Bookishly Ever After Page 4

  Alec had perched himself on one of the cast iron streetlamp bases a few seconds before, but now hopped off. “We’re on our way to McCaffery field. Damien’s brother is home for the weekend and he said he’d teach us how to play rugby.”

  I couldn’t even look Dev in the eye, so I focused on Alec. “Rugby? Just you two are playing against him?”

  Dev answered, instead. “Nah, we’re meeting up with some of the other guys there.” We reached the store and he waved in the direction of the field. “Stop by when you’re finished here, if you want.”

  My hand froze on Oh, Knit!’s fancy brass doorknob. “I don’t think I’ll be able to.” I let my focus drift to the store’s big picture window of yarny goodness. In a few minutes, I’d be inside and I could just sink into the Manos display.

  “It’s not like you’re trying to impress anyone. And I know you don’t have anything else today.” I was going to kill Alec later.

  Dev was making weird faces behind Alec, puffing his cheeks out and bent over like he was using a walker.

  I choked back a laugh. “You two are going to make me late for my class. Plus, you’re going to offend the not ancient customers.” I gestured at Dev, and Alec turned around, letting out a loud snort-y laugh.

  Alec faced me again, but started backing away from the store. “Yes, Ms. Martins. See you at McCaffery field, then?”

  “I’ll think about it.” I heaved a sigh of relief and slipped inside. It was such a comfort to drop back into my chair at the teaching table and bury my face in a display shawl that Cassandra, my boss, must have left there.

  One of the store’s regulars reached over and patted my knee sympathetically. “Boyfriend?”

  “God, no.” I tried not to look out and see if they were gone yet. “Two perpetual pains in the…” I looked up at her, and quickly checked myself, “…well, you know. They’re just friends.”

  She gave me another soft pat and returned to her baby blanket. The rest of the class shuffled in and started chattering softly over the click of needles while waiting for me to pull myself together.

  In my dramatic show-offyness, I apparently had disconnected a needle from its cable and now half of my demo shawl was off the needles and threatening to unravel in my bag.

  Frak.

  6

  “Hey.”

  I jumped at the poke to my shoulder, accidentally closing my locker door on my hand in the process. “Ow.”

  Dev came into my line of sight, an apologetic look on his face. He reached around me to reopen my locker. “Sorry I scared you.”

  “It’s okay.” I examined my poor finger as it started turning an angry shade of purple-y red—of course it had to be in the perfect spot to get hit by the lock. “It’s my left hand, anyway. Not like I need it to knit or anything.”

  “I guess that won’t earn me sock points, will it?”

  I snorted, forgetting the stinging pain in my knuckle for a second. “You’re right. I think I’ll have to bump you to the bottom of my knitworthy list thanks to this.”

  “Which means I wasn’t at the bottom before?”

  “Nope. Osoba was last for making nonmarchers like me play in the stands in below-freezing weather.” I turned back to my locker to pull out the notebook I had been going for before almost losing my finger. A spare knitting needle started to roll off the top shelf, but I shoved it back into place and slowly closed the door.

  “How does you slamming your finger in your locker get me lower than Osoba making you a piccolo popsicle?”

  I turned back to face him and tilted my shoulder in a half-shrug. “Because you’re special that way?”

  “I’ll just have to work harder to get on your good side, then.” He grinned at me, then nodded at someone who called to him from down the hallway. “Anyway, Em said you might be able to help me find a copy of The Phantom of the Opera—the book, not the musical. Someone checked out the only copy in our library.”

  “Em makes me sound like some sort of underground book dealer.” I twisted my lips into a wry grin and added, “But this time, she’s right. I can lend you my copy.”

  “That would be awesome.” Whoever it was called him again and he waved. “Sorry, I have to go, but you’re the best, Phoebe.”

  “Tomorrow morning, atrium. I’ll bring the goods.” I cringed at how stupid I sounded.

  “Good, I’ll be there. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome,” I said to his back as he made his way down the hall to his friend.

  Em came up beside me, Wilhelm-the-exchange-student behind her. “What was that all about?”

