The maniacal laughter, smacking lips, and uncivilized conversations provide a comforting backdrop while I square away things with my new royal friends. I sit at the head of the table with Ivory on my right and Grenadine on my left and catch a floating bottle of wine sent my way by the woolly-headed netherlings at the other end. Pouring a glass for myself, I toast them, then take a long drink. The flavor of berries and plums rolls down my throat, thick and sweet like honey.
Dad wouldn't approve, even though this is nothing like the wine at home. All I know is, I need something to warm the chill in my chest that hits each time I see Morpheus's fedora on the arm of my chair—the red moths fluttering with the movement around me.
Morpheus's sprites share my grief. They bob and weave around the table like hiveless bees, unsettled. Gossamer hangs limp from the chandelier above, crying inconsolably.
Rabid White entertains Grenadine with a joke while passing a plate of moonbeam cookies. The ribbons on her fingers that reminded her of her king's whereabouts and the skeletal netherling's betrayal mysteriously flew off when we first sat down to eat. I tuck the red bows beneath my leg to be destroyed later.
Rabid has sworn a vow of loyalty to me and whomever I choose to rule in my stead while I'm gone. Grenadine will need an experienced royal advisor, and I have no reason to doubt his devotion after everything he did to see me crowned.
"You are resolved in your decision?" the Ivory Queen asks me.
"It's better this way," I answer, touching the necklace around my neck. This key is mine to keep. A ruby embellishes the top, in honor of my kingdom.
"You should know…" Ivory lifts a crystallized candy, sucking on one end. "Since you're a half-blood, the realm in which you live shapes your form. Your wings and eye stains appeared here but will vanish within hours there. Your powers are eternal but will become dormant if neglected. The more you avoid reminders of your stay in the nether-realm, the more human you'll become."
Nodding, I take another sip of wine to ease the ache in my stomach. I smooth out the dress Grenadine gave me after I cleaned up—a red strappy one-piece with black hearts, spades, diamonds, and clubs appliquéd just above the knee-length hem. The black petticoats rustle under my hands. She offered boots, but my arches are killing me, so I'm barefoot.
Attending an important political dinner only half-dressed. I couldn't do that in the human world.
I never thought I would feel so torn about going home. Then again, I never thought this place would feel like home. "I want to experience everything that Alice missed out on," I finally answer Ivory.
"I understand. Your heart belongs in the mortal realm for now, with the knight you told me of. He sounds very brave and noble." A dreamy look passes over her face.
A pang of sympathy hits me. She's always been so isolated—Morpheus must've seemed like a dream come true. Even if she can't find the right guy, there are other ways to curb her emptiness, friendships she can forge. Maybe she just needs a nudge in the right direction.
I glance over at Grenadine, whose mouth glows with moon-beams as she laughs, oblivious to us. "While I'm gone, would you and Grenadine meet once a week or so? Eat together, play croquet, whatever you like. You know, to keep foreign relations balanced. You could take turns hosting…"
Ivory's beautiful, icy features warm at the thought. "Of course."
"And you might take the sprites back to your castle. They'll be lost without Morpheus."
The queen smiles sadly. "Yes. They will. I would be glad to take them in."
We both pause as the conversation around us turns to stories of Morpheus's antics throughout his life. The dinner guests snort and smile upon each telling—a transparent ploy to cover their sorrow.
I look down at my plate.
Ivory pats my hand. "He spoke of you often. His childhood with you was sacred to him. So few of us here ever experience that kind of innocence."
My wings grow heavy on my back as I think of our short time together. The memories I worked so hard to remember will now haunt me forever.
Anticipating the inevitable good-bye to these wondrously eccentric beings—to a very wondrous part of myself—leaves me even more bereft. I gnaw on a drumstick. The mutilated goose snickers and rolls around on his platter, as if he can feel my nibbles all the way across the table.
"We should discuss your journey home." Ivory places her candy aside. "Time is tricky as you step back through the portal between realms. Unless you envision a specific hour, the clock goes in reverse."
