“We’re at the end, I think. I bet she just wants to get it done.”
“I’m glad you came by.” Zelda hugs me, and I want to sink into it forever.
But I reluctantly step out of her embrace and press the button on my band. “See you soon.”
The summons turns out to be for an all-nighter. When Ava asks me how I’m doing, I mutter that I’m fine and leave it at that. For now.
Because we need all the concentration we can muster, as the scene we’re working on is Ava’s “dark night of the soul” moment. Just as she’s feeling comfortable choosing Marsden over Rafferty, Marsden gives her some shocking news. We do variations of the scene over and over, until the Author feels like she gets it right.
MARSDEN: I want to join the military.
AVA: What? Why?
MARSDEN: It’s a chance to get out there and experience the world.
AVA: You couldn’t hack it in the military. You have no respect for authority. They’d hate you and try to break your spirit every day.
MARSDEN: You make an excellent point. Okay, no military.
AVA (snuggles up to him): Staying with me is definitely the better option. We can go to college together and have a cute house with a white picket fence . . .
MARSDEN: Ava . . . you know I adore you . . . but I can’t settle down until I find my true self.
AVA: But what if you go chasing after your true self and never find him, because he was here all along, and all you’re doing is running away from him?
MARSDEN: It’s a chance I have to take. Don’t you get it? If I don’t keep moving, I’ll slowly wither. All the brightness you love will dim.
AVA: I don’t want to lose you.
MARSDEN: You’ll never lose me. I’ll always be a part of you. That doesn’t change if I join the circus or become a roadie for a rock band or teach salsa dancing on a cruise ship in the Indian Ocean.
(Ava cries cathartically for ten minutes while Marsden rubs her back.)
MARSDEN: You could come with me.
AVA (sniffles): You know I can’t. I’m not like you. I’m not spontaneous or free-spirited. My life doesn’t fit in a backpack like yours does.
MARSDEN: You can do whatever you choose. That’s the beauty of free will.
AVA (takes a steadying breath): I get that. But my choices have to be true to who I am. You’ve coaxed me out of my comfort zone. You’ve helped me grow into a slightly more adventurous version of myself. But I’m still me. I still like to be in control and organized and punctual. And with or without you, I’m ready to embrace my life.
MARSDEN (hugs her): I’m so proud of you. And there’s always the chance we’ll meet again.
AVA (smiles): And if we do, I’ll definitely show you my feet.
After the Author releases us, Ava and I shuffle over to the craft table, but the pickings are slim: a few puckered cherry tomatoes and sweating cheese cubes.
“This is where we met,” Ava says. “It wasn’t even that long ago, but I feel like I’ve known you forever.”
With her disheveled hair and sloppy sweatshirt, she’s never looked more endearing. I’m going to miss her. I tell her so.
She nods. “This is the last time I’m going to see you, isn’t it?”
“Probably. I’m guessing that was my last scene.”
“Sure seemed like it.” She pokes at a cube of cheese.
“I mean, you’ll see Marsden again. A lot.”
“But Marsden isn’t you.”
It’s such an affirmation to hear her say that. “No, he’s not.”
“You know, the Author has already written the ending.”
I’m slightly taken aback. Though the Author jumped around with her kissing scenes, she wrote mostly in a linear fashion. “So what happens?”
“You’ll have to read the book,” Ava teases.
“You’re hilarious.”
“Okay, fine. I’ll tell you. After Marsden leaves, Rafferty tries to win Ava back, but she refuses him. The book ends with Ava choosing #TeamAva.” She pumps her fist up and down. “Girl power!”
“Wow. Props to the Author for making such a bold choice. Are you happy with it?”
She smiles. “You know what? I am. Ava has her whole life ahead of her. She’ll have so many more chances for love and connection.”
It’s weird to hear Ava talk about herself in the third person, but I guess that means she’s come to terms with the paradox of being a fictional character. “I wish you both the very best.” I give her a hug that lingers.
