by A. Destiny
She grinned. “But of course!”
We took our time going to our booths, winding up and down the crowded aisles. Practically the entire school was there, all classes milling about, talking loudly overtop of each other. The tables were packed with all kinds of craft items, books, and the like. It was almost overwhelming.
Lauretta stopped at her table and squeezed my hand. “Okay, I have to do some time here, but I’ll drop by and see you soon.”
My heart raced as I walked to my table. Olivia was already there, dressed in her beautiful green gown. Her eyes met mine, and she glanced away.
“Hi,” I said quietly.
She nodded.
“You haven’t been returning my calls. We need to talk about everything. Please don’t ignore me.” I tried to keep my tone level so as not to sound accusatory, though it hurt my feelings that she could brush me off like that.
“I’m not ignoring you,” she said stiffly. “I’ve been busy getting last-minute stuff ready for the faire.”
I knew she was lying, but what good would it do to call her out on it? “Okay. Maybe we can talk later then.”
“Yeah, sure.” A customer came over, one of the adults who was browsing up and down the aisle, and she pasted on a fake smile. “Good morrow, sir! Can I interest you in any of these fine wares?”
I let her be, scanning the crowd to see who was in attendance. I recognized a lot of upperclassmen. They all seemed impressed by the costumes and music—a wandering group of minstrels stopped and serenaded females as they passed, and the girls blushed and giggled in return.
Clever. I couldn’t help but chuckle a little.
Then I saw Jason. He was a couple of aisles down, sitting in front of a little girl who had her cheek bared to him. A slender brush in his hand, he dipped the tip into a small pot of paint and applied it to her face. Her eyes were bright, filled with excitement.
My heart squeezed. Maybe he’d paint something on my cheek—that could be fun. Would it make Olivia upset? Impulsively, I wanted to grab her hand and have us go over there together, but that might make things worse.
I sighed, dropping my attention down to the various goods scattered across our table.
“Abbey,” my mom said, stopping right in front of me. She was grinning from ear to ear. “This is awesome!” Leaning in, she whispered, “And don’t tell your sister, but I think it’s even better decorated than her faire was.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I said, giving her a grateful smile. “Um, are you interested in buying anything? All of the proceeds are going to help our school.”
She raised one eyebrow. “Yes, I remember that from last time. And of course I’m going to buy something.” She glanced over at Olivia. “Hey, long time, no see. Where have you been hiding?”
“Hi, Mrs. Wilks,” Olivia said, studiously not looking at me. “I’ve been busy with school stuff.”
“Ah, I see.” Mom looked at me, a little bit of pity in her eyes. She handed me some money then picked up a few small wicker items. “Okay, I’m going to browse some more. You girls have fun. And you both look lovely, by the way.”
Olivia and I both mumbled our thanks as Mom walked off.
Wow. This was getting more awkward by the minute. The strain and tension thickened with each passing moment of silence between us. I pursed my lips. I’d had enough—I needed a break.
“I’m going to look around and get something to drink,” I said.
Her face tilted away, she waved me off in a dismissive manner. “I’m on rotation to do the first showing of my puppet play after I help sell some food, so be back in a half hour or no one will be here manning our table.”
I nodded stiffly and walked into the thick of the faire, looking for the booth selling drinks. I found one four rows over, the table laden with some kind of punch.
“Greetings!” a guy in thick glasses announced from behind the table, waving his hand toward the cups. His shirt was a bright purple striped with red. Didn’t exactly scream authenticity, but I guess it wasn’t my place to critique his costume. “We have the finest ale in the land.”
“Nonalcoholic, I assume,” Jason said from right beside me, popping up out of nowhere.
I jumped, pressing a hand to my chest. “You have to stop sneaking up on me like that,” I replied with a laugh.
He eyed my costume for one long moment then swept into a deep bow. “Milady, you look enchanting.”
