My jealousy was heavy because I did need my dad’s approval. Or maybe I wanted it. I was still leaning against the bookshelf, holding the wood behind my back with two tight hands. “I want to tell you something. Something I’ve never told anyone. When I was Ryder’s age, my dad hired this special tutor to teach me literary theory, which sounds ridiculous, but it was okay. I liked Mr. Sams. He gave me Jane Eyre, which is my favorite, by the way.”
“Noted,” Eamon said, exactly as he should.
“I read dozens of classics from my dad’s list of preapproved titles. I got into it, and my dad loved bragging about his eight-year-old reading Moby Dick and Great Expectations.” I took a deep breath and said it fast. “But then Mr. Sams started giving me secret books. Barrie, Lewis, Tolkien, Rowling.” I turned to the shelf and plucked one of the titles, presenting it. “Pullman.”
Eamon’s mouth hung open. “You read His Dark Materials? And you still hate fantasy?”
“No.” A tear slipped out, and I reshelved the book. “I loved those stories. All of them. And one day Mr. Sams gave me Elementia. And that was the same day my dad caught me reading it. He freaked out. He screamed that I was filling my head with garbage. He fired Mr. Sams. Took all the books away.”
Eamon stood, making the old bed squeak, and crossed the room. I wasn’t ready to be held, though. I had to keep going. Let it all out. “But don’t think I’ve been lying about not liking fantasy. I did start to hate it, especially the fans. Especially after Moss. And I didn’t want to come here or get to know any of you—except Julian—and I wanted the movie to get shut down so my life didn’t get trampled even more by Elementia.”
I’d run out of breath. Eamon still looked like he was about to hug me, and I turned back to the bookshelf, touching the spine of Elementia. “This past week I’ve realized he probably freaked out because Grandma Mae had just died, not because of anything I did.”
I sat on the window ledge. Eamon sat beside me, a few inches between us. “I don’t think I ever put that together before. I’d never disappointed him, and I thought that’s what happens when you do something wrong. His freak out felt like it was all my fault. I’ve been trying to do everything right since then. It’s impossible.”
I closed my eyes. “I still have nightmares about the way he screamed at me, but then I feel terrible because my dad’s temper is nothing compared to what happened to Ryder.”
“It’s not a competition, Iris,” Eamon said quietly. “Those events can be brutal in their own ways. And in the spirit of honesty, I’m having a hard time not hating your da.”
“Welcome to the club.” I kissed his cheek, and he pulled me into a hug I never wanted to leave, and I started crying because I had to leave. Soon. Back to the incessant sun of LA, my hollow school friendships, babysitting Ryder twenty-four seven and writing secret songs. Songs about having so much emotion inside that is not welcome to come out.
And now there was a new special torture: there’d be no Eamon.
“You have to come to LA and be an actor.”
“Maybe. But that’s far from now. And far from my home.”
“Then why do you want me to be your girlfriend?” I asked. “Is this only until I leave?”
He looked a little scared. “I don’t want to figure that out yet. I mean, I don’t know if I could. Would you rather we didn’t?”
“Hell no. I’m glad you said all that.”
“Coulda fooled me.” He smiled.
“I’m new at this stuff. I’ve gone on a few dates but never had an official anyone.” The moment skewed embarrassing, but Eamon fixed it.
“Me neither. Too busy reading fantasy novels in secondary school to talk to real girls.” He shrugged adorably. I wanted to kiss him, but Eamon pulled out his video camera. “I’m going to show you something, but you have to promise not to strike me dead right here.”
“You taped my song, didn’t you?”
He opened the screen and held it out. “Watch yourself. You’ll be dazzled.”
He pressed play, and my hands curled into tight, tight fists. The first couple of chords stumbled—followed by the moment when Brian and I got in sync. I could barely hear myself over the singing crowd, but it sounded…good. I felt the buzz of the music all over again. The high of performing. The moment when the song bled like its lyrics.
