***
Mom jumps out of her minivan, the one she absolutely needs—because, you know, we’ve got ten kids in the family, and I have a lot of friends I need to cart around—and runs to the door. She’s got a poster in each hand, but the wind whips them around too much, and I can’t see what they say.
I can guess. “Oh, no,” I mutter, covering my eyes with my hands. I can’t watch. And then I remember that I have to watch, because Mom hasn’t met Saiph.
She flails the posters at me. Posters that say Victoria’s Dragon, the name of our play, in big letters on them. And right under that, in only slightly smaller letters, starring Adrienne Speck. I didn’t think Mrs. Wagner would have these out yet. They’re not super fancy posters or anything—there’ll be plenty of those later—but even so. The cast list just went up today.
Mom throws her arms around me, still clutching the posters. “Oh, honey, I’m so proud. I’m framing one of these for each of us, and then I’ve got ten more in the car for the girls in the old neighborhood, and my mother and my sister, and who’s your boyfriend, sweetie?”
You didn’t think she’d somehow not noticed Saiph, did you? Neither did I.
“Saiph Orionis.” Saiph takes one of the posters from my mom and shakes her hand as she lets go of me. I smell sugar, and in the few seconds since I looked at him last, he’s ditched the geek stuff and changed his clothes. His hair looks clean. He’s got on jeans and a dark jacket, unzipped so we can see he’s wearing a T-shirt that matches the poster. He holds up the poster next to his shirt and grins. “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Speck. I’m Adrienne’s best pen pal, from Canada. I just know she’s told you all about me.”
My mom’s eyes are wide, mesmerized by the T-shirt that proclaims her daughter a star. “Where did you get that?” She blinks and shakes her head. “I mean, Saiph… It’s… It’s wonderful to meet you, hon. I, um, Adrienne didn’t… Adrienne, did you mention you had a pen pal?”
I roll my eyes. “Mom. I’ve told you, like, fifty times he was coming to visit.” I’m going to kill Saiph. What was all that stuff before about not lying to my mother? “You never listen.”
Saiph suddenly frowns. He looks very serious, and then his lip trembles, like he’s going to cry. “Oh, no,” he says. “You didn’t know I was coming, did you? It must be a big shock, and…” He turns away and drags his sleeve across his eyes. “I don’t want to impose. Adrienne said I could stay, but I assumed she asked you first. I’ll just… I’ll find somewhere else. It’s not that cold out, not compared to where I live up in the frozen north, so I’ll be fine. I’m sure you’ve got a hostel or someplace nearby I could stay in for the rest of the semester. I’m an exchange student, you know, but I’m sure I’ll find a place dry enough to do my homework.” His shoulders are shaking.
I don’t buy any of this, but my mom looks horrified. She grabs my arm. “Adrienne Speck,” she whispers, “is this any way to treat your friend?”
“It’s just,” Saiph goes on, “when Adrienne said I’d have a place to stay, I assumed she’d asked you about it first. She tells you everything, right? I know having a boy in the house must be weird—”
“Oh, no, not at all!” My mom puts a hand on Saiph’s shoulder. She glares at me, like I’m being a bad host to our uninvited guest. “We’d be happy to have you.”
Saiph turns around, completely tear free. His eyes sparkle, and he manages to look both surprised and extremely grateful, two things I know he’s not. He takes my mom’s hand in both of his and squeezes. “Oh, really, Mrs. Speck? That’s so awesome! I knew all those things Adrienne said about you were true. I’ll be such a good house guest, you won’t even know I’m here.” He salutes her. “Adrienne’s welcome at my house in Canada anytime, just so you know.”
I hope my mom doesn’t get any ideas about taking him up on that.
“Oh, and one more thing,” Saiph says before running into the house. “Which room is Adrienne’s? She said she’d sleep in the attic before she let a guest go without a bed.”
He disappears inside, while me and my mom are left standing outside in a daze. All I can think is that I’m going to kill him.
“He’s cute,” Mom says. “And those eyes.”
