by Emily Bow
He blinked.
“It’s impossible here with your mom, and how can you want more school right now? I don’t. Take your own advice—intern. Go for a small non-international firm. Or work for the state. Like TX-DOT, the people who do the roads.” I was greedy and selfish going there. I didn’t care though. I would’ve loved to have him move to Texas. “You’d get your work experience. Your mom wouldn’t be accused of bias…” I said it all in one go and then stopped, letting him mull that over.
His jaw tightened, but his gaze was steady on me. The lack of instant denial meant he was thinking about it. The lack of flippant remarks meant he was considering it.
That made me really happy, and I floated on the thought of Wythe in America as we left the restaurant and took the quick ride home. We went through the family entrance and were climbing the steps to household level when Wythe paused. Not a kiss goodnight kind of pause, but a pause.
“That play you want to go to…Harry Potter.”
“Yeah?”
“I got tickets for the matinee.” He looked away. “We can go there. You can get your last point. We can do that instead of going to the maritime lecture.”
His offer made me realize I was more concerned about being with him than getting that internship point. I shouldn’t question a gift horse, but I was going to. I felt too much about this, about him, not to ask. “Why? You’ve been against it all summer. And then you were terrifically mad at me. Why now? Why with something I want to do?”
“You’ve been working hard at this class, though I know you don’t want to do it. You’ve done it, and I’ll get that point for you. You and me at the Palace Theatre.”
That would do it. I’d have three solid points. I’d be considered a photo-worthy intern. The reality hit me. My heart sped up. It was everything. I’d be with him. I’d get my last point. My summer would be a total success.
I didn’t plan on calling Felicity until I got that last point. It would be like jinxing it or something. This was amazing, unexpected, wonderful news. I wanted to bounce on my feet. And scream, but I didn’t.
“You still in there?”
“You’re sure? Scratch that.” I nodded fast. “Thank you, Wythe. This internship…my sister…”
He held up his hand. “I’d rather not know.”
Okay, so it was still a sore point with him. I could accept that. “Just know it matters to me.”
He nodded.
I was happy. I was. But…there was a big part of me that wanted to go with him for no other reason than to be a guy and a girl out for a show. A date. A date that would end with a kiss. A date that would show him he mattered more than the internship.
“There you are,” Peppa said from the top of the steps. Her position implied that she’d been waiting for us. “I found out earlier that Vihaan gave me the wrong quote for you two. A quote about dinner. Ha. As if that would be right.” She rolled her gray eyes.
I looked at the big clock. It was late. Later than I’d thought it would be, nearing midnight. Wythe and I had lingered longer than I’d thought. “And you waited up to tell us?” I asked, annoyed that she was interrupting my good news, good mood, and good night with Wythe.
“I’m sure you saw the professor’s texts; therefore, you know this couldn’t wait.”
We hadn’t. Well, I hadn’t; my attention had been on Wythe during and after dinner. “What’s the correct information?”
“With final answers due in tomorrow, it seemed right to correct Vihaan’s mistake as soon as possible.” Peppa said it all in a casual voice, as if she hadn’t delayed our figuring out the final clue by hours. “I didn’t want you to be behind in class the way you are with the internship.”
It steamed me, but the frustration wasn’t unfamiliar. This kind of trick and a dig was something Felicity would have done.
Peppa must have known I was losing my patience, because she opened her palm as if preparing a speech. “‘It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.’ Jane Austen.” Peppa shrugged. “Sorry for the delay.” She walked off.
It was not okay. I looked up at Wythe to see if he was feeling the same outrage. Wythe had that glazed literature look in his eyes.
I looked at Peppa and decided, in case she was spying on us, to annoy her. I pulled Wythe’s head down so I could speak in his ear. “I got nothing. Let’s sleep on it and meet in the morning.”
He nodded. “After tomorrow, you’ll never have to read me literature again.” His tone was teasing, but he didn’t really seem that thrilled.
“I promise nothing.”