So that's what the flowers meant by time moving backward in Wonderland. "How far back?"
"It will drop you into the exact same moment you stepped through to begin with. This could work to your advantage. If you aim for your bedroom, you can give the illusion you never left."
Blotting my lips with a napkin, I meet her gaze. "No. I have another place in mind. There's something I have to do before my wings disappear, before I can start my life again."
The way the portals work, I'm supposed to envision where I want to land, but it has to be a room with a mirror big enough for me to fit through. Magic is stricter in the human realm. Since the only three places I'm really familiar with at the asylum are the registration desk, the lounge, and the bathroom, I squeeze the tiny key on the chain at my neck and choose the obvious one.
Crouching, I crawl through the portal and end up with my knees in a pristine sink, hands banked on the edges for balance. I almost crash into Nurse Jenkins, who was bending over to dig through her makeup bag. An eyebrow pencil clatters to the floor. She totters backward and falls on her butt next to the toilet, gawking at me. A small sound, somewhere between a whimper and a gasp, squeezes from her throat.
Maybe I could explain the eye patches and wings by saying it's a costume, but creeping through a mirror? Best thing to do is leave and let her convince herself she's overworked. It's unlikely she recognizes me, anyway.
I tuck my key into my bodice and breathe deeply, disinfectant stinging my nose. My petticoats crinkle as I hop down from the sink. Freshly mopped cold tiles meet my bare feet.
On my way to the door, I hear Nurse Jenkins squeak. I pause. She's still sprawled out, in such a state of shock, she's practically drooling. A full syringe has fallen from her pocket along with her keys. I almost pity her, until I see Alison's name on the syringe's label.
I kneel beside her and clamp her keys between my fingers. "I need to borrow these."
The nurse stares at me, gaping.
A sense of retribution takes over, and I give in to my wicked side. "You know, you seem a little high-strung today." I roll the syringe her way with my toes as I stand. "Maybe you should take something… sleep it off."
I tip Morpheus's fedora, turn to the door, and shake out my wings for good measure. Checking to make sure the hall's empty, I step out, biting back a smile.
The sterile corridors that used to intimidate me hold no terror now. I duck in corners and stick to the shadows, close to being caught once or twice, but since only the night crew is here, I'm soon on the third floor where the padded cells wait—alone. I don't have to guess which one she's in. Call it netherling intuition, but I know. Unlocking her door, I creep inside and shut it behind me.
Curled up in a corner, she turns her shaved head and squints my direction. "Allie?" Her voice sounds tiny and muffled.
I take the hat off and drop it. The dim lighting makes her look fragile and weak. My heart caves in. Maybe she's still too sedated to do this. She proves me wrong when she pushes herself up to lean against the cushioned wall, wrestling with her straitjacket.
"W-w-wings?" Understanding creeps over her features. "You found the rabbit hole."
"It's over, Mom," I whisper, moving cautiously toward her across the padded floor. I've no sooner ripped open the Velcro belts holding her arms in place than she pulls me into a hug. We kneel, clutching each other tightly.
"But you're one of them," she sobs against my neck. "The curse…"
"No more curse," I whisper, rubbing my cheek along the fuzz of her head. "There never was one. I have so much to tell you."
I wake up to a growling stomach. White noise buzzes all around and sunlight seeps under the curtains. Still groggy, I glance at the calendar over my bed. Saturday, June 1st. The morning after prom.
Perfect timing. When I used the mirror in the asylum's bathroom to come home, I made it back in time to change and crawl into bed for a few hours. Although I don't really remember anything once I stepped out of my cheval glass.
Maybe because I didn't step through. Maybe I never went to Wonderland to begin with. Maybe I dreamed everything…
Panicked, I throw off my covers and swing my feet over the bed's edge. Something drops to the floor: the jade caterpillar. It lands next to Morpheus's hat.
I feel around my neck and find the necklace with the tiny key.
Relief untangles the knots in my stomach.
Picking up the caterpillar carving, I make a beeline to my mirror—unbroken and as smooth as crystal—to face my reflection.