“Good luck with your hearing. I’ll be rooting for you.”
Neither of us wants to say goodbye. So we don’t. She kisses me on the cheek and watches me wistfully as I push my button to return home.
Chapter 45
Zelda picks me up again for un-therapy, and we spend the walk alternating between flirting adorably and plotting ways to get to George.
“I bet Finn would be good at this,” I say wistfully. “Clearly he was much better at subterfuge than I realized.”
Zelda puts a consoling arm around me. “Hey, if you’re still bothered that he told me certain things he never told you . . . for what it’s worth, I think he was trying to protect you. He didn’t want to give you incomplete information that you might act on impulsively.”
“I’m no more impulsive than any other Manic Pixie,” I protest.
“There’s a difference between crafting the appearance of reckless abandon and actually committing to harebrained schemes. Just because I playfully wear unmatched socks doesn’t mean I’m going to go cliff-diving in a thunderstorm.”
I don’t know how to respond to that, so instead I tell Zelda about Nebraska’s hatbox room, and she offers to help me get a look at Finn’s letter. None of this is getting us closer to freeing George, but maybe once I get some answers about Finn my brain will have more room to focus on rescue plans.
When we arrive at Nebraska’s house, I immediately begin to mainline coffee and make sure Nebraska notices. I’ll need another bathroom break, and when I go, Finn’s letter will be mine.
Morale among our group has hit an all-time low. I never imagined we could be so worried and sad that we’d lose our Manic. This might be totally unprecedented for our Trope.
Angela encourages us to meditate for the first portion of our session. She leads us through deep breathing exercises, but she can’t keep her focus, and she continually loses the count. I’ve never seen her frazzled like this.
Finally she gives up and lets us manage our own breathing. I try my best to relax, but I can’t get into it. George’s empty chair seems to mock me. I imagine I can see a face in the wrought iron fleur-de-lis. The eyes bore into me, challenging me to find a way to save my friend. I can’t stand to look at it anymore, and the whole luxurious formality of Nebraska’s veranda bears down oppressively.
“Can we do this somewhere else?” I feel a rush of temporary relief for breaking the silence.
Angela startles at my harshness. “Like where? Out on the lawn?”
Since the lawn witnessed the scene of Nebraska and George’s last showdown, we need somewhere fresh.
“How about the ballroom?” Nebraska suggests. She certainly has a knack for picking up on my vibe.
“That’s such an awesome idea, Nebraska,” Sky exclaims, a little overeager in her campaign to win Nebraska’s favor. Sky kicks Chloe’s leg under the table, from an angle Nebraska can’t possibly see.
“Uh . . . I’d rather stay here.” Chloe tries to make up some sort of dissent on the fly. “The ballroom is so drafty and . . . musty.”
“Overruled!” Sky shouts gleefully, launching out of her chair and spinning her way toward the ballroom. She doesn’t even seem to notice that her headphones fly off on the way. “C’mon everyone!”
While the rest of us are uncharacteristically sluggish, Sky and Nebraska hoot and boot-scoot in figure eights below the chandelier, as if they’re worshipping an idol.
Meanwhile Angela, apparently draine
d of her will to lead, slumps against the far wall. I plop down in the middle of the floor and nurse my coffee. Zelda hunkers down next to me, close enough that our thighs touch. Mandy and Chloe sit facing us, so that we form a loose circle.
Sky approaches, breathlessly, and starts going around our circle and tapping our heads.
“Duck,” she says to me.
“Duck,” she says to Zelda.
“Duck,” she says to Mandy.
“GOOSE!” she shouts over Chloe and starts running in a zig-zag pattern. When faced with such tempting silliness, Chloe can’t really help herself, and she chases Sky down until she manages to tackle her.
“Oooof!” Sky exclaims as she hits the floor. “You don’t need to be so rough, just because you’re all upset. Geez.”
“You should have more respect for George,” Chloe admonishes. She gets up and stalks back over to our circle.
