Starlight

by Chelsea M. Campbell

  Mrs. Wagner yawns. Her eyes are on me, but her fingers are tapping on her knee, and she looks bored. Either she can’t see the dragon, or she’s seen some pretty good special effects in her day. I’m guessing it’s the first one.

  Saiph waves at me, like he’s saying goodbye. “I suggest you start running.”

  Crap. The dragon doesn’t notice Saiph. It doesn’t notice Mrs. Wagner or the other couple of customers mulling around the dining room. It only sees me.

  I run. I’m still not sure what’s going on—Saiph wouldn’t really try to kill me, would he? He wouldn’t really summon up a monster that would actually hurt me. Right? Because that would be crazy.

  I glance over my shoulder as I weave through the tables. I could just stop running and challenge Saiph’s bluff. But there’s smoke pouring out of the dragon’s nostrils, and it’s half crawling, half slithering its way through the dining room, coming towards me really fast.

  And then the dragon—the Flame Burger dragon, who at least metaphorically signs my paychecks—leaps out from underneath a table. It lunges, snapping its jaws at me. It catches a side of leftover fries a customer left out, waiting for somebody like me to come clean them up. But that’s not all it gets, because then I feel something very sharp in the seat-of-my-pants department.

  That’s right, folks. Thanks to star boy—my hero—a dragon has just taken a bite out of my butt, with fries on the side, no less.

  I let out a blood-curdling scream like there’s a dragon trying to give me a cheek piercing, if you know what I mean. I grab a chair and whirl it around, beating the dragon in the head with it. It lets go—it was mostly just a nip, but it feels like a whole chunk of my butt should be gone now—and I make a run for it.

  I climb over the counter and speed through the kitchen. The dragon”s right behind me.

  Jackie, my manager, looks at me like I’ve gone insane. There are only a couple of us working right now, but all three of my coworkers act like I’m crazy. Like I don’t have a six-foot tall mythological beast on my heels who thinks I’m part of the menu. Which as far as they know, I don’t.

  “Adrienne, what are you doing?” Jackie asks as I skid past her.

  “Acting!” Okay, maybe they can’t see the dragon. But I felt it, and that’s enough for me to keep going. I circle through the kitchen, flame spewing from the dragon’s mouth and licking the back of my legs. I just know I’m going to wake up from all this in the hospital and find out I was in some horrible bakery accident, where a vat of sugar blew up and put me in a coma. Hence the sugary smell all the time. It’d explain a few things.

  I make it back to the dining room, where I have plans to kill Saiph and feed his body to the dragon while I get away. He’s standing around, looking full of himself and like he has no intentions of stopping this dragon from eating me. Mrs. Wagner’s sitting there, too, an awed expression on her face.

  “How do I stop this thing?” I shout.

  Saiph shrugs. He’s only half smiling. Maybe, God forbid, he’s actually a little bit worried about me.

  I stumble, tripping on my own feet, and land sprawling in the corner of the dining room. I notice a broom somebody left leaning against the wall. I twist around and take hold of it, shoving it forward just in time. The dragon impales itself on the handle, only it’s not bloody or gory or anything. It just sort of disappears, like in a video game.

  And I’m left panting and freaked, still thinking I’m about to die. “Don’t tell me that was a favor.”

  Mrs. Wagner claps her hands. “Brava!” she shouts. She jumps up from her chair, and even though we don’t exactly offer the most comfortable plastic furniture here at Flame Burger, I don’t think that’s it. I think she’s giving me a standing ovation. “That was…” she pauses, putting a hand to her chest and taking a deep breath, “…exhilarating.”

  “Thanks. I think.” I get off the floor. Gingerly, I reach around and feel my butt to make sure there aren’t any missing chunks. My pants are torn, but my skin feels intact. Well, it still hurts a whole lot, but at least it’s in one piece.

  “You need to be in the play,” she says.

  “I already tried out… remember?”

  Mrs. Wagner shakes her head. “That was different, that was…” She’s almost as excited about watching me “pretend” to nearly get eaten as my mom was when she thought I made the lead. “I don’t care if you’ve got stage fright, honey. We’ll work through it. With such believable passion as that, you’re our Victoria.”