There it is: proof positive that I rode a wave of clams and captured an ocean in a sponge. The glistening skin and streaks of flaming red in my platinum hair are still there. The tattoos around my eyes are gone, as are my wings—although by wrenching my arm around, I can feel ridges at my shoulder blades. Buds ready to sprout if I need them.
I turn around and stare at my eels in their aquarium. The memory of the bandersnatch's tongues shakes my core. Then I glance at my cello and recount another memory… Chessie's song, warped and weird. Even looking toward my desk and the dried spider mosaic takes me back to the amazing spiral constellations I saw while in the rowboat.
Memories, real and irreplaceable, all of them. The happy ones, the bitter ones, the terrified and the poignant. Two guys willing to sacrifice their lives for me.
Morpheus, who's imprisoned forever in the belly of a bandersnatch. And Jeb, who probably spent last night at a hotel with Taelor after prom. It's possible they didn't break up in this reality. Since I never answered the door when Jeb first came by, he wasn't in my house when Taelor came to get him.
I race out of my bedroom, forgetting to throw a robe over my camisole and flannel boxers, half hopping and half sprinting into the hallway. I need to go next door, to see for myself that he made it out of the jabberlock box. To see where things stand with us.
"Whoa there, Butterfly." Dad catches me as my fluffy ankle socks lose traction and I skid across the wooden floor.
It's so good to see his face again, I laugh to keep from crying. "Trying to skate without a board." I motion to the slick floor.
He slaps me with the Elvis smirk. "Just be careful, or you'll hurt your other ankle, too."
I throw myself against his chest in a hug.
One of his arms wraps around me, and he holds the other one between us. "Hey… you all right?"
I nod, unable to speak over the torrent of emotions. I let my hug say everything for me. I missed you. I love you. And I'm so sorry for fighting with you.
The arm Dad holds between us wiggles. He has the cordless phone against his sternum. I pull back.
My first thought is Taelor. She figured out I stole from her. Maybe Persephone found the purse in the trash. I can't believe I didn't think to use the mirrors at the store and put the money back before coming home.
I was wrong to steal it in the first place. So I guess, just like Morpheus said before the bandersnatch swallowed him whole, I'll have to take my medicine. I'll have to tell her that I'm the thief and hope she won't press charges.
I squeeze the caterpillar carving between my fingers to give me courage. "Who are you talking to?"
Dad winks, then lifts the phone to his ear. "Hey, sweetie. Would you like to say good morning to our daughter?" He holds out the phone.
I'm relieved it's not Taelor but twist my face into a confused expression. I have a part to play.
"Patients in Alison's ward never get to use the phone," I say, making my voice tremble for effect.
Dad shrugs and grins.
The phone's cold against my ear when I finally take it. "Alison?"
"It's working, Allie." Her voice sounds strong and clear.
"Yeah?" I ask, still feigning shock.
"Dad will tell you the details. Come visit me later today, okay?"
"Have they given you anything this morning?"
"No," she answers. "I did what we agreed on. I'm letting them see that I'm sane. For some reason, they think it was the sedatives causing my delusions. How's that for irony?"
I smile. "It's so good to hear your voice."
"Yours, too. I want to see you again, to hug you… to tell you how proud I am. I love you—" Her voice cracks.
I tear up, and this time I'm not pretending. "I love you, too… Mom."
I stand there, rooted to the floor. Dad gently pries the phone loose and says his good-byes before leading me to the couch in the living room.
"The asylum called this morning, before the crack of dawn." His eyes mist, smile lines framing them. "I went and visited right after, while you were still asleep. She's lucid… really lucid. She's not talking to anything but people. And she ate an omelet off a dinner plate. A dinner plate, Allie! All of this without meds. The doctors are conferring… they think maybe all along she was having a reaction to the meds that somehow exacerbated her symptoms. Weird part is what led them to that conclusion. You know Nurse Jenkins?"
I nod, wary. Last I saw her, she was conked out on the bathroom floor with a hundred-volt smile on her face and an empty syringe in her hand. It looked like she took my advice.
