“Sometimes?”
“Shh. I guess a part of me wanted to keep my mind off all of this. When I can’t control things in my own life, I sort of try to fix other people’s lives. Mom says it’s just an extension of my control freak nature.” She looked up, her eyes still a little watery and her voice a tiny bit shaky as she added, “Thanks for coming, Feebs. You don’t know how nice it is to know I can count on you.”
Em was always the strong one. It was weird and hard seeing her so vulnerable. I forced a smile that I hoped was reassuring. “Always.”
29
“That is awesome,” Em said as she watched Trixie stitch the last bit of gold trim in place and start fluffing up the white blousy thing that peeked over my laced-up top. “All my sister does is steal my things.”
“The privileges of being the baby of the family,” I told her primly. “People just love to spoil me.”
I felt a pinch in my side and glared down at Trixie, who innocently hid her needle in her palm. “Just spoiling you, baby sis.” She tied off her thread and stood. “Which reminds me. You still owe me a skirt.”
I nodded towards a mound of crimson-firefly colored merino silk on my nightstand. “On the needles,” I said distractedly.
“Don’t forget our deal—one dress for one skirt.” Trixie straightened my necklace, then stepped back to check the outfit as a whole, adding, “No shiny new project syndrome allowed, okay? When things get tough or boring, you have a habit of just stopping and moving on to something new.”
“Thanks for the diagnosis, Dr. Beatrix.” I turned to take in my reflection. It was like Trixie had ripped the dress right out of the pages of the harp scene in Golden, from the golden white velvet bodice that skimmed my body snugly to the sleeves that ended in a point and hooked to my middle fingers. The short skirt tickled the back of my knees.
The girl looking back at her from the mirror was almost a stranger, an ethereally beautiful fey girl all in varying shades of gold and white.
“I’m not Phoebe, not a confused human dragged into a world where I don’t belong. I’m a changeling version of myself,” I whispered at the mirror, just like Maeve did when she put on this dress. A vision of me twirling in the snow with my cobwebby gold lace shawl popped into my head and I held back the goofy grin that would have messed up my picture-perfect Maeve-y reflection.
Em got up off of my bed and stood next to me, her sequined gold dress bright next to my gold and white outfit. “We look good, girlie.”
I smiled at her reflection and started yanking out the curlers. “Stunning enough to make Dev sorry he went with Lexie?”
My sister’s head went up sharply and her eyebrows drew together in her best Disapproving Big Sister look.
“Trying to make a guy jealous by looking awesome is a waste of a good party and a good dress,” Trixie said in a disinterested tone while walking over to her vanity. She leaned closer to the mirror to swipe on some bright red lipstick. “Just be awesome and have a great time.”
I scrunched up my nose. “Thus spoke the big sister.”
“And the voice of infinite wisdom, kid-lin.” Trixie tugged the sweater I made for her in place and rummaged through my scarf basket until she pulled up a bulky, bright red infinity scarf. “I have to go. I’m supposed to meet up with Petur at the River Rink in an hour.”
“Don’t break your neck.”
She reached out to ruffle the mess of tight curls on my head. “I’m the coordinated one, remember? I can skate and watch fireworks at the same time.” She grabbed my red mittens from where I had left them on the vanity and waved them at me as she headed out the door. “Have fun and don’t waste your time with stupid boys. Happy New Year.”
Em blinked at our reflection and reached over to pull at one of my curls so it bounced back like a spring. “We still look awesome. And you’re not Phoebe tonight, you’re— what’s that book character you’re probably going to try to imitate tonight?”
I laughed. “I don’t do that.”
“Right. You’ve never done anything like that.” She nodded at my nightstand and the giveaway sparkle of my notebook.
I smoothed down my skirt. “But this is Maeve’s dress from that book I told you about. The one set in Ireland. She’s pretty kick-ass.”
“So if I see you spouting stuff off in Gaelic?”
I blew a raspberry, like I was five again. “You’ll be too busy making out in German to even notice if I start speaking Elvish.”