If only Dad could see this…
The song ended, and Eamon closed the camera. I touched his jaw and felt his fingers trail the neckline of my shirt, stopping on the spot where my shoulder had popped out from the wide neckline. “I like this shirt,” he said, his voice so low it sounded new.
“It’s my comfy shirt. I’ve had it for ages.” I paused. “I never wear it out of the house though. Dad hates it when I dress ‘like a teenager.’”
“What a goat.” He pressed a kiss to my shoulder that left me speechless. I touched his hair, finding nothing harsh about his curls. They were thick and wild. Soft.
He leaned toward my lips, and I laughed. “Sorry,” I squeaked. “It’s just, you make me happy. That’s a weird feeling for me.”
He laughed too. “We need to figure this out. If I don’t get to kiss you soon, I’m going to burn down like the Blackened Wastes of Thornbred.”
I grabbed him by the front of the shirt. “No fantasy references whilst kissing.”
I lifted my mouth to his without pause. His lips were full and soft, and the kiss started off as slow and sweet as the one on the ferry…but it changed. I took his face with both hands, leaning us into something deeper. He slipped his arms around my waist and held me as close as possible. Chest to chest.
We kissed until it felt like we were fizzling out of reality, out of his room, out of Ireland, to some sunny, warmly lit place reserved for Iris and Eamon where nothing else mattered.
When we parted to catch our breaths, his eyes were happy. “Iris. I think we found a portal.”
I couldn’t hold back a laugh. “I know what you mean.”
We kissed again, wound in each other until my lips ached and my hands had left clench marks on his shirt. I rested my head on his shoulder, and his fingers slipped through my hair.
The moonlight streamed through the window, turning everything silver. “This light is crazy.” I held out my hand in the beams. “What would its fantasy word be?”
“I thought you said no fantasy?” I scowled up at him, and he added, “Argent?”
“Hoary?”
We giggled. This close, nose to nose, Eamon looked like a brand-new person. My person.
“Shiny?” I whispered, my lips brushing his.
“Shiny,” he agreed. “Wait, have you ever seen Firefly?”
I squeezed my eyes. “Okay, I might’ve had mono last year, and I might’ve spent a lot of time on Netflix, and…how in the blazes did that show only run for half a season?” I caught my breath. “Please don’t tell anyone. I’ll sound like a space cowboy nerd.”
I opened my eyes and found him staring at me like he was in love.
“But, Iris, you’d make a breathtaking nerd.”
NOLAN
Film: Elementia
Director: Cate Collins
On Location Shooting: Day 8
Killykeen Forest, Ireland
Filming Notes:
P.M.: SEVYN & NOLAN’s morning after
Etc. Notes:
Studio heads will be visiting on set for the next two days.
BACK TO REALITY FANTASY
The next morning, we were off early to get back to Killykeen. I sat in the passenger seat and Eamon reached for my hand whenever he didn’t have to shift, and then at some point, he started changing gears while still holding my hand.
“I think I know why you call it shifting now,” I whispered, not wanting to clue Shoshanna in to what we’d done last night. Eamon eyed me from the side and bit his bottom lip
in a way that was unfair because my teeth wanted to do the same thing to that lip.
“So.” Shoshanna sat forward from the back seat, all too chipper. “How do we get Iris to play her music for the movie? She can wail, and we’ve seen it. She’s got no excuse.”
“That was a one-time-only event,” I said, hoping with every piece of me it wasn’t. “Besides, playing for strangers is one thing, but playing on a major motion picture soundtrack is out of my league.”
“I’m going to get Julian involved,” Shoshanna said. “He’ll talk you into it.”
I leaned around the seat to look at her. “Aren’t you supposed to be hungover?”
“I’m nineteen, Iris. My liver is in its prime.” She leaned forward to whisper. “A virgin and inexperienced with alcohol—what am I going to do with you?”
“You’re doing nothing with her. She’s mine,” Eamon said.
I grinned. “I’m his.”
“Cate would not approve of this language,” Shoshanna pointed out. “I don’t either.”