  I blinked up at Em’s new German shadow. Apparently, she’d caught his attention for longer than just the dance.

  “Um, hi, Wilhelm,” I said, then rubbed at my sore knuckle and shrugged. “Nothing. He just wants to borrow a book.”

  “He asked for a copy of Phantom?” she asked, eyebrows quirked slightly upwards as she switched back and forth between studying me and watching Dev move through the crowd.

  Ignoring whatever she was trying to get at with her notso-subtle looks, I said, “Yeah. I’m lending him mine. I don’t need it right now.”

  A cat-that-caught-the-mouse smile spread across Em’s face. “But he can get Phantom online.”

  I did the mental math—she was right, it was in the public domain. “But maybe he wanted an actual copy.”

  “Mmmmhmmm.” That smile grew wider and she leaned against Wilhelm, arms crossed, looking totally self-satisfied.

  “Okay, so if you knew, why didn’t you tell him to go online instead of telling him to ask me?” I bounced on my heels and resisted the urge to head to class instead of dealing with Em’s conspiratorial matchmaking weirdness.

  Em poked me in the arm like she was trying to drill her point into me. “Because I wanted to prove how right I am about him liking you.”

  “It’s just a book.” The late bell rang and I started moving down the hallway, Em and her shadow trailing behind me.

  “Really,” she said, “aren’t you the one who always says, ‘It’s never just a book?’” Her last few words were said in a perfect imitation of me.

  She was crazy. Absolutely crazy.

  “And using that logic, if he asked you first, doesn’t it mean he’s really crushing on you?” I asked.

  She waved her hand dismissively. “We were just talking after drama club on Friday. He mentioned he was looking for a copy and maybe I casually mentioned you. He was the one who decided to ask you. Which, of course, means he wants you for more than your personal library.”

  “Em-logic makes my head hurt.”

  “Em-logic,” she said, hanging on the door of her Geometry classroom, “is the best kind of logic.” She blew Wilhelm a kiss and gave me a little shove towards my class. “I want you to practice safe book lending, you know.”

  “Eww.”

  She snorted, imitating my expression, and said, “See you at lunch.”

  Wilhelm and I shared a look.

  “Does half of what she says even make sense to you?” I asked.

  He shook his head, but the look on his face was pure amusement. “I find it easier to believe it makes sense to her and just think my English is still bad.”

  “No, your English is fine. Being around Em is like getting stuck in a whirlwind, It’s hard not to feel a little dizzy when you get out.” I made my way down the hallway towards class, Wilhelm right beside me.

  “Dizzy is a very good word for it.” He stopped in front of one of the classroom doors. “But it’s a good kind of dizzy, yes?” Wilhelm nodded, like he was answering his own question.

  I grinned back at him. “Yes.”

  “You didn’t come to watch,” Alec said as he slipped into the seat next to me at lunch.

  I finished biting the crust off of my sandwich and shrugged. “Cassandra needed me at the shop.”

  “Right, because yarn stores must have crazy lines on Sundays.” I glared at him but he just grinned and reached across the tabl
e to steal a few fries off of Grace’s tray. “Your loss. I could have taught you how to tackle.”

  “You mean you could have demonstrated how to get your ass handed to you by a real rugby player, right, Kohen?” Dev dropped his tray next to my lunch bag and grinned down at us. “Alec spent the most time sitting on the field.”

  “Who knew Anderson would get so huge after only one year? It was like playing rugby with a Klingon. Damien could have warned us,” Alec grumbled. He stole another fry and asked jokingly, “What are you doing coming over here and making me look bad in front of the girls?”

  “I asked Dev to sit with us so we can talk about the spring musical prep.” Em gave me a significant look, one eyebrow raised, while Dev settled into the space next to me.

  His leg bumped mine and I threw Em a dirty glare before smiling awkwardly at Dev and wiggling over slightly to avoid more leg bumping. “Don’t you guys usually do this kind of thing after school? Like, in the theatre with your whole crew?”

