The Last Changeling (10 page)

“If you really think about it, not much has changed since the Middle Ages. We're just pawns,” he added, still watching me.

“As were the faeries.” I tried to lower my gaze again, but I couldn't. “Taylor … ”

“Yes?” Just like that, he was crawling toward me.

“I … ” The words died on my lips as he rose to his knees, hovering at the edge of the bed. Our faces had rarely been so close.

“You sick of me?” he asked.

He was testing me. Perhaps the entire universe was testing me. All I had to do was say yes and I would pass the test.

“Not a bit,” I said.

“Do you want me to go away?” His voice was soft. I could almost feel his breath.

“I want you to stay.”

I made room for him and he climbed up beside me. This time, we lay face to face. In spite of the danger, our hands found their way to each other, and I did not fight it.

I'm the one that did it.

“What now?” he said, his face mere inches from mine. We were sharing the same pillow. His thumb slid over my fingers, sending currents of heat shooting through me. My heart felt safe, as if cradled.

“Do you want to know more about the courts?” I
asked.

His eyes bore into me when he said, “Whatever you want.”

“I want to fulfill my promise to you.”

“Then do it.”

“All right,” I said, trying to keep the tremble from my voice. If I just stuck to my story, I would not have to speak of impossible things. Of desire I could not have imagined before.

Of longing.

“The faeries of both courts were like pawns, as I said. The queens were the ones who so desperately wanted to go to war. But those queens employed different tactics to keep their followers loyal.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, the Bright Queen wore the guise of the nurturer. She was already known as the greatest healer in Faerie. She would not use force to govern her people, not if she didn't have to. Instead she used distraction, keeping them constantly entertained. She held festivals for the full moon, rituals for the new moon, dances for autumn and spring, galas for summer and winter. They drank berry wine, oak-aged wine, grape wine, petal wine, and they ate until their bellies stretched the bindings of their elaborate garb. They were much too drunk, dizzy, and filled up with inconsequential things to realize they were merely the Queen's puppets on strings.”

Taylor made a soft sound when I untangled my fingers from his, but I did not take the hand away. Instead, I trailed my fingers over his, returning the favor. I thought it might calm me down to be in control of the movement.

It didn't.

“The Dark Lady, on the other hand, controlled her court by keeping her followers fighting amongst themselves. She separated them into courtiers and servants, and encouraged her courtiers to treat each group of servants differently, to instill jealousy between them. Thus the satyrs fought with the nymphs, the pixies distrusted the sprites, and each servant was so busy fighting another, they didn't realize the Queen was abusing them all.”

“And that worked?” Taylor asked, studying my face. It was funny, the subtle differences between us. The intensity of his touch forced my eyes to close, but his gaze never left me.

“It always works, for a time,” I said, drawing my hand away. Trying to calm the storm raging inside me. But he chased after me, tickling my fingers. “Look at your own history,” I said. “I mean, human history.”

“I've been doing that a lot lately.”

“Then you know what follows tyranny.”

“Revolution.”

“Clever boy,” I said, leaning into him. “As time passed, and war loomed on the horizon, the servants of the Dark Court began to question the mutual hatred. They would look across the mountain at their neighbors and wonder how the feud had begun. Even the Queen's daughter, who was granted any luxury she might desire, longed for the warmth of friendship and connection. Perched in one of her favorite trees, or wandering along the rocky mountainside, she watched the servants brawling, their misery apparent in their eyes. Her heart ached for them, and for the life all the faeries might know if they could overcome this segregation.”

“Hmmm,” Taylor said softly, closing his eyes. The clock on his desk read two thirty-five, and I knew we should sleep. But I would finish this part of my story, and if I fell asleep by his side, well … it couldn't be helped.

Exhaustion was setting in.

I rested my head on his shoulder. “Then it became clear
: if the inhabitants of the Dark Court were to survive throughout the ages, and save the planet they depended on for their lives, all members of the Court would have to reunite. And in order to do this, in order to bring together the broken fragments of Faerie without sacrificing innumerable lives, these disillusioned creatures needed a leader who could take down the Unseelie Court from the inside.”

