Fairy Tale (22 page)

"Thank you, Mrs. Sparks," he says, always the gentleman. "Cameron isn't here with you?" she asks, searching the small space to be sure, as if we'd hidden him under the bench. "No, he must still be at his house," I say. Pip is still gazing at me. He mouths the words "It's okay." But I have a hard time believing that's true.

SMOKEY JOE THE DJ, a guy who looks about eighty but is dressed like a homey, is setting up, and Gizelle is milling importantly around the room, nodding and pausing every so often to scribble on a clipboard. I can't tell if anything is missing, since all I can remember about the evening is that the tables are supposed to be set with silver napkins. Or was it teal?

I need some alone time. As soon as we pile out of my mom's SUV, I make a beeline for the bathroom with my makeup bag. My mother doesn't try to stop me. She must have been too frazzled by the upcoming party or awed by Pip's sexiness to notice at the gazebo, but while I was getting into the car, she clasped her hand over her mouth. I've been dreaming about this evening for months, and "What the hell happened to your face?" isn't exactly the comment I've envisioned people making about me.

Inside, I see what all the shock and trauma was about. I look like a bomb went off in front of me, so I have to scrub my cheeks vigorously and start again. I pull my hair back into the updo with about a hundred bobby pins, press some pancake makeup into the scratch Scab gave me, and start to look normal again. But as I'm about to apply eyeliner to my top lid, it hits me.

For the first time in my life, I wanted to kiss someone other than Cam.

My fingers slip, and I write a line of brown kohl across my temple, straight into my hairline. Blast.

Why? Was that me getting back at Cam for even thinking about leaving me? Was it all just retaliation?

I take a tissue and moisten it under the tap, then erase away the line. No, that's not it. I've been having feelings for Pip, odd, unexplainable feelings, for almost a week. I've been chalking them up to fairy magic, but the fact is, those feelings are real.

I really am attracted to Pip.

Not good. Definitely
not
a good thing.

Stepping away from the mirror, I reapply my lip gloss and then frown at myself. I look gorgeous, at last.

But why do I feel so horrible?

Out of the comer of my eye, I see someone walk into the room. I expect the person to go into a stall, but I'm so swept up in my thoughts that I don't notice, after a full minute, that the form is still standing in the doorway, unmoving. Staring at me through the mirror. Finally, I look up and meet her gaze, and swallow- hard. Dawn.

She's dressed in a stunning pink party dress. Standing next to her in the mirror, I look like a Fashion Don't. She smiles at me, then tosses a small gold bag on the counter and runs a finger under her flawless doe eye. "I don't know about you,'' she says, "but I am ready to party."

I want to tell her that I don't remember extending her an invite, but my mouth is frozen. Because for the first time, the fear Pip feels when he's around Dawn is rubbing off on me. I'm alone, and completely helpless. Would anybody be able to hear me if I screamed? The party is still an hour away. She could end my life right here, and nobody would be able to stop her.

Finally, I catch my breath. "I guess you must be happy. Tonight's the night you get Cam."

"Yes." Her smile transforms into an evil scowl as I attempt to look as innocent as possible. I know it isn't working; my face is burning red, and I have to look away from her intense glare. "With or without your help."

I have to clamp my mouth shut to keep my teeth from chattering. "What does that mean? You've won. He wants to go with you now."

At this point, that probably isn't a lie.

She smiles, almost warmly. "Of course he does. He has no reason to stay here. But, you see, there is one issue that is troubling me. We only have one opportunity to make sure Cameron returns to his throne in the Seelie Court, and I can't take any chances. I need to do everything in my power to ensure he crosses over as planned, even if it means removing certain possibilities. Do you understand what I am saying?" I nod numbly.

"You see, I get the feeling he still thinks he has a reason to stay."

"And you think that reason is me."

"It is unfathomable that he would give up his royal birthright for a common human, but it seems so.'' Her eyes narrow. "You think you're so clever because you can somehow see me when other humans cannot. But you're still just a human. You'll never be a match for us."