He gave me a slow smile, and we separated on that level so I could go up to my room.
In bed, as I turned the page on my unicorn-shape-shifting novel and relaxed into my pillow, it hit me. A great answer, which was just what I needed right now. Maybe even the ultimate literary answer. The British Library. The library had Jane Austen’s desk and books by all the authors we’d been quoting. That was it.
Excitement spun through me. I knew where we’d go in the morning to finish this class, and our answer was going to be wonderful.
And Wythe would be grateful.
And we’d go to the play, and I’d get the internship point.
It would be perfect.
Chapter 19
The driver dropped us off on Euston Road right after an early lunch. We had plenty of time to get our photo and then make our way over to the theater for the play. Today was working out great. I climbed the steps to the British library, Wythe beside me. A woman in her mid-sixties rushed past us, tying a unicorn hat on her head. I paused for a second and then kept moving, I’d seen stranger things in London.
We got inside. A noisy line to the right consisted of visitors from their late teens to retired seniors, each person wearing a version of a unicorn costume. From as little as the horn on a blue-haired lady to as much as a full-fur white body costume on at least twenty of them. Most of the women wore wreaths of pink roses around their necks, making the whole lobby fragrant, and letting me know exactly who they were. They were Hornicorn fans.
“What’s that?” Wythe stared and looked away. “Not our clue, is it? Why are they dressed like that? Why are they here?” He sounded perturbed and amused.
I shrugged like I didn’t know, but I knew. It was definitely a gathering of Hornicorn enthusiasts. A tingle of interest hit me. I went to the guard desk. “What’s going on?” I asked, arching my eyebrows. “Is book two out?”
Wythe stared at me from beneath his eyelids.
I shifted on my feet and ignored his questioning look.
“Unicorn erotica. The author’s doing a signing.” The thirty-something guard had a cigarette deep voice, but he wasn’t put out by the questioning. “There’s no signup if you want to join them.”
Heat flushed me, but I did want a copy of book two. I was almost finished with the first novel. Okay, I was rereading the good parts a second time, but I’d finish it soon. I wanted to ask what time the author would be there and if a costume of some sort were required. It looked as though it was. I tried to think of how to phrase the question.
The guard winked. “You can wait here with me if you like. I can get you to the front of the line.”
I was so tempted.
“We can’t stay,” Wythe said. “May I ask a question?”
Just ask already, don’t ask if you can ask. And we might have time to stay. Do this thing, go to the signing, then make the play. That would be quite a day.
The guard nodded, but he didn’t look as enthusiastic to answer Wythe’s questions as he had mine.
I turned my back on them to check out the crowd. A rolling series of “neighs” went through the group, and as people joined the line, they knocked unicorn horns. Just like in the books. It was a mandatory greeting amongst the shape-shifting sect. It identified them as human. It was like seeing my book come to life. And it gave me a fun kind of thrill.
“Where’s the Jane Austen section?” Wythe asked in his deep voice.
The guard was giving him directions, but I stopped paying attention after “upper and lower ground floor” and “Sir John Ritblat gallery.” Wythe could figure it out; this was his country and his lingo.
The front part of the line was doing a left-hoof side stomp, a gesture reserved for events of great celebration, like a wedding. I was so jealous.
I snapped their photo. This one would not go to the professor. He’d probably drop me a grade just for possessing a unicorn shape-shifter novel. He’d drop me two points if he knew how dirty and poorly written it was and how much I enjoyed it anyway.
“Come on.” Wythe led me away. “‘Where’s the Jane Austen section?’” He snickered. “Words I’ve never said before.” He looked back at the queue. “You’re reading that book, aren’t you?”
“Nope.” I walked faster to cool my flushed face. “Come on. You’re going to love the Jane Austen exhibit.” When I crossed the threshold, the literary treasures caught me and drove out thoughts of embarrassment and unicorns. It was like seeing my degree come to life. Works credited to Shakespeare. Leonardo Di Vinci sketches. The Magna Carta. I wandered from one glass case to the next. Amazing. London could be really freaking amazing. This city knew to celebrate unicorns and their history all under the same roof. So cool.