Nebraska grins and offers Sky a hand. “Are you okay? Chloe sure is endearingly clumsy and indelicate, isn’t she?”
The rest of us exchange glances. The trap is set.
But we don’t have much time to take satisfaction in our deviousness, because Bridget appears between the French doors of the ballroom.
“What an unusual unofficial session this is, Angela,” she trills. “Un-therapy, do you call it?”
Angela sits up straighter, more like her usual self. “Different Tropes respond to different methods.”
“I would have expected to find these Manic Pixies preparing their defense,” Bridget says. “After all, the hearing is the day after tomorrow.”
Like we needed the reminder that our time is running low. “We’ll be ready,” I declare in a tone that is light-years more confident than I actually am.
Bridget adjusts the collar of her severe black suit jacket and wrinkles her nose. “In any case, I am here to fetch Angela.”
Angela scrambles to stand up. “What’s this all about?”
“You are in contempt of the Council by neglecting to appear for work reassignment. I’m here to escort you to the employment office, since you cannot seem to find it on your own.”
“Before I go, I want to leave you all with some words of comfort and inspiration.” Angela begins to walk toward our circle, but Bridget stops her.
“No time for such drivel, Angela.”
Angela sighs and follows Bridget out of the ballroom. But when she reaches the doors, she turns and shouts, “Remember you are awesome!”
The chandelier continues to shake long after she’s gone.
Chapter 46
My fellow Manic Pixies lie around in various states of distress after this latest blow.
I, on the other hand, am on high alert. As upset as I am about losing Angela, I recognize this as a perfect opportunity to set off on my mission. If Nebraska remains distracted, then maybe I won’t get caught.
I whisper my intentions to Zelda.
She nods. “I’m going with you. We’re in this together.”
We thread through Nebraska’s labyrinth of a house along the same route I used last time, via the veranda and kitchen. I count off the doors in the long hallway until we reach the hatbox room.
I head straight to the shelf where I saw Finn’s letter and prop a ladder against the wall beside it. Zelda holds it while I climb, perhaps hoping to avert the same sort of disaster we caused in the glass factory. I grab hold of the letter, my hands shaking.
Finn’s handwriting slants forward like it’s in as much of a hurry to get somewhere as he was. His voice and his throaty laugh and the way he’d scrunch up his face and rock out all come flooding back, and I’m so overcome by his absence, I can’t move. I wish I could call time-out on the universe and give him a moment of respectful silence, but I will myself to move. I descend a few rungs so that Zelda can peek over my shoulder and read with me.
Dearest Nebs,
I’ve been lying here staring at all the glitter you smeared on my ceiling and thinking about how you told me that the stars are within my grasp, if I only dare to seek them.
You’re a gift that I never knew I needed. Beneath your layer of pretty wrapping paper, you’re a box of endless inspiration and delight. I’d milk this metaphor for miles, but I’m sure you’d remind me that I tend to get carried away when it comes to you.
But who could blame me? Not the Council. Not all my Authors. Not anyone in Reader World. You’re not just a dream girl, you’re my dream girl.
I won’t divulge our plan to Riley, because I know you said it’s safer for you and other Legacies this way—even though I would certainly trust him not to turn you in to the Council. Before you follow me on the train to our future together, would you do me the favor of delivering the enclosed letter to him? He’s my best friend, and I want him to be able to make the same informed decision about his life that you allowed me to make by disclosing the secret of where the train really goes.
See you soon—I’ll be waiting at the other end of the line every afternoon until you join me.
Yours forever,
Finn
“Wow,” Zelda says. “This is insane! We could blackmail her with this and get her to take us to George.”
“You’re right.” Nebraska told Finn that the Termination Train would take him somewhere other than oblivion. If she was telling the truth, she divulged classified information to a non-Legacy. If she lied, then she sent Finn to his death. In either case, she’d face punishment if the Council found out. The letter Finn enclosed for me is long gone—likely Nebraska really did burn that—but her letter alone is enough for our purposes.
My pulse racing, I tuck the letter into my pocket.