Me.

14

T
aylo
R

I sat alone in the basement classroom, obsessing over Lora's story. I couldn't get it out of my head. At first I'd thought she was just an amazing storyteller, drawing on childhood fables to help me sleep. Then I'd started to suspect the story was her religion. Now I understood it was an allegory for her life. She was the princess in the story. Her mother, represented by Virayla, was the leader of the cult she'd left behind. And Naeve was someone her mother had seduced. Maybe molested. My skin crawled at the possibilities.

Worse still was the thought of what Naeve had done to Lora throughout her life. The torment of the princess was clearly symbolic of things too terrible to say. How could I live with myself, knowing that people like Naeve were out there? How could I pass Brad in the hallway without ripping out his throat?

I had to do something. I had to . . .

Kylie burst into the room, followed by Keegan and Lora. “I don't believe this,” she howled, punching a desk. “Ow!”

I jumped up, ready for a fight. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“Careful,” Lora warned, as more people arrived for the meeting.

The Merry-Straight Alliance was slowly growing. I noticed two girls I hadn't seen before. One had flame-red hair, almost the exact shade of Lora's. The other's hair was strawberry blond. I could tell by their matching blue eyes that they were sisters. The younger of the two, probably a freshman, caught my eye as she passed. She smiled.

Part of Lora's fan club
, I thought as the sisters sat down. I was pretty certain the school had more redheads now than it had two weeks ago. Still, no one could quite match Lora's shade. She was one of a kind.

“Let me see your hand.” Lora was kneeling in front of Kylie, her black lace dress brushing the ground. Kylie held out her hand for inspection. The pocket of her sweatshirt opened, revealing something small and gold.

A lighter?

I narrowed my eyes.

Lora clasped Kylie's fingers and closed her eyes. For a minute, it looked like she was drawing out Kylie's pain. I wished I had that kind of power. I wanted to pull Lora into my arms and take all of her pain into me. But this desire had complications. What if the closeness reminded her of bad things?

“What happened?” she asked Kylie, smiling briefly at me.

“They're trying to ban same-sex couples from prom.” Kylie pulled her fingers from Lora's grasp. “This is so unfair!”

“What's fair?” Keegan sat on top of a desk. “They shove us in this dungeon and keep us out of the public eye. Big surprise.”

“It isn't right,” Kylie insisted. From the look on her face, it was clear she was contemplating sacrificing the knuckles on her other hand.

“Why do they even care?” I drew a frowning face on my desk and then erased it, wary the graffiti might somehow be tracked back to me. Then, irritated with myself for being so paranoid, I drew it again, darker this time. “Shouldn't they focus on more important things?”

“Like pregnant fourteen-year-olds?” Kylie suggested.

The redheads giggled.

“Oh,
no
.” Keegan scoffed, holding a hand over his mouth. “Two boys dancing is
way
more horrifying than dumpster babies.”

Kylie shook her head. “Three girls dropped out of school
this year
after getting pregnant, but me taking a girl to the freaking prom is the problem. I can't stand this.”

“Wait a second,” I said, the wheels already turning in my head. I couldn't imagine someone wanting to punish Kylie for taking a date to the prom. She was, hands down, the nicest person I knew. “Who made this decision? Unity or the School Board?”

“Unity,” Kylie replied without hesitation. “Straight from Principal Jade's mouth. She's trying to keep it quiet because she's up for review next year.”

“Inside job.” Keegan frowned. “Wait—how do you know this?”

“I … heard,” she said, keeping her eyes on me.

“So why don't we tell the School Board?” I asked.

“Then we'd be royally fucked,” Keegan answered. “Look at what happened in Tennessee.”

“And Ohio,” Kylie added.

“Mississippi,” said one of the redheads.