“Kira.” Wythe said my name in the way someone did when they’d been saying it more than once.
“Yes.”
Wythe grinned. He’d never looked more handsome than he did in this room. Him, all these treasures, unicorn enthusiasts outside. There was no place I’d rather be.
“I’ll bring you back, I promise. But, the quest, you know—we were thinking Jane Austen’s desk would be a good ultimate spot.” We’d agreed on that after a little online research on the ride over. A desk where literary works came to be.
“Yes.” I went to his side. We should send in our final answer. I wasn’t sad about it. It was good. Finish this class. Go to a play tonight. Life in London was awesome.
The desk itself was mahogany and small. “Incredible, isn’t it? Jane Austen’s desk. Does this feel right for our final answer?” I had a moment of doubt. Peppa had given us the clue, after all. Then I shook it off. Desks were where great works were created. This was a great guess. Wasn’t it? Unless Peppa had somehow given us the wrong quote a second time. I wouldn’t put it past her.
Wythe scrunched his face, and then grew thoughtful. “It’s small. Not epic. The glass tower out there is significant though. Six stories. UV-filter protection humidity control. Let’s send this, and then a picture with the tower of books.”
I liked that. He was onto something. Not because of the impressive mechanics behind the book room, which enthralled him. But because all the authors we’d been talking about this summer were shelved out there together, those authors and more. It was the ultimate literature collection. “Yeah. I agree. Let’s do that.”
We went to the middle of the library where the massive glass tower served as the library’s heart. All those books. They’d take a lifetime to read and sort. Some old, some new. What a treasure.
Wythe stared at it, and his expression held a similar awe. I knew he was impressed with the building design more than the ink on pages, but I loved that he could find something to relish here.
“Lean in with me.” I turned my back to the books, and Wythe put his arm around me and tilted his head against mine. We looked like a happy couple. My eyes were a little too bright, a little too excited at being here with him. My smile faltered, and I angled the phone for the best picture.
I typed in our answer and sent it off. Nothing happened. No flash, no cheers, nothing.
It didn’t feel right. Anticlimactic or something.
Wythe swiped one of his hands over the other in one of those “washing his hands of this” gestures. He looked satisfied. “We’ve aced this class. Now, we go to the play. You’ll get your final intern point. Fair’s fair.”
I wanted to make the play, I did, but I couldn’t shake my doubts. “I don’t know. Is this what victory feels like? I don’t feel like we’ve won. Like it’s over. There’s no clear finish line, champagne, or cheering crowd.”
Agreement flashed on his face, but then he shook his head. “Those are very American expectations. This isn’t a boat race.”
“But it is sort of a race. Us against the class. I know you feel it, too.”
His eyes looked like stubborn blue resistance, and then his shoulders dropped. “We’ve guessed wrong.”
I thought so, too, and it was our last day. This was it. It wasn’t the first time I found myself in this position—not a winner. And it still bit at me. I’d been naïve enough to think my luck had changed. Whether I gave a massive effort or not, I ended up coming up short.
We’d be heading to the Harry Potter play now, which would be awesome, but making a matinee showing didn’t leave us any time to regroup here at the library. I didn’t know what to say. I’d wanted to ace this for him.
The anomaly of clicking heels on library tile, a place more used to tennis shoes or comfortable flats, drew my attention to the doorway. Peppa and Vihaan walked past. Them. Again.
Wythe saw them, too. I grabbed his arm and drew him away, into a side room. This one was modern and filled with study desks. “How are they here?” I kept my voice low even though they weren’t in the same room. “Even when we guess wrong, they’re here.”
“They got it wrong, too.”
“That’s not possible.” They had to be following us. I knew the answer then as sure as I knew where Texas was on a map. “They’re cheats. English cheats.”