I clench my fists and steel myself, feeling jealousy burning in my chest. She obviously hasn't been in this world long enough to realize that all the fairy magic in the world couldn't rival the venom of an angry Italian. "Look. I know that you're just under orders. And I know you'll die if you don't deliver Cam back to Otherworld. So I understand why you're getting so, um, intense. But really... Cam wants to go."

She smiles again. "Why don't I believe you?" She looks into the mirror, adjusts a wisp of platinum hair behind her ear, and sneers, "Oh, I know. Because right now-, that pathetic human slave boy is out on the balcony, trying to coax Cameron to stay."

I freeze, feel a trickle of sweat sliding down my rib cage.

"And I wonder who put him up to that?" She faces me, putting her hands on her hips. "The answer is obvious. That slave has been infatuated with you forever. He used to watch you constantly from Otherworld, longing to be in Cameron's place."

I swallow. "He did?"

Her eyes widen. "Oh, you didn't know that? He thinks it should have been his. But the fact is, he's no match for Cameron. Even you wouldn't want him."

I shake my head vehemently "That's not true." She smiles, satisfied. "I know." Her eyes bore into me. "It doesn't explain, though, why you were planning on sending him back in Cameron's place.''

I bite my lip. I guess we were no match for the fairies.

"Do you think I didn't know what you were whispering about?''

I feel my fingernails digging into my palms, and my knees tremble. "Well, then, why don't you just kill me now?"

Not wanting to give her any ideas or anything.

I made a promise to Cameron that I wouldn't kill you," she says, shaking her head as if she wished she hadn't and would love to squeeze her hands around my throat.

I breathe a sigh of relief

"But," she says softly, moving so close to my cheek that I feel compelled to take a step backward, "there are other ways. You humans have many weaknesses that we fairies do not have."

I stare at her, not quite getting what she means. "As in?"

She ignores me. "And perhaps not only will they help me achieve my goal of making Cameron our king, but they will also have the added advantage of making you regret every last day you spend in this world. And that would be quite satisfying, I think."

She can't kill me for trying to keep Cameron here, but maybe... maybe she would just maim me? I shrink against the cold, tiled wall, preparing for the blow.

Instead, she simply tosses her hair. "Glad we had this talk," she says, striding out the door.

I turn back to the sink and my reflection, my skin now ashen under the blush I just applied. My hands are shaking so much that they can't even hold on to the edge of the counter for support. I'm not sure I remember how to breathe.

I
STAY ALONE in the restroom until the guests start to arrive. The good thing is that Dawn probably won't harm me if I stay here, out of the way of her "plan," but the bad thing is that my mother
will
if I spend the entire party in the lav. I must have left my cell at home in all the confusion, so the only reason I know that it's after nine is that while I'm sitting in a stall, hoping to avoid Pip, Cam, and Dawn as much as possible for the next four hours, two girls walk in who sound suspiciously like Jacinta and Janella Cruise. They're seniors that Cam insisted on inviting because they've dated just about every senior on the football team at one time or another, so, in his eyes, they're considered part of the Hawks football family. In my eyes, they're skanks. Pathetic football groupies. Not to mention that they're both as dumb as stumps. But I guess I was in a forgiving mood when we put the guest list together all those months ago.

They go into stalls on either side of me, chattering away like they'll blow up if they stop talking for even ten seconds. The one on the right-I can't tell which, because not only do they look completely alike, they both have identical high-pitched voices that can grate cheese-says, "Oh. My. God. Did you hear about Sierra?"

Who hadn't heard about Sierra? The only truly shocking thing here would be if Jacinta and Janella actually knew how to pronounce "Harvard."

They both start to pee at exactly the same time, which is just plain freaky, as the one to the left of me squeaks, "No, whuh?"

Obviously talking and peeing at the same time is a challenge for her.

Righty says, "Oh. My. God. It's so, like. Horrible. Like. She was, like, caught cheating on her calculus exam. Like, seriously!"

Lefty gasps. "Seriously? Like. Oh. My. God!"

I'd been doodling on a piece of toilet paper with my eyeliner, but I stop and stand up. They both flush at the same time (of course), and they're such powerful flushes, I find myself willing the toilets to quiet down so that I don't miss any of the conversation.

