“So what do we do?” I ask.
“Well,” Delilah says softly. “I suppose we have to talk to Edgar.” She unzips her backpack, revealing the fairy tale.
It feels as if I swallowed lead for breakfast. I don’t have the energy to move, or the resolve. Stiffly I follow Delilah through the halls, trying to smile as other students pass and mumbling responses when my friends and acquaintances say hello. Can they tell that I’m already a ghost?
Raj grabs my shoulder and shakes me. “Man, any day now! I’m freaking out!”
I stare at him, wondering how the devil he knows that I may not be here for long.
“I mean, all I dream about is my SAT score,” Raj continues. “It’s going to totally determine the rest of my life. I heard a guidance counselor talking to Mr. Elyk, and he said we should be getting the results this week.”
“Yeah,” I say, trying to fake enthusiasm. “It’s going to be crazy. Look, I have to go…. I’m late for…” I let my voice trail off, unable to even think of a good lie.
“I wonder how you would have fared at college,” Delilah murmurs.
Suddenly Chris walks up to us, his face troubled. “Hey, guys. Look, this is kind of awkward, but has Jules said anything to you about me?” he asks Delilah. “I mean, I thought we had a pretty awesome night, but she hasn’t responded to any of my texts.”
Delilah exchanges a glance with me. “She’s really sick….”
“Oh man. That sucks. But I’m kind of glad it isn’t just me,” Chris confesses. “Maybe I’ll stop by her house with some soup later.”
“Um, don’t,” Delilah blurts out. “There’s no way she wants you seeing her like that. Especially after just one date.”
Chris nods. “Okay, then can you at least tell her I was asking about her?”
“Absolutely,” Delilah says, and as soon as Chris is out of sight, she lets out the breath she’s been holding. “How do you feel about cutting first period?”
“I doubt it will make a difference, given that I’m leaving.”
She takes my hand, hers small and cool around my own, and leads me out the door by the gymnasium to the football field behind the school. There she ducks beneath the bleachers, where we will not be seen.
Delilah unzips her backpack and reaches for the book, but I still her with a hand on her wrist. “Promise me one thing?” I ask. “I get to say goodbye to you.”
I am thinking of Frump. I am thinking of how hard forever is, when you don’t see it approaching.
Delilah meets my gaze, her eyes steady. “I promise,” she says.
Together, we flip open the book, landing on the final page. The cast is assembled haphazardly on Everafter Beach. “We did it,” Edgar crows, holding up something tiny I can’t quite make out.
I frown at him. “Why are you wearing my hose?”
“Why do you even have hose?” Edgar replies. “Believe me, it’s not by choice. The book apparently doesn’t like my writing quite as much as my mom’s. I figure we only have a matter of hours before I start talking in a British accent and Jules here starts spinning straw into gold.”
“Wrong fairy tale,” I mutter.
“What did you find?” Delilah interrupts.
“Another passage,” Edgar explains. He whistles to the fairies, who flutter to his side, each taking a corner of the small item. “Good to see you’re feeling better,” he says to Ember, who flickers in response. The fairies fly the tiny disk closer to the surface of the book so that we can see it better.
“Is that…a biscuit?” I ask.
“Well. We’re not sure,” Jules admits. “We haven’t done a taste test.”
I read the piped inscription: WISH UPON A STAR. “Have you tried wishing?” I ask.
“Of course,” Edgar says. “It didn’t work. I even said the whole star light, star bright thing.”
“You’re not supposed to wish on the cookie,” Delilah interjects. “You have to eat it.”
“Why on earth would anyone eat a star?” I ask.
“Haven’t you ever read Alice in Wonderland?” she asks, and glances at both Edgar and Jules, who shrug. “Jeez. You two really need to pay more attention in English class. This is just like the treats Alice eats that make her grow and shrink.”
“Treats?” says Humphrey, nudging Edgar’s tunic. “Can I have one?”
“For heaven’s sake, don’t let him eat that biscuit,” I say. “It will start raining tennis balls.”