I bit my lip, curtsying. “Milord, your clothing is simply perfect.” His breeches looked like they were real leather, molding to him as if they’d been handcrafted for his form. His white shirt had puffy sleeves, which he’d slitted and added ribbons of color underneath. The outfit was topped with a black velvet vest, buttoned to his throat.
It was as if he’d stepped out of the pages of a history book. Together, we looked like we could slip into a royal court.
“Are either of you thirsty?” the guy behind the table asked, interrupting my admiration of Jason.
We both turned our attention to him.
“Uh, sorry,” I said, flushing.
Jason held up two fingers. “And these are on me,” he said before I could reply, digging into his pants and fishing out money.
I accepted the drink with slightly shaking hands. “Thank you.” A sip showed it was actually a tasty punch, with hints of fruity sherbet.
We walked over to Jason’s table, where a few kids waited impatiently for him. “Finally, you’re back,” a little boy with curly black hair proclaimed. “I want a tiger on my face.”
A woman behind him, who I assumed was his mom, nudged him in the shoulder with a frown.
The boy glanced up at her then back at Jason, mumbling, “Please.”
Jason laughed. “Sure thing.” He settled into his seat, taking the brush and getting it ready.
“Um, do you need any help?” I asked. “I have a little bit of time before I need to go back to my table.”
“Really?” He grinned, his eyes warm. I melted just a tiny bit. “I’d love it. There’s an extra chair behind me—pick up a brush and help yourself.”
I perched on the end of the chair and waved over the next person in line, a little girl who was no more than four or five. She had on a princess crown with a veil streaming behind her thick curls. “Hi, sweetheart,” I said to her gently. “What would you like me to paint on your cheek?”
She pursed her lips, deep in thought. “Um, a butterfly?”
“Butterflies are beautiful,” I told her solemnly. “Good plan. What are your favorite colors?”
“Um”—she glanced up at her dad, who gave her a smile and nod of encouragement—“I like red and blue. And orange.”
Eclectic. I liked that.
I could feel Jason glancing over at me as I stroked the color across her chubby face. It took all of my efforts to focus on her and not gaze back at him. I made flashes of her favorite colors in the butterfly tails, making the body of the butterfly a rich blue. I topped it off with black antennae then reached over to grab a mirror Jason had laid out.
She took it in her fumbling hands, peering intently at the butterfly. “It’s pretty,” she declared without moving that side of her face. Smart girl—wanted to let the paint dry so it wouldn’t get smeared or marred. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I said and took the mirror back.
“Daddy, I’m hungry,” she said as they walked away. “And I want a dress like that girl’s. It was pretty.”
Jason and I exchanged grins. It was intimate and fun, sharing this activity together with him. I was glad I’d gotten away from my booth for a bit.
The next twenty minutes or so went far too fast. With regret, I retired the paintbrush and wiped it clean. “I need to man the booth while Olivia does her puppet play,” I said.
“Hey, when are you eating?” he asked. Was I imagining things, or was there a light flush to his cheeks?
I swallowed hard, my own cheeks burning in response. “Probably around eleven thirty
or so. You?”
“The same. Would you . . . do you want to eat together? I checked out the array of food, and there are some potpies that look good.”
“Yes, sure, absolutely,” I gushed.
“Okay, see you back here then?” He dotted dabs of paint on a girl’s face.
I nodded and turned to go.
“Abbey,” he said.
I turned back.
“You look beautiful.”
I was pretty sure I floated all the way back to my table.
Chapter Eighteen
I stood at the table for a good hour, trying to look upbeat and answer questions about our goods. A couple of people strolled by, perusing, picking stuff up and then dropping it back down. I ended up spending a lot of time fixing and straightening the baskets because of it.
A small crowd was forming near Olivia’s play. She’d asked me to stay at the table, but I really wanted to see her skit. A part of me hoped that maybe if I went over and supported her, cheering and clapping loudly, she’d stop being upset with me. She’d see how hard I was trying, and we could talk things out.
When a few more minutes passed without any shoppers, I impulsively grabbed all of our stuff and swept it into a bag, shoving it under the table. After the show, I’d come back and sell more.
