Off the Page Read online

  This may be the last time I step off the bus, the last time I walk through the halls holding Delilah’s hand, the last time I get to hear the music of her voice.

  Today is full of lasts.

  “How are you doing?” she asks quietly.

  “I’ve had better days,” I confess. “Where’s Seraphima?”

  “She wouldn’t stop crying, so I locked her in my bedroom with a box of tissues and enough Twinkies to fill a Hostess truck.”

  I take her hands. “It’s not too late to reconsider this,” I say. “To come up with another plan.”

  Her eyes fill with tears. “I can’t lose you.”

  And yet that’s exactly what’s going to happen.

  “So what do we do?” I ask.

  “Well,” Delilah says softly. “I suppose we have to talk to Edgar.” She unzips her backpack, revealing the fairy tale.

  It feels as if I swallowed lead for breakfast. I don’t have the energy to move, or the resolve. Stiffly I follow Delilah through the halls, trying to smile as other students pass and mumbling responses when my friends and acquaintances say hello. Can they tell that I’m already a ghost?

  Raj grabs my shoulder and shakes me. “Man, any day now! I’m freaking out!”

  I stare at him, wondering how the devil he knows that I may not be here for long.

  “I mean, all I dream about is my SAT score,” Raj continues. “It’s going to totally determine the rest of my life. I heard a guidance counselor talking to Mr. Elyk, and he said we should be getting the results this week.”

  “Yeah,” I say, trying to fake enthusiasm. “It’s going to be crazy. Look, I have to go. . . . I’m late for . . .” I let my voice trail off, unable to even think of a good lie.

  “I wonder how you would have fared at college,” Delilah murmurs.

  Suddenly Chris walks up to us, his face troubled. “Hey, guys. Look, this is kind of awkward, but has Jules said anything to you about me?” he asks Delilah. “I mean, I thought we had a pretty awesome night, but she hasn’t responded to any of my texts.”

  Delilah exchanges a glance with me. “She’s really sick. . . .”

  “Oh man. That sucks. But I’m kind of glad it isn’t just me,” Chris confesses. “Maybe I’ll stop by her house with some soup later.”

  “Um, don’t,” Delilah blurts out. “There’s no way she wants you seeing her like that. Especially after just one date.”

  Chris nods. “Okay, then can you at least tell her I was asking about her?”

  “Absolutely,” Delilah says, and as soon as Chris is out of sight, she lets out the breath she’s been holding. “How do you feel about cutting first period?”

  “I doubt it will make a difference, given that I’m leaving.”

  She takes my hand, hers small and cool around my own, and leads me out the door by the gymnasium to the football field behind the school. There she ducks beneath the bleachers, where we will not be seen.

  Delilah unzips her backpack and reaches for the book, but I still her with a hand on her wrist. “Promise me one thing?” I ask. “I get to say goodbye to you.”

  I am thinking of Frump. I am thinking of how hard forever is, when you don’t see it approaching.

  Delilah meets my gaze, her eyes steady. “I promise,” she says.

  Together, we flip open the book, landing on the final page. The cast is assembled haphazardly on Everafter Beach. “We did it,” Edgar crows, holding up something tiny I can’t quite make out.

  I frown at him. “Why are you wearing my hose?”

  “Why do you even have hose?” Edgar replies. “Believe me, it’s not by choice. The book apparently doesn’t like my writing quite as much as my mom’s. I figure we only have a matter of hours before I start talking in a British accent and Jules here starts spinning straw into gold.”

  “Wrong fairy tale,” I mutter.

  “What did you find?” Delilah interrupts.

  “Another passage,” Edgar explains. He whistles to the fairies, who flutter to his side, each taking a corner of the small item. “Good to see you’re feeling better,” he says to Ember, who flickers in response. The fairies fly the tiny disk closer to the surface of the book so that we can see it better.

  “Is that . . . a biscuit?” I ask.

  “Well. We’re not sure,” Jules admits. “We haven’t done a taste test.”

  I read the piped inscription: WISH UPON A STAR. “Have you tried wishing?” I ask.

  “Of course,” Edgar says. “It didn’t work. I even said the whole star light, star bright thing.”

  “You’re not supposed to wish on the cookie,” Delilah interjects. “You have to eat it.”

  “Why on earth would anyone eat a star?” I ask.

  “Haven’t you ever read Alice in Wonderland?” she asks, and glances at both Edgar and Jules, who shrug. “Jeez. You two really need to pay more attention in English class. This is just like the treats Alice eats that make her grow and shrink.”

  “Treats?” says Humphrey, nudging Edgar’s tunic. “Can I have one?”

  “For heaven’s sake, don’t let him eat that biscuit,” I say. “It will start raining tennis balls.”

  Orville takes a step forward. “Oliver has a point,” he muses. “Whoever eats the biscuit should have the purest wish. That’s the only way to be certain that everyone winds up where they need to be.” He glances between Edgar and Jules. “For example, Edgar, you appear to have a newfound conflict of interest.”

  Delilah’s eyes widen. “No way. You two?”

  “You of all people should understand that he’s hot!” Jules says.

  “What about Chris?” Delilah asks.

  “Yeah,” Edgar asks pointedly. “What about Chris?”

  “Can we please talk about this later?” I interrupt. “Orville, you were saying?”

  “Whoever is chosen to consume that biscuit must be focused on nothing but getting you and Seraphima back home.”

  Queen Maureen clears her throat delicately. “I’ll do it,” she volunteers, breaking through the crowd. “I miss you terribly, Oliver. There’s nothing I’d like more than to have you here again, as selfish as that may be. And to be frank, I’ve never understood the whole Zorg plot anyway.” She glances at Edgar. “No offense, dear.”

  “None taken,” he murmurs.

  “Shall I do it now?” she asks, reaching for the biscuit.

  “No!” I yell, and everyone on the beach freezes. “Erm, I mean, Seraphima isn’t with us. She’s at Delilah’s home. We’ll come back in a few hours and make the switch then.”

  Trogg waves to me. “Wait’ll you hear the nocturne I’ve written for the flute, Oliver!”

  “You’ll have to see what I’ve done with my cave,” Rapscullio adds. “I’ve completely redecorated.”

  “I’ll make your favorite meal,” Queen Maureen promises.

  I paste a smile on my face. “I can’t wait,” I tell them, when in reality, I’d rather postpone this forever.

  Delilah shuts the book and zips it into her backpack. I hold out my arms, and she settles into them. “We have seven hours,” she says quietly. “I can’t believe we have to spend them in school.”

  I look at her. “Who says we have to?”

  We can’t go to Delilah’s house, because Seraphima is there, still sobbing. We can’t stay on the grounds of the school, because we will be caught. So instead we get into Delilah’s car and drive until the road ends. She parks in front of a low wall, over which I can just see the ocean.

  This time of year, there is no one on the beach. It’s cold, and we only have each other to keep warm. As we sit on the sand, I hold Delilah’s hand, rubbing my thumb over her knuckles. “How much trouble will you get into for skipping school?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she says, leaning her head against my shoulder. The wind whips her hair around us.

  “Do you remember when I told you that you were the biggest adventure of my life?” I ask.

  She nods. “Before