Bookishly Ever After (14 page)

“Please?” I grabbed a scarf and handwarmers out of my basket o’ warmth and followed her out of my bedroom and through the front door. A hoodie would have been better for this freakishly-warm-for-late-fall-but-still-fingernumbingly-cool weather, but Grace probably would have nixed it. Unless it was like the Pine Central one she herself was wearing. I had to get myself some fashion-appropriate school spirit.

“ What happened when I was gone? How was Thanksgiving at Leia’s house?”

“Uncomfortable. Her uncle started quoting religious stuff at us, her mom broke down in tears, there was a bunch of political debate, and then half the people who’d been debating fell asleep on the couch watching football. The usual.” Grace smiled over at me. “Plus, you missed the Thanksgiving game drama at school,” she said as we slogged through a pile of leaves that had taken over our cut-through.

Even though there were more leaves on the ground than on the trees, it was still autumnally pretty and, like a two year old, I couldn’t help but shuffle my feet so the leaves flew up around us as we walked. I tilted my head to in confusion.

“Drama? No one told me there was drama.”

“Jon was under the bleachers making out with Cassie.
You know, from the squad?” It took me a second to register that she meant cheerleading squad. “Her ex-boyfriend, Mike Lyons, was on the bench, saw them, and, I didn’t see the whole thing because I was cheering, but I heard that Mike dangled Jon by his ankles from the top of the bleachers and Mr. Winters had to go all Marine on the two of them. And then Cassie got all googly-eyed and got back together with Mike because she thought it was ‘romantic.’” She pulled her hands out of her sleeves to air-quote “romantic.”

I blinked, trying to picture the entire thing. “I’m sorry I missed that. Mike is usually so nice.” I tried to choke back a laugh. “Poor Jon, though. First me and my awkwardness, now Cassie’s ex-boyfriend.”

“Yeah. I’d pity-date him if it weren’t for Leia and the fact that he’s a guy.” We stopped in front of Carlo’s Diner, which looked more like a Victorian tea house from the outside, thanks to the town’s architectural “vision.”

Grace gestured up the steps. “Go be awesome and make me proud.”

I impulsively hugged her again and made my way up the steps. Time to try and be a Marissa-Maeve amalgam in person.

It turned out I only had to be a Maeve, keeping my expression completely devoid of what was really going on in my mind while still looking cute and interesting. Yes, Dev was at the diner. With a bunch of his theatre friends, including Lexie. And, yes, he did drag a chair over and make room next to him
at the table for me, but this wasn’t what I expected.

I did what I always did in crowds of people I really didn’t know. I turned into a silent lump of fake smiles and nods at conversations full of people and things I didn’t even know about. Em was still at her grandfather’s shore house, or she’d at least be someone to talk to. Part of me was tempted to text Grace and beg her to come back and save me.

Lexie reached over from her spot across the table and took the sleeve of my sweater between her fingers, rubbing the material. I hated people who didn’t ask permission before manhandling my knits.

“Did you make this?” she asked. I nodded, and she sat back, studying the sweater. “You’ll have to make me one of those. It’s pretty.”

Years of comments like that made my answer automatic. “I can teach you how to knit and then you can make your own.” Even though I didn’t like her, I could already picture the bright blue Madelinetosh from the store that would make her skintone glow. As well as the pattern that would make the yarn and her body look great. Because I was, like, the yarn whisperer or something.

“I don’t have enough free time to do any knitting,” she said with a dismissive wave, “but I can pay you to make it for me.”

Another automatic answer, this one something that would definitely make Maeve proud. “You can’t afford me.” Like my free time was any less valuable than hers.

Dev broke away from a rugby conversation with Damien and bumped me with his side. “Good one.”

Lexie looked like she had just bitten into a lemon.

Not wanting to sound like a jerk, I sputtered. “But, really. I charge twenty dollars an hour plus material costs. And you don’t want to know how many hours it takes to knit a sweater.” She still looked like she wanted to stab me with her fork.
Plus, I only knit for the knitworthy and you, hanging over the table trying to get Dev to look down your top, are definitely not knitworthy.
But I didn’t say the last part. Lack of sleep definitely made me a little bit snappy.

Lexie blinked. “Huh. I can buy something like that at Target for fifteen bucks.” She took a sip of her soda and sat back with a self-satisfied smile.

To keep myself from saying something I’d regret later, I stuffed a piece of cannoli in my mouth and pretended to turn my attention to the rugby conversation. I had no idea what they were talking about and I don’t think they did, either. It was like a battle of the phones, where each of them would surreptitiously look something up and try to sound impressive with some sporty term or another to one-up everyone else. Well, except for Damien, who could probably make stuff up and get away with it because he’d been to his brother’s games. Even Lexie found ways to chime into their argument.

I didn’t get it. Dev’s texts had made it sound like it would be just us at the diner, or at least I, like an idiot, had read them that way. And now, it seemed ridiculous that I got all excited and asked for Grace’s help. I could have shown up here in sweats with no makeup for all the attention he
gave me. I started picking the chocolate chips out of the mascarpone filling of the rest of my cannoli, making a little pile on the side of my plate that I could eat in one chocolate-laden shot.