Doing a walk-run, I darted over to the puppet stage. Olivia must have finished decorating it last week; it looked professional with all the trimmings. I made a mental note to tell her so.
There was a group of kids in front of me, standing restlessly and squirming. They were obviously eager for the show to start.
The stage’s curtains parted, and a puppet was thrust up into the hole. “Welcome to the puppet show,” Olivia said, her voice slightly muffled from her hidden position in the large wooden box.
The kids clapped, and a couple of boys whistled loudly.
But even that didn’t add luster to Olivia’s voice. It was lifeless as she brought the other puppet up and said, “This is Rosalyn and William. William’s brother loves Rosalyn, and they’re supposed to be together, but she secretly loves William, and he loves her. So the brother ends up alone.”
My face burned, both with anger and embarrassment. How dare she drag our personal issues into this? Could she behave any more childishly right now, be more obvious?
The kids stopped moving, fixing each other with confused stares. I couldn’t blame them. This show was growing worse by the minute. Olivia wasn’t even bothering to read the lines, just having them talk to each other about how much they were in love.
After ten minutes, all but one kid had left. I was struggling to keep my anger under control. It was painfully apparent Olivia felt she was wronged, that Jason and I were mean to her. Well, she was wronging me here—not even giving me a chance to talk. She assumed she knew everything going on . . . that there was something between me and Jason. He hadn’t even told me how he felt, if he felt anything at all.
“Oh, William,” the female puppet said in a simpering tone. “I’m unable to resist you, in spite of my previous promises to another.”
This was just getting ridiculous now. I stomped off to the food area, chest tight and fists clenched. How could she be so selfish and so self-centered? So much for being best friends. Instead, she was choosing the passive-aggressive route, taking all her frustrations out on me with puppets.
The backs of my eyes burned; I blinked away the tears. I wasn’t going to cry over her. Not now.
I wiped a hand across my eyes, trying to not smear my makeup, and walked resolutely to the food area. There was a turkey leg booth, with a few of my classmates waving and shouting the prices. Jason was supposed to meet me here soon. I didn’t want him to see me upset.
I sat down at one of the open tables, swallowing several times and breathing slowly through my nose. Anger wasn’t going to help anything right now. It was clear that Olivia was going to make this a deal breaker for our friendship.
But beneath my anger was a big layer of guilt and hurt. She and I had never fought like this before. Then again, I’d never liked someone she did.
A couple walked by, fingers threaded together as they whispered in each other’s ears. Jealousy pinched me in the stomach, and I sighed. Would I ever have that with Jason, even if it permanently drove Olivia and me apart?
And did it make me a bad person if I did?
Speak of the devil, Jason strode up to me, a crooked smirk on his face. “I was going to try to scare you like I always do, but you were facing me this time.” He got closer, and a frown marred his brow. “Hey, you okay?”
I straightened in my seat. “Fine, thanks.”
He sat down across from me. “You don’t look fine. Your eyes are puffy and—”
“I’m fine,” I insisted. There was no way I could talk to him about this. In spite of my anger with Olivia, I wasn’t about to admit how she felt about him, or how it had driven a big wedge between us.
He closed his mouth, his eyes shuttering just slightly. “Fine. Are you hungry? Do you still want to eat?”
I bit my lip. Had I hurt his feelings, shutting him out? Why did it seem like I was screwing up everything lately? “Yeah,” I said with a forceful smile, “I’ve been eyeballing those turkey legs for the last few minutes.”
He nodded, but that casual easiness from earlier seemed to be gone. “Okay, I’ll go pick some up for us.”
I dug into a small pocket sewn in my dress and handed him a few bills. “This should cover both of us.”
“I don’t need money.” His jaw was set tight.
“You bought our drinks. I can buy the food,” I insisted, thrusting the money closer to him.
“Why? It’s not like this is a date, is it?” he threw back.
Ouch. My heart slammed against my chest in a furious beat. I stood. “I’ll just go buy my own. Thanks.”