"Well, a janitor found her in the restroom really late last night. She had given herself the same sedative they've been giving your mom. When she came to, she was talking about fairies walking through mirrors and stealing her keys. Thing is, the keys were right there next to her. The doctor thinks there's something wrong with the brand of sedative they've been using… they're sending it out for further testing." He sighs and chuckles at the same time. "To think, all this time it could've been bad medicine making her worse. I'm so glad we found out soon enough to stop the treatments we'd planned for Monday."
"Me, too." I catch his hand and hold his knuckles against my cheek.
"Say." He tugs at one of the red streaks in my hair. "This a new hairpiece?"
"Sure," I answer mechanically, not even realizing it's a fib until I've already said it.
"I like it. Well, there are doughnuts on the table. I'm going to spend the day at the asylum. Will you come by after work?"
"Nothing in this world could stop me," I promise.
It hits me that Dad hasn't asked about his recliner. I look toward the chair, expecting to see the appliqués torn and frayed. Instead, they're just as they always were. Which makes no sense at all, because that's another thing I forgot to fix…
Dad heads out the front door, turning once. "Oh, you might want to check your traps today. I found a monster moth in one of them. Must've come in looking to get out of the storm last night. It'll make a great addition to your mosaics. Never seen one so big."
Monster moth… a brick chucked at my gut would hurt less than those words.
I lay the jade caterpillar on the coffee table and have to force myself to wait until Dad's truck pulls out of the driveway.
In the garage, I open three buckets before I find him, lying atop a pile of assorted bugs. The stench of Kitty Litter and banana peel stings my nose. I lift him out—glowing blue body and black satin wings unmoving and lifeless.
He escaped somehow… he escaped the bandersnatch's belly and made it back here, only to be suffocated by me.
Cradling him, I walk numbly into the living room, wavering with a sick sense of guilt and loss. I place him on the coffee table next to his carved counterpart and nudge his wings with a shaky finger.
"What were you thinking?" I murmur. "Why did you fly into the pipe? You had to know better." It hurts to see him, once so pompous and full of life, now as hollow as the caterpillar carving. I pet his cold blue body. "I believe you now, okay? I believe that you cared. And I won't forget what you did for me… in the end."
I won't let you forget. Morpheus's voice slides into my head. I jump back as the moth body begins to vibrate.
The wings fold over and grow, opening to reveal Morpheus looming atop the table, in all his freakish glory. He's wearing a modern suit in sapphire silk that matches his jeweled teardrops. And, of course, a spectacularly eccentric hat.
I stand, struggling to mask my happiness. A smile breaks out against my will.
"I knew you'd miss me." He lights on the floor and moves in close, pinning me to the wall with his body.
"How did you escape?"
"It would seem"—he blots my tears with his sleeve—"that the bandersnatch's hide is indestructible from the outside in. Not the inside out."
Realization dawns. "Oh, my gosh… you had the vorpal sword in your jacket."
"I did indeed." He polishes his fingernails on his lapel. "Of course, all the other victims escaped with me. Now they're following me around like lollygagging pups. They've proven useful enough. Fixing things. I had one of them return the stolen money and place the purse under the store's counter while you were sleeping."
"You… what?"
He gestures to the recliner behind him. "Then I put several in charge of stitching up daisies on the chair."
A wave of disbelief and gratitude washes over me. "Thank you."
"Ah, I deserve better than a thank-you." His dark eyes simmer with seduction.
I cross my arms at my chest. "Huh. You owe me at least that. You preyed on my mind when I was a child. Forced my mom to leave her family and be boarded up in an asylum so she could protect me. Then you lured me into Wonderland so I could fix everything for you but be left with nothing in return."
Raising one hand, he tilts his hat to that sexy slant. "You want me. Admit it."
Even if he's partly right, I'll never tell him. "Why would I want you?"
He lifts three fingers to countdown. "Mysterious. Rebellious. Troubled. All those qualities women find irresistible."
"Such an optimist."
"My cup is never empty."
"Too bad your brain is." The words bite, but my smile softens with affection.
