Fairy Tale (14 page)

"Thank you." I move next to him and cautiously wrap my arms around him. It starts as an awkward hug, but as I press against him, feeling the muscles of his anus around my shoulders, his chest pressed against my body, I have a hard time releasing him. As I sit there with him on my pink shag carpet, knowing the embrace has gone on for too long to be merely friendly but unable to do

anything about it, I notice something. A scent, ever so faint, but familiar. The scent I'd caught among the perfumed old ladies at the Toad but had been unable to identify. This time, I recognize it immediately. A scent like the woods. And barbershop aftershave.

THAT NIGHT, I go to sleep bitter and heartbroken. Bitter because I haven't seen Cam all day. He'd promised to come by after dinner but never showed and then called me at nine to say he was too tired. And heartbroken because I long desperately for the days before this nightmare started.

I miss the old, easygoing, self-assured Cam. This new version hates who he is and what he is becoming, so much so that he can't even disguise those feelings with jokes anymore. When I told him that he should at least come over for a little, that maybe we could just crash and watch a little TV, he refused, because "I need a lot of rest to complete this transformation into full freak status."

I climb into bed, thinking about the party, and the plan to keep him here, and wondering what type of life Cam will have in this world as a fairy. How small will he get? He's already lost about six inches and twenty pounds, and-who knows, since I haven't seen him all day-he's probably lost more by now. I can't very well picture him playing college football at a Big East school, like he'd planned. And how much will those wings get in the way? He's always talked about either being a weatherman or working on Wall Sheet. I can't imagine him flying from place to place with a three-piece suit and briefcase.

All his life, Cam was the perfect one. Everything came easily to him. The newspaper said it best: "Cam Browne can do anything."

But that was then. That was the old Cam.

I'm not so sure the new Cam will be able to handle this.

But he has to, because I can't handle life without him.

I kick off the covers, pop in some more Enya, and sit cross-legged on my bed, then close my eyes. "Fluffernutter " I murmur.

There's a piece of stray hair from my ponytail tickling my nose muddling my concentration, so it takes a while before I actually see the aquamarine ripples of water in the pool. When I'm lost in them, I whisper, "Show me Cam Browne."

The waves turn fuzzy, and then...

Nothing.

Complete blackness.

I sit there for a moment, waiting, until I lose patience. "Show me Cam Browne." I say, louder.

Either my vision is of him hanging out in a closet, or I got nothing.

"Cameron Browne?" I ask, giving the side of my head a thwack. Hopeless.

I take a deep breath. Must find my Zen.

Relaxing, not completely but just enough so that my heart isn't pounding out of my chest. I go back to my
Fluffernutters
.
When the ripples appear, I say, "Show me Pip Merriweather."

The ripples part, the clouds clear, and an image begins to come to light.

Yeah, I still got it.

But the celebration comes to a rapid halt when I enter the vision.

MY DREAMS THAT night, again, are filled with visions of Cam and Pip. I'm in my bed. Cam is there, and once again, he's kissing me, his weight pressing into me. His hands are tangled in my hair, working through it, and I feel his breath on my skin as his tongue trails down my neck. I sigh, closing my eyes, because it feels so amazing. When he pulls the straps of my tank top down around my shoulders, his lips trailing across my collarbone, I can only think that I want him to keep this going, forever. When I finally open my eyes and peer past my chin, I see a head of peanut-butter -blond hair,
It isn't Cam,
I tell myself.
You know who it is.
I know it is wrong.

And yet, I don't tell him to stop.

I wake that morning with my sheets knotted around my legs, feeling like the worst girlfriend on earth. I quickly throw on some clothes and race downstairs and out the door before my mother can pose her "Orange juice?" question. I find Pip standing at the line between our houses, backpack slung over both shoulders, inspecting either the grass or his toes. He's wearing another Gap special, this time a hooded sweatshirt, baggy jeans, and sneakers, his toughest, most gangsta ensemble yet. It serves to make him slightly more threatening than the Keds-wearing Pip, but still very vanilla.

