Fairy Tale (15 page)

But that's when I see it. A reddish blotch, right on the side of her neck. Its horrifyingly big and shaped kind of like Texas. She winks at me, like a little sexpot, so
not
like the old lady I'd envisioned sitting at home talking to her Precious Moments figurines.

"It's a hickey!" she cries out, loud enough for half the class to swing their heads in our direction.

"Pretty.'' I sigh. So, just perfect. While the rest of the sophomore class had a carefree weekend filled with youthful debauchery, I was trying to salvage the remains of my pathetic fairy relationship. I'm sure they partied like it was 1999 while I was off dancing the tango with Dorky Dorkison.

Eden dips her head under the clouds for a second to notice the bandage on my arm. "Oh, my God! What happened there?"

"I... fell," I mutter.

"Is it broken?''

"Just black-and-blue."

"Oh, my God!" she repeats. "You poor thing. It's like this weekend, the whole earth shifted or something."

I stare at her blankly.

"I mean, you're injured." She waves her hand toward the front of the room, where Pip is still rifling through his pencil case. In all the weekend's hysteria, I'd forgotten to steal and bum it. "Geekboy is hot." She juts her finger toward the purple bruise mingling with her freckles, and the mondo-grin returns. "And
this
awesome thing."

"You think he's hot?" I ask, watching Pip as he chews nervously on his pinky fingernail. Though bloody nail stubs aren't exactly attractive, he still looks a bit scrumptious. I wonder how much of that is due to my powers of makeover and how much is due to Dawns spell.

She shrugs. "Sure. Kind of."

Only then do I realize I am staring at him, jaw- dropped, a pool of drool ready to spill over my bottom lip. I close my mouth quickly and say, "So, Who?"

Her eyes narrow. "Huh?"

"Who's the vampire?"

She's still squinting like Clint Eastwood.

It obviously isn't getting through, so I point to the disgusting bruise and say, "Who. Did. That?"

She rolls her eyes. "Duh. Mike."

Now it's my turn. "Mike who?"

"Duh!" she says again. "Kensington. Who else?"

"He didn't."

"He did!" she squeals.

"Hell he did. He's gay!" I burst out, and realize a quarter of a second too late that I probably should have whispered that part, since everyone is now staring at us again. "Or, at least, I thought he was," I say, more softly this time.

She glares at me. "God. The people in this school really get on my nerves sometimes. Can't a guy dress well and still be hetero?"

'"Well, yeah, but-"

She shrugs and points at the hickey "Everyone can be wrong; it's called groupthink." She says this last part very condescendingly.

I stare at her, unbelieving. "So, wait. You
knew
everyone thought he was gay? And you still went after him?"

She nods.

"My intuition is usually right about things like this," I murmur. "Maybe he's just confused."

"Ri-ight." She giggles. "Maybe you're the one who is confused."

Pip turns around and grins at me, still sucking on a fingernail. And I find myself breathless, shivering, wondering what it would be like if he really did touch me like he did in my dream. And then I think of Cam and want to stab myself with my pen. Eden is right I am definitely confused.

THROUGHOUT THE PERIOD, Pip keeps looking back at me and mouthing, "Don't give up " so much so that by the time Tanner throws out a pop quiz, I've lost all concentration. I miss half the questions, which just about seals the deal of me never reaching teacher's pet status in his heart in my lifetime. Though I'm used to teachers beaming at me, when the period ends and Tanner scowls as he collects my paper, I can't bring myself to care.

If I was wrong about Mike, maybe that vision of Pip is wrong, too?

In the hallway, I see Eden already engaged in a massive PDA with Mike at the next classroom over. Even when she's on her tiptoes, he's, like, two feet taller, and as he brings her face up to his, he gets this rabid, desirous gleam in his eyes, like he might swallow her head. So, he is enjoying it. People passing by are doing double takes, just as confused as I am. Mike Kensington. Gay Mike. Who'd've thunk?

