“There’s nothing normal about this,” I muttered. “Are we done?”
“Please, return to your conversation.” Pamela smiled graciously. “Just pretend we’re not even here.”
Pamela slid out of the room as silently as she’d come.
“Is that how you knew where we were?” I asked Dusty. She was having trouble meeting my eyes. “Did Pamela tell you? Did she march into your room and wake you up? Just to manufacture a bit of drama for TRC?”
“Drop it, Dylan,” Dusty warned.
“Fine. Sure. We can keep it all fake. I’m going back to my room before Mom gets up. All things considered, I’d prefer to be murdered when I’m back on American soil. And not on camera.”
I pushed past her to march up the stairs. With my luck I’d run straight into Mom on my way back to my room.
“Are you all right?”
Oh God. Jamie.
“Jamie, I’m so sorry.” I rushed to apologize as we stepped into the upstairs hallway. “I know I turn into a giant baby around Dusty. She just drives me insane.”
“Please, no need to apologize. Although I don’t have any siblings, I can imagine that must be a charged dynamic. And these are certainly unusual circumstances we’ve all been thrust into.”
“I know.…I’d just rather you see my good side.”
“I quite like all of your sides.” He grinned.
“Well. Um. Thank you,” I said. I was not used to being complimented this much. It was nice, but it was so weird. This was the kind of thing that happened to people in movies. Or to girls like Dusty. Not me.
“Here is where I leave you,” he announced. We’d somehow ended up back at my room, no Mom in sight. Maybe small miracles were possible.
“Where’s your room, anyway?”
“In an entirely different wing altogether.”
An entirely different wing? A forbidden wing?
“I warned you never to come here!” I roared.
“Sorry?”
“It’s, um, it’s from Beauty and the Beast. There’s a, um, wing. In that. Also.” Such a weirdo. Why was I such. A. Weirdo. “I should probably get out of this hallway.”
“Probably.” Jamie seemed on the verge of laughter, but he was repressing it valiantly. “Good morning, then, Dylan,” he murmured.
“Good morning.”
He leaned in and kissed me once, softly, on the lips. And then he was gone.
As soon as I’d shut the door behind me, I permitted myself a brief happy dance and a few gleeful squeaks. Jamie had kissed me. He’d kissed me! In a snowstorm, in a barn, and then in the light of day, which meant it was real. This was no Tate Moseley Incident. Something was happening here.
I raced to the shower, eager to make it to breakfast before the buffet closed. I had been kissed. Finally. Finally! And by someone I actually liked.
A short while later, I hummed “Do You Want to Build a Snowman?” as I toweled my hair dry, pulled on some cleanish clothes, and began my skip along the hall and down the stairs to breakfast.
Something even better than bacon awaited me at the dining room table.
“Heaven?!”
“I knew you’d show up in time for breakfast!”
She bounded out of her chair. I hugged her so tightly I may have lifted her a few inches off the ground.
“Easy, Dylan!” She laughed as she made her way back to the table. “Guess you missed me.”
“You have no idea,” I said fervently as I sank into the seat next to her. “What are you doing here?” I exclaimed.
“Y’all are too white.” Heaven slurped her cereal milk delicately.
“I’m sorry, what now?”
“You heard me. Network wanted some diversity. If y’all think I’m going to sit around spouting some nonthreatening sassy-best-friend crap, y’all have another think coming.” Someone cleared his throat. I looked—the only other person in the room was a cameraman in the corner. Of course. “Oh, just edit around it, camera monkey.” She waved her spoon menacingly at him. “He’s been following me around waiting for an ‘Mmm-hmmm’ or a ‘No he didn’t!’ all morning.”
“I’m so glad you’re here. I am in desperate need of some best-friend crap. No need to be sassy.”
“What is it?” She put down her spoon and squinted at me. “You look like you have to pee.”
“I don’t have to pee! I’m bursting with information.”
“Ooo, if you look like you have to pee, this’ll definitely be good. Spill.”