And yet, when he looks up and meets my eyes, I have to turn away. Is dream cheating really cheating? No. I have dreams that I'm naked in school sometimes, and that doesn't mean that I want to be naked. A dream about Pip doesn't mean I want him. Of course, I can still feel his hands in my hair, his breath on my...

Damn. Focus, girl.

I cannot be having these feelings. They're ridiculous. Even though he's ditched the cords, he's still Pencil Box Pip. I have the most perfect boyfriend in this world, and in any other world, for that matter.

Pip senses my minor mental breakdown. How can he not? I bet I even smell guilty. "Is there a problem?" he asks.

Cam is nowhere in sight, and I'm glad. I can't face him.

I take a deep breath and mentally chant.
Cam is my true lore, Cam is my true lore, Cam is my true lore,
a few times. Then I force myself back to the issue at hand, the real issue, the vision I'd had before I'd gone to bed. "Major. Last night, before I went to sleep, I had a vision of you."

He raises his eyebrows. "Are you an enchantress?"

"A what?" I wrinkle my nose, but the truth is, "enchantress" sounds kind of nice. "Um, no. Just a psychic. I have visions sometimes."

"Oh, I see. And your vision alarmed you?"

To tell the truth, the vision I had before bed was tame, even boring, compared with what I experienced afterward, when I was asleep. But I can't tell anyone about that dream, ever. Besides, it was just a dream. No big deal. The memory of it brings a rainstorm of tingles to my neck and arms, but I shake them away and describe the vision: "It was of you walking down our street. In crunchy leaves."

He tilts his head.

"Leaves that have fallen? Get it?" A moment passes, and finally I say, "Do leaves not fall in Otherworld?"

He shakes his head.

"Oh. Well, leaves die and fall off the trees here, before winter."

He looks alarmed. "Horrible! Why?"

"It has to do with the seasons, I think, but the trees aren't dead, they're just..." I stop, sigh. I do not need to be playing Bill Nye the Science Guy right now. "What I am saying is, that doesn't usually happen until the end of this month. After October fifteenth...After our birthday. So how could you be here, walking on crunchy leaves, when you are supposed to be
there? "

A light clicks on in his attic. "Ohhh."

"Yeah. So something must go wrong with this plan." I take a deep breath and stare hard at the ground, trying to think of what could possibly be the kink. The plan seemed so easy, so foolproof. All we had to do was make sure Cam was in the... Oh no. Poor Cam. "What am I going to tell Cam? I told him everything would be fine, and now..."

Pip digs his hands into his pockets and says, "Is it possible your vision is wrong?"

"No, no, no. My visions are never wrong. Ask anyone." So what could go awry? Pip had agreed to go along with it, and so as long as the fairies didn't find out, we were clear. But maybe they did. Maybe they knew everything. They are such a nosy bunch of bugs. "Maybe Dawn finds out."

Of course! Of course she must have caught wind of something. That would explain everything.

In fact, maybe she already knows. Maybe she's already trying to toy with the plan. That would explain why I was having weird visions of Pip. Dawns magic is very powerful. She is controlling my thoughts, trying to make me fall for Pip so that I will forget about Cam forever. She's getting into my dreams. Cam said that she would do anything to remove any barrier to delivering him to Otherworld.

That makes sense! I could never really have feelings for a guy like Pencil Box Pip. That would be ridiculous.

Damn fairy magic.

Pip scratches his chin. "Is it possible the current course of events could be altered, thus changing the outcome?"

"No, my visions are always right. Nothing can change it. My voice rises in a glass-breaking crescendo. I'm trembling. "I mean, if they're going to find out anyway, there's really nothing we can do."

Pip tries to put a hand on my shoulder, but I shake it off.

"This is bad. Really bad. It's over. We might as well give up. We're done for."

Pip scratches his chin. "Interesting."

I wrap my arms around my body' and stare at him, annoyed. "What do you mean, 'interesting? How is our lives falling apart interesting?"

