A/N: Sorry for the delay on this one, folks. I've been sick for about two weeks with some flu-meets-cold superbug and it's slowed me down.
Many thanks to Be Rose for the beta read, and thanks to coolcat12345, FairTurtle, Guest, and colbub for your wonderful and helpful reviews!
I heard the front door shut and held still, listening. But it was only Daniel. I felt his energy, quiet and pulled-in, as he walked up the stairs, past my closed bedroom door, and into his room. His door shut, too, and the house went silent again.
I tossed a broken bracelet in the white garbage bag that sat open at my feet. It was full of crumpled papers and old cracker crumbs and ratty tank tops so worn no one would want them. When I'd left for school this morning, Mom had told me to clean my room when I got home. It was the first Mom-like thing she'd said in weeks. I hadn't even felt like resisting.
The shoebox I was excavating was almost empty now. Just a handful of notes from middle school clung to the bottom.
Why had I held onto this crap?
I picked up the one on the top. Wut r u doing 2nite? was scribbled in pink handwriting I didn't recognize. Under it, my own No plans was followed by the same handwriting, offering, U should come 2 movies w/ me & L. I vaguely remembered someone's older sister driving us to a movie theater, but couldn't recall the show.
Toss.
The paper fluttered into the garbage bag.
I had to figure out what to do about Lily and Evan. She was getting decent as passing as a human, if a quirky one, and Titania only knew how much longer I could keep her cooped up at Goose House.
I'd gotten a promise from her not to go chasing after Evan again until I'd given her the okay. But I wasn't sure what her promises were worth. After I'd left Goose House last, I'd crouched outside her window and thrown a repellent spell in at her, one that would—hopefully—keep her and Evan at least three hundred feet away from each other at all times. It was a worthwhile extra precaution, but I knew it wouldn't last long. I wasn't a good enough faerie for the spell to withstand her constant lovesick pining or to prevent her from talking to him online, and anyway, I couldn't hold their Story off forever.
I had to find a way to push them together, to at least give them the chance to work this out on their own. It had to feel natural, or as natural as I could make it with Princess Lily the Obvious swooning around.
Maybe they could just happen to run into each other on the street? Too contrived, I thought. No one would think that was an accident. Maybe I could book her for a photo session.
The next note said Mr. Lennon's head looks like a bowling pin. It was in Imogen's handwriting. I dropped it in the trash.
I had an enormous pile of gold coins sitting in the bank. It still wasn't enough to cover school, but I could probably scrape by if I went and got a Humdrum job instead. Flipping burgers would be a relief—I could just do what I was told and not worry about ruining anyone's life.
But no Humdrum job would pay as well as this one did. And even I could admit that being a godmother was more interesting than asking if people wanted to up-size their fries.
On the other hand, asking about fries wasn't likely to make my stomach churn as often as thinking about Isabelle, Evan's fiancée did.
The front door opened again. This time I didn't even have to feel out to know it was Dad. I froze as his footsteps clicked across the foyer. And then another door downstairs closed, and I let out the breath I'd been holding. He'd gone into his study; he'd be there for a while.
Just in case, though, I tried to pull up the shield Amani had tried to teach me. Silver shimmered across my vision, and a hint of an emerald vine unfurled in a bottom corner. But the effort of relaxing enough to let it happen screwed with my mind. I let the vision go.
I wished I could talk this over with Imogen. She'd know what to do about my client.
But Imogen hated me. And Elle wouldn't be any help. She thought my mermaid case was stupid and that Lily needed to go back into the ocean and learn to love herself before she tried loving anyone else, especially anyone who was already in a committed monogamous relationship.
My only friends left were my plants. They sat on my windmill, green leaves stretching toward the gray sky.
"The problem is, there's no way to win this one," I muttered in their general direction. "Lily's kind of the worst. She's trying to seduce someone who's basically married, and she does not care at all. Elle's right. She is not ready for a serious, healthy partnership."
The basil and oregano didn't reply.
"On the other hand, she deserves to make her own choices."
Lily's freedom to decide for herself was just as right as stealing Evan away from Isabelle was wrong. The two conflicting ideas crashed against each other in my head, making my mind ache.
"She's dumb, but she deserves to choose to be dumb," I said. "Elle's Story worked because she got to make the decisions. That was right. I know that was right."
But did that mean I should always let my clients make their own choices?
The plants remained tranquil. They didn't care what I was jabbering on about. But, to be honest, I didn't care that they didn't care. That was the good thing about plants. They could take on all my troubles and drop them into the soil like they were nothing. They were endlessly patient, like dogs you didn't have to groom or take for walks every day.
The whistlebell in the pot on the end started humming. It was one of the few Glim plants I kept, and it sang when it was happy. I went over and touched one of its white bell-shaped flowers with a gentle fingertip.
"You like being talked to, huh?" I said.
Its soft, cooing reply calmed me instantly.
I went back to the shoebox.
I had to think of some way to let this Lily situation resolve itself. Lily had to be able to choose. That was the only thing I knew for sort-of sure.
"So, if Lily gets to choose, the rest of it shouldn't matter, right?" I said.
The whistlebell let out a low trill.
"I'm going to pretend that's a yes."
Except for a couple loose thumbtacks and an old gum wrapper, I was down to the last thing in the box. The ripped-out notebook paper I dug out was folded in half, with something stiff between the layers. The old pages crinkled as I unfolded the note. Distantly familiar handwriting paraded across the top of the page: Work it, girl! Beneath the words, faces looked up at me from a Polaroid.