Orville takes a step forward. “Oliver has a point,” he muses. “Whoever eats the biscuit should have the purest wish. That’s the only way to be certain that everyone winds up where they need to be.” He glances between Edgar and Jules. “For example, Edgar, you appear to have a newfound conflict of interest.”
Delilah’s eyes widen. “No way. You two?”
“You of all people should understand that he’s hot!” Jules says.
“What about Chris?” Delilah asks.
“Yeah,” Edgar asks pointedly. “What about Chris?”
“Can we please talk about this later?” I interrupt. “Orville, you were saying?”
“Whoever is chosen to consume that biscuit must be focused on nothing but getting you and Seraphima back home.”
Queen Maureen clears her throat delicately. “I’ll do it,” she volunteers, breaking through the crowd. “I miss you terribly, Oliver. There’s nothing I’d like more than to have you here again, as selfish as that may be. And to be frank, I’ve never understood the whole Zorg plot anyway.” She glances at Edgar. “No offense, dear.”
“None taken,” he murmurs.
“Shall I do it now?” she asks, reaching for the biscuit.
“No!” I yell, and everyone on the beach freezes. “Erm, I mean, Seraphima isn’t with us. She’s at Delilah’s home. We’ll come back in a few hours and make the switch then.”
Trogg waves to me. “Wait’ll you hear the nocturne I’ve written for the flute, Oliver!”
“You’ll have to see what I’ve done with my cave,” Rapscullio adds. “I’ve completely redecorated.”
“I’ll make your favorite meal,” Queen Maureen promises.
I paste a smile on my face. “I can’t wait,” I tell them, when in reality, I’d rather postpone this forever.
Delilah shuts the book and zips it into her backpack. I hold out my arms, and she settles into them. “We have seven hours,” she says quietly. “I can’t believe we have to spend them in school.”
I look at her. “Who says we have to?”
We can’t go to Delilah’s house, because Seraphima is there, still sobbing. We can’t stay on the grounds of the school, because we will be caught. So instead we get into Delilah’s car and drive until the road ends. She parks in front of a low wall, over which I can just see the ocean.
This time of year, there is no one on the beach. It’s cold, and we only have each other to keep warm. As we sit on the sand, I hold Delilah’s hand, rubbing my thumb over her knuckles. “How much trouble will you get into for skipping school?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she says, leaning her head against my shoulder. The wind whips her hair around us.
“Do you remember when I told you that you were the biggest adventure of my life?” I ask.
She nods. “Before you left the book.”
“Until you came along, I didn’t think I had a purpose. Why was I written? Why was my existence even necessary? But when you read me, you made me real. And when you fell for me, you made me understand why I’m here.” I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s to love you, unconditionally.”
Delilah turns, her eyes damp. “I don’t know who to be, without you.”
“You’ll be who you always were. The girl who brought me to life…and took my breath away.”
“More like the resident pariah,” Delilah replies.
I lift her palm and brush a kiss over it. “I’m rather fond of pariahs,” I say.
When she looks at me, as if even the sweetest comp
liment has shattered her, I fall to pieces. “I don’t want to go,” I whisper, my voice shaking.
“Oliver—”
“No.” I put a finger against her lips. “Right now, I’m not leaving. Right now, I’m not gone forever. Right now, it’s just you and me, like it was the first time we met…when this was all I dreamed of.” I pull Delilah into my arms and kiss her, softly at first, and then more insistently. We lie back on the cool sand, and her arms close around me, a vise. I run my hands from her shoulders down her spine, tracing every inch, locking her hips against mine. I try to press into her skin a memory of what it feels like to be held by me.
How can one feel this much passion, pain, sorrow—emotion—without breaking apart? How do ordinary people fall in love every day?
The rest of my existence will consist of me rescuing a princess I care little about, kissing her, wishing for a life with her. But every time, I will be saving Delilah. I will be kissing Delilah. I will be dreaming of forever with Delilah.
By the time we return to Delilah’s house that afternoon, I can’t let go of her. I hold her free hand while she drives; I slip my arm around her waist as we walk inside and climb the stairs. I feel like a condemned prisoner, marching to his death.