How perfect was this timing? I had finally, finally been kissed, and boom! My best friend appeared to discuss it! Although…on second thought…maybe this timing was a little too perfect. Suspiciously perfect. Did TRC fly Heaven out here because I’d kissed Jamie? So we could discuss it? No. Logistically, that made no sense. It wasn’t even physically possible, and TRC certainly didn’t care enough about me and whatever I did or didn’t do in horse barns to fly Heaven out because of that. All that America cared about was my perfect sister and her perfect wedding to her perfect not-really-a-prince, and so that was exactly what TRC was going to give them. They’d probably just rewatched the footage from back home in Tupelo and realized Heaven could, in fact, liven up the proceedings. I was downright boring, honestly, and Heaven had a knack for saying the kinds of things that ended up being other people’s Facebook statuses.
“Hello? Earth to Dylan?”
“Huh?”
“Aw, man.” She scooped up a few cornflakes. “You lost your pee look. Did you forget?”
“No, I didn’t forget. I’ll just have to tell you…later.”
“Ohhh.” She nodded in the direction of the camera. “I wouldn’t bother, Dyl. Haven’t you learned anything from reality TV? You can’t hide from those cameras. There are no secrets here. Might as well spit it out.” The cameraman coughed again. “I’m sorry. Do you have something in your throat?”
He shook his head, almost imperceptibly.
“I don’t think you’re supposed to talk to them,” I muttered.
“I’ll talk to whoever I damn well please,” she sniffed. “What’s your name?”
“He’s not gonna answer.” I shrugged. “But I’m pretty sure it’s Mike.”
He didn’t answer. But I was almost positive I’d heard Pamela call him Mike once. Or maybe she was talking about a microphone.
“Just edit around it, all right, Mike? This one must be new to the biz.” She jerked her thumb at him, rolling her eyes.
First Dusty, now Heaven. Why was it so easy for everyone else to resign themselves to the inevitability of the all-pervasiveness of the cameras except for me?
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather just…wait.”
“Suit yourself.” Crunch, crunch, crunch. “It’ll end up on TV no matter what. And I’m not waiting ’til we get back to Mississippi to hear what’s giving you that gots-to-pee look.”
“Yeah, I can’t wait, either,” I said glumly. But was that my only option? Talk about how mushy Jamie made me feel, knowing full well that he’d be able to watch it on TV, along with everyone I went to school with? The only thing I could imagine that was more horrible than that eventuality was not being able to discuss it at all. God, it was like the Sophie’s Choice of gossiping.
“So, what’s up with this dance class?” Heaven asked. “Did you volunteer for this? Or are they making you? I was shocked when I saw it on the schedule.”
“You have a schedule? Seriously?! Does everyone have a schedule except for me?”
Heaven stared at me blankly. Obviously, she had no idea who did or didn’t have a schedule.
“Dance class?” I asked.
“Uh-huh.” Heaven pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket and tapped a neat line of black Times New Roman type. Dance class. And there was my name. And Jamie’s.
Guess Heaven and I would be having that talk sooner than I anticipated.
Just a few hours later, I was hunched over in a closet, trying to keep my head from banging
into the ceiling. Every time I took a particularly enthusiastic breath, one of my elbows collided with a paint can. This closet was not built for the tall.
Hearing footsteps in the hallway, I peeked out of the door. Jackpot. I pulled Heaven inside with one arm and shut the door behind us with the other.
“Listen, buster, I have a black belt in karate—” was all she got out before I clapped a hand over her mouth.
“You own a black belt, maybe.” I snorted. “That’s not quite the same thing.”
“Dylan?” she mumbled.
I dropped my hand from her mouth and reached up to tug on the chain over my head. A single bulb flickered on, illuminating me, Heaven, and a whole bunch of neatly ordered cleaning supplies.
“You damn near gave me a heart attack!” She angrily balled her hands into fists at her hips.
“Careful, don’t step in the mop bucket,” I cautioned.
“Were you trying to kill me? I thought I was being abducted!”
“I just wanted to talk to you in a place with no cameras.”
“Well, mission accomplished. Couldn’t you have wanted to talk to me in a place with no spiders?” She shuddered. “I see, like, two spiders. Already. And that’s just the ones I can see.”
“I kissed someone,” I blurted out.
