Inevitable and Only(22)

There it was. At the top of the board, the first two lines of text under the heading MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING CAST:

Benedick—Zephyr Daniels

Beatrice—Acadia Greenfield



Elizabeth had counseling during the last period of the day, so I waited for her outside the guidance office. She emerged with red, puffy eyes, and looked embarrassed when she saw me there, so I bent down to my backpack and pretended to reshuffle my books and papers. “Josh has a double cello lesson at Peabody today,” I said. “He’s preparing for a big competition in December. So Mom drove him there, and we’ll take the bus home.”

We walked down the hall in silence. I wanted to ask her how her first day had gone, but I wasn’t sure if she felt like talking. And what could I expect her to say, anyway? Yeah, I love your hippie school, where you call the teachers by their first names and talk about war and graffiti at your prayer meetings. Oh, and the fact that my mom just died? No big deal.

As we walked past the cafeteria, I remembered that I hadn’t read the rest of the cast list that morning. I paused to scan it. At a school this small, most of the names were familiar, even if I didn’t know anyone else in the cast very well. Then I saw “Micayla Cooper” at the bottom, under “Costumes & Scenery.” At least I’d have a friend to go to rehearsals with. And thank the gods Micayla had her license, so she could drive us.

“Hey, Acadia! It’s you!” Elizabeth pointed at the top of the list.

“Cadie, but yeah,” I mumbled, blushing, and started walking again. She must’ve thought I’d stopped just to point it out to her.

Elizabeth ran a few steps to catch up to me. “I didn’t know you were into drama. That’s so cool.”

“Well, this is my first time being in a play, but my dad and I go to a lot of theater. Mostly Shakespeare. He’s really into Shakespeare. And Marlowe. Did you know he was doing his PhD on the friendship and rivalry between Marlowe and Shakespeare?”

The bus pulled up, and I thought I’d better stop myself before I blabbered nervously the entire way to Fine Print. We sat in opposite seats near the front, and the doors hissed shut. “Oh, by the way. I was thinking we’d stop by Dad’s bookshop. Unless you want to go straight home, of course.”

“No, no!” Elizabeth actually looked excited. “I definitely want to see the bookshop. He told me about it on the ride from Ohio.”

“It’s the best secondhand bookstore in Baltimore.” I didn’t mention that Dad had been living in exile there until a few days ago.

When we reached Fine Print, I pushed the door open and walked in, and the bell tinkled behind us. Elizabeth looked around in awe. “I still can’t believe your dad owns a bookshop.” As if she was saying, “I can’t believe your dad owns the Vatican.”

I had to bite my tongue, but in my head I yelled, He’s your dad, too, remember?

She said, “I mean, this is like my dream come true. I can’t believe this is your life! Do you hang out here a lot? I’d love to hang out here. Can we read anything we want?”

I hadn’t heard her say that many words at the same time since she’d arrived.

Dad came down the stairs at the same moment that Cassandra emerged from the stacks, holding Bosch in one arm and half a dozen volumes of Dickens balanced in the other.

“Cassandra,” said Dad, “this is my other daughter. Elizabeth.” He put an arm around each of us.

Cassandra’s eyebrows shot up, and for once she looked directly at another human being. She studied Elizabeth from her head to her toes. I knew what she was seeing: the strawberry-blond hair, the freckles, the red-rimmed blue eyes. I didn’t know if Dad had told her what was going on or not, but she certainly seemed surprised. Of course, it was entirely possible that he had told her, and she just hadn’t deemed it important enough to remember. Since it didn’t involve books, the bubonic plague, or felines.

“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance,” she said finally, and I shot a look at Dad, who was doing his best to keep a straight face and not meet my eyes.

Cassandra set the books down on the front desk and returned to the back room for more—still carrying Bosch—and I turned to Elizabeth. “She spoke to you!” I said. “That can only mean one thing. You’re actually a cat.”

Dad lost it, doubling over with laughter. Elizabeth grinned at us and shook her head. “She seems like a perfectly nice woman.”

“Shhh!” Dad hissed, trying to catch his breath. “She’s coming back.”

He made a break for the stairs, and we followed him up to his office.

It felt weird to hear Dad crack up, when I … couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed like that. Not since he’d told us about Elizabeth. How could he be so happy, so relaxed? It seemed easy for him. One daughter, two daughters—whatever. No big deal.

“Do you mind if I go look around?” Elizabeth asked, her eyes shining with anticipation. “I love books.”

I remembered the duffel bags I’d hauled upstairs last night.

Dad’s whole face lit up. “Yes, absolutely, pick out whatever you’d like! Anything in the shop. Take it home, read it, bring it back only if you don’t think you’ll read it again.”

Elizabeth looked like she’d just been handed a million bucks.