Bookishly Ever After (7 page)

The girl in front of me rolled her eyes and flipped open her copy to point at the cover flap. “It’s on the cover. I don’t think it’s a spoiler if it’s in the book’s description.”

Spoiler Girl narrowed her eyes. “Whatever. Just stop ruining the book for us
real
fans.” She popped in a pair of earbuds and went back to ignoring us and craning her neck to see the front of the line. The girl in front of me shook her head at the ceiling and mouthed “
Nutcase
.”

When we finally made it to the front of the line and Niamh was signing her book, the girl in front of me handed me her phone. “Can you take our picture?” she asked as she rounded the table and squished behind it next to Niamh.

“Sure.” I framed them on the little screen, taking two pictures just in case. This close, it amazed me how, even after practically just getting off a plane and reading an entire chapter to a packed, overheated bookstore, Niamh still managed to look like she’d just breezed in from a salon appointment. She held up the book and scrunched next to the girl in a perfect book-signing pose.

When they were done posing for the picture, Niamh handed girl-in-front-of-me her book and grinned at me. “Maeve’s battle outfit! I love it!
I
want a picture with
you
, if that’s okay.”

“Sure?” I said, my voice shaking, and I switched phones with the girl when we traded places, practically floating. Niamh Adams liked my outfit. I couldn’t wait to text Trixie about it. I grinned at the camera, trying not to look too squeeful, like a rabid fangirl.

The girl turned the phone around so we could see the screen. “How’s that?”

“It’s so cute, like I’m taking a picture with a brunette Maeve,” Niamh said, then looked over at me for my reaction.

I squinted at the screen. While Niamh looked so puttogether with just the right size smile and Grace-worthy perfectly blown-out crimson hair, I had a ridiculous grin on my face, my eyes were too squinty, and a random piece of hair was sticking up in the back. The rest of my hair was practically plastered to my head and neck from the heat of so many bodies in the bookstore.

“Really cute,” I forced out as I took back my phone and tried not to sound disappointed. The girl behind me in line was starting to tap her foot and roll her eyes.

Niamh went back to sitting, saying, “Tag me if you post it anywhere,” as she picked up her pen. “I’d love to have that picture.”

“Okay.” When she started writing in my book, all of the cool things I wanted to say flew out of my brain, but words started coming out of my mouth, anyway. “I really, really love your books, Ms. Adams. I’ve been a fan since forever and Aedan is my favorite book boyfriend and…” I stopped midbabble before I ended up sounding even more like a
crazy fangirl, “I’m so glad to finally meet you,” I finished lamely.

“Well, I love meeting all of Aedan’s girlfriends.” She said in an amused tone of voice, then glanced at the sticky note before writing my name. “Phoebe. I love that name, it’s so pretty.” Niamh finished writing with a flourish and handed my book back to me. “Thanks so much for coming.”

Spoiler Girl started making impatient sounds and pushing her book onto the table. Before she could force me to move, I quickly held up my bow.

“Actually, before I go, can you…I mean, I got into archery because of Maeve and you and…” My voice grew shaky and tears just barely threatened at the corner of my eyes. I focused my attention on the teal riser of my bow instead of her face, hoping she wouldn’t notice.

“You want me to sign your bow?” Niamh finished for me, her tone gentle.

“Please.”

“I thought this was a book signing, not a bow signing,” Spoiler Girl snarked.

Niamh carefully signed the inside of one of the limbs, right under the Hoyt logo. “I hope that’s okay,” she said, hands hovering over the bow as if she was unsure of how to pick it up without breaking it.

“It’s perfect. Thank you.” I expertly picked up the bow. If I could maneuver it in crowded competitions, I could avoid knocking out my favorite author. “Thank you so much. I—” Before I could say anything else, Spoiler Girl
practically hip-checked me and shoved her book at Niamh.

With a lame wave, I walked towards the bookstore exit, trying to look as dignified as I could, flipping open my book to the title page. Niamh’s curvy gold signature caught the light from the mall skylights and I hugged both my bow and the book to myself. Meeting her was totally worth every bad photo of me that was bound to pop up online.

Frustration bubbled up in me as Em chattered on about one of her elaborate plans before it finally overflowed.

“I am not asking Dev out,” I said into my phone while trying to reorganize my way too tall to-be-read pile before it could eat my dresser. “He’s the guy. He should do the asking.”

“Well, excuse me, Miss Nineteen-Fifties. You realize this
is
the twenty-first century, right? You don’t have to wait for a Sadie Hawkins dance or something. Girls do ask guys out.”

I dropped onto my bed, switching to video and rolling my eyes at Em with deliberate emphasis. “I’m not stuck in the fifties. I’m just a romantic. Did you know that my granddad actually hired a band and serenaded my grandmom?”

“And I thought my family was dramatic.”

I ignored that and pushed on. “I want that. Where would the romantic story be if I just said ‘Hey, Dev, Em thinks we’d be great together because we have
so
much in common, like being juniors and being in band. And you know, the whole milkshake thing was actually really cute. Wanna get some pizza?’”

Em stared at me for a second before bursting out
laughing. “You are ridiculous.”

“This whole situation is ridiculous. They should have just handed us relationship instruction manuals when we started high school.” An idea hit me and I sat up quickly to stare at the incredibly crammed bookshelves around me.

