Papa is in the process of hanging twinkling fairy lights across the ceiling, so that when we turn the lights off later it won’t betoodark. The whole thing seems kind of magical, like something out of a Little girl’s dream, and I can’t wait to share it with my friends.
A loud chiming sound rings out through the house and I jump off the couch with a happy shriek. “They’re here, they’re here!”
“Don’t you dare open that door!” Papa calls after me as I go running out of the living room. “And no running!”
Rolling my eyes at his overprotectiveness, I force my steps to slow. Really, what are the odds I’ll actually fall and hurt myself? Probably even lower than there being someone dangerous on the other side of the door.
But I don’t want to risk him sending everyone home if I’m too naughty, so I stand beside the door, dancing from foot to foot as I wait for him to come open it.
“Thank you for waiting,” he says, stopping to bend down and press a kiss to the top of my head. “You’re a good girl.”
His praise almost makes it worth the extra wait and I’m still beaming from it when he opens the front door to reveal Uncle Max holding a grinning Tori.
“Nelly!” She squeals, wiggling out of his arms to throw herself at me and we hop in a circle as the adults shake their heads at us.
“Sorry if we’re early,” Uncle Max says to Lucas. “She couldn't wait.”
“Not a problem at all. I’m still setting up in the living room if you’d like to join us for a bit.”
“No Daddies allowed at the sleepover!” Tori says, the stern look she tries to give them ruined by her giggling.
Uncle Max rolls his eyes. “I’ve been reminded of this particular rule no less than five times today. Don’t worry, little thief, I won’t stay long.”
Little thief. The nickname reminds me that I still don’t know the exact circumstances that led to Tori coming to the island. Or, really, how any of my friends got here. Maybe I can get them to tell me tonight. It’s important information to have if I’m going to write a halfway decent article about this place.
I realize as the thought flits across my mind that this is the first time I’ve even thought about my story in… well I’m not sure how long, really. I’m not even really sure how long I’ve been on the island at this point. It’s like some sort of fae-world where time ceases to exist.
Pushing aside the dark cloud threatening to ruin my night with my friends, I grab Tori’s hand and drag her toward the living room. “Wait until you see! It’s gonna be the best sleepoverever.”
Her shocked gasp when we step into the room is exactly the reaction I wanted. And as she fawns over all the little details Papa and I have painstakingly added to make this my dream sleepover, I’m almost able to forget how much I miss my Daddy.
Almost.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Natalie
I was right. This is the best sleepover in the history of sleepovers.
There’s been pizza and movies and enough junk food to leave us all feeling vaguely nauseous. Even Izzy indulged herself after only a few minutes of worry.
Now we’re all tucked into our beds for the night, with the lights twinkling above us as we talk in hushed whispers so Papa won’t hear and come to scold us again. He was just in here a few minutes ago, sternly reminding us that it was time for Little girls to go to sleep and that if he had to spank us for not following the rules, all our Daddies would be very upset.
The warning was enough to have us falling silent for all of two minutes until we were pretty sure he was out of hearing distance again.
“Tori,” I whisper, my eyes locking onto hers in the dim light. “I’ve been meaning to ask. Why does Uncle Max call you 'little thief’? Does it have anything to do with how you got to the island?”
“Uh-huh.” Even in the dark, I can see the blush coloring her cheeks. “It’s kind of embarrassing.”
“It’s also completelyoffthe record,” Juju says, pushing up onto one elbow to glare at me. “Right, Nelly?”
“Of course. I’m not Natalie Bauer, ace reporter right now. I’m just Nelly.” The lie rolls easily off my tongue. If Juliet hadn’t spoken up, I would have definitely considered this conversation on the record. Now I’ll have to find a way to get permission to include their origin stories in my article.
If I ever get around to writing it.
Tori rolls her eyes. “Of course it’s off the record, Juju. She’s our friend.”
Ignoring the twist of guilt in my stomach her words inspire, I force a smile. “Yup. So, what’s the deal?”
