Bookishly Ever After

by Isabel Bandeira

  Em, with a range most people in the school choir would kill for, ran through a series of notes that brought chills over me. I nodded instead of answering and breaking the spell she had put over the whole auditorium.

  As soon as the song was over and the director was working on fixing something with her, I took a deep breath and said, “Yeah, she’s going to take over Hollywood and Broadway someday.”

  Kris looked back up at the stage and studied Em for a second before shaking his head and turning back to me. “So, if she’s that good, why is she wasting her time here in Lambertfield instead of building a career?”

  “Because her parents would kill her. And because she’s convinced ninety percent of the time, child actors end up as total train wrecks.”

  “Good point.”

  We sat in silence for a few minutes and I stared at my book, unable to get past the first sentence on the screen. I couldn’t remember any good Marissa moments to imitate that really fit the moment. If only I had Em’s ability to shift seamlessly into character. I tried skimming down the page, but a novella about a girl trapped in the mirrorworld who turned evil probably wasn’t the best research material.

  The boy’s eyes widen as he sees me for the first time and the terror in his face is easy to read. If I don’t turn his head quickly, convince him to trust me, he’ll likely drop the drape back onto the mirror and run away like all the others who have seen me.

  “So, I’m guessing you’re here because of Em?” Kris only glanced up from his phone for a second, then went back to what looked like a long text.

  I imitated him, keeping my eyes on the novella while talking. “She talked me into it. I love Phantom, anyway, so it wasn’t hard. You?”

  “Student council let out early. Matt skipped because he had to be here and he’s my ride home.” Matt, Student Council VP and Kris’ best friend. I should have realized that was why he’d take time to be at something like this.

  “Oh.” How eloquent. I scrambled to remember something that could help, but my mind was completely filled with Camilla’s story. I wished he’d go to the bathroom or anything so I could check my notebook for something flirty or cute to say or do.

  An innocent smile curls over my lips and I drop my eyelashes oh so slightly to project the illusion of a perfectly demure young Victorian lady. “Oh, please don’t go. I need your help.” I keep my voice soft and musical. “I am an angel and I’ve been trapped in this mirror by demons. Won’t you save me?”

  I hold back a grin as his hand freezes midway through covering the mirror and, instead, pulls the mourning drape back completely. Success. If there is one thing boys cannot resist, it is saving a lady in danger. Now, to get him to touch the mirror…

  I jumped back to the last two paragraphs. Yes, Camilla was evil, but she was successful, at least with Victorian boys. I hid the smile that threatened to come out, as a Camillaworthy plan formed.

  Em finished her third run-through of the Lottie scene and I glanced over at Kris to make sure he wasn’t too deep into whatever he’d been doing on his phone. Taking a deep breath and channeling Camilla—be delicate and helpless—I stood up like I was about to applaud Em’s performance and quickly let my knees buckle, pretending to reach for anything solid around me. “Oh, no,” I said in as shaky a voice as I could manage, soft enough not to mess with rehearsal, but loud enough for Kris to hear me.

  Or maybe not loud enough. Without Kris jumping to my aid and catching me like I’d expected him to, my hip slammed hard against my armrest and I stumbled, barely catching the back of one of the chairs in the row in front of me before I could hit the floor. The sharp yank ran up my bow arm to my shoulder and I prayed that I didn’t tear or pull anything.

  Kris finally reached out and grabbed my arm to steady me and help me sit back in my seat. “Whoa, are you okay?”

  I forced a weak laugh, sucking back pain and the temptation to rub at my sore hip or rotate my shoulder. “I guess I stood up too fast.” That had been as far from graceful and Camilla-like as possible. I dropped my eyes, not so I could be demure and Victorian, but so he couldn’t see the utter mortification that had to be written all over my face. “Thanks for asking.” I pushed my hair out of my eyes and wished I could actually disappear into a mirror.

  A dandelion yellow sweater-covered arm swept into my line of sight, knocking Kris’ hand away. “C’mon, Feebs. Rehearsal’s over and we need to go before Dad decides he’s tired of waiting and that I should catch the late bus to ‘build character’ or something. Let’s go.” Em hadn’t even bothered to put on her coat and tugged so hard at my sore arm I almost cried out.