I grab Zelda’s hand and turn to go, but Nebraska blocks our escape route. Her lips smile, but her eyes glint with steel so sharp, they could cut both of us in half.
“Well, well,” she says. “Look at the two little lovebirds, lurking around. Didn’t I warn you to be more careful?”
Chapter 47
Instinct opens my mouth to scream, though I don’t know what purpose it would serve. The others have probably left already, and Nebraska wouldn’t outright murder us in her own home. Even a Legacy wouldn’t get away with that.
Zelda squeezes my hand so tightly, I think she may break it.
Nebraska must sense our agitation, because she shushes me. “Don’t be afraid of me, dears. We’re on the same side.”
“Are we?” What I read makes me wary, and I haven’t even fully processed it yet.
“Of course. You found Finn’s letter, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” I admit. “But the letter suggests we’re not on the same side.”
“Riley, dear, who alerted you to the existence of the letter in the first place? And who kept it around for you to find?”
The answer to both of these questions is Nebraska. “But why not just give me the letter or deliver Finn’s letter to me like he asked you to?”
“I know you must have lots and lots of questions, and I appreciate that. I enjoy intellectual curiosity and figuring out puzzles and going on adventures.”
“Yet I notice you didn’t end up going on the adventure you planned with Finn,” I say, hoping she doesn’t notice where I’ve hidden the letter and trying to keep my voice calm. “Even after you went against Council regulations to share classified information with him—information that only a Legacy is supposed to know.”
This is merely an educated guess on my part, but Nebraska juts out her jaw. “My intentions have always been noble.” She obviously feels justified, and she refuses to apologize for anything.
I shouldn’t aggravate her if I want a confession. Not that I can necessarily believe what she has to tell me, but I know that even lies hold a kernel of truth, and that’s a start at least. So I look her straight in the eye. “Okay, Nebraska. We’re listening.”
She averts her gaze to my neck and shoulder region. “Neither of you were here to experience our golden age. We had the respect of our fellow Tropes. Readers adored us—t
hey sent fan mail by the boatload.”
“We saw.” Zelda gestures at the shelves.
“None of these letters are recent,” Nebraska complains.
I tap my foot. I’m antsy to move forward with our plan, but first I need some answers. “So Finn . . .” I prompt.
“The fan letters stopped coming about the same time that Finn appeared.” Nebraska fluffs her hair. “It’s only logical to see a connection there.”
Zelda stares at Nebraska incredulously. “You resented Finn because you thought he was the reason you stopped getting fan mail?”
Nebraska hooks her fingers through a rung of the ladder like she might be preparing to climb. “Finn was an anomaly. Manic Pixies are Dream Girls and then here came this boy. He was a threat to our kind, you understand.”
Oh, I understand, all right. And I’m furious. “So you had to get rid of him.”
She doesn’t even have the decency to deny it. “He fell in love with me easily enough . . .”
“But you had to break up with Angela to fully convince him of your plan.”
Nebraska shrugs. “Collateral damage.”
“And then you convinced him to board the Termination Train. But where did it take him?”
“C’mon, Riley. You’re smart enough to have put this together by now. What destination could possibly convince Finn to risk everything?”
Of course I know, and I finally understand why Finn went. He’d rather take a leap of faith than continue to live in the shadow of others’ expectations. “Reader World.”
She claps. Slowly. Perhaps a bit sarcastically.
“So the train really leads to Reader World?” My heart blows hope bubbles in my chest.
“Yes.”
Chapter 48
Reader World is a magical place. You know this, because you live there. Every day is like living in a choose-your-own-adventure novel. Do you even realize how lucky you are?
Chapter 49
“And you know that for a fact, do you?” Zelda spits out. “Or maybe you’re just saying you know because it sounds better than admitting you basically tricked someone into killing himself. You make me sick.” She’s shaking with righteous anger and looks like she might resort to physical violence.
The Manic Pixie Dream Boy Improvement Project Page 15