His answering smirk is edged with respect. "So…" He traces the necklace's chain where it glides over my collarbone, igniting little fires on my bare skin. "You left Grenadine minding the store?"
"With Rabid as her advisor. I told everyone I had unfinished business here."
"Such as?"
"Family and friends. Senior year and graduation. My art."
Morpheus raises an eyebrow. "And your knight?"
I glance down at my socks. "Right now, he belongs to someone else."
Morpheus grazes a fingertip down my temple. "Much as it warms me to the depths to hear that, I don't believe it. The blood already won."
"What are you talking about?"
"The boy bled for you—a whole body's worth of blood. There's no love greater than that. He belongs to you alone."
His words are surprisingly beautiful and kind, and somewhere in my heart, I know he's right. But how long will I have to wait for Jeb to have the courage to admit it to himself?
Morpheus touches the scars on my palm. "But let us not forget that you bled for me. So to whom do you belong, Alyssa?"
The reminder evokes a tangle of emotions. He's a pro at unbalancing me. "I've chosen the mortal realm."
"You're evading the question."
"I learned from the master."
He chuckles; then his inky gaze looks me up and down. "Fine, then. Play with your toy soldier. But you are a woman now, with the fire of the nether-realm coursing through your veins. You're a savage at heart, and you've tasted the ambrosia of power. One day you'll want to fly again. And rest assured, I'll be waiting in the wings. Pun intended." His wings swoop over us, enfolding me in a black cocoon and pulling me toward him.
I'm not sure if it's the woman he's awakened or the blossoming Wonderland wildness in my soul, but I surrender to the embrace. His warm mouth grazes my nose, leaving a hint of licorice behind. I prepare to push him off before he can taste my lips—I'm not about to betray Jeb again, even if we're not together—but instead, Morpheus kisses my forehead, warm, chaste, and gentle. Then he lets me go.
An uncomfortable silence settles between us. Fishing some gloves from a pocket, he slips them on. I sense good-bye in the action. It twists my insides into a bittersweet tangle.
"Before I leave," Morpheus says, as if reading my mind, "you need to know. When I killed the bandersnatch, there was no sign of Red."
My pulse stalls as realization dawns. "You don't think she's still out there looking for me…"
"It's possible she crawled off and withered away somewhere, having no body to inhabit. But, if she did find someone, the portals are very heavily guarded now. I would ne'er have made it here if not for Gossamer's guilty conscience. She and the spritelings distracted the elfin knights for me. I've alerted the Twid Sisters, and I'll keep an eye out myself. I've fought the witch once for you. I'll do it again if I must."
I have no doubt he would. I place a palm at his chest. His heartbeat knocks rapidly against my skin. "I never would have guessed."
"What's that?" he asks on a hoarse whisper.
"That you're one of those netherlings who has a rare penchant for kindness and courage."
"Tut." He presses his glove over my hand. "Only when there's fringe benefits."
Smiling, I rise to my toes, grip his lapels, and kiss each one of his jewels until they change to a captivating dark purple—the color of passion fruit. I ease back to the balls of my feet. "So beautiful," I whisper, tapping one of the sparkling gems.
Morpheus catches my palm and kisses the scars there. "I couldn't agree more."
We stare at each other, an invisible cord drawn tighter between us—a bond strengthened.
The doorbell rings, startling me. I flash a look at the clock in the kitchen on my way to the door. Motioning for Morpheus to be quiet, I steal a glance through the peephole.
"Jeb!" My heart races as I tuck the necklace's key into my cleavage and scramble to unlock the latch. "Could you"—I gesture to Morpheus's wings—"you know?"
He moves behind me, breath warm on my nape. "I'll be watching over you. We bent the rules. Outsmarted magic."
"And now there's a price to be paid?" I whisper against the sick nudge in my stomach.
"Perhaps. Then again, it could be that we're already paying the price." There's a hint of sadness in those words. He steps back and bows, wings forming a beautiful arch. "Ever your footman, fairest queen." He takes one last look at me, then transforms into the moth and flutters at the threshold, waiting.