  Dev shrugged. “Em thought it would be a good idea to lay out a battle plan now. We have a pretty epic idea.”

  “But we’re not sure if Mr. Landry will bite,” Em finished with a flourish of her carrot stick. It was show season again, and she was back to her yearly weird preperformance diet. “Besides, I told Dev you’d probably be a huge help since we’re thinking of doing a rock version of Phantom and that’s your favorite musical.” Em tried to catch my eyes again.

  I poked a hole in the center of the sandwich with my finger. A second hole joined it and now my peanut butter sandwich had eyes. “To watch,” I said with a shake of my head. “Or read. I don’t do musical theater, Em. Band is where I draw the line when it comes to musical anything.” I didn’t look at Dev. It was all so awkward.

  Grace watched the entire interaction with more interest than I expected out of her, then, looked at me, her slow smile hitting its peak. “This should be good.”

  “We were thinking of making the Phantom a zombie guitar player…” Dev started when my attention was completely diverted by a silhouette entering my line of sight.

  Kris passed, his hair catching the light streaming in from the cafeteria skylights. I forgot about all kinds of zombies and just stared. The world went into slow motion and I couldn’t help but watch as he maneuvered himself and his tray around the tables and out the side door. What I wouldn’t give to be one of the lucky few allowed at the student council tables, even if it did mean freezing outside. Almost like he lived in one world and I lived in another. Which was kind of true. Except what divided us were lunch tables. There weren’t any fae gates keeping me from the Otherland and he wasn’t a warrior sworn to defend it. But it was still a great analogy. Or was that a simile?

  “Earth to Phoebe.” Dev actually waved a hand in front of my face.

  “Having an Aedan moment?” Grace asked wickedly.

  Dev looked from Grace to me back to Grace. “Who’s Aedan?”

  I blew air through my lips and contemplated kicking Grace in the shin. Before I could say anything, Alec answered for me.

  “It’s an in-joke.” He took a bite of hoagie and didn’t bother to finish chewing before continuing. “The girls are all kinds of screwed up.” He swallowed and looked around me at Dev. “Anyway, that zombie Phantom sounds like something I’d watch. Does he try to eat the girl?”

  “Gaston Leroux is rolling over in his grave right now over what you’re doing to his story,” I muttered, even though I was just happy Alec had changed the subject.

  Em steepled and twiddled her fingers, evil-style. “Just like a zombie would. Perfect.”

  As soon as Dev left the table, Em moved back over and nudged me with her elbow. “See, I told you. He likes you.” Thank God he probably didn’t hear her over the din of the emptying lunchroom.

  I looked at her with narrowed eyes. “No. He came to the table because you dragged him here, just like you told him to borrow the book from me. You’re so dying for me to get a boyfriend that you think everyone likes me.”

  “I’m not in love with you,” Alec threw over his shoulder before disappearing into the crowd.

  “And you’re not my type,” Grace added to me in amusement as she walked around the table to join us.

  I shot her a sour glare. “Shut up.”

  Grace stuck her perfectly manicured nails into my arm to keep both me and Em from leaving. When I tried to pull free, she fixed me with a death glare that I swear must be handed out to cheerleaders with their pom-poms. “So, what haven’t you both been telling me? This whole lunch period was like a bad teen drama.”

  “Nothing—”

  Em cut me off while deftly extracting herself from Grace’s clutches. “Dev totally has the hots for Feebs, Feebs refuses to believe it because she’s completely oblivious, and Kris is a tool who doesn’t even know you exist,” —that last part was directed at me— “so you have to give up on him.”

  “Well, that explains why you looked like someone put cat litter in your sandwich. You’re so Snow White innocent, it’s actually kinda cute.” Grace said with a laugh. “Em’s probably right. The social mirroring, the unnecessary touching you…”

  “Social what?”

  “Mirroring. It’s where someone unconsciously copies what you do. But don’t change the subject.”

  “I’m not changing the subject—” I started to protest.

  “Why are you complaining?”