“Mom!” I breathe out through my nostrils, making sure she knows I disapprove of her saying that. “Don’t get any ideas. We’re just… pen pals.”
“Right.” Mom actually winks at me. She shoves the other poster into my hand. As I follow her into the house, I see her lips moving. She’s counting on her fingers, and I hear her mutter to herself, “Invitations, cake, a dress. With a long train and a veil. I wonder if he has a big family. Will they want to come here for the wedding, or will it be easier for us to go there…”
I can forgive my mother. I mean, when all you’ve got is me for a daughter, you’re allowed some degree of fantasy.
Chapter Twenty
When Saiph and I get to school the next morning, it’s more obvious than ever that I have to leave the play. I knew I’d have to as soon as I heard Jason got the guy’s lead. Because you remember that scene Saiph and I were practicing? The one where we were supposed to kiss? That’s the part Jason has. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, now there are a bunch of new and “improved” posters for the play that someone has plastered up and down the hallway where my locker is.
We’re already late, so the hall is pretty much empty. And even though the second bell rings, signaling that we’re actually missing class, all I can do is stare at the posters. Saiph lifts up his glasses and peers under them to get a good look. One of the posters has a stick-figure drawing of me trying to kiss Jason, and he’s pushing me away. You can tell it’s me because there’s a big arrow pointing from my name to the figure, which is surrounded by wavy stink lines.
That’s not the worst of it. Each poster’s complete with its own pen hanging from a string taped to the wall. People are encouraged to add their own comments, and believe me, they haven’t been shy. I rip one of them off the wall that’s sporting such gems as “As sticklike as ever!” and “Adrienne Stick!”
I glance over at the one Saiph’s staring at. It’s got a different drawing on it. In this one, I’m standing alone on stage, and there are a lot of words by my head. It looks like verse, and I know the picture is of me reading my awful poem. Saiph tears it off the wall and crumples it up before I can read what it says.
“It said something dirty, didn’t it?” I tear down another one and rip it in half.
He shakes his head. “It just wasn’t as good.”
As good as what? Before I can ask him, something catches Saiph’s eye, and he leaps to grab another one of the posters off the wall. But I catch sight of it anyway. It’s a drawing of me on four legs, with dog ears and a tail. Oh, and a long nose, which I’m sticking up Jason’s butt. Great. I’m glad the halls are clear and no one’s around to witness me seeing this.
“Can’t you just magic these away?”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Saiph tears down a couple more and crumples them into one big wad of paper.
It is therapeutic, ripping up Nichole’s handiwork like this. I know the whole school must have seen these, and a lot of people wrote bad stuff about me, but tearing them up, with no one to stop us, makes me feel pretty good.
And then I get to my locker. There’s a note from Nichole waiting inside that she must have slipped through the slots. I read it and then slump to the floor. “I’m quitting the play.” I was already quitting the play, even before I read Nichole’s note, but this confirms it.
“You’re not.” Saiph doesn’t even bother looking at me to see how devastated I am. He’s finished tearing down all the posters. They’re crumpled up on the floor around him. He looks for a garbage can, then shrugs. The papers disappear, and the whole hallway smells wonderful, like warm sugar. I can’t tell you how reassuring it is. I’m slumped in a hallway that only ten minutes ago was full of embarrassing stick-figure drawings of me, complete with the whole school’s ugly tho
ughts on who or what I am written all over them. But then I smell the warm sugary smell of Saiph’s magic, and I remember the first time I met him, and all the times in between, and suddenly I feel really safe. Before I know it, I have tears in my eyes. Here I was being brave, and now something comforting makes me cry?
Saiph snatches the note out of my hand. He reads it, then hands it back. He doesn’t say anything.
He doesn’t say anything because he knows Nichole’s right. She points out that I won’t make a good Victoria because no one will believe me and Jason are together. It’s true. Me, ugly Adrienne, supposedly with a guy like that? No amount of make up and stuffed bras can make me look right for him. Plus, the whole school knows that I asked him out and he turned me down. I can’t imagine being in the same room with Jason for all those rehearsals, let alone touching him and kissing him.