The minute I open the door, he swoops out, trying to take Jeb's head off.
Jeb ducks. "Hey!" He stares at the moth hovering behind him. "Isn't that the bug from your car's air freshener?"
Amazing. He really doesn't remember… anything.
"Do you want me to catch it for you?" Jeb asks when I don't respond.
"Nah. I'm hoping it'll hit a windshield."
Liar, Morpheus whispers in my mind, then drifts away on a warm breeze. I bite back a smile.
"An insect like that would've been a great focal point for a mosaic," Jeb says, his voice demanding my full attention. That velvety, deep timbre is like music to me now, knowing I could've lost it forever. I have to fight back the urge to leap into his arms.
The breeze wraps his scent around me. He's wearing a ragged T-shirt and oil-stained carpenter shorts long enough to brush his shins. His hair is pushed back with a torn bandana, and his face is scruffy. He's here to work on Gizmo. Taking care of me, like always. My elfin knight.
I study his tanned arms, drinking in those scars. The night on the rowboat, how it felt to sleep locked in his strong embrace. All these memories are mine alone now. Something I have to keep from him, and I'm not comfortable with secrets between us anymore.
Kiss him, kiss him. You know you want to kiss him… A grasshopper lands on my shoulder. I tune into the white noise coming from the yard, picking out whispers where I can. They're all saying the same thing.
Kiss him… But I can't, because I want to do this right. I want to be sure he's broken up with Taelor first. That he's mine in every way.
"Al?" Jeb picks the grasshopper off me and sets it free.
The movement shakes me from my stupor. "Oh, sorry."
"Yeah, you were really deep in thought there. You okay?"
I shrug. "I was thinking about my mosaics. I'm done killing things. It's time for a change in mediums. Rocks and broken glass maybe. Beads and wires, ribbon." Why not? I have a full reserve of Wonderland landscapes reawakened in my memory, waiting to be immortalized.
"Sounds great," Jeb says. "I'm ready for a change, too." He draws something from behind his back: a bouquet of white roses wrapped in pink tissue paper. He must've had them tucked in his waistband. A sweet smile frames his crooked incisor as he hands them to me.
"Thank you." I sniff the delicate scent. "Where'd you find a florist open this early?"
He shoves his hands into his pockets. "Uh. I actually kind of borrowed them from Mr. Adams's bushes over there." His elbow gestures to the duplex across the street, where a rosebush suffers several obvious bald spots.
I snort. "You're so bad."
"Eh, I'll mow his lawn for free or something. Hey…" He lifts a thumb to my wrist, rubbing it. My entire body lights up with sensation. "I tried to come by to see you before prom last night. No one answered."
"Oh… is this about Hitch?"
"It was last night. Since I couldn't reach you, I made Hitch swear to let me know if you showed up. When you didn't, Jen told me what happened with your mom at Soul's. That's what the roses are for."
"White ones," I whisper, eyes filling with tears.
His eyebrows pinch in concern. "Please, don't cry. If you don't like white roses, I'll paint them red for you."
"No, never do that." My blood sprints too fast through my veins; I feel dizzy.
"I meant like in the Alice story." He winces. "Sorry. That was stupid. I know you hate that book."
I grasp his arm. We both stare at the point of contact when his muscle twitches. "Actually, I'm starting to see the charm in it. And the roses are perfect."
"Good." He shuffles his tennis shoes on the porch. "So, am I forgiven about the London thing, for keeping the part about Tae from you?"
Great. I'd forgotten that we haven't hashed this out yet.
When I don't answer, he continues. "Because there's something I need to tell you, something that's changed." He repositions the bandana's knot at his nape, looking nervous.
Before he can say another word, Taelor's Mustang convertible rips into my driveway and screeches to a halt, as if materializing at his mention of her.
Jeb curses and presses his forehead against the doorframe.
Slamming her car door, she stomps up to the porch. She slides her Fendi sunglasses to the top of her head. Rumor has it those shades are worth over two hundred bucks. More than my entire wardrobe of secondhand outfits.