He stiffened.
“How else are they doing this?” I shook my head. “There was the Austen clue, sure. But it’s every time. Is Peppa tracking you? Tracking me?”
Wythe strode from the room toward where we’d last seen the other couple. Peppa and Vihaan hadn’t gone far; they stood in the middle of the foyer.
“Wait.”
He didn’t wait.
Peppa didn’t even seem surprised to see us. She looked as polished and put together as she did at the house. She shifted her gaze away. Vihaan tilted his chin up. Guilty gestures. I should have seen it sooner.
“How are you here?” Wythe’s tone said, Lie to me and I will pull that rack of books down on you.
Vihaan’s gaze darted around the library as if looking for the finish line or a drink or an escape. “We figured it out. This is the place.” He was fidgety, and his voice pitched high.
I didn’t believe him, though it was logical. Every author was here. But it was also obvious. All the authors were here. British authors. Memorialized in print. Forever. My heartbeat sped up. I knew a better answer. I knew where we needed to go.
“Did someone on the library council tip you off to be here?” Vihaan asked, his voice deep now and rather accusing.
Wythe’s expression tightened. “We came up with this on our own. How are you here?”
I needed to get Wythe away from here without them seeing.
“Is it over then?” Peppa asked, her voice annoyed. “You won then?”
“Yeah,” I lied.
Vihaan’s nose wrinkled, and then his expression turned faux jovial with one of those toothy smiles that didn’t show in his eyes. “A win, huh? Good job, mate. Pays off to have a mom at the top, eh?”
Wythe didn’t respond to the dig. “You’re always right behind us,” Wythe said. “How’d you choose this place? Why now?”
I wanted to hear this.
Peppa shifted, making her shoes click. “We figured it out.”
That’s how she was going to play it. Nothing she said would change things anyway. We needed to leave. “I chose it because Mom took us here to see Jane Austen’s desk. I thought of this place right away.” I jerked my thumb toward the Austen room as I half lied. Those lies were the most believable. A little truth always sold the lie. “The Austen desk. You know
. The finish line.” That would move them away from us.
Vihaan’s eyes gleamed. Peppa’s mouth twisted.
Maybe asking for the truth would get them to go away. “What exactly led you here?” It was so improbable that they were here at the same time as us. Especially when I’d realized that the finish line wasn’t really one place. It could be a different place for each team and still be right. The possibilities of literature were that varied. It was impossible for them to keep showing up in the same locations as us. They weren’t doing it again.
“Sounds like you’re accusing us.” Vihaan drew up straight.
Obviously.
“Answer the question,” Wythe said.
Vihaan shrugged. “Your man, your driver, tipped us off.”
That shouldn’t shock me, but it did. That went beyond cheating.
Vihan crossed his arms over his chest. “And? We all know you’re the one with the real advantage. Your mom’s PM, mate.”
Wythe clenched his fists. A flush hit the top of his cheekbones.
Wythe’s position came with as many drawbacks as it did benefits. If he’d had his wish, he’d be at a civil engineering firm right now, not a library. I moved in front of him and faced Vihaan. “Grow up. Everyone has advantages. Some are smarter, richer, faster, kinder, more talented. That’s how the world works. But you work with your gifts; you don’t cheat. You are cheats.” It annoyed me when Peppa pointed. I figured it would bother them, too. I pointed at them. “You’re not the only team I saw coming in here. You’re probably in third place by now.” I hadn’t seen another team, but I lied so they’d go away. “Did you spot the other team? The two guys by the cello-playing unicorn?” A little detail helped flesh out a lie, and I had no problem lying to them now. They were not sneaking around after us this time.
Vihaan narrowed his eyes and looked away. “We are going to come in third.” He sounded pissed and stressed.
Peppa cleared her throat. “Well. It’s appropriate that we give it our all to win. It’s…” Even she couldn’t finish that BS. “So, another team is here? Have they been to the desk? Where is the desk exactly?”