“So you’re saying you wouldn’t be Roxy’s if she wanted you to be?” I asked.
Shoshanna opened her mouth and then closed it. “What did I say last night?”
“Quite a bit about Roxy’s beautiful hands…and something about Ellen Page’s dating league that I didn’t follow,” I said.
“Heteros,” Shoshanna muttered. “You two will be cool, right? No embarrassing me with Roxy.”
“Maybe. If you behave. Although I don’t think I’ll be satisfied until you’re hers.” I saw what Shoshanna meant by the problem with the language. People can belong to other people but only if it’s mutual, right? I glanced at Eamon. “You’re mine too?”
“Sold. You can tattoo your name on me, Iris… What’s your middle name?”
Dead silence.
“Gertrude!” Shoshanna crowed. “Hermia! Francis! Oh, wait…is it something fantasy? Tell me it’s Galadriel.”
“It’s two names actually. Mae Ellen.” I waited for them to lose their collective mind.
Eamon wasn’t fazed. “Then you can tattoo your name on me, Iris Mae Ellen Thorne.”
“So your name is Iris M. E. Thorne?” Shoshanna frowned. “That’s not fair. Who wants to be named after a famous dead person?” She leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms, and I had to admit I appreciated both of their reactions.
“She wasn’t dead when I was named after her. Besides, that’s not the weird part.” I didn’t say anything else, and Shoshanna had to poke me to keep talking. “Well, my dad hates her. Or hated her. He named me after someone he hated. That’s messed up, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Shoshanna said, while at the same time Eamon added, “Sounds complicated.”
The road turned toward the forest park of Killykeen, and Shoshanna said, “If I were you, I’d grill him. It’s your name after all. Your family. You get to know these things.”
Her words didn’t settle well, and I couldn’t tell if it was because we were heading back into the Elementian lion’s den or because I wanted to do exactly what she said.
Also, I still had to deal with the flight I put on my dad’s credit card…
I glanced at my phone. It had died sometime last night, and I couldn’t believe how much of a relief it had been to be out of contact for a little while. Then again, what if something had happened to Ryder while I was gone?
My anxiety came on strong. Eamon glanced at me. “You all right, then?”
“I have a bad feeling.”
Eamon pulled up beside the line of trailers. The crew mingled about, eating breakfast at the picnic tables in the center. “Everything looks normal to me,” he said. Strange that this—wires and lights and boxes of equipment everywhere—was normal.
“Those’re new,” Shoshanna said, pointing to a trio of big, black SUVs across the parking area. “We have company. Maybe Julian’s back and needed three cars for his wardrobe.”
Eamon snickered, but I froze, searching for Ryder. I found him behind the picnic tables, standing beside a familiar, strained face who was talking to Cate Collins.
“Oh Christ. My dad.”
“What?” Eamon startled.
I pointed.
“That does not look good,” Shoshanna said from the back seat. She was right. Cate was gesturing while she spoke to my dad, as though they heartily disagreed about something. “What if we drive off?”
My dad’s eyes swept the scene until they found me, sitting in Eamon’s car.
“Too late,” I said.
“We go together,” Shoshanna tried. “There’s no way he’ll lay into you if we’re all there.”
Oh, Shoshanna. I almost felt bad for her. “You have no idea how unpredictable Michael Edward Thorne’s temper can be. Yeah, that’s right. He’s got her initials too.”
• • •
I approached my dad with Eamon on my left and Shoshanna on my right. It was a fool’s errand to think their presence could keep him from blowing up, but it meant a lot that they wanted to try.
“It’s an odd business to have kids,” my dad said when I was in earshot. He was speaking for my benefit even though he wouldn’t look at me, holding my brother’s elbow at an awkward angle—to prove how displeased he was with both of us, no doubt. “You’re petrified when you lose track of them, and then you find them and the relief is pure, relentless anger.”
Ryder squirmed. Cate had enough decency to look surprised by his threatening tone.