"Figures you'd be here." She looks Jeb up and down after noticing the roses in my hand. "What, did you spend the night with your little virgin after our fight?"
My jaw drops. Prom obviously didn't turn out well.
"I just now got here, so don't go spreading any rumors, Tae." He rubs the iron labret on his chin. I hadn't noticed until now that he's not wearing the garnet one. My pulse kicks a beat faster, knocking against the key at my sternum.
Taelor taps her pedicured, sandaled foot. "So, you haven't told her yet?" Her eyes flick to mine. "He broke up with me last night. At prom. Then he left me there alone. Classy, right?"
The pained edge in her voice triggers a weird mix of pity and empathy.
Jeb grinds a knuckle into a place where the mortar's crumbling between some bricks on the porch. "You had your chauffeur."
"Oh, and I'm supposed to dance with him? The guy's like ninety years old." She clenches her designer lime green handbag against her matching wrap dress. "You weren't home after the dance, because we drove by. If you weren't here, where were you?"
"I went over to Mr. Mason's."
"Our art teacher?" Taelor and I both ask simultaneously. We give each other scathing glances while waiting for his response.
"You told me I was fired from Underland," Jeb answers, studying where his knuckles graze the bricks. "Mr. Mason once mentioned he could get me a job at that art gallery on Kenyon Street. He's good friends with the proprietor."
"Wait, why do you need a job here?" I ask, confused. "I thought you were leaving for London this summer."
"He can't, now that he turned down my dad's offer to rent him a flat. He has to save up money before he can have a place to live." Taelor sneers in my direction. "Because of you, he's giving up his career."
Jebediah I-must-have-structure Holt is altering his life plan for me? "You can't do that," I say, forcing him to look at me.
Apprehension tightens his features, but so does resolution. "I'm just veering off course a little. I'm not giving anything up. Once I get the job at the gallery"—he steals a glimpse at Taelor—"which is as good as in the bag, I'll be able to sell some of my paintings there. I can make connections in the art world, help Mom with Jen's senior-year expenses, and still save money while I attend community college." Then his focus tightens on me. "You know, until after you graduate. Then we'll go to London together."
Go to London, together…
I crinkle the tissue paper between my fingers, unable to pin down the wonderful emotions rushing through me.
"Well, how sweet." Taelor's voice shakes. "Maybe you can sell that crap I found in your car the other day and buy her an engagement ring from the thrift store." Digging into her purse, Taelor tosses three rolls of paper inside the door at my feet—skinny cylinders bound with rubber bands. "Keep your rabbit eyes on him, Alyssa. He's an SOB, just like his sicko dad. He can't be trusted."
She starts to leave.
Jeb's shoulders droop, a blush tinting the tips of his ears. My blood catches fire. No way am I going to let her talk to him like that. No way is she going to make him second-guess who he is.
Chucking the roses to the floor, I step out onto the porch and catch her by the elbow.
She jerks free and twirls around.
With me on the step and her on the ground, we're at eye level. She starts to open her mouth. I shush her. "My turn to talk. And you're going to listen. Then I never want to hear another word from you about Jeb or anything else again."
Her jaw clenches, but she waits.
"I'd trust Jeb with my life. He's everything his dad never was. And you know it, or you wouldn't be so busted up over losing him. He treated you with respect… and he never wanted to hurt you. Why else do you think he put up with your attitude for so long?"
Her gaze intensifies behind a sheen of tears.
Jeb stands there in stunned awe.
"And you know what?" I continue, unable to stop what I've unleashed. "Neither one of us has a perfect family. We could've been friends or at least tried to get along. But you killed it. Things suck for you sometimes—I get it. But you can't use that as an excuse to treat people any way you want." My cheeks burn hot at the purging of emotions I've suppressed for too many years. "Tearing down the rest of the world won't make you happy. Look inside yourself. Because finding who you were meant to be? What you were put into this world to do? That's what fills the emptiness. It's the only thing that can."
It's dead quiet all around other than a few chirping birds. Even the white noise has gone silent, as if the bugs and flowers stopped to listen to me for once.