  “Give me a minute.” I straightened myself out, giving Kris my best “don’t mind my crazy friend” twisted-lip smile before her grip tightened and she started dragging me up the auditorium aisle. I managed a weak wave at Kris on the way out.

  Em shrugged on her coat once we were in the hallway, shaking her head at me the whole time. “I saw the whole thing while we were finishing up. You so did that on purpose.”

  I rotated my arm a few times, thankful that the ache had faded away before putting on my own coat. No permanent damage, thank goodness. “No, I didn’t.”

  Em narrowed her eyes, going so far as to wag a finger at me like I was a two year old caught sneaking out of time out. “Please don’t ever do that again. You’re just going to perpetuate antiquated gender stereotypes.”

  “I was imitating Camilla, who was from the late eighteen hundreds, so, success?” I said, weakly.

  She made a huffing sound. “I need to burn that notebook of yours. And, FYI, you need to work on your acting skills.”

  Her last dig hurt. “My acting is perfectly fine.”

  “Uh-huh.” Em laid the back of her hand against her forehead and swayed like she’d just come off the tilt-a-whirl. “Oh, Kris, evil leprechauns have taken away my sense of balance and I need your spaghetti-limp politician arms to catch me before I fall into a magical mirror.”

  “Em…” I shot a nervous glance around the hallway, but thankfully, we were the only ones there.

  “That’s what you looked like back there.” She twirled happily around me, obviously holding back a laugh from the way she was pressing her lips together.

  “No, I didn’t.” At her level stare, I heaved a saintly sigh and started dragging her towards the front door.

  “Well, at least I’m happy to see you’re moving on from moping about Dev. We just need to find someone— anyone—better than Kris for you to crush on.”

  I ignored her last comment. “Changing the subject, your singing was amazing today.”

  She wrapped an arm around my shoulders as we walked. “Thanks. I still have a lot of work to do to hit some of those notes, though. But, watch out Broadway, when I do.”

  As Em chatted about octaves and stage directions, I mentally made a note to keep Camilla out of my notebook. I should have known from the world of bookish karma that nothing good would come out of imitating one of the bad guys.

  32

  “Phoebe?”

  “Hmm?” I looked up from Shanghai Summer and sandwich to see Em frowning at me as she unpacked her own lunch.

  “So, first, I swear I didn’t plan this,” she said, her words flowing together faster than usual.

  “O-kay…” I said, taking a bite of my sandwich and waiting for Em to launch into an overly dramatized play-byplay of a beaker blowing up in Chemistry lab or something.

  She unconsciously popped the lid of her salad Tupperware open and closed over and over in typical worried-Em fashion. “I tried to convince him we could do this right before rehearsal, but he didn’t think we’d have enough time…” Em looked over her shoulder at the lunch line, then turned back to frown at me.

  I shrugged, cutting her off before she could keep apologizing for something that really wasn’t a big deal. “We can watch Mystical tomorrow if you need to do something with Wilhelm,” I offered. It wouldn’t be the first time one of us had to reschedule wat
ching our favorite tv show together.

  She squinted at me confusedly. “Huh? Wilhelm? No, I was talking about Dev.”

  I froze. “Dev?” Alec and Grace looked over at us on that and Grace shook her head at Em, frowning.

  “We need to run our lines together before rehearsal tonight. So, he’s going to sit here today. I’m so sorry.” Em’s expression was part sympathetic, part guilt. “Really sorry.”

  My heart dropped into my stomach—Dev had stopped coming regularly to our lunch table back in January, around the time I was avoiding everyone by eating in the band room. I forced a bland expression and another shrug as I looked from Em to Alec and Grace, who had stopped midconversation, too. “It’s okay. We’re in class together. I’m fine. You guys act like I’m super delicate or something.”

  But, as I said that, the crowd parted like something out of a movie and Dev broke through, balancing a tray that he slid right next to my lunch bag. “Hey, Phoebe, Em, guys.”