Dev nudged me with his elbow and I looked up from my chocolate Everest to see a concerned frown on his face. “Are you okay? You’ve been quiet.”

I forced a smile. “I’m just tired. Boston’s a long drive.”

“Oh, sorry. Did you want a coffee or something?” His eyes searched my face and I tried to smile wider.

I held up my half-filled mug. “Beat you to it.”

He looked down at my mug and… was that a little bit of color in his cheeks? “Right. I forgot about that. I didn’t even ask how your trip—” Lexie cut him off and started asking him something about the theatre club meeting.

I ate my mini mound of chocolate and debated my next move.

Marissa would sit on his lap, like the cafeteria scene in Hidden when she tried to distract Dan. I voted that out automatically.

Maeve would blend in and then impress him with her brains and selflessness. I could be like her in chapter twenty of
Golden
, maneuvering through the Otherland court like she’d been born fae. Or I could imitate her graceful but dramatic exit from the pub in
Gilded
, catching Aedan’s—I meant, Dev’s—eye and leaving him wanting more.

The exit sounded wonderful at the moment. I didn’t need to keep being that girl who was so socially inept that
she had to pass her time reading the backs of sugar packets and trying to lip-read the conversation of the couple in the booth opposite me. Downing the last of my coffee, I pulled a ten out of my purse and dropped it on the table.

I stood, slipping on my handwarmers and artfully draping my scarf around my neck. “I have to go, I still haven’t unpacked.” I tugged at my ponytail tie so my hair could fall in graceful waves down my back, just like Maeve pulling out her hairstick as she left the pub, but it wouldn’t budge. So no one would notice my hair fail, I tried to make it look like I was pulling the ponytail out from under my scarf.

Lexie blinked up at me, delicately waving her spanakopita. “Already? Oh, well.”

I wasn’t sure if I saw disappointment in Dev’s eyes or if it was just wishful thinking. “That sucks. Are you sure you can’t stay?”

Faking my best perky-smile, I said, “Positive. Thanks for inviting me. Happy Thanksgiving and see you tomorrow.” I tried turning on my almost-three inch heel and stumbled, grabbing at a chair to steady myself.

“Was there more in that coffee than just coffee?” Damien called out from across the table.

I gave Damien the evil eye. A line from
Hidden
popped into my head and this seemed like the perfect moment to use it. “I don’t know. Is there more in your head than just air?” It sounded so much cooler on the page, but the guys didn’t seem to notice.

“Oooh, burn. Good one, Martins.” A senior whose
name I didn’t know reached across the table for a fist bump. He winked at me before turning to Dev. “Where have you juniors been hiding this one?” I broke into a genuine grin. Marissa saved the day. Again.

“The library,” Lexie said in a tone that made the library sound
bad
. As if.

“Anyway, I really have to go.” I wracked my brain for something smart and funny. “This time without almost falling on my butt.” Success. They were definitely laughing with me and not at me. “Bye.” Random ‘goodbyes’ followed me but I didn’t turn around to look at anyone, especially Dev. Maeve wouldn’t do that. I put spice into my step, which wasn’t hard in these heels, and loved the feel of my ponytail bouncing as I walked towards the front door. I couldn’t tell if I looked hot or stupid, but Em had once said that I had a butt built for walking away in heels. I hoped this was what she meant.

As soon as I reached the Oh, Knit! storefront, I started breathing again.

On Monday, Dev won the coveted seat in English again. He threw a grin over his shoulder, then pulled his phone out of his pocket and started texting something. Zhdanova was going to kill him.

My phone buzzed and I snuck a peek at it.

Sorry I didn’t ask you about your trip yesterday. Talk at lunch?

No sitting at our table to talk about the spring musical
stuff—he just wanted to hang out with me. A giddy little feeling rose up into my head like I was filled with helium and I boldly tapped his shoulder. When he turned to face me, I nodded. My grin matched his, like we were sharing our own little secret.

December was going to be amazing.

December turned out to be frustrating.

“Again, from the top,” Osoba ignored our groans and lifted her baton. “I’m not letting any of you go until you get this phrase right.”

I glanced at the clock, trying not to look too obvious. At the rate we were going, we would miss the late bus, which meant bumming rides off of the seniors or playing parent pickup roulette. Even though Osoba had the power to call after-school orchestra practices for our winter concert, I wondered if she was actually allowed to make us stay this late.

We started again from the top, and, as we got to the flute section she always picked on, Osoba yelled out, “Stac-cat-to!” I staccato-ed the heck out of those notes and could hear the other flutes do the same. When the entire orchestra hit the last note, we froze, silently waiting for her verdict. As soon as Osoba put down her baton and said, “Fine. We’ll fix the rest tomorrow,” we dove for our cases.

“Totally obsessive,” Em muttered as she speed-cleaned the spit out of her flute.

I shoved my piccolo case into the pocket on the side of my flute case. “I know. It’s just a holiday concert. No one’s
going to care if we’re not ‘stac-cat-to’ enough for Carnegie Hall or something.”