by Emma Mills
“Why would you do that?” he said. “Why would you lie?”
What it all boiled down to was this:
I couldn’t admit the truth. That my dad didn’t want to be there for either me or Sidney. Because that’s what it was, wasn’t it? He was just waiting for an opening. For a reason to not have to come, and it took care of itself. He couldn’t pick between us. That made it about us, not him.
So I made it about me, not him, because that was just easier, wasn’t it, than saying the reality of it out loud.
“Because I suck, Jamie,” I said. “You’re just too nice to admit that. Or to realize it in the first place, maybe, I don’t know. I suck, and I fucked this up for all of us, and that’s just how it is. Sorry. I’m sorry.” I met his eyes now. “I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “You lied about lying.”
I let out a pathetic breath of laughter, trying to sound cavalier. “What?”
He was completely serious. “He did confirm. You did confirm it. I know you did. So what happened? Why can’t he come?” He looked concerned. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine.” I swallowed. “Everything’s exactly the way it always is.” I wanted to cry for some reason. Instead I just looked away, squeezed the strap of my backpack, and nodded.
Then I walked away.
50.
THE KISS BETWEEN JAMIE AND me wasn’t the actual end of the Kingdom revival. Remarkably, Iliana, Aurelie, Hapless, and Quad met once more after that.
It was a week or so after the eighth-grade museum trip, after I messed things up with Jamie. I was working on homework in our room when Sidney burst in wearing her Quad outfit.
I looked up from a row of geometry problems. “What are you doing?”
“What are you doing?” she replied. “Jamie’s coming. We’re playing.”
“What?”
“I saw him in the lobby with Mom on Tuesday and he said he’d come. He was busy yesterday, but he’s free today and he’s coming over”—there was a knock at the door—“now!”
I had no choice but to join in. I couldn’t tell Sidney and Rose what had happened between us. But Jamie must have not hated me entirely if he still agreed to play?
When I met them in the living room—Rose was buckling Iliana’s belt—he didn’t meet my eyes. He looked right past me as Sidney explained what we were going to do.
The last time we had met for Kingdom, we were outside, wandering through the Wilds looking for a scroll that would lead us to a sacred pool where Hapless’s curse could be broken. We had secured the scroll (it was a rolled-up menu for a Chinese restaurant), and today Sidney commanded we follow it to the sacred pool (the indoor pool, which we had formerly dubbed a swamp, and which was located downstairs by the back entrance to the building).
It was quiet as we got in the elevator. I think Rose could sense it, that something intrinsic had changed—I hadn’t told her what happened at the museum, but she was Rose, she could intuit anything—and maybe Sidney could too, because she glanced back at me.
“Hapless doesn’t remember you anymore because you weren’t mean to him,” Sidney said. “Remember how you didn’t want to be mean to him?”
My stomach twisted.
“She’s our friend. She’s okay,” she told Jamie, who nodded, not looking my way. “We trust her, so you can trust her too.”
“Got it,” he replied.
The hall outside the service elevator was empty, and we made our way past the back door, past the vending machines, peered through the window in the hall that looked down onto the pool area. It was empty too.
“What do we do?” Jamie said when we were all assembled inside. The pool room was always warm, the air thick with humidity.
“According to lore—”
I snorted. “What lore?”
Sidney glared at me. “According to lore of old, the sacred pool will wash away your curse.”
“Just like that?” Jamie said.
“No,” Sidney said. “It demands a sacrifice first.”
“We’re not throwing stuff into the pool,” Rose said.
Sidney glared at her too. “We have to do a ritual, then.”
So we did a complicated ritual, which involved my scrying stones, a small desiccated piece of wood that Sidney had picked up from who knows where, and a sprinkling of water from the hot tub (aka the anointed spring).
“Now what?” Jamie asked when we were done.
“Now you have to let the sacred magic of the pool consume you,” Sidney replied.