I’m glad I wished for my first kiss and that Saiph already granted it, because if it had to be in the play, with someone like Jason, I don’t think I could live with myself. Then again, if it hadn’t been for Saiph, I wouldn’t be in this mess anyway. But if I stay in the play, then me and Jason have to kiss. Is it a step up that I’m more worried about me barfing than him?
“Nobody wants me in the play,” I say, folding the note up into smaller and smaller pieces.
“I do. So does your mom.”
“My mom doesn’t have to go through all this.” I gesture at the walls, which are now poster free. “Nichole’s right. I don’t have any business being here. And Jason’s right. I’m—”
“You’re ugly.” Saiph says it so casually, I want to smack him, but at the same time, all I can do is gape at him and feel like I got the wind knocked out of me. “That’s what you want to hear, right?” he says, his eyebrows coming together in a disappointed scowl. “That everyone thinks you’re ugly and you’ll be the laughingstock of the school if you do this play? But according to you, you already were anyway.” He shrugs. He adjusts his glasses, which somehow makes him look really smart, like he’s an expert who’s spent his whole life studying the ins and outs of how uncool I am. “The truth is that Jason doesn’t want to be in the play with you, and his real-life girlfriend wants your spot and is going to do anything she can to get it.”
“Thanks for the recap.” I try to say it sarcastically, but it doesn’t come out that way. I’m so close to bawling my eyes out and beating my head against my locker until I go comatose that it just sounds really pathetic.
“You’ve hit rock bottom. So you don’t have anything to lose.”
“Just my dignity.” I think I have some of that left.
He grins. “I could turn your clothes into a pink bikini. I bet no one would be expecting it, or how good you’d look.” He winks at me.
This from the boy who just told me I was ugly. But I can’t help smiling. I’m tempted to take him up on it. Me, in a bikini, would really shock everyone. It’s the least they’d expect after seeing all these posters.
Saiph helps me up. “I won’t quit the play,” I tell him. After all, this is the one thing Nichole can’t control. She always gets what she wants, and now she wants my role as Victoria, and I’m not going to give it to her.
Chapter Twenty-one
I have to write a paper about Starstruck, the book we read over break. I should have some good insights, now that I have my very own star visiting me, but my mind draws a blank every time I sit down to write.
It’s later that evening and I’m at my desk, clicking and unclicking my pen, unable to do more than scribble down my name on my paper. I would be typing it on the computer, but it’s so much more important that Saiph plays video games than that I get any work done. The desk really only has room for one person, let alone an extra chair, so I’m scrunched up in the corner, with barely any space to set my paper down. It’s a good thing I’m not actually getting any writing done, because Saiph keeps elbowing me in his eagerness to get a higher score in the typing tutor game he’s playing. Out of all the games I have, he passed up RPGs and space shooters to practice his typing. Which he doesn’t really need any practice at, since he’s getting a steady 60 words-per-minute.
The typing tutor game involves driving a car faster and faster by getting all the words right. There’s also a section where they give you a map and a series of destinations, and you have to drive the car there by typing in which direction to go at the right times. I haven’t played since I was twelve, and even then I don’t remember it being as exciting as Saiph makes it look.
“Yes!” Saiph finishes another game and raises his arms up in the air, spinning his chair around in triumph. He cups his hands to his mouth, mimicking the sounds of a crowd cheering in the background. “I win again!” He taps the screen and clears his throat. “You’ll notice I beat your high score.”
“Too bad it’s not a two-player game. We could race.” I set my pen down and pick up Starstruck, thinking that’ll help. It doesn’t. My brain just isn’t into it.
Saiph takes the book from me and looks it over. We’ve been discussing it all week in class, so he knows what it’s about. Mrs. Grady told him he could have an extra week to turn in his essay, since he didn’t get to read it over the break, being from another school. Well, supposedly.
I wonder what his thoughts on it are, being the real thing and all.
