Off the Page Read online

  I have enough time to drop Oliver off at his chemistry classroom before I have to head to French. As we turn the corner, Jules slips up behind us and links her arm through mine. “Guess who broke up,” she says.

  Oliver smiles. “This must be the famous Jules.”

  “Reports of my awesomeness are usually underrated,” Jules answers. She gives Oliver a once-over and then nods and turns to me. “Well done.”

  “I’m kind of in a rush—I’m trying to get him to Zhang’s room before the bell rings,” I explain.

  “Trust me, you want to hear this. . . . Allie McAndrews and Ryan Douglas?”

  Oliver looks at me, questioning.

  “Prom queen and king,” I explain quickly.

  He looks impressed. “Royalty.”

  “They think they are,” Jules agrees. “Anyway, they broke up. Apparently being faithful comes as easily to Ryan as Shakespeare.”

  Having been in Ryan’s English class last year, I know that’s saying a lot.

  “Speak of the devil,” says Jules.

  As if we’re watching a soap opera, Allie turns the corner, flanked by her posse. From the opposite direction, simultaneously, Ryan swaggers down the hall. We bystanders freeze, holding our breath, waiting for the inevitable train wreck.

  “Oh, look! What a rare sighting,” Allie says loudly. “A man-slut in the wild!” Her girls giggle in response.

  Ryan looks her up and down. “Did you eat all your feelings, Allie?”

  At that, Allie propels herself at him, claws out. Just in time, a kid steps between them—James, the president of the LGBT Alliance, who has his own bow tie business and runs conflict-resolution training for student mentors. “Walk it off, girlfriend,” James says to Ryan, who shoves him into the wall.

  “Back off, fairy,” Ryan growls.

  Before I realize what’s happening, Oliver is no longer standing next to me. He’s heading straight for Ryan.

  “Oh crap,” Jules says. “You had to date a hero?”

  But Oliver rushes past Ryan, moving toward James, who’s now sprawled on the ground. He extends a hand and helps James up. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah, thanks,” James replies, brushing himself off.

  This is good, this is really good. Oliver has created the best reputation possible. Everyone is looking at him as if he is a champion.

  Including Allie McAndrews.

  Oliver puts a hand on James’s shoulder. “Fairies here are much bigger than I expected,” he says, delighted.

  For a moment, time stops. Something flickers across James’s face—disappointment. Resignation. Pain.

  What happens next is so fast I can barely see it: James pulls back his arm and socks Oliver hard so that he falls backward, knocked out cold.

  Oh yeah. This is gonna be a great year.

  I fly to Oliver’s side, crouching down. By now the crowd has scattered, afraid of repercussions. I help him sit up; he winces as he leans against the wall.

  “Let me guess,” Oliver mutters. “Fairy means something different here?”

  But I can’t answer, because when I look at him I see it: the trickle of black from his nose, the stains on his white shirt.

  “Oliver,” I whisper. “You’re inking.”

  OLIVER

  It’s been five whole minutes and my face still looks like I’ve been clobbered by a giant. I push aside Delilah, who’s holding a wet tissue to my nose. “The correct term,” she says, “is gay.”

  “I didn’t mean to insult him,” I mutter. “I just didn’t know.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself. This is all new to you.”

  But the guilt aches more than my bruises. I resolve to find James later and offer him a gentleman’s apology. “If two people wish to be together, why is it anyone else’s business?” I ask. “Bloody hell, my best friend was a basset hound, and he was in love with a princess, and no one ever batted an eye.”

  Speaking of eyes, I wonder if mine will be black soon. I lean closer to the mirror. “I don’t understand this,” I say. I’ve literally jumped into the fiery mouth of a dragon and leaped off fifty-foot cliffs into the ocean and nearly drowned, yet I recovered faster than I have from this measly blow.

  Plus, it hurts.

  Suddenly it all makes sense. “Delilah,” I say, swallowing, “I fear I’m dying.”

  “You’re not dying. You got sucker punched.”

  “I should have healed already.”

  “Only inside your book,” Delilah says. “In the real world, you can’t just turn a page and feel better.”

  I gingerly touch the bridge of my nose and wince. “Pity,” I say.

  I must admit, this is not quite the start I was expecting. I’ve been rather excited about the idea of going to school, in spite of all that Delilah has told me about it. She makes it sound like being chained in a dungeon, but to me, it’s anything but that. I’ve been chained in a dungeon before. Over and over and over again, in fact. Even getting walloped by a stranger is new and exciting and unexpected and different from the same sixty pages I’ve repeated my whole life.

  “You have to get to class,” Delilah says. “You’re already late. Just say you got lost—no one will question a new student on the first day. You remember what we talked about?”

  I begin ticking off the points on my fingers. “Don’t bow when I meet someone. Don’t refer to myself as royalty. Take notes in class as if I am interested, even when I am not. The teacher’s the king of the classroom, and I am not allowed to get up and leave unless granted permission. Oh, and no knives, ever, in school.”

  Delilah smiles. “Good. And one more . . .” She points to my face. “Don’t say or do anything that might make that happen again.”

  She pokes her head out the door—we have ensconced ourselves in a privy that is only meant for the teachers to use. When Delilah sees that the hall is empty, she pulls me out beside her and pushes me in the direction of my potions class.

  “Remember,” she says. “Just follow your schedule and I’ll meet you at lunch.”

  I nod and turn but am called back by the sound of her voice.

  “Oliver,” she says. “You can do this.”

  I watch her walk away. When Delilah talks like that, it’s easy to remember why I gave up everything I knew in order to be with her. She believes in me, and if someone believes in you wholeheartedly, you start to believe in yourself as well.

  I take a deep breath and forge ahead into the great unknown.

  I’ve been performing all my life; this is just another role.

  I have a sudden flash of Frump, my best friend in the fairy tale, his tail wagging as he yelled at all of us to take our places as a new Reader cracked open the spine of the book. I wonder if Frump is rounding up the cast even now.

  I wonder if they miss me.

  But. I have my own work to do, here.

  Whatever butterflies are swarming in my stomach are not the result of fear. Just excitement.

  I push open the door of the classroom and offer my most charming smile to the tutor standing in front of the seated pupils. “So sorry I’m late. My deepest apologies, Your Majesty.”

  The students snicker. “Mr. Zhang will do,” the teacher says flatly. “Take a seat, Mr. . . .”

  “Jacobs. Edgar Jacobs. Formerly of Wellfleet.”

  “Fantastic,” Mr. Zhang intones.

  There is only one open seat, and to my delight, it’s next to someone I know: Chris, whose locker is adjacent to mine. He looks up and cringes. “What happened to you?”

  “A miscommunication,” I say.

  “Okay,” Mr. Zhang announces. “I’m going to hand out a little pop quiz to see how much you guys already know. Don’t panic, it’s not going to count toward your final grade.” He moves through the aisles, giving each of us a sheet of paper.

  Chris hunkers down over the quiz, his pencil scratching vigorously. I glance at the page and frown.

  “I beg your pardon,” I say, getting Mr. Zhang