“Oh, but there is—and you need to learn. No good to have a heart that big and have no room for yourself. Never mind, you’ll learn tomorrow with your new story. Oh yes, a new start will do you well.”
And with that, Ellie wanders away, leaving a crop dust of shimmers in her wake. Something cracks in my heart, like the last piece of ice is falling away. Another tear streams down my cheek. I wrap my arms around myself, guarding against the weird shifting winds. If only one of Jenny’s bonkers theories could be right, just this once. Because a faerie writing me a new story sounds pretty damn glorious right now.
Chapter five
The Princess Switch
Seth
It’sofficial.Ishouldn’tbe allowed to socialize. Bad things happen when I try to people.
The person formerly known as Jenny Farrow draws a sip of her Peppermint Mocha latte through her nefarious smirk. The dim light of our go-to coffee shop on the edge of downtown shrouds her in an ominous shadow as she runs her fingers through the ends of her chestnut hair, curled and freed from the confines of her regular baseball cap.
Between her hairstyle and coffee order, our regular barista, Nancy, damn near had a heart attack.
In all our coffee adventures, Jenny’s orders have remained the same. A large, hot black coffee. Because “why trouble people with extra work?”
I don't know if this change is a good thing. On the one hand, I’m proud of Jenny for ordering something she wanted. On the other, I’m worried that the order’s a symptom of a more significant problem considering the shit she just pulled over Madeline and me.
“So, I think that all went pretty well, don’t you?” she murmurs, inhaling the curls of steam wafting off the top of her mug. She brings her red-painted lips to the cup’s brim for another sip, relishing her order.
And, if that question is a sign, she is also relishing the invitation she just received from Connor.
An invitation she orchestrated.
Yesterday, on my way home from Madeline’s, I found out that Connor was never breaking up with her when his fist to my face and a brief conversation revealed the truth. Jenny made up some humorous lie about Madeline and me sneaking around and then backed it up with my shared location… at the exact time I was warning Madeline.
Catching Finch and me in our compromising situation was enough evidence to support Jenny’s fabricated tale.
I shift on the bench, wanting to challenge Jenny’s recent actions, but my head is too hazy with the whiplash of everyone’s behaviors and my reaction to them.
I tried to comfort Madeline Finch last night.
What the hell was that?
The leather under my ass squeaks along with my nervous wiggle, making a terrible gas-passing sound, and I wait for Jenny’s signature giggle and snort.
It doesn’t come.
Fuck.
If she’s not laughing at imitation fart sounds, she’s truly gone to me.
Jenny flutters her mascara-covered lashes, peeking at me as if expecting a response to her statement. “Seth? Don’t you think that went well?”
“I—” I stammer, the iridescent gloss over Jenny’s eyelids further frying my circuits. I’m not against make-up or anything, but the symbolism behind Jenny wearing it now gnaws at me. It’s the last sign I need to confirm that everything in my life has flipped on its head in the past five days.
Jenny’s turning into Madeline, and with the way Madeline’s softened, it feels like she’s sucking her icy soul right out of her.
It makes little sense, but I swear they’ve been sliding into these new selves since that damn flicker of the lights in the toy store.
Or maybe even before when Jenny called Madeline by her given name and not her pet name, “Pookie,” even though Madeline’s tongue slipped and called her “Pixie” back.
I was expecting Jenny to cling to that moment forever. Instead, Madeline’s now the enemy. Not that I mind. Jenny’s always been too soft and needed better boundaries. But the way she’s switched overnight from one extreme to the other? That’s not okay. Evil never defeats evil. It just creates a bleak and hopeless situation for everyone.
“I don’t appreciate being used as a pawn, Jenny,” I say through gritted teeth. My fingers rake through the matted curls on top of my head, desperate for freedom from the beanie I always cover them with because I’d rather not bother with the routine my ex-girlfriend, Kennedy, had me maintain, but I’m not sure what to do with them otherwise.
Jenny dismisses my complaint with a shake of her head. “Oh, come on. You’ve hated Madeline more than me for years, and all we did was give her a taste of her own medicine.”