  I quickly dropped my head and focused on my book, mumbling a hi before turning the page. I started taking a mental inventory of my outfit—glasses, a sweater and skirt just like Marissa’s in the Hidden goodbye scene, and bright red lipstick that matched the sweater—then remembered I didn’t care how I looked around him.

  “Hi, everyone.” Lexie’s voice made me look up again to see her hovering right over me. She shoved her own tray in the nonexistent space between my lunch and Dev’s and squeezed herself onto the bench between us, forcing me to scoot over so I was perilously balancing on the edge.

  I don’t care how I look around Dev, I repeated silently to myself, dipping my nose even deeper into my book. Especially since Lexie had Velcro-ed herself to Dev since January. Next to her cute, casual model-y look, my outfit and lipstick suddenly felt like I was trying too hard. I blinked at the page and frowned when I realized I’d read the same sentence for the fifth time. Flipping back a page, I started again, but I just couldn’t concentrate on Lian’s story with the conversation around me. Lexie laughed and I held back a cringe.

  I looked up just in time to see Em, Alec, and Grace share a quick series of worried looks before Grace nodded at both of them and said, “I’m going to the bathroom. Phoebe, you’re coming with me, right?” She stood up, gently reached over to close my book, and pulled me to standing.

  Alec snorted. “I will never understand why you girls need company when you go to the bathroom.”

  Dev stopped midline and laughed. “Right? I have a sister and I still can’t figure that out.”

  “Ha, ha. You guys are cute,” Em said sarcastically. “Dev, focus. We only have ten minutes before lunch ends.”

  Grace grabbed my sweater sleeve and pulled me out of the lunchroom and into the thankfully empty girl’s bathroom. As soon as we stepped inside, she turned to face me, her lips set in a frown. “Hey, are you okay?”

  I opened my mouth, closed it, then started again, saying carefully, “I’m fine.” I didn’t want my friends to think I was this weak, silly girl who couldn’t handle being around a guy she had—“had” in the past-tense—crushed on.

  Grace made a humming sound, then looked away from me to check her eyeliner in the mirror. “That’s good, then. I personally wanted to kick Lexie for being so rude back there,” she said casually. She studied me in the mirror, her brow furrowing as she moved her attention from my face to the rest of me. “What are you wearing?”

  I tugged at my bright red sweater, loving that the wide neckline fell a little off my shoulder in a totally non-dress code appropriate but so perfectly Marissa-y way. Still, I had no problem defending my style instead of talking about Dev and Lexie. “It’s really warm. And cute, right?”

  She stopped, tilted her head, and twisted her lips in a “you’ve got to be kidding me” expression. “It’s way too baggy for you. I swear, it’s amazing how you have this magical ability to knit things that are absolutely perfect for anyone and then turn around and forget everything you know the second you step in a store. For my sake, can we at least try to acknowledge basic fit rules exist?”

  “It’s really funny how seriously you’re taking this stylist thing. You’d think I was asking for help in chemistry or something.”

  Grace laughed, circling me and tugging at the sweater like she was trying to make it fit me better. “I like fixing things. Fashion’s a puzzle, like everything else, and it’s fun finding pieces that fit perfectly together and fit the person wearing them.” She then turned to fluffing my hair, and her expression grew serious again. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked softly. She stopped fluffing and rested her hands on my shoulders.

  “I said I’m fine.” I waved my hand like I was waving away her concerns. I just needed some time away from Dev and Lexie to clear my head, that was all. I hadn’t had a break in ages from the reminders of my complete and utter fail. “In fact,” an idea flashed into my brain and I said it before I could change my mind, “I’m so fine because I’ve decided I’m signing up to help at sixth grade camp. Coach thinks it’ll be a good experience for me.” If I go to camp, I’m away for the week.

  “You’re not just doing this to get away from things, are you? You do realize Dev’s still going to be here when you come back. You can’t use camp as a place to hide.”

  I put on my most insulted look. “I’m not going to camp to hide. It sounds like a lot of fun. I like kids and s’mores and stuff.”