I remembered in an instant. Lucas had gotten an ancient camera from one of his mom's boyfriends, and we'd spent an entire afternoon taking pictures and watching them develop.
This picture was terrible, a vintage-looking selfie of the two of us with our faces way too close to the camera, wearing hammy grins and looking as humanly awkward as middle-schoolers ever had. I had on an enormous straw hat that belonged to Lucas' mom. He had glued a fake mustache above his lip, and it sat crooked underneath his nose.
I couldn't believe how young we were.
"And look at us now," I said.
I should toss it. I'd forgotten about it, so obviously it didn't matter that much. And it wasn't like I needed to keep photos of Imogen's boyfriend around.
I shoved it in my nightstand drawer. I'd deal with it later.
And I'd deal with Lily and stupid-perfect Evan now.
Doing anything was better than doing nothing. Throwing my crap away had somehow cleared the air in my room, and I felt ready to toss a lot of things out with the trash—including my case. Even if the end of this Story sucked, at least it would be over.
I remembered a phrase Mom had been saying a lot lately, usually whenever she'd forgotten to make dinner and magicked up something at the last second: Done is better than perfect.
"I'm just going to hire him to do a stupid photo shoot," I said to my plants. "That okay?"
The flower cooed.
I picked up the garbage bag. The thing was full of notes from Imogen. I wanted it out of my house.
Dad's office door was still closed when I tiptoed down the stairs. I put my hand on the front door handle as gently as I could and turned it so slowly it might not have been moving. The last thing I needed was for Dad to remember my existence and come out of his office, demanding to know where Mom was and exactly what I thought I was doing.
His voice made me jump and jiggle the handle too hard. But then I realized it wasn't directed at me. He was still in his office, ranting over magic mirror to someone.
"You saw how upset Her Majesty was, Charles," he bellowed.
I paused.
"I realize that," Dad said, terse as ever. "This has been causing problems for all of us for months now. But I have to say, for my own conscience's sake, that I think you're wrong."
I held back a snort. Dad thought he had a conscience?
A man's voice replied to him, distant and muffled enough that I couldn't make out the words. Turning up the volume with magic was no good; Dad had so many enchantments on his office door that not even a simple charm could go undetected.
"I can't keep lying to my wife about how serious this is," Dad said. "Marigold isn't an idiot."
More mumbling from Charles. I had a hazy memory of him, more of an impression than anything. I'd met him at a Midsummer Solstice picnic held by the Council for the Council's family members. Charles was tall, balding, and had given me the impression of someone so slow he could bore a sloth to death.
He was holding Dad's attention, though. Reginald's trademark annoyance radiated through the wall and out toward me, sharp as razors.
"Marigold agrees with Her Majesty," Dad said. "As do I. Queen Amani has the situation under control. I'm not sure what you're doing on the Council if you don't trust that."
Even without context, it sounded like the first thing he'd said in years that made any sense. Even a broken clock was right twice a day.
"Anyone attacking the Humdrums isn't going to last much longer," Dad said. He lowered his voice, and I strained to hear. "You know that as well as anybody."
A long pause.
"Queen Amani isn't a fool. Don't underestimate her, Charles."
I didn't breathe. I couldn't risk missing anything.
"You'd better figure out where you stand," Dad said.
Charles said something. I couldn't make it out, but caught the word Humdrum.
"I hope you're right," Dad said. "You won't last if you're wrong."
And then, silence. I heard Dad's footstep and leapt into action. I threw open the front door and escaped onto the steps before he had a chance to see me.
I tossed the bag in the garbage can by the garage door and then waited, spine stiff, for him to come after me and demand to know what I'd heard.
But he didn't come. The seconds ticked by. I tried to shield myself just in case, but my heartbeat raced and I could barely get the shimmers to begin.
I reached out into the cool late afternoon air. I couldn't feel much. Either he'd gone back into his office or his attention wasn't on me.
When I crept back into the house, his office door stayed closed. I darted up the stairs. Safe in my room, I reached for my phone. I needed to report the conversation to Queen Amani.
I just heard my dad talking, I typed. And…
And what? And I'd overheard something that may or may not have meant that someone on the Council didn't trust her. It may or may not have meant Charles knew something about Eris. It may or may not have meant my dad was involved.
It may or may not have meant anything.
I deleted the message and threw my phone on the bed.
I needed to talk to Imogen. I didn't know how to process anything without her. But I could never talk to her about anything like this again. She couldn't be trusted with things that mattered. She couldn't be trusted, period.
God, I missed her almost as much as I hated her. I hadn't realized before how loneliness could feel like something was eating you alive.
Daniel was just down the hall. He was family. Maybe I could go talk to him.
And then I cringed. Daniel didn't want to hang out with me. I pictured myself knocking on his door, begging my little brother to shoot the breeze with me. I literally couldn't imagine anything more depressing, my parents' marriage and Eris' apparent progress included.
The whistlebell intruded on my thoughts with a loud hum. The sound trilled upward before falling to a low purr.
"You're right," I said. "I should be focusing on Lily."
Screw Dad, screw Charles, screw Imogen, screw everyone whose love and loyalty was conditional.
It was time to focus on people who were actually there for me. I snapped a photo of the whistlebell and sent it to Elle.
Aww! she replied. It's so cute!
It was a start.