“He falls in love with her.” Saiph finishes reading the back cover for the millionth time and flips through the book, stopping every so often to read bits and pieces. “She’s only there for a few days, but he still falls in love with her.”
“It’s just a story,” I tell him. “It’s like a fairy tale. It doesn’t have to be super realistic.”
“Because stuff like that doesn’t happen in real life, right?” He leans towards me, his eyes wide and serious and very, very blue.
I feel like he’s expecting some great, life-defining answer from me, but all I say is, “Of course not!” Not like I would know. I’m not really an expert. I’m not the person he should be asking about this stuff. “People falling in love that fast? I mean, I guess it could happen. It just… doesn’t.”
Saiph’s quiet for a moment, thinking that over. He has his thumb in the book, marking the random scene he was reading, but he doesn’t go back to it. “How does it end?”
“Badly.”
“He doesn’t save her?”
I stop myself from saying “of course not” again. Saiph’s taking this story too seriously. I guess maybe, being a star himself, he feels some kind of connection to the star girl in the book. I shake my head. “At least that part’s realistic. He hasn’t known her that long, and then he’s supposed to tell her he loves her? What kind of requirement is that? And she can’t tell him how she feels, but he doesn’t know that, and he’s supposed to go out on a limb all of a sudden and risk everything and tell her the truth? Nobody’s going to do that. That’s why it ends the way it does. It has to.”
Saiph leans his elbow against the desk. He’s gone from bragging about his world-champion typing skills to acting like somebody just died. “That’s a sucky ending. They should have ended up together.”
“Yeah,” I say. Despite how depressingly realistic the ending might have been, that doesn’t mean I liked it. “They really should have.”
***
It’s almost two in the morning, and we’re still awake. I made Saiph watch The Little Mermaid, the Disney version, to cheer him up, and then I had him try out a couple of computer games that weren’t typing tutors. Now we’re drawing pictures of each other. I’m proud to say my drawing skills are a little better than his. He keeps making my nose too big.
It’s weird that just the other day, we weren’t even talking. I thought Saiph hated my guts. I thought he couldn’t wait to get away from me. And now here we are, having fun, with no signs of gut-hating whatsoever. And all this after I sort of accused him of liking me. Which he made pretty clear that he doesn’t. I think it’s fair to say Charlotte was wrong, and Saiph was probably upset because I
did something so stupid, not because he was jealous. I made his job harder, and there’s only so much time left before the dance. He’s a star, not a miracle worker. Plus, it’s not like available guys grow on trees. And guys that I would even have a chance with? They’re beyond growing on trees. They’re like those flowers that only bloom once every fifty years, and if you blink at the wrong moment, you’ll miss it.
Saiph points at my drawing with one of his crayons. “I do not look like that.”
My drawing skills might be a step above his, but they’re nothing to brag about. My drawing of him consists of an oval with crazy yellow spikes for hair and giant blue circles in the center for eyes. He’s right, it doesn’t really look like him.
I’m about to tease him and tell him that he should shut up because it captures his essence and still looks way better than his big-nostriled drawing of me, when completely different words come out of my mouth. “Go to the dance with me.” I wonder if I have a condition or something. I mean, you look up to tell your friend, who also happens to be a cute boy, to quit complaining, and you don’t expect something like this to happen. It’s not even a question, the way I say it. It’s somewhere in between an order and an invitation, like for one split second, somewhere in my brain I actually thought Saiph would say yes.
He stares at me, his mouth hanging open in mid gripe. He drops the crayon he was holding.
Uh-oh. I swallow, my throat already tightening up from embarrassment. “What I mean is, we’d have fun. So we should go. Together, but… just as friends. You know.”
His eyes don’t look so bright all of a sudden. He closes his mouth. “Just as friends,” he repeats, making the words sound heavy, like they’re made of lead.
“You’d still count, right? As a date?”
His lips twitch into a frown. He picks up his crayon and gets to work on my hair. In the drawing, that is. The way he focuses on it, you’d think that picture was the most important thing in the world, and that he only had five minutes to finish it.
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