  I choke on my own spit and start coughing. It’s a minute before I can speak again, and then my voice comes out a croak. “Me?” I look at Saiph to see if this is all an illusion.

  But he doesn’t look smug—he looks relieved. I guess I did a good job, what with not dying and all.

  Mrs. Wagner walks out of Flame Burger, her eyes so full of stars that I’m worried she’ll walk into traffic. My coworkers are going to want to know why I was “pretending” to run from a dragon when I wasn’t even on lunch break. But I’ll deal with that later. For the moment, I’m glaring very hard at Saiph.

  “That was a bit much.”

  He smiles like he didn’t hear me. “You defeated a dragon. Doesn’t that feel great?”

  I hate him for being right. It does feel great. Even if I spent most of the fight running away, nobody eats my butt and gets away with it. And I did it in front of an audience, even if it was only one person. I even screamed. But the part where Mrs. Wagner clapped and told me how great I was? Yeah. That part was pretty awesome.

  “Listen here, star boy.” I poke him right in the chest, startling him and knocking him back a step. “I might have defeated a dragon, and it might have felt great, but that doesn’t change the fact that you almost killed me! And if you think you’re off the hook, you’re dead wrong.”

  But he just sighs and grins at me. “You know what, dirt princess? You should get pissed off more often—you’re pretty cute when you’re angry.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  I’m in my room with Saiph later that afternoon. I’ve taken a shower and changed out of my work clothes, but I’m still freaked about what happened. Me, defeating an imaginary dragon and getting the lead in the play? Did that really happen?

  It probably won’t last. I still can’t act, at least not without a dragon attached to my butt, and it’s not going to take long for Mrs. Wagner to realize her mistake. If I’m lucky, she’ll let me be an extra. At least now I can honestly tell my mom I got the lead, even if my moment in the spotlight is only going to last for five minutes.

  I sit down, then stand up. I pace across the room, rubbing my hands together. Saiph lounges on the bed, his head on the pillows, one foot crossed over his knee, like these things happen all the time. Someone like Adrienne Speck, the least popular and most acting-challenged girl in the world, gets the lead in the school play, beating out a drama queen like Nichole Hamilton. Who’s not only pretty, popular, but who can, oh, I don’t know, actually act. And Saiph lies there like it’s no big deal, like it happens every day. Not in my world it doesn’t.

  I kind of wish I didn’t seem so excited. Because I know it’s just a matter of time before all this comes crashing down, and then it’d be nice if Saiph didn’t know how happy I was to get the part. Maybe that’s why he’s so calm about this—he knows it’s not going to last.

  “I’ve got two wishes left,” I remind him. Maybe if my acting skills improve, I’ll be able to say that without sounding so greedy. “The dance is coming up.” Okay, I still don’t actually believe I’m going to go. But I just slayed a dragon. Anything could happen at this point.

  “And?” Saiph lazily raises one eyebrow, still lying on the bed, not bothering to sit up.

  “And you’re not living in my attic for nothing.” A few days ago, the old Adrienne wouldn’t have said that. She’d have been too chicken to demand that he get a move on. “I thought you wanted to go home? The sooner we get these wishes fulfilled, the sooner you’ll be free.”
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  I think it’s a good argument, but Saiph’s forehead wrinkles, and the corners of his mouth turn down, like maybe he’s having second thoughts about the attic being a total dive instead of a four-star hotel. Then the look fades and he grins at me. “What did you have in mind, dirt princess?”

  I want a date for the dance, but I’m too scared to bring that part up. It’s sad enough that I need his help with, well, everything, and that I have no social life whatsoever. Unless you count hanging out with Saiph all the time and keeping him stashed in my attic. But he’s not even human—is he?—and he’s pretty much being held here against his will until he grants my wishes. So, no, he doesn’t count.