Luckily Delilah’s mother is still at work, so she won’t ask what’s wrong when she sees us, red-eyed and grim. Delilah reaches for the knob of her bedroom door, hesitating. “Are you ready?” she asks.
“I’ll never be ready,” I tell her.
She wraps her arms around me, burying her face against my neck. “I heard it’s going to rain tomorrow,” Delilah whispers.
Puzzled, I draw back. “I beg your pardon?”
“I just want the last words I say to you here to be totally ordinary. Something I might say to you if I were going to see you tomorrow and the next day and the day after that.”
I nod gravely. “Perhaps it will be sunny on Wednesday,” I say, playing along.
She takes a deep breath and opens the door.
Sitting cross-legged on the bed is Seraphima. Her eyes are swollen; she is surrounded by a heap of plastic food wrappers. She takes a tissue from the box and blows her nose, loudly, in its center. “When can I go home?” she asks, sniffling.
I sit down beside her as Delilah takes the fairy tale from her backpack. “Now,” I tell her. “Edgar’s found a way. And you’re not alone.” I look up at Delilah, holding her gaze. “I’m going with you.”
Seraphima throws her arms around my neck, crying again. “I’m so glad,” she sobs. “I was afraid to go back by myself. What if something awful happens?”
Something awful already has, I think.
Delilah sets the book on the bed and threads her fingers through mine. “Here goes,” she says, and she opens to the last page.
Delight immediately breaks over Seraphima’s face as she sees the family she has missed. Edgar and Jules scramble to their feet. “Ready?” he asks.
I nod. “Are you?”
He takes a deep breath, reaching for Jules. “Yes,” he says, and he turns to Queen Maureen, who gives me an encouraging smile.
Edgar reaches into the pocket of his tunic—my tunic—and his face freezes. “Where did it go?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, my heart starting to race. If he can’t find the biscuit, I can’t go back into the book.
“It was right here a minute ago.” He turns to Queen Maureen. “Did you take it?”
“Why would I take it, dear? You were guarding it like it was the crown jewel.”
He begins to turn in a circle, staring at the ground. “Nobody move,” he cautions. “I don’t want to crush it, if it fell….”
Humphrey begins to sniff around, drooling a trail. “I can smell it…. I can smell it…. I can smell it…. No, wait, it’s a horse.”
He smacks into Socks’s considerable bottom. The pony turns around, half of a star biscuit dangling from his lips. He looks absolutely chagrined to be caught in the act. “I couldn’t help it,” he says, his teeth still clenched on the treat. “It was literally calling my name. So-o-ocks…I’m only a hundred calllllllories….”
“I can’t believe this!” Edgar shouts. “Don’t take another bite.”
“I swear,” Socks promises. “The diet starts tomorrow.”
Edgar rips the remainder of the biscuit from Socks’s mouth and hands it to Queen Maureen, who wipes the horse slobber on her velvet robes.
“Half a cookie won’t do,” Orville says. “It’s too risky. The magic might be diluted. Socks will have to be the one to wish you back home.”
Socks looks anxious and holds a hoof up to his chest. “Me?” he asks. “I don’t know. I mean, I didn’t prepare for this. I haven’t practiced a speech. And I’m not wearing the right color saddle or anything….”
“Socks,” I say firmly. “You can do this. I believe in you.”
He looks up at me. “Thanks, Ollie. But what if I mess up?”
“You want me to return, don’t you? You want to be able to take a breathless ride through the unicorn meadow with me on your back. And you want Seraphima there too, so that she can braid daisies into your mane just the way you like.”
Socks thinks about this. “I do look good in daisies….”
“You see? It’s simple. All you have to do is eat that biscuit, close your eyes, and imagine your dreams coming true.”
He hesitates. “I was going to wrap up the other half and save it for later….”
“Are you kidding?” Delilah says. “Socks, I was actually going to say something to you. You look way too thin. I can even see your ribs. I’m worried you haven’t been eating enough.”
Not only can we not see Socks’s ribs, we can’t even see anything behind him. But Delilah’s tactic works. “Well,” Socks simpers. “In that case…”
He leans toward Edgar’s outstretched hand and gobbles the rest of the biscuit in a single bite.