Jamie considered this for a moment, and then took one step backward, and then another, until he was at the edge of the pool.
“Jamie—” I began, but all at once, Prince Hapless tipped over and broke the water with a large splash, disappearing into the depths, leaving only ripples behind.
Sidney let out a choked laugh, and next to me, Rose tensed.
We could all see Jamie at the bottom—the pool wasn’t that deep—but he wasn’t coming up.
“Jamie,” Rose called.
“Hapless!” Sidney tried.
But he stayed down there, a dark shape against the pale blue of the pool floor.
Maybe Iliana the bounty hunter would have looked skyward and let out a lengthy curse to the gods before diving gracefully to Hapless’s rescue. But Rose just let out a sound like sflkjfsfjk and then jumped into the pool.
She disappeared under and broke the surface again with Jamie in tow. They both thrashed around a bit and then made their way over to the side of the pool.
“What were you doing?” Rose said, climbing to her feet. Her clothes hung wet, water streaming in rivulets off of her. Jamie pulled himself out of the pool but stayed sitting in a puddle on the concrete. “Why didn’t you come up?”
“I was letting the water consume me,” he said simply. “Am I cured?”
Sidney considered him for a moment. “No. And you’re unconscious.”
Instantly Jamie fell back on the ground, a marionette with its strings cut.
I spoke before I could even think: “Sidney, no. He has to be cured. This can’t go on forever.”
“I’m in charge and—”
“You’re not. We’re all playing, not just you. I say he’s fine.”
Sidney turned to Rose, her expression clouding over.
Rose sighed too. “I mean, Nina’s kind of right. We can’t play forever.”
“But—” Sidney broke in.
“But,” Rose continued, “Sidney should get … the ending she wants.” She looked at Sidney. “So what happens now?”
Sidney was quiet for a moment, considering, and then she raised her chin defiantly. “Now Prince Hapless dies.”
“He can’t die,” I said.
“Sure he can. He’s not immortal. He’s not magic. He doesn’t have any charms or shields or anything.” A shrug. “It’s realistic.”
“Nothing about Kingdom is realistic,” I replied. “Rose’s hairbrush is a dart gun! You’re a literal troll!”
“I get to pick the ending and I say we did everything we could and it didn’t work.” She shook her head. “Sometimes things just don’t work.”
I thought of my mom’s words to Sidney—to all of us—during a discussion once about the divorce. We didn’t talk about it often, but Sidney was just a toddler when it happened, so she would have questions every now and then. Once she asked, Who made you get divorced?
No one made us.
But whose fault was it?
A complicated series of emotions had passed over my mom’s face, and then she replied: It doesn’t have to be someone’s fault. Sometimes you can do everything right and it just isn’t meant to be.
I looked at Jamie’s prone form on the ground and then back up at Sidney. “No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
I swallowed. “What about true love’s kiss?”
Sidney shook her head. “That’s fake.”
“At least let me try.” I blinked at her, m
y heart pounding in my chest. “It always worked before.”
“Hapless already forgot you.”
“This could help him remember.”
I glanced down at Jamie, but he was still lying motionless, eyes shut. He had always been the best pretender when we played Kingdom—I knew he wouldn’t break. At least, I desperately hoped that this time he wouldn’t.
He stayed completely still as I knelt down on the ground next to him. His hair was plastered down against his head, little drops of water beaded up on his face. Before I could do anything, Sidney burst out: “Wait!”
I froze.
“Hapless only wakes up if he really loves you. That’s the only way. He can stay alive as long as his love for Aurelie is real. But if not…” She shook her head. “He’s a goner.”
I swallowed, then leaned in, rested my fingers over Jamie’s lips, and pressed a kiss to my knuckles. A beat longer than I would normally, and unnecessarily gently, considering Jamie couldn’t even feel it. But I hoped, stupidly, that he got the message.
I pulled back, and Jamie blinked up at me.
“Noooo,” Sidney wailed. “Come on, it should at least be more dramatic than that!”
