Bookishly Ever After (Ever After #1)(47)

“Narnia reference, I’m impressed.” I dropped my hands to my hips and tried to put on my toughest face. “So don’t make me go all Susan on you and beat you up with my arrows.”

“Kinky. But you might want to try that with Dev, instead.”

“Gross,” I shot back, but when he wouldn’t give me my bow, I gave up with a huff. “At least Grace and Leia were comforting. You both are just being bossy. I’m so sick of people giving me advice and telling me what to do.” My neck grew hot as my frustration bubbled over. I bet my nails weren’t purple anymore. “Look at where all of your help has gotten me. This is my life and these are my choices to make. For once, I’d love to just be left alone to decide what I want to do and how I feel.”

Alec looked sheepish and lowered my bow enough so I could swipe it out of his hands. Em took on a hurt air before turning away from me and looking at Alec.

“Let’s go. She’s obviously not interested in our help.” “Obviously.” I faced the target again and reached for an

arrow. The overwhelming urge to turn around and apologize bubbled up in my stomach, but I kept steady, nocking the arrow. They seemed to hesitate, but then I heard their footsteps as they left a few seconds later. I let out the breath

I held and relaxed my posture.

I was a cold huntress, the target my only focus. Feelings were irrelevant distractions. Resisting the urge to scream out my frustrations, I pulled back my arrow and let it fly.





28


“Distance is good sometimes. It keeps me from strangling people.” —Marissa, Hidden

The following week of school was awkward. Something in me still mad about Sunday wouldn’t let me accept Em’s and Alec’s apologies, even with Grace playing peacemaker. After two torturous lunch periods, I ended up eating my lunch in one of the band practice rooms the rest of the week and, at home, locking myself in my room every afternoon. Even though I missed them, I couldn’t let my so-called friends push me around anymore. It was time to start growing a spine, like they were always telling me to.

I Think I Love You blasted from my record player and I rolled onto my back, belting out the chorus at the top of my lungs. My phone rang halfway through the instrumental break and I answered without bothering to get up and lower the volume.

“Is—Is that seventies music playing in the background?” Em sounded distracted, like she hadn’t meant to ask the question but couldn’t help it.

I padded over to the record player and gently lifted the needle so the music was replaced with the hum of the speakers.

Holding back the urge to say hi, I responded with a clipped, “Yes it is. Don’t judge.” I looked over at my alarm clock, checking the time. I’d give her one minute before hanging up.

“Right.” There was a deep breath on the other side of the line before Em continued in the most depressed voice I’d ever heard, “I’ve fallen into the deepest pits of despair.”

I froze halfway to the bed, my plan to grow a spine crumbling with that one sentence. Em needed me and I couldn’t ignore her. “What happened?”

“I did it. I broke up with Wil again, this time for good. I’m going cold turkey.”

At that, I unfroze and tried to project comfort and understanding through the phone, failing with the first words to come out of my mouth.

“You said that last week.” A part of me was positive the actress in her loved the drama of her on-again-off-again relationship.

Em made a huffing sound. “I don’t need commentary about this, peanut gallery. What I do need right now is some commiseration from my best friend.”

The hurt in her voice, exaggerated or not, cut straight through me. Grabbing Em’s finished Yule/Festivus present, I tossed it into my bag and made my way downstairs. “Okay. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

Downstairs, Trixie’s red and orange-bobbed head went up like a shot as I rushed into the kitchen. While Em continued to spill her sorrows through the phone in a way that would make Shakespeare proud, I mouthed,

“I need a ride.”

“Your big sister is pretty awesome,” Em said to me as she ate another spoonful of the frozen custard Trixie had thought to pick up on the way over. Em was perched on top of her bed’s dove-grey comforter, the only neutral color in the whirlwind of old movie posters and furniture straight out of wonderland that made up her room. Her parents had even managed to find glittery paint for her bright yellow walls.

“Trix has her moments. She’s probably just happy I’m getting out of our room so she can work on her winter break projects.” I sat down cross-legged on her bedroom floor. “Now, tell me all the awful details.”

“Don’t mock me in my time of misery.” She was washed out, her dark hair a stark contrast to her ashen skin. But, in typical Em fashion, she had still managed to throw on some lip gloss. “Wilhelm said ‘I love you’ when we were making out in the park last night after our date. Or at least, I think he did.” She paused, then added, “It was kind of in German. And I might have freaked out a little bit.” She flopped onto her back, almost dropping her custard in the process.

“So you broke up with him. Again.”

“Do you have to keep saying ‘again’ like that?” She twirled the spoon in the air and didn’t wait for me to answer. “I keep thinking it’s better than letting myself become the long-distance girlfriend when he goes back home. It’s like guaranteed heartbreak. But every time I break up with him, it’s awful, like someone’s steamrolling over my heart.” After a moment of mutual silence, she turned her head to look at me and cracked a smile. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m just blowing all of this out of proportion.”