Ash grinned. He looked one more time at his mask next to Cassidy’s.
They belonged together.
Now it was just a question of whether the people who wore them could belong together, too.
There was, however, a flaw in Ash’s plan. Cassidy was supposed to go to the midnight gala with some of her teammates. What if he rang her doorbell and Cassidy had already left?
The Ash from this morning would have accepted defeat. Right now. Before he even left his studio.
But this version of himself—the I-think-I-saw-the-Lady-of-Moon-Ridge Ash—was a different guy. It was as if the magic of the “Founders’ Fable” had made a cocoon of the day, and Ash had emerged from it no longer a passive caterpillar.
So now I’m an active butterfly?Ash cringed at his own analogy; it was as bad as True calling him a hummingbird or whale. But whatever. The idea was sound. Old Ash would have taken the easy excuse that Cassidy would already be gone, and therefore it wasn’t worth going over there to ask her again to go with him. New Ash—emboldened by the dusky orange moon or Onny’s love potion or simply the afternoon spent with the girl he loved—was willing to take the risk.
Ash put on his mask and tied the ribbons behind his head.Then he crossed the studio to the coat hook by the door and unzipped the garment bag.
Inside was the gold robe fromThe Kiss.Ash had sewed on black-and-white patchwork rectangles over most of it and had embroidered gold spirals to match Klimt’s painting. It was pretty clever, as far as costumes went—eye-catching, yet incredibly comfortable. The only flaw—which, of course, True had pointed out—was that no one but an art buff would recognize what Ash was supposed to be. But he kind of liked that. It was like a secret handshake for members of a fabulously nerdy club. If you knew what the robe and mask represented, you were in. If you didn’t, well, Ash was still happy to be your friend. He would just privately mourn your lack of artistic education.
“No wonder Onny and True say I’m insufferable sometimes.” He laughed at himself as he slipped the gold robe over his sweater and jeans.
Ash reached for Cassidy’s mask but stopped before picking it up. He didn’t want to simply hand it over to her. Logan had brought her an entire marching band. Ash wanted the mask to feel at least a little special.
He opened and closed the drawers in his desk, searching for something to put the mask in. But he didn’t exactly have a stash of velvet gift pouches lying around. The only thing Ash could find with the appropriate dimensions was his miscellaneous box, the lopsided papier-mâché from kindergarten, which now contained all the sequins, beads, and rhinestones he’d used to decorate the masks.
That’ll have to do.
It was not a traditional gift box, but at least it had personality. Ash lifted out the plastic trays, lined the interior of the box with a nest of gold fabric scraps, and lay Cassidy’s mask carefully inside.
Ready?he asked himself as he turned to the studio door.
His nerves threatened to short-circuit.
But Ash plunged into the backyard, and the light of the full, apple-cider moon was so ridiculously Halloween-like that he couldn’t help but feel buoyed by an undercurrent of “Founders’ Fable” magic beneath his feet.
Ash’s original plan was to go to Cassidy’s front door. Now, though, he paused in the middle of the grass. Cassidy’s second-story bedroom faced his yard, and her light was on.
She was still home. Hope fluttered in Ash’s chest.
Come to the window,he thought, as if he could will it to happen.
An unseasonably warm breeze kicked up, flickering through the hem of Ash’s robe. The wind sent the dry leaves on the ground scattering, from his backyard through the hole in the fence onto the Riveras’ sport court.
And then—almost unbelievably, except that Ash watched it happen—a small tornado swirled, whisking the leaves up into the air and flinging them against Cassidy’s window. The dry leaves pattered against the glass like a gentle autumn hailstorm.
The sound brought her to the window. For a moment, Ash could see only her silhouette.
But then the soft light of the moon brought her into focus. She had on pajama pants and a green, long-sleeved T-shirt. Evenfrom this distance, Ash recognized it as the shirt with cartoon stitched-up lungs on it and the wordsREAL LIFE GHOUL. Appropriately Halloween, even if Cassidy wasn’t dressed to go to a party.
Then again, what Cassidy wore wasn’t important to Ash. What mattered was the sound of her laugh, the colors of her spirit, the smell of her shampoo, and the smiles that she left in her wake. She was eternally beautiful, in his eyes.
As if she could hear his thoughts calling to her, Cassidy turned her head and saw him.
Ash smiled.
And then he held up the box so she could see it. He hinged open the lid and lifted her mask into the moonlight.
Cassidy’s hand flitted to her mouth. Then she pointed her finger at her chest, as if asking,Is that for me?
“Yes,” Ash said and nodded at the same time.