“All right.” I held up my hands. “We take it up with Jade. What's happened so far?”

“Nothing official,” Kylie said. “But a group of parents called in to make sure prom is for
traditional
couples only.”

“Big deal,” I said. “They can't make the decision for everybody.”

“It is
a big deal,” Kylie countered. “The parents who complained were alumni. People who've given money to the school.” She lowered her gaze. In that moment, I was certain she was thinking of Alan Dickson. Of all the people who'd offered Unity monetary support in the past four years, Brad's father wa
s at the top of the list.

“Brad strikes again,” I muttered.

I hadn't meant for it to be heard, but Lora turned to me, her eyes wide. “His dad's loaded,” I explained quickly. “But so what? He can't ask for his money back.”

Kylie smiled, barely.

I stretched out my legs. I wished we could move these meetings to a room with a window, but according to the principal, upstairs rooms were reserved for larger clubs. “All we have to do is get more parents to call in, on our behalf.”

Keegan raised his eyebrows. “Yours or mine?”

I drew another face on my desk, hiding my embarrassment. “We're not the only people in the school with parents.”

“Right,” Keegan agreed. He opened his notebook and started scribbling an equation. “So take the student body and subtract the parents of hetero students. Then subtract the parents of the closeted kids. Then subtract the parents who kicked the crap out of their kids for coming out.”

“And minus the parents who think they can scare their kids straight,” said a girl named Alyssa, who sat in the back. Her partner from the previous meeting was nowhere to be seen, but the quiet boy in the front (
what was his name again?)
continued to show up, sweating and wheezing and never saying a word.

Keegan nodded at Alyssa. “Right. Minus the parents who actually support their kids, so long as their friends don't find out. And you have … ”

Kylie snapped her fingers. “Sally Striker.”

Keegan laughed. “Her mom's living in the sixties—
anything goes!” He turned to me. “You see the prob
lem.”

“But you admit,” Kylie said, pointing a finger at Keegan's nose, “that there
are
parents who don't make Cind­erella's stepmother loo
k like
a saint?”

“I've heard
stories
,” he drawled, grabbing at her finger. “But the fact is, most people, however decent, will go out of their way to avoid confrontation. I think Jade's banking on that.”

“Well then,” Lora said, rising to her feet. “That leaves us with two options.” I had the feeling she'd been waiting for this moment to speak, to lead us. “We either create a prom of our own, make it more decadent than their prom ever could be, and exclude them—”

“That would be awesome,” Kylie broke in.

“And expensive,” said Keegan.

“And impossible,” Alyssa added. “If they won't let us bring dates to this prom, why would they let us have our own?”

“We do it all ourselves,” Lora said. “We secure the location, invite those we want to invite, and advise them to come to our prom on the same night of the other prom. No need to involve Unity at all.”

“I like it,” I said, imagining a ballroom filled with rebels and outcasts. If Lora were in charge of things, she'd probably host an elaborate masquerade ball.

An anti-prom for the ages
.

“Still expensive, and still probably impossible.” Keegan shook his head. “And we could get kicked out of school for something like that.”

“You said there were two things we could do,” said the girl with the fiery hair, looking dotingly at Lora. “What's the other thing?”

“Show up anyway,” I suggested.

“Yeah, right.” The girl laughed. “And get denied at the door.”

“Actually,” Lora said, fixing her gaze on me, “I
was
going to say that.”

“Really,” Kylie and Keegan said together.

Lora waited for me to explain.

Better make this good, Alder
.

“Well,” I began, “it's easy to tell you no from behind closed doors. But when you're there in person, all dressed up with a ticket in your hand, what are they going to do?”

“Throw a sheet over you and push you to the side.” Keegan crossed his arms. “There aren't enough of us.”

“There are
hundreds
of us,” Lora countered. “There are far more outcasts in this school than anyone else. The outcasts are actually the norm.”

Keegan shrugged. “That's true of any totalitarian regime.”