“You know me so well.” She grabbed a sparkly hair tie and pulled her straightened hair into a low side-ponytail. “C’mon. Grace wants us there by eight-thirty.”
Golden series book 1: Golden PG 194
“Don’t feel obligated to be with me,” the ghost of his voice whispered through her memory and she shook my head to push it away. The part of her still stinging from their “discussion” that morning wanted to run back to the dorms and mope, but the rest of her kept moving forward on autopilot10. Aedan needed her to help protect his people.
Even though she was just a means to an end.
Maeve’s attention returned to the harp. It was beautiful, but no more so than any other artifact in these Archives. Still, something about it kept drawing her to it like a sailor to a siren. She crossed the room, reaching out towards its smooth wood surface.
“You’re beautiful,” Aedan’s voice came softly from behind her, making her fingers freeze millimeters from the harp’s surface. She didn’t turn to look at him. “White makes you glow. Like you’re all light.” He sounded serious, so unlike his usual self.
“Don’t,” She whispered, straightening her back and raising her chin. “Just…let’s get this over with. You don’t have to explain or apologize or compliment me.” Ignoring Aedan, she let the harp’s magnetic pull drag her in and her pointer finger touched the mahogany wood.
Everything changed.
30
It was getting too hot in Grace’s house, especially with my long sleeves. I pushed the French doors open and escaped onto the deck. I could still hear the faint bass of the music coming from the house as I stepped to the railing, wrapping my arms tight around my body to ward off the January in New Jersey chill.
I wiped the one surviving pile of snow from the wooden bench and sat down, taking a deep breath of ice-cold air and automatically dissolving into a coughing fit. How Maeve managed to do that, like, every other page was beyond me. As cold as it was out here, it was so much more uncomfortable in there. Avoiding Dev while trying to look like I was having fun was exhausting. Usually on New Year’s Eve, I hung out with the non-A-listers on the family room couch with Alec and all of Grace’s other geeky friends, watching a Lord of the Rings marathon or something, but this year Grace, Leia, and Em dragged me into the crowd of dancing and pool-playing people in the rec room.
Plus, Grace made me dance with one of the JV football guys who was a dead ringer for Cyril from Hidden. I had to get out before I did something silly, like ask him to start some shirtless sword fighting or creepily stare into his eyes to see if he had flecks of silver in the blue. Okay, maybe I did have a skewed sense of reality.
Music blasted through the night air and I looked up to see Dev stepping out onto the deck.
“Frak,” I said under my breath. Half of my brain wanted to reach up and fix the hair I knew had fallen out of Grace’s glittery clips, but the other, Maeve-like half kept my hands glued in place. I forced myself to gaze out over the lake, trying to look like I hadn’t noticed him. Maybe he wouldn’t see me, maybe he’d stepped outside for just a second—
“Hey, Phoebe.”
My heart dropped to my stomach, where acid started immediately devouring it. I turned my head, hoping my hair would brush my shoulder delicately and the clips would catch the moonlight reflecting off of the lake. Grace had put some sparkly powder on my cheeks and glitter on my eyes, so maybe they had that magical moonlight effect you always read about in books. Like Maeve in the Archives, the first time Aedan saw her power
manifest in his POV story they had at the back of the book. I tried to let surprise flow onto my face. And tried not to shiver.
“What are you doing out here?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing. Aren’t you freezing?”
I forced myself to look warm and pointed at my sleeve. “Winter fashion to the rescue. It’s not too bad out here, really.”
He crossed his arms and joined me by the railing, but didn’t sit. “I guess Mumbai spoiled me. It feels freaking cold.” He visibly shivered and I grinned. Point for me. Maeve would totally be impressed.
His profile in the moonlight made my half-acid-eaten heart skip a beat. It didn’t feel cold at that moment. His skin was darker, tanned from India, and his hair had grown a bit longer and swooped over his forehead almost like the hero in an anime. I sucked in a sharp breath and turned my eyes to the lake and the shadow of a pine dipping into the water.
“How was your trip?”
