Off the Page Read online

  As I watch, a new star is born. It flickers twice and then burns more steadily, bright and effervescent, outshining all the others around it. The smaller stars are tugged into order by its gravitational pull, forming a constellation I’ve seen before.

  Chris called it Canis Major, and he pointed to the brightest beacon in the night sky: Sirius. The Dog Star.

  I smile, having underestimated Frump’s loyalty to me. “Welcome back, old friend.”

  I am fairly certain he winks at me.

  From my pocket I pull the photograph of Delilah that I stole weeks ago: that Halloween picture, where she is young, dressed in a princess’s gown, with a crooked tiara balanced on her head. “We all made it back here,” I say to her. “Me, Seraphima, and even Frump. You’re the only one who’s missing.”

  I wait for her response, but of course, it’s no longer that easy. With a sigh, I get to my feet and go to slip the photograph back into my pocket, only to find that my sweatshirt and jeans have already become a green velvet tunic and hose, that my sneakers have given way to black leather boots.

  In the distance, I can make out the buttery lights of the castle.

  And just like that, I’m merely a prince again.

  DELILAH

  I’ve made a terrible mistake.

  It hits me when it’s too late, when Oliver grabs my shoulders and tells me to forget him: I just pushed away the best thing that has ever happened to me.

  Before Oliver, I was just the strange kid with her nose stuck in a book, and a life so small it could fit in a thimble. But then we met, and he made the impossible happen. I experienced the world, instead of simply reading about it. I was no longer alone. I was loved.

  And now I’ve pretty much done everything I could to ruin that.

  I grab his shoulders tightly, but the fabric of his sweatshirt slips through my fingers. “Wait!” I cry. “Don’t leave me!”

  But he’s already gone.

  Behind me, I hear a crash and a muffled swear, but I don’t even turn around. I can’t tear my eyes away from the book, where Seraphima and Oliver have landed. They’re surrounded by the other characters, being embraced and welcomed back into the fold. Oliver, I realize, looks just as lost as I feel. He staggers forward, pushing away from the pack, and stares up at me, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

  He swallows, but he doesn’t speak. He doesn’t have to. I don’t think there’s a word in the English language big enough to describe what it feels like to lose your other half.

  “Holy crap,” Jules says. “That actually worked?”

  I lift the edge of the fairy tale’s cover as gently as if it’s made of glass, and close the book.

  At that moment, I’m tackled from behind as Jules throws herself at me. “I never thought I’d say this,” she admits with a sigh, “but I am so glad to be back in this hellhole of a town.”

  Edgar gets to his feet, brushing himself off. “What town is this, anyway?”

  I realize that when Edgar left, we were in Wellfleet, not here in New Hampshire. I’m about to answer, but when I turn to look at him, his face makes me stop short. I know it’s not Oliver. But his eyes are the same green as Oliver’s; his black hair is disheveled; the curve of his jaw is one I know by touch. It’s not Oliver, but it might as well be.

  I haven’t said a word, but Jules watches me carefully, then sidles closer to Edgar, slipping her hand into his. “So how’s this gonna work?” she asks pointedly.

  It is enough to snap me out of my trance. Horrified, I realize that everyone at school thinks Edgar is my boyfriend . . . and it’s not going to look good if my best friend is hitting on him.

  I groan. “I don’t know. I didn’t exactly think this through.”

  “I need to get home to my mom,” Edgar says, then hesitates. “I don’t even know where I live.”

  There’s a knock on the door, and the three of us freeze. My mother pokes her head inside. “Oh, Jules!” she says. “You must be feeling better.”

  “Um. So much!” Jules replies.

  “Where’s Seraphima?” my mother asks.

  “She left early. All the Icelandic exchange students decided to spend their last week in Canada,” I say.

  My mother’s eyes move from Jules to Edgar. “Nice tights,” she says, trying not to laugh.

  “Halloween!” I blurt out. “We were trying on costumes. We’re going full-on Shakespeare this year.”

  Edgar and Jules smile so wide I think their faces are going to crack. “So!” Jules says, breaking the awkward silence. “I’m going to go. . . . Edgar, I’ll walk you home!” She grabs her duffel bag from the floor of my bedroom and takes Edgar’s hand. She starts pulling him toward the door.

  “Great idea,” I reply. “Jules, I’ll text you after dinner so we can talk about, you know, what you missed at school.” I turn to Edgar. “I guess I’ll . . . Skype you later?”

  He looks at me, baffled. “Whatever.”

  “Edgar . . . ?” I say pointedly. I turn so that my mother can’t see my face and, through clenched teeth, hiss: “Kiss me.”

  Edgar’s eyes dart to Jules. I raise my eyebrows and give him a tight smile. The more we can convince everyone that things are normal, the better this will go.

  He rolls his eyes, leans forward, and pecks me on the cheek as if I’ve asked him to kiss a toad.

  My mother laughs. “Honestly, Edgar. No need to act like a prince just because I’m here. You can give her a real kiss goodbye.”

  “Awesome,” Edgar sighs. He puts his hands on my shoulders, leans forward, and presses his lips against mine.

  All I can think is: He’s not Oliver.

  After a moment I pull away from him. Jules is glaring daggers at me. “Shall we?” she bites out. She grabs Edgar’s arm and yanks him roughly out the door.

  We hear the front door close behind them when they leave the house. My mother turns to me. “Got a lot of homework?”

  “Not really,” I say. When you don’t go to class, you don’t get homework.

  “Well . . . it’s just the two of us for dinner. What do you say to a main course of popcorn, and one of our favorite films?”

  I swallow back tears. “That sounds perfect,” I tell her. At this moment, all I want is to get under a pile of blankets and watch a classic Disney movie with my mom. All I want is to know that there’s at least one person left here for me.

  So I’m missing my Doc Martens, the text from Jules reads. Do u think there’s a lost & found for fairy tales?

  I pick up my phone from my nightstand and reply:

  Ask Cinderella.

  , Jules writes back. And a moment later, there’s another buzz:

  I can’t believe that really happened.

  I told u so, I write. Welcome 2 my life.

  There’s a pause.

  Do u miss him? Jules asks.

  Like u wouldn’t believe.

  The first time Oliver saw me text someone, he grabbed the phone from my hand, trying to figure out how the small person inside was writing back.

  It’s weird being back. I was getting used 2 it.

  My thumbs fly over the keys. U + Edgar???

  . . .

  + Chris? I type.

  Can I have them both?

  I grin. Only if ur a Mormon fundamentalist.

  K, Jules writes. Good to know.

  I hesitate, knowing I have to start a conversation with her I don’t really want to have. U no I have to pretend Edgar’s still my bf.

  Just don’t 4get I’m ur BEST friend.

  Never, I reply. How did things get so messed up?

  U fell 4 a guy in a book, Jules types.

  I sigh. Nobody’s perfect.

  C u 2morrow? Jules writes.

  Yup. Get ready 4 a Tony-winning performance from me.

  LOL, Jules says. Oh—1 last thing . . .

  ??? I ask.

  Don’t use tongue.

  I’m lost in a nightmare, but I’m still awake.

  It’s thre