“How to get a guy to confess his undying love in five easy steps?” Em’s laugh turned snort-y and it took her a second to catch her breath. “You can’t learn everything from books. But you can just suck it up, join the new millennium, and ask him out already.”

“I don’t know...” I wasn’t really paying attention to her anymore. My fingers reached for my copy of
Golden
. I was already always asking myself WWMD—What Would Maeve Do? So why not actually try to apply it? Or act like another one of my favorite heroines? “I…have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Of course. And then you can tell me all the details about Dev and books and milkshakes.”

Golden
’s dust cover glittered as I absently flipped it around in my hands. “Right.”

“’Night.”

“’Night.” I clicked off the phone and stared at the tower of books shoved on my “favorite” bookshelf. There had to be some way to become more outgoing or interesting. The kind of girl who guys like Dev asked out.

Marissa from the
Hidden House
books was like that. She was sassy and there was that scene with Cyril after she got trapped in the mirror with him...the heat rushed to my
cheeks as I shook my head and fanned myself. No way could I do anything like that. My eyes moved to
Meet Me on the Edge of Midnight
. Nope, Saila was linked to Tarak. I didn’t think a psychic connection would automatically spring up between me and Dev.

Golden
. Maeve. She was brave and smart and witty. And she had to go undercover and not be herself to help Aedan. She’d be perfect. Except for the fact that she was a little bit aloof sometimes…

My focus drifted back to the
Hidden House
series. Okay, so maybe a little bit of Marissa mixed in with the Maeve wouldn’t hurt.

I picked up my phone and typed a quick text to Grace. Time to make some changes.

Makeovers in books and movies looked like so much fun. Not so much in real life.

“Would you please stop manhandling me?” I dug my fingers into the velvety vanity seat cushion as Grace, her own hair flowing down her back in a perfect rose gold sheet, yanked another handful of my now brown-again hair and started threading it into a spiral-y tube roller thingie.

Another tug, this time hard enough to make my eyes water. “You’re way too sensitive. Trust me, this is nothing. Wait until I tackle those eyebrows.”

My hand reflexively went up to my eyebrows. “You’re not touching me with any sharp objects. I take care of them.”

“I didn’t say that you don’t. But I can make them better. Geometry actually comes into play if you do it right.” One last pull at my hair and she stepped away, letting me see myself in the mirror. Between the pore strip across my nose and the spirals of curlers sticking off of my head, I looked like something out of
Star Wars
. “Besides, you’re the one who changed her mind about the makeover. I could totally get a few blackmail photos of you right now,” she said with a laugh. “Don’t even joke about that.” I took a deep breath. “So,
what’s next, oh guru of Fifth Avenue?”

She reached forward to yank the pore strip off of my nose and I cringed at the sharp skin-tearing feeling. “Clothes. I’m going to reevaluate your wardrobe later, but a makeover isn’t a makeover without that moment where you walk into school and everyone stares at you. We need the full effect tomorrow.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me over to her massive walk-in closet. “I think I might have something that will work for you.”

Right. Grace was built like a dancer. I…wasn’t. But I let her pull me along, anyway. As she rifled through hangers filled with designer clothes, I shifted from one foot to the other nervously. “What do you think about what Em’s been saying about me and Dev?” My words were a little more halting than I had hoped.

Grace looked up with a frown, her dark eyes studying me for a minute before saying in a measured tone, “A bit of advice? Never let anyone tell you what you should or should not do or who you should date. Em and I are like this…” she held up two crossed fingers, “but sometimes she gets so carried away with things that she forgets it’s your life, not hers.” She held a plaid skirt up against me. “Well-meaning people are going to always try to butt into your life and make you fit their idea of what’s best. Believe me, I know. But if you try to make everyone else happy, you’re going to end up miserable.”

I tried not to frown as she paired a white, cabled sweater with the skirt. I would look like a preppy cheerleader
wannabe, and the commercial cabling was just plain uninspired. I could cable a better pattern in my sleep.

“I know. But I also get that I’m socially inept and don’t always catch things, like that social mirroring stuff you were talking about.”

Grace pursed her lips, shook her head, tossed aside the sweater, and reached for a black top instead.

“Yes, you are socially inept. You also have this incredibly big heart, which is so much more important than being socially savvy. It’s all part of what makes you Phoebe and why we love you.” She dropped the outfit on a chair with a pair of dark tights and made her way towards the bathroom door. “Okay, put that on while I get all my hair stuff ready. You’re curvier than me, but they should fit.”

“Thanks,” I said dryly. I changed into the clothes, yanking up the skirt when it caught on my hips and alternating between pulling up the deep v of the shirt and tugging it down to reach the skirt’s waistband. With more than a little bit of trepidation, I slowly made my way in front of the full length cheval mirror and stared at myself in shock. What was schoolgirl prep on Grace was punkier, shorter, and tighter on me. I looked kind of badass. And I’d never shown this much leg outside of gym class. “Are you sure I won’t get in trouble with the dress code police?” I called in the direction of the bathroom.

“As long as it’s fingertip length, you’re okay.”

I straightened my arms at my side. The tips of my fingers just passed the bottom of the skirt. “I have freakishly
long monkey arms, remember?”

“So, scrunch your shoulders a little and you’ll be okay. This isn’t a Catholic school. Nuns aren’t roaming the halls with tape measures.”

“I don’t know.” I wandered into the bathroom, turning a full three-sixty in the doorway.