After what felt like a lifetime of sensing his stare, he turned to stare out at the water, too.
“Way too short. I never even had a chance to get over the jet lag.” His fingers tapped the wooden railing in time to the music inside the house. “But it was good. I miss the food already.” He tilted his head to smile at me again. “My grandmom’s cook makes the best chapatis on the planet.”
I smiled, letting myself relax a little, and tried to think of what light, conversational thing I should say next. Something I’d overheard two of the cheerleaders say in the kitchen popped into my head.
“Everyone’s been saying you were picked to star in a Bollywood movie and wouldn’t come back.”
His laugh did funny things to my stomach. “One of those things is kind of true. My uncle got me into a songand-dance scene in one of the movies they were filming while I was there.”
“You’ll have to let me and Em know when it comes out. We’ll do a big screening of the movie and tell everyone we know the star.”
Dev laughed again, raking his hand through his hair. His sleeve rode up and I saw goosebumps all down his arm.
“I doubt anyone will be impressed when they see me dancing.” He looked over at the crowded family room through the glass doors. “But before we both die of cold, let’s go in. I can show off my film-worthy dance skills.”
Although I was so tempted to take his outstretched hand and head inside, the Maeve-y part of me remained frozen in place. She’d be too proud to jump at an opportunity to look like some lovesick hanger-on.
I shook my head. “I’m okay. It’s stuffy in there.” I drew up my back meter-stick straight, just like Maeve carried herself when she wore this dress. Like her, I could pretend to be as cold and distant as any of the Seelie high court.
“Oh.” He dropped his hand and a frown replaced his grin. “Are you sure?”
I nodded a little too enthusiastically. “I like it out here.” Even though my toes were totally numb and my fingers were about to fall off. I had to think warm thoughts. Like Aedan-and-Maeve-making-out kind of thoughts. But that made my eyes start flickering down to Dev’s lips. I focused on a bundle of pine needles on the bench next to me.
“Well, when you’re finally freezing, I’ll be inside.” He gave me a crooked grin and then pushed off from the railing. My acid-corroded heart skipped a beat and went back to being tortured somewhere in my stomach. I held my breath until he left the deck, then let it out in a white poofy cloud. I finally let my body dissolve into shivers.
There was no way Dev could read anything into what I’d said or done. Goodbye, silly Phoebe, with her socks and crushing on a guy who probably didn’t even like her. Somehow, I’d managed to pull off acting like a perfect model of distant-yet-friendly, like one of the Otherworld fae. Maeve would be proud.
The countdown started on TV and I slid into place between Grace and Em as everyone in the room started yelling the numbers along with the announcer. Dev was on the other side of the room with some of the other theatre people, and he flashed me a smile as he joined us all in saying, “Six!”
I had successfully avoided him all night, dancing a few more times with the Cyril lookalike, always keeping my hands full with food or helping Grace out with something when he came around. When I handed him one of the slices of veggie stromboli, I maneuvered the plate so our hands barely touched. It had been exhausting to keep up that amped version of my normal personal-space bubble for hours.
Em squeezed my hand and yelled, “Three!” into my ear, and I stopped looking at him and went back to the screen. The camera flashed to an image of the crowd on the RiverRink also counting down and I grinned as I caught a flash of a red scarf and red-orange tipped hair in the corner of the TV. And then fireworks filled the screen.
“Happy New Year!”
Grace and Leia started making out, Em was working on a totally new definition of public display of affection with Wilhelm, and I was the really out-of-place fifth wheel in the middle of them all. I looked up at Dev and his smile touched his eyes, shining in the dim lights. My apparently still-intact heart jolted with electricity and I started making my way towards him until Lexie made me feel like my life was on permanent, hellish repeat.
Lexie poked Dev on his shoulder and he turned around to look at her. Her wide grin as she reached up to twine her fingers around his neck and the electricity I’d felt seconds before fizzled, ice replacing it. As she pulled him down towards her, I turned and ran to the quiet of the geek/movie room.