Okay, so I'd never actually envisioned Mike playing for the other team. My intuition has always been just as brilliant as my psychic ability, which makes sense. And ever since I met Mike, my intuition has screamed, "Gay!" So for me to be that off-base is... well, is something that has never happened before.

As Mike drapes himself over her, it makes me think of Cam. The way Cam once was. Biting my lip, I turn away, ready to barrel down whoever is in my way, in search of the nearest girls room. But I'm stopped dead in my tracks by Pips goofy grin.

"People are too damn happy today," I mutter, pushing past him to stop myself from acting on the instinct to reach out and touch him

"I got you something," he says, shuffling to catch up to me. "For helping me this weekend"

Stay away from him,
a little voice in the part of my head that's not being controlled by Dawn screams.
Be tough. Avoid all urges to stick your tongue down his throat, as they are just the product of fairy magic.

"I don't need anything," I say, noticing for the first time that he's holding a small plastic bag.

He hands me the bag and I peek inside. It's a tube of Wet'n Wild lipstick. In hideous Day-Glo orange. "All the females at the drugstore were purchasing them."

I raise an eyebrow at him, highly doubtful. "In this color?"

"It's beautiful, isn't it? Reminds me of the sunset in Otherworld."

I close the bag and tuck it into my purse. Though I'm actively trying to be cold to him, I can't help being touched by the gesture. "Thank you. Really. It must be very beautiful there."

He nods. "That is what I miss about it the most, I think. The sunset."

That's what I need to hear right now-how much he misses Otherworld and can't wait to return. "So you really don't mind going back?"

His face brightens. "You mean you're not giving up?"

"My vision could be a little off" I admit, watching Mike gnaw on Eden's earlobe. "And I can't. Not with Cam depending on me."

"You'll see, everything will work out."

I don't want to think about it anymore. I quickly change the subject. "Have you asked anyone yet?"

He gives me a sheepish grin. "I didn't think there was much of a reason to since I will be going back to Otherworld."

I start to put a reassuring hand on his back but stop halfway, deciding that would be a mistake. Besides, I'd had enough physical contact with him last night. "Of course there is! There's nothing saying your last night in this world can't be a little fun. You should just enjoy yourself."

"All right. But..."

"Don't be nervous. Trust me, you're a hottie, and any girl would be happy to go with you. Remember: confidence."

"Confidence," he repeats, surveying the market expressionlessly, as if watching cars pass on a highway.

"See, lots to choose from,'' I tell him, more assured in the thought that whomever he takes to our party will not be leaving with him. Once dear, sweet Pip is safely in Otherworld, we can give the poor girl a ride back from the city and tell her that he ran away to join the circus or something. "Did you have anyone in mind?"

"Um" He digs his hands in his pockets. "I thought I would just ask one of the ones who asked me this morning."

The hallway's awfully noisy, so maybe I didn't hear him right. But I could have sworn he said someone already asked him. Scratch that; he said "one of the ones," meaning that
more than one person
already asked him. Which, considering it's only nine on Monday morning, is impossible. Isn't it? "Wait. What? Who already asked you?"

His standard deer-in-headlights look returns. "I don't know their names. There was a girl with very long yellow hair, almost white. And she had very nice teeth."

I wave my hand in front of him and he stops talking right away. This is bad. Obviously. This is the thing that spells doom for our plan. I had no idea that Pip could work this quickly. I mean, sometimes my powers of makeover scare me even more than my psychic abilities. Or perhaps Dawn is using her magic to make Pip irresistible to every girl on the planet so that I become jealous and fall even harder for him. Either way, one thing is clear. Pip is definitely a loose cannon.

And I should have known by the way Gizelle, the events manager at the Toad, fell over Pip that multiple girls at school would do the same thing. If Pip could hook a date for the party this quickly... who knows, by Friday he could be engaged! And Pip, who has never known love before, might become so infatuated with his date that when the time comes, he'll refuse to go to Otherworld. Pip seems trustworthy, but he has no idea how crazy love can make a person. And people do all sorts of nutty things for love.

Just look at me. I'm steering myself right into the mental-breakdown lane.