“Now,” Orville coaches, “make a wish.”
Delilah immediately grabs my hand so tightly I can feel her fingernails cutting into my skin. Socks’s eyelids drift shut, and I hold my breath.
Slowly, meticulously, Socks’s bottom begins to shrink inch by cellulite-dimpled inch.
“Socks,” I yell. “Focus!”
The horse’s eyes snap open, and he shakes his head with regret. “Sorry, sorry…” He closes his eyes once more, and I start to feel a tingling in my fingers and my toes. I look down at my hand, still in Delilah’s, as it begins to fade.
In that last, horrible second, I realize what Delilah has been trying to explain to me: if you love someone, you have to let them go.
I grab her shoulders while I still can. She is staring at me in terror, her mouth trembling. “Listen to me, Delilah: Live your life. Fall in love again.” I take a deep breath. “Don’t you dare wait for me.”
She is sobbing, wrapped tight in my embrace, and I am kissing her, and then suddenly…I’m not.
Becoming two-dimensional again feels like being crushed from head to toe, having the breath forced from one’s lungs, and being rolled out and flattened like a piecrust. I find myself facedown on the beach, the wind knocked out of me. When I try to push myself upright, I fail at first: the muscles I used to move in Delilah’s world do not work as well here; action is executed through thought and intent, not brute physical force.
It’s like learning to ride a stallion again. By the time I manage to flop onto my back and Rapscullio offers me a hand up, Socks is prancing in a circle. “I did it, I did it!” he sings. “Do I get a medal for this? I’m thinking gold goes best with my eyes….”
I am surrounded by well-wishers—the trolls, who clap me hard on the back; the mermaids, who blow me kisses; the fairies, whose excitement shows in small bursts of sparks. Queen Maureen folds me into her arms. “How grand it is to see you again, Oliver,” she says.
Over her shoulder I look around to find others helping Seraphima to her feet. She looks dazed and rattled. Then she catches sight of someth
ing behind a boulder and rushes toward it, her eyes wide with wonder and joy. “Oh, Frump! You are here,” she cries, and she kneels in front of Humphrey, reaching out to pat him.
The hound wags his tail, happy with the attention. He cocks his head. “Hello, beautiful woman. I am Humphrey, and I would like to sleep at your feet tonight.” Seraphima’s face falls, yet she lets Humphrey lick her face. She looks completely out of place in her jeans and T-shirt, but then again, so do I. I glance down; Delilah’s tears still stain my shirt.
I stumble away from the crowd and crane my neck toward the top of the page. Delilah’s face looms over me, pale and pained. She lets out a small sob and very slowly closes the book.
“All clear!” calls Orville, the same words Frump used to say when the book was closed by a Reader.
The characters begin to wander off the margins. “Does this mean we don’t have to have laser practice anymore?” Biggle asks Snort.
Queen Maureen pats my arm as she passes. “I’ll get supper started, dear.”
Orville is the last to leave. “I know this may not be what you wanted, Oliver,” he says, “but we’re glad to have you home.”
But home, to me, is Delilah. Without her here beside me, the world is just the place where I take up space.
I sit on the beach by myself long enough for Queen Maureen to finish cooking dinner and the air to grow cold. I sit long enough for the sky to turn black and the moonlight to dance on the ocean. The stars overhead look ragged, knocked out of position by the removal of the wishing biscuit. There’s a giant dark space in the heavens where something seems to be missing.
As I watch, a new star is born. It flickers twice and then burns more steadily, bright and effervescent, outshining all the others around it. The smaller stars are tugged into order by its gravitational pull, forming a constellation I’ve seen before.
Chris called it Canis Major, and he pointed to the brightest beacon in the night sky: Sirius. The Dog Star.
I smile, having underestimated Frump’s loyalty to me. “Welcome back, old friend.”
I am fairly certain he winks at me.
From my pocket I pull the photograph of Delilah that I stole weeks ago: that Halloween picture, where she is young, dressed in a princess’s gown, with a crooked tiara balanced on her head. “We all made it back here,” I say to her. “Me, Seraphima, and even Frump. You’re the only one who’s missing.”