Heaven’s eyes grew big as saucers and her mouth formed a perfectly round O.
“Or someone kissed me,” I hurried on. “Doesn’t matter. There was kissing going on.”
“Like, plural kissing? Like, more than once?”
“Uh-huh.”
“No way!” Heaven hugged me tightly around the middle. “I never thought this day would come!”
“Hey!” I extricated myself from the hug. “I’m not that tragic.”
“No, no, of course you’re not tragic. This is so exciting!” She reached her hands up to smoosh my face. “My big little Dylan is all grown-up! And check you out—talk about romantic circumstances. Who locks down their first kiss in a castle? Sure beats Tate Moseley’s garage,” she finished glumly.
“Hey now,” I said sternly. “Stop it right there. Tate Moseley doesn’t deserve any of your brain space.”
“Right, right.” She flapped her hands near her face, like she was waving away any thoughts of the Tate Moseley Incident. “This isn’t about Tate. Or me. This is about you! And your new man! Damn, I can’t believe you kissed someone, and I don’t even know who he is!”
“The advantages of leaving Tupelo,” I said drily.
“What’s his name?”
“Jamie.”
“Jamie,” she breathed. “Don’t tell me he’s Scottish.”
“No. English.”
“Even better!” she squealed, grabbing my hands with delight. “Man, Krystal Hooper would poop her pants if she knew you were over here making out with some English dude.”
“I know.” I grinned.
“Well. How did this happen? Tell me everything!”
I launched into the speedy recap version of my adventures with Jamie, from our meeting at the train station, to the trapdoor, and, of course, the snowfall and the kiss and the night in the horse barn.
Although instead of looking swoony, as I expected, Heaven mostly looked…skeptical.
“Dylan, I love you dearly, but I’m pretty sure you just recounted the plot of a Lifetime Original Movie.”
“No, it wasn’t a movie! It was real!”
“Although I think the girl got murdered in that one. Murder in a Horse Barn? No, that’s not it. Snowstorm Murder?” she guessed. “The Scottish Murder?”
“Well, I’m not murdered. Obviously. See? It was real.”
“Really? Damn.” She shook her head. “When you do a first kiss, you do it right.”
I giggled.
“Was that a giggle?” Heaven’s jaw dropped. “You are in serious, serious trouble. Permission to leave the closet now?”
“I guess.” I fiddled with the pin on my shoulder, which was keeping my tartan sash in place. “I’m not ready to dance.”
“You’re never ready to dance. That’s why you have me.”
Unceremoniously, she pushed me out of the closet. I scanned the hallway—not a camera in sight. We appeared to have gone undiscovered. Heaven shut the door firmly behind her.
“Ya look good, Dyl.” She assessed me critically. “This suits you, somehow, this old-fashioned thing. You have a regal neck.”
“Um, thanks.” I rubbed my neck self-consciously. I could not imagine how it was possible that a white puffy-sleeved dress with a tea-length tulle skirt could possibly suit me. This was some weird, ancient ballerina thing.
“You know La Sylphide?” Heaven asked.
“La what?”
“It’s a ballet,” she explained as she lifted one black slipper–clad foot and pointed it gracefully. “This Scottish guy is all set to marry a nice girl named Effie, but then he falls in love with this fairy chick in the woods and messes it all up.”
“Like you do.”
“Anyway, that’s what these outfits remind me of. The old-fashioned tutus from La Sylphide. Especially with these tartan things pinned up at our shoulders.” She tugged on the blue-and-green plaid swatch hanging down my back.
“You don’t think we have to do, like, ballet…do you?” I asked nervously.
“Who knows?!” Heaven did a grand jeté down the hall, her white skirt flying as she leaped through the air. “I just hope we get to keep these outfits.”
“You can have mine, too,” I muttered.
Heaven led me down the hall, dancing a few feet ahead, just like I imagined that Sylphide fairy thing must have led the ballet guy into the woods.
“Heaven, what happens at the end of La Sylphide?”
“Oh, I think everybody dies,” she replied nonchalantly. “Wow.” She stopped suddenly in front of an enormous open doorway.