“No, wait,” he said, grabbing my hand. “Sorry, that came out wrong. I’m . . .” He ran his hand across his face then scrubbed it through his hair, mussing the top. “Can we talk for a moment? Before we eat?”
I gave him a tentative nod, and we sat back in our seats.
“Jason!” Beth, a junior said, walking up to him with a big smile. “Your outfit looks amazing. I can tell you put a lot of effort into it. If you’d been in our class last year, our faire would have been even better.” Beth planted a hand on one slender hip and beamed down at him, her red hair glowing softly in the gym lights.
Geez, even older girls liked Jason. I put my hands in my lap, struggling to maintain a neutral face.
He smiled. “Thanks, Beth. We all put a lot of work into our faire. You should drop by my table later, and I’ll paint something on your face.”
Was he flirting, or just being polite?
Her smile grew bigger. “I will, thanks. See ya later.” She finally looked at me. “Oh hey, Abbey. Pretty dress.”
“What did you want to talk about?” I asked him after she finally left.
Jason sighed, gaze skittering across the slightly thinner crowds. “I’m not quite sure this is the right place. Sorry, I’m just . . . I’m stressing a little. Must be the play giving me nerves.”
For a moment, I’d sworn he was going to talk about us. Good thing I wasn’t the betting type or I’d have lost that gamble. “You’re going to be amazing,” I said, making myself sound more upbeat than I felt. “Remember what you told me? Just be confident in yourself.”
He turned to look at me, his eyes so serious and intense that I couldn’t look away. “Abbey, do you want to talk about anything? Is there something on your mind?”
“Oh no, I’m fine,” I said quickly, the lie rolling off my tongue with ease. “Really.” I smiled. “Let’s get something to eat, okay?”
“Okay, but—Hey, there’s Olivia,” he said, looking just past my shoulder. He smiled and gave a small wave, then frowned for a quick moment. “She looks mad. Wonder what’s wrong?”
“Probably just ticked off about her show,” I said, trying to kee
p the emotion out of my voice. “I don’t think it went really well.”
“Oh.” He was silent. Then he stood, giving me a polite smile and offering his arm. “Well, let’s go grab something to eat before the lines get too long.”
I managed to avoid Olivia for another couple of hours. After eating, I went back to our table and reset it up. She stayed away, making her way from booth to booth, helping others out. Her avoidance was so obvious there was no way for me to ignore it. She didn’t want to see me and didn’t want to talk to me.
Guilt ate away at the fringes of my conscience, warring with resentment.
By the time school ended, I’d had enough. This wasn’t going to work—I refused to let her ignore me. I’d made sure to pack up our table early, keeping a close eye on her to see where she went when the bell rang.
Olivia wove her way through the crowd, me secretly just a few feet behind, pushing through people and apologizing for my rudeness several times. I received a few glares, but no one got in my way.
As the crowd surged toward the exits, Olivia split off and went down a side hallway, practically running. I kept on my toes and followed her.
She darted into a nearby bathroom, the door almost slamming shut behind her. I stopped it with my hand and forced it open.
“What—” she said, spinning around. Her eyes narrowed when she saw it was me. “Abbey? What do you want?”
I backed up against the door, pinning her in the room. “Out with it,” I said. “No more running from me.”
She crossed her arms, leaning one hip against a sink. “Out with what?”
“Olivia, I saw your play. And I know you’re mad at me. Stop pretending like you’re not.” Frustration made my voice shake.
She pursed her lips, huffed out a sigh, which blew strands of her hair away from her face. “Fine. You want the truth? I hate that you lied to me about how you feel about Jason. You knew I liked him, but you still went after him.”
“That’s not—”
She held up a hand, her face devoid of emotion. I’d never seen her this upset, to the point where she was completely cold. Even her voice was icy. “I don’t even want to hear it. You snuck and went to a party just to see him, which I had to find out about later. From him, of all people. Don’t try to tell me you’re not hiding things from me. How could you?”