"Look," I tell him, "maybe you're right. You should just go to this thing alone."

He bites his lip. "If you say so."

"Unless you don't want to. You can take someone, as long as you..."

He stops me then by putting his hands squarely on my arms. His hands are big, powerful, and feel warm on my bare shoulders. I blink away flashes of last night's dream, his skin against mine. When he looks into my eyes, I feel a little weak. Dizzy. Definitely not like myself. His words are spoken with a calm, confident voice, one I've never heard from him before. "Morgan. I will go to Otherworld on Friday night. That is my promise." My voice fails me. Finally, I squeak out, "Okay." He gives me a fabulous grin, with just a trace of cockiness, the essence of what has gotten him turning the head of every girl in school. Because my heart beats in double time. "You sure?" I nod. "So you think the plan is going to work?" His voice has more resolve and strength than I thought it was capable of. "I know it will."

Just then, there's a squeal, and a gaggle of girls comes stampeding from the direction of the guidance office. As it gets closer, I see a flash of hideous color and realize that it's headed by Sierra Martin, wearing a god-awful lime green pipe-cleaner thing in her hair and the third Monday-morning destined-for-the-nuthouse grin I've seen today. Her face is red from bounding down the hall, so she looks a little like a drunk leprechaun. She catches a glimpse of me and sneers, and before I can say anything, she holds out a very official-looking burgundy envelope. Oh. Now I get it. "Harvard? 1 ask.

She nods smugly and continues down the hall, her followers at her heels. "Congrats" I call after her.

When I catch my breath, Pip is still watching me. "So, you see, you
shouldn't let your visions dictate how you live your life," he is saying.

And for the first time, I believe that he is right.

WALKING THE TIGHTROPE without a net can actually be a good thing. Sure, anything can happen, bad or good, but it beats believing Cam and I are doomed and not being able to do anything about it.

It's been a while since I've been able to think about the party without thinking of it as Cam's last night in this world. So at the end of the day, when I'm approached by a couple of freshmen looking for last-minute invites to my party, I don't mind handing them out. I even chat them up, promise to tell their futures sometime, forget about the fairies for a while, which is something I haven't done in days. It feels good to think about something in the present, for once, instead of constantly obsessing about the future.

By the time I'm done handing out invites, the hallways are clear and all the buses have left the front of the building. I can hear a couple of stray notes from a trumpet and a saxophone as the marching band warms up on the field out back, so I know it's late. Cam is probably at practice. Maybe I'll just go home, kick up, and spend time with the only man in my life that, for once,
isn
't
driving me crazy right now: my dad. For the first time in ages, I don't think I'd mind relaxing on the couch with him, letting him explain
General Hospital
to me.

I put my books in my locker and slam the door. When I turn around, I jump back. Cam is there, leaning against the row of lockers across the hall, expressionless, arms folded. His red-rimmed eyes say it all.

"What happened?" I ask when I've finally gotten over the shock.

"Why aren't you at practice?"

He straightens up and walks across the hall to me, and I gasp. In the past few hours, he must have shrunk five more inches. I can see clearly over the top of his head. Meaning, I'm
taller
than he is. He's wearing a baggy sweatshirt, but it's pulling away from his shoulders as if he were wearing a backpack under his clothes. His jeans are cuffed but they still drag on the ground, completely covering all but the toes of his shoes.

"You know why," he says, in a voice I don't recognize. It's higher-pitched, twangy, like a country singer's. And lacking all the confidence it once held. I guess this doesn't surprise me; nothing about him is the same anymore.

"You can't play?"

He shakes his head, his shoulders drooping forward "Our first game is Thursday, and I can barely throw the ball ten feet."

"But can't they see something is going on with you? You're a foot shorter than you were on Friday."

"I'm not sure they can. I don't think anyone can. Except you."

"Me? Why just me?"

He shrugs. "Maybe for the same reason you can see Dawn. Maybe because you know me better than anyone. Anyway, they're focused on the win. And I'm letting them down. They're pissed."

"Have you told Scab? He would understand."