Looking down at her feet, Taelor sniffs and runs the back of her hand across her cheeks. She turns her gaze up to mine, and in that moment, I see it. A connection. I got through to her. Thoughtful and quiet for once, she stumbles to her car and peels out of my driveway without so much as a wave.
"Holy wow," Jeb mumbles.
I spin on my heel and we're face-to-face. Alone… finally.
Staring at me with that same reverent expression as when he first saw my wings, he moves his lips to say something. A screen door opens across the street and interrupts him. Mr. Adams picks up his hose to water his yard. The old man scowls when he notices the empty spots on his rosebush.
"Jeb, you're about to get busted."
He gives me a sexy, sideways smile.
Grabbing his wrist, I tug him through the doorway before Mr. Adams looks in our direction. I close the door and press my back against the wood to hide my wing scars.
"Wait a minute." Jeb catches one of my strands of red hair, twisting it between his thumb and forefinger. "This isn't a hairpiece. You actually dyed it. What's gotten into you?"
"I guess I finally found my fiery side."
"I like it." He tilts his head, as if evaluating a painting. "So, this glittery stuff that looks like you've been swimming in pixie dust…" His knuckles graze my cheek. "Is it on every inch of your skin?" His intent appraisal of my pajamas heats me from my neck to my feet.
"Uhhh…" His touch is enough to make me stammer, but the pixie comment sends me over the edge. I almost groan when he pulls back.
"Thanks for saying that stuff out there, to Tae."
"I meant every word." Because I love you. I can't bring myself to say it out loud yet, but it's true. It's not something that hit me from out of nowhere; it was a gradual awakening. Kind of like a metamorphosis…
"Well, looks like you can do okay on your own. After seeing the way you just took care of me." He leans a shoulder against the wall, closing the space between us once more. "So weird. I had a dream about the same thing last night—you taking care of me."
The confession snaps me to attention. "Were we in Wonderland?"
He smirks. "Uh, no. We were in a house in the country, and you were sitting at a table playing chess while I painted pictures with a feather and some colored honey. A swarm of bees pounded on the window, yelling at me for stealing from their hive. I mean really yelling, like with people's voices. Then you sprouted wings and flew outside to chase them all away. Strange, right?"
I stifle a cough. "Yeah, strange."
"Yet somehow, it fits." He picks up one of the cylinders Taelor threw at me earlier, removes the rubber band, then hands it over.
I unroll it and gasp to see myself in pencil lines and shading—an amazing rendition of a gothic fairy complete with gossamer wings and eye tattoos—exactly as I looked in Wonderland. Since technically he was never there, it can't be a memory. So there's only one explanation: This guy sees into the soul of me and always has.
I meet his gaze, speechless.
"There's a hundred more like that. You're my muse, Al. My inspiration. I was hoping… maybe… you might want to be—"
Before he can finish, I clench his T-shirt and drag him down for a kiss. His eyes widen at first, then close, arms wrapping around my hips to lift me to his height. He presses me into the wall with his body.
I smile against his lips, intoxicated.
How many girls get to have their first kiss twice? But this time, I'm not in shock. This time, I don't forget to curl my arms around his neck and pull him closer. This time, I'm the one to nudge his lips open and find his tongue.
The sketch falls to the floor next to the scattered roses. Jeb moans, wraps my legs around his waist, and holds me tight. He breaks contact just long enough to whisper, "Where'd you learn to kiss like that?"
"You taught me." I recover my senses and realize what I said. "In my dreams."
"Oh, yeah?" He nudges the indentation on my chin with his nose. "Been dreaming of me, too, huh?"
"Ever since the day we met." Finally, the truth.
He flashes his dimples. "Guess it's time for us to make some dreams come true, skater girl."
Little does he know we already have; we went to Wonderland and back, after all. I smile, then give him a kiss he'll never forget, to replace all the ones he'll never remember.
聚合中文网 阅读好时光 www.juhezwn.com
小提示:漏章、缺章、错字过多试试导航栏右上角的源