“Whoa.” I nearly bumped into her as I stopped at her shoulder. The rest of Dunyvaig Castle was grand, of course, but nothing had prepared me for the ballroom. The white walls were trimmed with gold, sparkling nearly as much as the candelabras set all along the walls. I looked up to see an enormous mural of stags covering the high ceiling. Three large crystal chandeliers hung down, dominating the room. I had never seen anything like it.
“Now, when somebody said ‘castle,’ this is what I was expecting,” Heaven murmured appreciatively. “Is this where the reception is going to be?”
“No idea. You think Dusty shares her wedding plans with me?” I snorted.
“Come on in, y’all!” Dusty called from across the ballroom, waving one hand as she leaned into Ronan, his arm around her waist.
It still surprised me, sometimes, how beautiful Dusty was. Almost like I’d forget, then turn around, and be taken aback by it all over again. As we made our way over to her, I wondered, not for the first time, what it would be like to be that beautiful. If everything would be easier. If I would like to have people look at me, instead of cringing anytime someone noticed me.
“Heaven.” Dusty reached out a hand and clasped one of Heaven’s perilously close to her prominent bosom. “Thank you so much for comin’ over here to join us. It’ll be so much easier to do all the rehearsin’ with you standin’ in for Anne Marie.”
“Dusty invited you?”
“Uh-huh.” Heaven smirked at me. Okay, so TRC had actually invited her, but for the sake of the show, Dusty had invited her. It was too confusing, these parallel lines of what was reality and what was reality TV. Why did we have to play along with the fake plot? It was all so dumb. “Thank you so much for asking me, Dusty. I’ve always wanted to see Europe! This is so cool.”
“We’re glad to have you.” Dusty smiled.
“Where’s Anne Marie?” I asked.
“Some med school somethin’.” Dusty waved her hand dismissively. “That girl’s schedule is crazypants.”
“Anne Marie is in med school?” I asked in disbelief. “Your best friend–slash–future bridesmaid. Anne Marie.
Is in med school?”
I couldn’t have been more shocked if Anne Marie had landed on the moon. My earliest memory of Dusty’s oldest friend was watching her eat a crayon in our living room. If this was the future of medicine, I feared for the human race.
“Please try not to act so surprised when she gets here, Dylan,” Dusty sniffed. “It’s insultin’.”
“Hey there, Ronan.” Heaven interrupted us before I could stick my foot any further into my mouth. “Looking good. Nice to see you again.”
“I’m verra sorry.” He frowned as she shook his hand vigorously. “Have we met?”
“Technically? Not really. But my elbow was at y’all’s engagement party. I mean, I was there, too,” she clarified, “like, in the same room with y’all. But all you could see on TV was my elbow.”
“I’m sure you have grand elbows,” he said gallantly.
“Dude, the prince likes my elbows!” Heaven squeaked.
“Not a prince,” I whispered back.
Something—or someone—bumped gently into my side. I turned and came face-to-face with Jamie’s clear blue eyes.
“I’m wearing a kilt,” he announced proudly.
“That you are.” On top he wore a plain white button-down shirt with a black tuxedo jacket, but below it was a blue tartan kilt with fancy knee socks. Come to think of it, Ronan was wearing a kilt, too, albeit in a different color; it just didn’t look unusual on him. Ronan had worn a kilt the first time he came over to our house for dinner. Although I think TRC may have had a hand in that. “Why is Ronan’s kilt greener than yours?” I asked. “Do the plaids mean something?”
“It’s a family tartan,” Jamie said hastily, then coughed. “I’ve always suspected my calves were my best feature. It’s a shame they’ve been imprisoned in my trousers for the past sixteen years.”
“Did someone say ‘imprisoned in my trousers’?” Heaven turned toward us as Dusty and Ronan resumed their regularly scheduled activities of nonstop cuddling and making kissy faces.
“Hello there.” Jamie stuck out his hand. “Pleasure to meet you. I’m Jamie.”
“Jamie?” Heaven’s eyes lit up. “The Jamie?! Well, well, well.” She took his hand and shook it slowly as she looked him up and down. “He’s certainly tall enough.”
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