I knew better. This was all for show. My dad was a dramatic, artistic nightmare. He’d never lay a hand on us; his fury came via freeze-out neglect. “I’m fine, Dad. My phone died while we were getting Shoshanna from the airport.”
“I believe that was yesterday,” he said, turning his dark eyes from Cate to me. “And today is not yesterday, is it, Iris?”
“Oh, well spotted,” Shoshanna snarked.
“I gave them the night off,” Cate said, stepping in front of Shoshanna’s sass. “They’ve been working hard. They slept at Eamon’s family home, right?”
All three of us nodded in sync. Even from my perspective it looked suspicious.
Cate beckoned to my friends. “Makeup. You have a scene to shoot. And the studio execs have decided to grace us with their presence.” She bit into that last sentence as though it were pure gristle.
Shoshanna left with Cate while Eamon moved in front of me. He touched my shoulder. “Let me know if you need anything. Promise?”
I nodded, and while he was being sweet, I couldn’t help thinking, Run! Run before my father makes a scene!
Eamon put his backpack in my hand. “Show him,” he whispered.
Eamon, Cate, and Shoshanna walked away, and I pointed to my trailer. “We can go in there and talk, Dad.”
“I have to go help Mr. Donato,” Ryder whined. “He needs me.”
“Absolutely not. You’re staying with me until we leave.” My dad sort of pushed Ryder toward the trailer, and I could see my brother’s feelings expand and spin. His face was red and sweaty, his breath coming through his mouth in harsh pants as he twisted in my dad’s hold. I knew those feelings well—only where Ryder exploded, I had long since learned to quietly, painfully implode.
“Ryder,” I said, trying to get him to look at me. He wouldn’t. I turned to my dad. “Let him go,” I said through gritted teeth. “You and I should talk. Alone.”
“I already said no, Iris.” My dad tried to drag my brother, and Ryder let his legs go, dangling by the elbow. Oh no…
“Ryder’s doing great here.” I crouched down to face him. “Aren’t you, Ry? Tell Dad how helpful you’ve been to the crafty crew. How much responsibility you’ve had. He’ll be proud of you.”
“I want to help Mr. Donato!” Ryder cried out. “I want Mr. Donato!”
“Did you not hear me?” my dad sna
pped. “You’re not leaving my side until we get back to LA tonight!”
Ryder’s lungs exploded, his screams paralyzing everyone in earshot. His fists beat first against my dad and then against me as I tried to get him to stop. I took a pop to the jaw that made my head bump, and then my dad was yelling at me to get him under control. I could feel the crew switch from pretending not to watch, to debating about stepping in—particularly when Ryder knocked both my dad and me over.
Mr. Donato appeared, scooping Ryder in a bear hug that held down both of his arms. He sat on the picnic table and talked right into Ryder’s ear. I’m not sure what he said, but Ryder switched from anger to sobbing tears.
My dad got back on his feet and moved forward like he was going to grab Ryder from Mr. Donato, and I decided that now—right now—was going to be the moment I spoke up.
“Leave him alone!” I shouted. My dad spun at me, and I kept yelling. “Follow me. Now!”
I walked to the trailer, my pulse on fire. I was terrified but also spilling over with words. I shut the door behind my dad. His lip was bleeding from where Ryder had popped him. He opened his mouth, but I beat him to it. “I take it you haven’t finished your draft.”
“Of course not,” he spat. “I was on the second-to-last chapter when I got a call from Visa about an international flight booked on my credit card. I thought you’d lost your mind and were flying back without Ryder. I drove to LAX and waited for you. Surprise, surprise when the flight arrived and you weren’t on it. I was so angry that I jumped on a plane, and here I am in my own personal Elementian hell! Jesus Christ, Iris. There is a woman walking around this set that is a carbon copy of my mother!”
His eyes were bloodshot. His fists were shaking.
We were on new ground. I’d never truly felt sorry for my dad before. He always seemed too angry to be pitied, but I could see the way he hated—or feared—Elementia as though it was personally attacking him. Like I’d felt only a week ago.
Now a Major Motion Picture Page 19