Jamie’s eyes were everything.
“At least cough or, like, gasp for air or something,” Sidney continued.
Jamie just looked at me for one moment more, and then moved to sit up. I sat back on my heels.
“I think we should probably call it here,” he said, getting to his feet. “It’s been … a good game, right?”
“That’s it?” Sidney said. “That’s all? You’re not even gonna thank us for saving your life? Restoring your memories? Are they even restored?”
Jamie thought for a moment, and then nodded. “I remember everything.”
“You don’t sound happy enough to be a person who just got the memory of mac and cheese back,” Sidney said.
That teased a smile from Jamie. “You’re right.” He dropped down to one knee in front of Sidney, bowed his head.
“Thank you, travelers, for your assistance. I will forever be grateful. I hope your next adventure brings you riches and happiness and … good things.” His eyes flicked up toward me, and then away. “All good things.”
Then he stood, and with an awkward nod at Sidney and Rose, headed out, boots squishing with each step.
By the time we got into the hall, there was a trail of wet footprints leading to the elevator, and he was already gone.
51.
THERE WAS A WEDDING ON Saturday night. The ceremony was in the atrium, the reception in the Papa Bear ballroom. I worked my way through the meal mechanically, bringing salads and filling cups and clearing dishes. I was topping off water glasses when the speeches started. One of the women at the head table, clad in a royal blue dress, stood and turned to the two brides in the center.
“Andrea,” she said, and one of the brides brought a hand up to her face. “Oh my god, don’t cry yet, I haven’t even started.”
Gentle laughter rippled through the crowd.
“Okay. Keep it together or I won’t be able to—okay. Andrea, you’ve always been my best friend. You’ve been like a sister to me—stop it, I mean it! Don’t cry, oh my god.” She dabbed her eyes with a napkin before continuing: “You’ve always looked out for other people, you’ve always put others before yourself. You’re the most selfless person I’ve ever met. There’s no one I’d trust more in this world than you, and honestly, truly, there’s no one I’d want you to trust your heart to more than Yvonne. I know she’ll take care of you, the same way you’ve always taken care of so many of us here.”
It was sweet, too sweet for me to bear, somehow. Too much. The air in the room felt too close. I moved to the side, set my water jug down on one of the tray stands, and then ducked into the lobby, out the door, down the small flight of steps, and out into the night.
I leaned up against the brick of the building. The windows of the ballroom faced onto the parking lot, and although the shades were drawn during events, I could hear the murmur of voices inside.
I didn’t have my jacket, so I just stuck my hands in the pocket of my apron, let out a breath and watched it billow up in front of me. It was a cold April so far—nothing had bloomed yet.
I looked out over the parking lot, the bare branches of the trees swaying a little in the wind. The sacred glen, I thought absently.
Where was Aurelie now? Baking or hustling people at magic pool. Maybe she had her shit together in some capacity. Maybe her magic powers had helped her somehow in that way.
And what of Prince Hapless? He was dead now, apparently, according to Jamie. I thought about Hapless wandering through the glen. Maybe a warlock enchanted him, or he was struck by a poisonous dart. I thought about him alone, crying out for Aurelie and Iliana and Quad and no one coming. And Sidney’s words: He can stay alive as long as his love for Aurelie is real. But if not, he’s a goner.
It made me want to cry. How stupid was that. Imagining something too hard and upsetting yourself for no reason.
The door opened, and a pair of black-clad legs descended the stairs.
“Hey.” Jamie sidled up to me. “Celeste was looking for you.” A pause. “What are you doing out here?”
It had been silent in the Sounds of the Nineties chat since the revelation yesterday. I didn’t know what to say to everyone, how I could possibly make it right.
I swallowed, looked away. “Just, uh…” I didn’t know how to explain it. “That speech was really nice.”
“It was.” Jamie’s voice was soft. “Sometimes they get me too.”
I looked over at him. His tie was off-center. My fingers itched to straighten it.