He looks at the ground. "Well, you just said we should give up. So basically, you'll be guaranteeing that your vision comes true."

I scowl at him. "Well, what do you think I should do? Fight to keep him here? If I do, I'll only lose in the end. My vision confirms it."

He gives me a blank look. "Interesting."

My scowl deepens. "What?"

"In Otherworld, fairies spend years learning to control the magical powers they inherit on their sixteenth birthday. Because if they can't control them, they'll be consumed by them."

"And you're saying...," I say bitterly.

"You're letting your powers control you, instead of the other way around."

I think about Cam and how he never wanted to know his future. I'd always thought he was crazy, but he did have a point. He didn't want to know if they'd win the championship last year, because he was afraid of coasting, of falling into a rut and not giving it his all. And maybe, just knowing his future, he could have changed it. Maybe, had he known, they wouldn't have won. Maybe it is better not to know.

I sigh. "So what are you saying I should do?"

"About what?"

I whirl around and come face to face with Cam. Literally. Before, it was face to pectorals. Now I could look directly into his eyes, if I weren't feeling so ashamed. Instead, I find myself studying my own flip-flops and a French pedicure that's gone to hell over the past weekend. "Um, Pip and I have a project to do for class."

Cam is fiddling with his pants, trying to pull them up. I notice he's dug an extra notch into his belt. He pulls his T-shirt over his waistband and grimaces in disgust. "For geometry?"

"Yeah," I mumble.

He inspects me. "Why do you look like you're going to hurl?"

I say something about it being a hard project and brilliantly segue with, "But enough about that! How is everything going with you?"

He shrugs. "Fine. Cool."

I look upward, toward his pink halo, and say, "What's up, Dawn?" The halo shivers a little, then quickly floats off.

"She hates that you can see her," Cam whispers.

I mutter, "It's not my fault that her spell is defective."

"Seriously, play nice."

"Whatever. Listen, about what we talked about...," I begin, ready to open up about my vision. Yes, he needs to know if the plan will fail. He needs to know that, despite our best efforts, we won't be together. But then I look him in the eyes, and they're bright and hopeful and full of love for me.

"What's up?" he says, casually. Relaxed. More like the old Cam.

No. I can't let him down. I won't be the one to let his hopes come crashing down. Not today.

"No worries," I finally say, forcing a grin.

"No worries," he says, smiling the first real smile I've seen in days.

Pip's eyes are boring into me, and right before Cam slides his arm around my shoulders and pulls me toward the school, I see him mouth the words "Don't give up."

That's the worst. Now Cam's depending on me to save him from Otherworld, when everything inside me is telling me it's impossible.

I SLINK INTO geometry class and slide into my chair, miserable. Here I was getting my hopes up-getting Cams hopes up-that it really was possible to save him from Otherworld, and now I know it can't happen. And yes, maybe Pip does have a point.

Maybe I shouldn't be letting my visions control my actions. It would help if some of my visions were a little off from time to time. But I've predicted hundreds of futures, and I've never been wrong. Not once.

Sometimes this gift really gets on my nerves.

Eden is giggling at me. For no reason. She's unusually peppy today, which is dangerous, because I'm unusually on the verge of throwing punches at anything that gets in my way. She tosses her hair like she's in a shampoo commercial, then throws her arm over the back of the chair and gives me an openmouthed grin.

"What?" I snap.

I didn't think it was possible, but the grin gets wider. I can almost see her tonsils. "Notice anything different?"

I so do not want to be playing guessing games right now. "You got permanent eyeliner?" I venture halfheartedly.

"Ew, you know I would never do that." She tosses her hair again, so that a couple of reddish strands land on my desk. Eden sheds worse than a Labrador.

"Sara had an aneurysm and they want you to fill in as head cheerleader?"

She giggles way too much in response to my lame joke and says, "I wish." Then she pulls her hair back into a ponytail and lets it fall down her back.

How annoying. I'm three seconds away from whipping out a pair of scissors and going snip crazy. "What is wrong with your hair? You-"