  I don’t want to bring up how desperate I am to secure a date, so instead I say, “Can’t you, you know, wave your magic wand around me and fairy godmother me up a dress for the dance?” I’m picturing myself in Cinderella’s place. A girl smudged with ash and grime, hoping with all her might. Then magic swirls around her, and when it’s finished, she’s clean and beautiful and dressed in something gorgeous she never would have dared dream about wearing before.

  Saiph sits up and scrunches his nose at me in disgust. “Do I look like a fairy godmother to you? Maybe you’ve got some dirt in your eyes.”

  Okay, I know. I fantasize too much. That Cinderella thing? That’s just a fairy tale. And, sure, maybe I can believe a star would come down to Earth to stage a magical intervention in my social life—because that’s just how in need of professional help I am—but I can’t believe wiping the grime off my face, figuratively speaking, and slapping some frills on me is going to change anything. Because the catch is, Cinderella was beautiful to begin with. Her fairy godmother didn’t give her a nose job or buy her a Wonderbra, she just gave her a bath and more than rags to wear. It’d take a lot more than that to make me ready for the ball.

  I don’t want to tell Saiph all that. Telling a boy that you’re ugly? Especially a boy who has to purposely geek himself out to not dazzle everyone blind? That’s just dumb. It’s suicide, and, well… Saiph has eyes, he doesn’t need me to tell him what I look like. And if I did tell him I thought I looked horrible, that would just be too much. It’s one thing for him to know, and it’s another for me to point it out. And maybe, just maybe, he hasn’t noticed yet.

  I’m about to protest that I need a dress when Saiph cuts me off. “I know, I know,” he says. He flops one arm over his forehead and fakes a Southern accent. “A dress is the most important part of a girl’s life. Daddy will never be able to marry me off if I’m not the prettiest belle at the ball.” He swoons onto the bed, pretending not to notice as he slides to the floor. He lands with a loud crash, but he just lies there, as if he really fainted and is unconscious.

  I put my hands on my hips and scowl at him, even if he has his eyes closed and can’t see. “Ha ha. Very funny.”

  He opens one eye. “Wasn’t it?”

  I can’t believe I actually reach down and help him up. “It’s just that the dance is coming up.”

  “And?”

  “And I don’t have a dress.” Or a date. Or tickets. Or, um, any hope of pulling this off, even with Saiph’s magical assistance. “And you say you’re helping me all the time, but I don’t really see you granting any wishes. A little proof would be nice.”

  “I thought princess would just show up in a unicorn costume.” He smirks at me, taking in all the unicorn décor again.

  “Too bad—it’s at the cleaners.” Besides, I know he went through my closet. I know he knows a unicorn costume is probably the only unicorn-related merchandise I don’t have.

  He squints and tilts his head, looking me over. I’m not used to people really looking at me. Staring and pointing? Laughing until they cry while doing it? Sure. I know all about that. But somebody looking at me like… like maybe I’m not the ugliest person in the world, and that just glancing at me isn’t going to turn them into stone? Unheard of. And I don’t think I need to mention that a boy looking at me like that is especially crazy. Not that he’s falling at my feet or anything. I’m no Nichole, after all. But Saiph looking at me, probably picturing me in a dress? It could be a heck of a lot worse.

  Saiph makes a frame with his hands and peers at me through it like a photographer. I wait patiently, my arms at my sides, feeling a little guilty for demanding he get a move on with these wishes. And it’s not exactly like I’m in a hurry anymore for him to leave or anything.

  He presses his hands together and nods like a genie. I shut my eyes tight, and when I’m finally brave enough to open them and look down at myself… nothing’s changed. I don’t smell the sugary smell that accompanies his magic, either.

  Saiph shrugs. “So much for the fairy-godmother approach. How much money have you got?”

  ***

  An hour later I’m standing in Diana’s Dress Boutique, the hottest dress shop at the mall, trying not to gape at the blue velvet gown with white faux-fur trim. On the perfect-bodied mannequin, it’s slim, but not quite tight fitting. The deep blue velvet has tiny sparkles glittering all over it, and there’s even a sort of half cape thing that drapes over the shoulders and hangs partway down the back.

  It’s the prettiest dress in the world.