His brow furrowed a little. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” Then I shook my head. “No. Probably not.”
And suddenly wanting to cry wasn’t just an impulse, but an actual thing that was happening.
“Hey,” he said. I turned my face away, looking toward the back gate. “Hey, what is it? What’s wrong?”
I just shrugged, and when I could speak, the only thing I could think to say was, “That M&M cake was really nice.”
“Nina—”
“Remember, for my birthday? I never told you. I was so … That was so nice of you, you didn’t have to do that, it was—you’re too good. I don’t know how to be good like that. I don’t know how to not be a human garbage can, Jamie.”
“You’re not a garbage can. Jesus.” He now looked both concerned and bewildered.
“How do you know that?”
“Well, for one thing, no one would throw that many M&M’s away.”
I let out a puff of air, not quite a laugh. When I looked back at Jamie, his expression was too open, too honest.
“I let everyone down,” I said, and hated how pitiful my voice sounded, how small. “Everyone hates me.”
“They don’t.”
“You don’t hate me?”
“I don’t.”
“But you should. After everything…”
He shook his head. “I don’t.”
I nodded. Swallowed, wiped hastily at my eyes.
“Are you free tomorrow?” Jamie asked after a moment.
There was no wedding tomorrow. We had dinner plans with the Dantist, but I could cry off.
“Yeah.”
“We could meet up,” he said. “Try to figure the whole thing out. We have till Friday, right? We can fix it, I promise. No one hates you. We’ll fix it. Okay?”
I nodded. “Okay.”
52.
WE DECIDED TO GO TO a sushi place on Sunday, near the IUPUI campus downtown.
It was not a date. It was a brainstorming session. But I still put on a nice shirt and my cleanest sneakers, and I even tried to do a hair tutorial from YouTube. Rose walked in when I was sitting on the floor in front of the mirror on our closet, trying to replicate the French braid twist by Beautyglitterqueen99.
“What are you doing?”
“Practicing
for prom,” I said, and Rose must’ve been truly distracted, because she didn’t question it, despite me having never once shown interest in having decent hair for prom—or honestly, prom in general.
Rose was working that evening. Mom and Sidney were going to Dan’s. I insisted that I couldn’t join since I had plans, and headed down to the lobby at ten till four to wait for Jamie. I figured we’d take the bus together, or maybe he would borrow Gram’s car.
It wasn’t a date. It was a brainstorming session.
I tapped my foot against the tile floor absently while I waited. The desk attendant glanced my way, but then went back to staring at his cell phone. The desk phone rang eventually, and I could hear him: “This is Joe at the Eastman, how may I help you?”
I waited. I listened to Joe’s side of the calls that came in. I checked my phone—it was possible I got the time wrong. Maybe we said five? But I remembered it clearly, after work last night: Jamie shifting back and forth in the elevator, Is four okay? Gram doesn’t really like me staying out late on Sundays.
I went on the Instagram page for Conrad and Co. while I was waiting and scrolled through pictures of the team: a bearded man (Will) at the soundboard, a woman with bleached blond hair pulled back in a ponytail (Tina) holding two giant coffee mugs. My dad, wearing sunglasses inside, throwing up a peace sign at the camera.
I switched to playing a mindless game on my phone when the Conrad and Co. pictures began to stoke an unpleasant feeling in my chest.
I texted Jamie, hey it was 4 right? at ten past. I was suddenly way too conscious of my Beautyglitterqueen99 hairstyle.
At twenty past, a thought struck me: Maybe we were supposed to meet at the restaurant? I just assumed we’d meet here—we both lived here. What was the point in going separately? But maybe he was coming from somewhere else. Maybe he was already there.
I sent another text: Are we meeting there?
What if he didn’t have his phone?
I hated talking on the phone, but I gave him a call anyway. It went straight to voicemail—maybe it had run out of battery or maybe he forgot to turn it on (as if I ever turned mine off).