“Feebs, you’re just in time to see Legolas do that kickass shooting arrows while sliding down a rope thing,” Alec said as he made room for me on the couch. “Maybe you can take notes?”
“Awesome,” I said with fake enthusiasm. I pulled my legs under myself and gave Alec a tiny shove. “Happy New Year.”
He shoved me back without turning away from the screen. “Yup.”
31
Em dropped her bag on the seat next to me and perched on the armrest, practically glowing. “I’m so glad you finally listened to reason.”
I looked around us at the empty auditorium—except for me and Em, everyone else was already on stage or backstage, preparing for rehearsal. Em had parked us in the second row, close enough that I could hear the thunk of the dancers’ feet as they warmed up.
“It was either this or getting an extra shift inventorying yarn for the shop.”
“Who says I don’t bring excitement into your life?” She poked me in the arm, still grinning as wide as the stage. “I’m glad I rate higher than cashmere.”
“And quivut.” At the confused tilt of her head, I added. “That’s a good thing.”
She shook her head in a ‘let’s tolerate the silly yarn girl’ kind of way, as if I never had to deal with her doing the same with ancient actor names. “Right. I’ll take your word for it.”
“So, what’s on the schedule for today?”
“Well, first, Dev’s not coming to rehearsal, so you can wipe that suspicious look off your face. It’s been two months. You really need to get over it.” She poked me in the arm and screwed up her nose like she was about to stick her tongue out at me. “We’re running through some of the songs and marks for Think of Me, Angel of Music, and the Lottie scene.”
I ignored her Dev comments and focused on pulling up all my Phantom knowledge. “Ooooh. So, basically, all Em all the time.”
“And Christian, who’s playing Raoul, and Lissa.” Em bounced off the armrest and paced excitedly in the row in front of me. “I can’t wait. They were doing some stage repairs all October, so they had us audition in the gym. This is the first time I’m going to get to sing Think of Me on an actual stage. Do you remember when we went to New York to watch it freshman year?”
“After Osoba said we were going to do an Andrew Lloyd Weber medley and your mom decided we needed ‘inspiration?’ Yes.” That had been the best trip ever. Em and I felt so adult going into New York alone on the bus, grabbing dinner at a parental unit-approved pizza shop, and then walking into the Majestic The
ater, trying so hard to look like native New Yorkers.
“That night, I promised myself that someday I’d play Christine. And now,” she bounced up and down happily, enough that her curls were bouncing with her. “It’s not Broadway, but it’ll be good practice for it.”
I grinned. “So, where’s Wilhelm for your Think of Me debut?”
She waved her hand dismissively. “He’s got some foreign exchange student thing, and that’s totally fine because I think he’s not a big musical fan. But,” she grabbed my hands and made me bounce with her, “I’m so glad you’re here for this. You’re probably the only person who understands why I love this musical so much.”
The student director, a senior I didn’t recognize, hopped up onto the stage and clapped his hands. “Okay, guys, let’s get started. Em, Lissa needs to get out of here early, so we’re going a little out of order to run through Angel of Music first, okay?”
“Got it.” Em turned and waved at me before hurrying on stage.
“Sing pretty,” I called after her, then snuggled deeper into my seat, flipping on my booklight. The last time I’d sat in on a musical theatre rehearsal, there was a lot of chatting and moving people around and directors fixing little things between takes or scenes or whatever actor-y people called it. I could dive into Concealed, the latest Hidden House novella and probably not miss a thing.
I bounced between watching rehearsal and reading, but the moment Em softly started singing the first notes of her solo, I dropped my book into my lap and focused entirely on her. She was always different on stage, transformed from my pushy best friend into whatever character she was playing. This time, her posture was straight, like she was wearing a corset. Within a few notes of the song, she morphed from timid Christine to Christine taking over the stage, her voice traveling to the furthest ends of the auditorium.
Someone slid into the row, sitting two seats down from me. I froze the second I realized it was Kris. “I didn’t know Em was such a good singer.”
Bookishly Ever After Page 15