“And how are such regimes overthrown?” she asked, tapping his nose with her finger.

“Revolution,” I broke in. “If all the outcasts in our class show up at the prom, they can't turn us away to please the few.”

“Wait a second,” said Kylie. “It's taken us weeks to double our members. How are we supposed to gather all the outcasts in the school before prom?”

“Easy,” said Lora, a blush creeping over her cheeks. “First, we invite them to a very exclusive event.”

–––––

The meeting had been over for ten minutes, but I was still trapped in the confines of Unity's basement. I stood outside the girls' bathroom while Keegan paced the lockers nearby, kicking a fast food bag across the floor.

“Do the janitors even come down here?” he asked, kicking the bag into a row of lockers. It split down the side, spilling fries.

“Would you?”

“If I were a janitor, I'd walk with a limp and invent weird facial tics.” He stooped low, dragging one leg behind him. “Damn spoiled kids.”

I smiled nervously, glancing at the bathroom. Keegan's mood was cheerful; it didn't take a genius to guess that Kylie hadn't told him about her evening with Brad. “What are they
doing
in there?” I asked.

“Toilet diving. All the best drugs get flushed down the basement toilets.”

“The Great Toilet Capers. Why didn't I think of that?”

His face broke into a grin. “They're up to something.”

“Right.”

“No, seriously.” Keegan crept up to the bathroom. “They're always huddling together, whispering about shit.” He beckoned for me to come closer.

I leaned in. “That's what girls do. Hell, that's what
we're
doing.”

He pressed his ear against the door. Then, quick as a fox, he hurried down the hallway. “You coming?”

I followed reluctantly.

“Kylie sneaks out at night,” Keegan said when we reached the bottom of the stairs. “I hear her going out the back door.”

“Seriously?” My emotions shifted, too quickly to examine them. “Maybe she smokes.”

Keegan shook his head. “Our parents were super anti-drug, so … she's retained some of that.”

“Maybe she's getting some fresh air,” I said, not mentioning the object I'd seen sticking out of her sweatshirt. It might not have been a lighter. But I was pretty sure it was.

“Sometimes she tells my aunt she's going away with her theater group for the weekend,” he said. “Except they don't really have weekend—”

“Okay, I get it. She's meeting someone.” I stared at the bathroom door like it was a mirage that might disappear. Maybe it would all disappear: my friends, my chance at happiness. My ability to sleep at night. “That doesn't mean she's meeting Lora.”

“Maybe she's not,” Keegan agreed. “I mean, I'm pretty sure you'd notice if Lora was sneaking out too.”

“I'd think so,” I said, trying to ignore the mocking voices in my head. I had a distinct memory of waking up disoriented the night I'd brought Lora home, starin
g through the darkness at an empty room. But exhaustion had pulled me back to my pillow, and later I'd told myself it was a dream. Of course she hadn't snuck away in the middle of the night. Of course she wasn't meeting Kylie.

“Hey.” I narrowed my eyes. “How the hell would I know where Lora goes at night? Why would you even—”

“Save it,” Keegan said. “Kylie told me she's staying with you.”

He might as well have kicked me in the gut. I felt like the broken bag on the floor. How could Lora have told Kylie our secret? If any adult found out, it would jeopardize our entire arrangement.

I stepped back, trying to distance myself from the situation.

“Interesting,” Keegan said. “I guess she doesn't tell you everything.” He held out his phone. “Give me your number.”

“What?” I had the weirdest feeling of being led, blindfolded, by a guide who knew exactly where we were going. It didn't calm me in the least. “Why?”

“Relax,” he said as I programmed my number into his phone. “I won't tell the other boys I have it.”

“I'm not—” I forced a laugh. “I don't care about that.”

“Good.” He took the phone back.

“I don't. I officially stopped caring when I found out I was banned from the soccer team.”

“What?”

I smirked bitterly. “Apparently, I'm not allowed to be on a team with other boys if I can't keep my hands to myself.”

“You can't be serious.”