  “Good choice, princess.” Saiph winks at me. “You’re lucky my fairy-godmother powers didn’t work—I couldn’t have done a better job.”

  The dress looks like the night sky itself. No wonder Saiph likes it so much. That and it’s gorgeous.

  “It’s great,” I say, biting my lip and not quite looking at him.

  “But? What’s wrong? It’s so dazzling you’re afraid everyone else will go blind?”

  “It’s not me.” I swallow. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I shouldn’t have let you bring me here.”

  I don’t belong in this store. This is where all the popular kids shop. This is the store you go to when you’re pretty and actually have a figure to show off. Just being here makes me feel more ugly and stick-like than ever before. I tear myself away from the dress. It’s better to stop wishing for it now, before I get my hopes up.

  “What are you talking about?” Saiph’s forehead wrinkles, and he looks at me like I’m crazy.

  “Let’s go somewhere else.” I wanted Saiph to magic up a miracle, like in Cinderella. But what would I have done if he had? Hide it away in my closet because I was too afraid to wear it?

  “Adrienne.” Saiph puts his hands on my shoulders, turning me to face him. Then he flicks me in the forehead.

  “Ow! What was that for?”

  “For being stupid. This is the dress.” He makes a sweeping gesture towards it, like he’s telling me I just won a fabulous new car. “You can trust me on this.” He clasps one hand over his heart and gets down on one knee. “Would your fairy godmother lie to you?”

  “It’s not me.” My voice is quiet. I don’t want to have this conversation in the mall, in the store where all the popular kids shop, where any one of them could walk by at any minute. “I can’t wear that.”

  He sizes me up, then the dress. “I think it looks about right. You could at least try it on.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” Probably every popular girl in school has already seen the dress. They’ll know where I got it, and even if they don’t, they’ll know it’s too good for me. “I mean, it’s not…” I wring my hands together. I stop and take a deep breath. “It’s not something I would usually wear.”

  “I know. I’ve seen your closet.”

  “I don’t like unicorns. I just want you to know that.”

  “This dress could be you.”

  “Let me make this clearer.” I go and stand next to the dress. I point to myself. “Dirt princess.” I point to the dress. “Out of my league.” I glance at the price tag. “It’s also three-hundred dollars.” I was planning on spending more like $100, $150 at the most. There are better things to spend that much money on than buying a dress I’m not pretty enough to wear for a dance I don’t even have a date for.
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br />   “It’s only out of your league because you think it is.”

  Pearls of wisdom from Mr. Confidence. It’s easy for him to say that.

  I’m about to argue with him some more when a saleswoman comes up to us. “Can I help you with anything?”

  I open my mouth to tell her I’m just looking, but Saiph interrupts. “She wants to try that on.”

  I expect the saleswoman to be appalled, but she smiles and nods. I guess she must see her fair share of girls like me who want to fantasize about wearing a dress like this. Lots of girls who try them on, pretend for a minute or two that they’re who they want to be instead of who they actually are, then shake their heads and change back into their ordinary clothes.

  It turns out the dress on the mannequin is the only one left. The saleswoman says it looks about my size and gets it down for me. She leads me to the dressing room and helps me with the zipper. She and Saiph are right—the dress is just my size. I can’t help but think it looked a lot better on the mannequin, though. It had better posture and smoother skin, what with not being alive and all. I stare at myself in the mirror. The blue velvet sparkles all over every time I move, even when all I do is breathe. The cape looks so regal draped around my shoulders. I stand up straight and hold my breath. I don’t have a perfect body like the mannequin, but right now, I can almost believe this dress was meant for me. The more I look at myself wearing it, the less I feel like an ugly stepsister who doesn’t belong here. Maybe Saiph is right. Maybe it’s not so out of my league.

  I step out of the dressing room and into the rest of the store to show him. His eyes light up when he sees me. No one’s ever done that before, especially a guy. And especially not one as hot as Saiph. I’d bow or curtsy or do something else to show off if I thought I wouldn’t fall over. I grit my teeth and try to keep my shoulders straight. “Well, what do you think?”