"She must, like, be in sooooo much trouble."

They're washing their hands at the sink. One of them gets a hold of some aerosol hair spray and starts to spray it, continuously, for about three minutes. This does nothing to help me distinguish between the two, because both Janella and Jacinta have notoriously crispy hair.

"Like, yeah. Like, I think they expelled her or something. Like, so, goodbye, graduation. Goodbye, future. Goodbye-"

"Harvard," I say to myself, dazed. Hello Middlesex Community College. So my vision... wasn't wrong?

A full ten seconds pass before I realize they've gone completely silent.

"Like. Who's in there?" one of them shouts through the closed door.

Damn, had I said that aloud?

I stand there, very still and silent, hoping that their tiny minds, which can only focus on one thing at a time, will move on to the pretty soaps shaped like ducks on the sink.

"Like, show yourself," the other says, standing firm.

"No comprendo, "
I say softly.
"Baja en el ascensor."

A few more seconds of silence. "Like, that means they ate too much cheese " one finally says.

"Ew. Like, let's get out of here."

Their heels go clip-clopping along the marble, toward the door. "Did you see Cam? He's like, the hottest..." is the last thing I hear before their voices trail out of earshot.

I release the lever and slowly open the door, still thinking about Sierra. I know that this time next year, she'll probably be walking to class on the Middlesex Community College campus. And I know that my visions are always, always right. Pip is staying here with me.

My reflection stares back at me, wide-eyed and unsure. Before the prospect of losing Cam existed, I'd never looked so pathetic. I was tough. I took no prisoners. If a fairy wanted to hurt me, I'd tell her where to go, without the help of any guy. And I'd never question my feelings, ever.

Pip is staying here with me. Cam is going to be king of Otherworld. That is the way it is supposed to be.

For the first time, I think that maybe, just maybe, everything will be all right.

I squint at myself and whisper, "Time to take control of your destiny." Then I press my lips together to get my lip gloss on evenly, make sure the posts of my earrings are on securely, smooth out the front of my dress, open the door, and step outside.

EDEN IS THE first person to greet me when I come out. "Greet," though, is too nice a word. She nearly mows me down on the way to the restroom She's wearing the nice orange chiffon dress we picked out at Macy's together that works so well with her red hair. I expected she'd put her corkscrews into an updo, but they're all down around her shoulders, and rather rat's-nesty. And I don't think she has any makeup on at all. If she'd only been here an hour ago, when I was in the midst of my breakdown, I would have been in good company.

'Morgan," she mutters, not at all glad to see me. It's a total 180 from the giant cupcake and early-season
American Idol
rendition of "Happy Birthday" she presented me with earlier in the day. She seems dazed, so it doesn't surprise me when she blinks twice at me and says, again, "Morgan."

"Yeah, that's me," I say, and immediately I know exactly what is on her mind. Mike Kensington. Either he broke up with her or maybe she saw him with another guy, but the fact of the matter is, I was right.

Again.

Yeah,
baby.

"Mike?" I ask simply.

A tear slides down her cheek as she nods ever so subtly. "Why didn't you tell me?" she moans.

I put my arms around her. "Oh, hon. I'm sorry."

We stand there for a while, just hugging each other. I feed her paper towels until the tide of tears ebbs.

"Look," I say, wrapping my arm around her shoulders and leading her away from the bathroom. Were in the lobby, surrounded by funky sculptures of native Africans with spears, when I whisper, "Do you know John Vaughn?"

"Who?"

The guy has been following her around like a puppy for weeks, and yet she has no clue.

"He's cute. He's been asking about you forever. You should go dance with him."

"Uh, okay," she says as I lead her into the room.

It's dark, and the music is raging. The room looks like one of the city's most happening clubs. A bunch of people come up to me and say happy birthday, and how the party is kickin', so I guess I could have spent all night in the ladies' room and it wouldn't have made any difference. The room is so packed and dark that everyone seems pressed together like one big people sandwich, and I can barely make out a soul.