needed me and I couldn’t ignore her. “What happened?”

  “I did it. I broke up with Wil again, this time for good. I’m going cold turkey.”

  At that, I unfroze and tried to project comfort and understanding through the phone, failing with the first words to come out of my mouth.

  “You said that last week.” A part of me was positive the actress in her loved the drama of her on-again-off-again relationship.

  Em made a huffing sound. “I don’t need commentary about this, peanut gallery. What I do need right now is some commiseration from my best friend.”

  The hurt in her voice, exaggerated or not, cut straight through me. Grabbing Em’s finished Yule/Festivus present, I tossed it into my bag and made my way downstairs. “Okay. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

  Downstairs, Trixie’s red and orange-bobbed head went up like a shot as I rushed into the kitchen. While Em continued to spill her sorrows through the phone in a way that would make Shakespeare proud, I mouthed,

  “I need a ride.”

  “Your big sister is pretty awesome,” Em said to me as she ate another spoonful of the frozen custard Trixie had thought to pick up on the way over. Em was perched on top of her bed’s dove-grey comforter, the only neutral color in the whirlwind of old movie posters and furniture straight out of wonderland that made up her room. Her parents had even managed to find glittery paint for her bright yellow walls.

  “Trix has her moments. She’s probably just happy I’m getting out of our room so she can work on her winter break projects.” I sat down cross-legged on her bedroom floor. “Now, tell me all the awful details.”

  “Don’t mock me in my time of misery.” She was washed out, her dark hair a stark contrast to her ashen skin. But, in typical Em fashion, she had still managed to throw on some lip gloss. “Wilhelm said ‘I love you’ when we were making out in the park last night after our date. Or at least, I think he did.” She paused, then added, “It was kind of in German. And I might have freaked out a little bit.” She flopped onto her back, almost dropping her custard
in the process.

  “So you broke up with him. Again.”

  “Do you have to keep saying ‘again’ like that?” She twirled the spoon in the air and didn’t wait for me to answer. “I keep thinking it’s better than letting myself become the long-distance girlfriend when he goes back home. It’s like guaranteed heartbreak. But every time I break up with him, it’s awful, like someone’s steamrolling over my heart.” After a moment of mutual silence, she turned her head to look at me and cracked a smile. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m just blowing all of this out of proportion.”

  “I didn’t say that, but it sounds good.” I picked at a dried dot of nail polish on the carpet. “You realize I’m the worst person in the world when it comes to relationship advice, right?”

  “True. Damn, it’s hard to feel upset and be on a sugar high at the same time.” She ate another spoonful of custard and pointed the spoon at me afterwards. “You’ve gotten better about not telling me how some book character solved the same problem, though.”

  “Because you never listen, anyway.” To distract her, I reached over to the desk chair and pulled a little package out of my book bag. “I thought you could use some cheering up, so happy random winter holiday.”

  “Breaking tradition, huh?” We usually all traded gifts on Christmas Eve at the diner over spanakopita and matzo ball soup, except for Alec’s gifts, which we usually gave to him in an eight nights of Hanukkah-style randomness. Hiding presents over eight days was probably more fun for us than for him, but it was tradition.

  “This is a special situation. I still expect something from you at the diner,” I said as I handed her the gift. As she unwrapped the black and pink knit corset and held it up to see it better, I explained, “I adapted an antique pattern of Trixie’s for shaping. You can wear it on a make-up date with Wilhelm. I think it might look nice over a henley—”

  Em’s smile grew the tiniest bit. “It’s perfect.” She set the corset down on her lap and played with the ribbon lacing. “I’m sorry about being so pushy lately about Dev. You know I just get that way sometimes.”