  “I know we weren’t friends back then, but if I remember right, you hated camp. Didn’t you fake sick and spend the whole time reading in your cabin?”

  “I was eleven.”

  “And you’re really so excited about it that nothing else bothers you?” She did the whole analytical stare thing again. “Did you just finish a book set at camp or something?”

  “No.” I didn’t add that I had finished one about a month ago. Or that Julien was up at the top of my list as my favorite camp book boyfriend.

  “Because you know those things are idealized, right? Real life has spiders and kids who like to put spiders in their counselors’ beds.”

  “Just because I like to read doesn’t mean I let fictional characters dictate my life.” Grace looked pointedly at the sweater and I tilted up my chin defiantly.

  Grace pulled a piece of lint off my sleeve. “Fine. Just really think about why you’re doing this before you actually sign up, okay?” She checked her reflection one last time, then looked me straight in the eye and said, “If you need to stay here the rest of lunch, I’ll cover for you and take your things to class.”

  I smiled a wavery smile at her. “Thanks.”

  33

  “My neck is killing me,” I hissed at Alec. At every single one of Em’s plays or musicals, Alec always insisted on us sitting practically front row and far left. But that meant I was praying for act one of “Phantom of the Rock Café” to be over so I could turn my head to the left again.

  “Shh. It’s more fun this way, because you could watch the drama on- and off-stage,” he whispered back. “Now, shut up. Em’s about to start that scene where she has to make out with Christian, and I can’t wait to watch Wilhelm turn all Hulk in the wings when he sees that.”

  Em wandered out onto the stage, which was set up like a brownstone rooftop in Philadelphia, down to the William Penn statue painted into the backdrop skyline. Her costume was pretty and sparkly, making her look like she was made of starlight. Christian swept onto the set, the preppy investment banker version of Raoul to Em’s backup singer Christine, and they broke into “All I Ask of You.”

  I saw Dev standing in the wings, waiting for his entrance. For a second, I forgot my pretend-I never-crushed-on-him pact and smiled at his costume. Instead of an opera cape, he was wearing a cool long-sleeved vintage tee, and instead of a mask, emo-style bangs covered one half of his face.

  Grace seemed to notice where I was looking and nudged me, whispering. “What do you think of guyliner?”

  “Stupid,” Alec said, overhearing, while at the sa
me time I chimed in,

  “Hot on the right guy.” And this rocker zombie version of Dev was definitely, unquestionably right.

  And then my heart sunk back into my shoes and I was slapped back into I’m-an-idiot land as Lexie, dressed all in black, came up alongside him. She said something to him, then reached up to fix his hair in a way that was so much more intimate than anything a normal stage manager would do. Just before he stepped on stage, she stretched up and kissed him on the cheek. I couldn’t watch anymore as she pushed Dev onto the stage, the two of them looking so much like Pine Central’s power couple. Romeo and Juliet in zombie makeup.

  I shut my eyes, digging my nails into the upholstery of my seat. Apparently, two and a half months of casual noncrushworthy contact wasn’t enough to make my crush go away. But it was hard to just sit there and not react, especially when he started to sing.

  I wasn’t the kind of girl who fell for musicians, but it wasn’t fair that Dev had a beautiful singing voice that did things to the surface of my skin. I opened my eyes, and there was Lexie again in the wings, staring at Dev like he was an advanced reader copy of the last book in a series.

  “Bathroom,” I whispered to Grace. I abruptly stood and made my way out of the theatre. I’d deal with the possibility of Em killing me later.

  Before I knew it, I was back sitting on the floor in the language hallway. I buried my face into my knees and tried to ignore all of the hurt that hit me full-force, filling every pore. Taking a deep breath that helped break up some of the tension in my stomach, I promised myself I wasn’t going to ever repeat this scene again.

  “You okay?”

  I followed a pair of green and black oxfords up until I saw a familiar face. “Kris?” Any intelligent response flew out of my brain and I floundered for something to say. In my fantasy world, he’d just start spouting Aedan-like things at me and I’d respond with Maeve-ish answers, but instead my brain decided to register that the commercial sweater he was wearing got the Icelandic patterns all wrong.