  I groaned and yanked my arm free. “I’m going to be late to history.” Since Grace was in the same class that period, I added, “And I need to stop at my locker.” Before they could say anything else, I made myself disappear into the flood of people still trying to get through the lunchroom doors. Tomorrow, I promised myself, I was eating in the band room.

  Grace slid into the desk next to mine. “I have practice all week, and a game on Saturday, but you’re coming to my house on Sunday and you’re getting a makeover. Em enlisted me and my unquestionably awesome skills.”

  I scrunched my nose at her and flipped open my history book. “Why are you letting Em push you around, too?”

  “Because she doesn’t know her eyeliner from mascara. I do.” She shrugged. “It might be fun, and a little bit of change never hurt anyone. Besides, unlike either of you, I can tell whether a girl is hot enough to date.” She winked at me.

  I tried not to feel too insulted by that. “Won’t Leia get jealous of you making me ‘hot’?” I joked. “I hear those Haddontowne Academy girls are really possessive.”

  “You’ll never be that hot. Trust me.” She pulled out a pink plaid notebook and matching pen. “So, Sunday? I promise to make it as painless as possible.”

  “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

  “Look, I really don’t give a crap if you date Dev or Kris or Em, for that matter, but I think you probably could use some girly pampering time that doesn’t have anything to do with bubble baths and books. Or yarn. Or Em shoving guys at you.” She held up her hand to keep me from talking, “It’s less about how you look and more about giving you some time away from your everyday stuff. We get to hang out and talk. And if you learn a little bit about how to make the perfect cat’s eye in the process, that’s just a bonus.”

  I reached over and hugged Grace quickly before our history teacher started the class. “Thanks. I’ll skip the makeover, but I’ll take the Grace time.”

  “If I were you, I’d at least consider a tiny something. Step one would be to get your hair back to one color so it stops looking like you painted red camoflauge spots on your head.”

  “I hate you.”

  “Shh, class is about to start.” Grace sat up straight, pen poised over her notebook, and stared at the board like a perfect blonde angel.

  7

  I loved new books. The crisp pages, the smell, and the sense of potential as I carefully broke in the spine made getting them one of the best feelings in the world. Getting one at a book launch with the actual author—an even better feeling. Getting one at a boo
k launch with the actual author when the author is a rock star flying around the country to release the third book in her four book series and has a crowd of fans sitting outside the bookstore and waiting for hours to meet her? Electric.

  “The final battle outfit. Awesome,” someone said as they passed me. I proudly looked up from my page for a second to smile at the two girls who passed me on their way to the back of the line. They were wearing homemade t-shirts scrawled with all of the best Maeve quotes and clutching fresh copies of Gilded, the third book in the Golden series.

  I tugged at the corset, readjusting the fake leather so it would stop digging into my ribs. The costume might be perfect, but Trixie had built it for looks, not for waiting on line for hours at the mall. At least Maeve wore leggings when she fought. I couldn’t imagine sitting on this floor in a skirt. Semi-comfortable again, I dove back in to the book. If I read fast enough, I might get a third of the way through before the bookstore let us inside.

  A pair of beat-up sneakers stopped right next to me, the Sharpie doodles of skulls and crossbones playing in my peripheral vision. “Phoebe? What are you wearing?”

  I groaned when I followed those sneakers up to find Dev looking down at me. Of course he’d pick the one day I was in costume to run into me at the mall. I wanted to melt into the concrete wall behind me.

  “I’m here for the launch party.” I followed his eyes back to the corset and puffy shirt I was wearing. “And there’s a costume contest.” Warmth crept over my cheeks and I tilted my head forward so my hair hid my face. Dressing up for a costumed dance was one thing, but I hadn’t expected anyone from school to be at the mall this early.

  “You should have worn that green dress. It was pretty epic.”

  A little part of me that wasn’t dying of mortification warmed at the thought that he remembered my homecoming dress. Why he hadn’t yet gone away, though, was totally beyond my understanding. “Wrong scene. I’m in Maeve’s battle outfit. You know, like on the cover?” I used my finger as a bookmark and gestured with my new book at the giant version of it on the banner above me.