“What do you think your story is, then?” Robin demanded. They waved around at the cluttered little apartment. “This?”
Gwen hissed like an angry cat or a kettle of steam. “Maybe. I don’t know! I don’tknow! It’s not that I don’t want to help you, but you’ve got the wrong person. I’m just a barista with a math degree! You saidyourselfthat your magic is strange in this world. Maybe you’re justwrong about me.”
“I’m not wrong about this!” Robin said furiously. “Not this!”
“Oh, so you’re infallible now? You just finished telling me how this was all your fault, and you’d made a terrible mistake, and you still expect me to ditch my entire existence and follow you gleefully into the sunset?”
Smack!
A Swedish Fish hit her square in the brow.
“You just hit me with a fish!”
“You’re being a stupid little child!” Robin snarled. “Snap out of it!”
“You’re the one who’slittle,” Gwen retorted, and when another tiny candy fish hit her in the face, she got to her feet and upended the desk trashcan onto the spitting fable, pinning them underneath it to the desk.
She could hear Robin’s little fists hammering on the inside of the trashcan with a string of colorful—and surprisingly crude—curses, and then there was a sizzling, snapping sound that made Gwen worry that they’d just started a fire, followed by silence.
When she tipped the trashcan carefully on its lip, wondering if fables were flammable, a candy wrapper rolled out, but there was no sign of Robin.
They were completely gone, like the entire incident had been a reaction to bad eggnog, leaving Gwen feeling slightly empty and disappointed. Had they made a portal like they’d said they could? Had she suffocated it? Had the magic use dwindled it to nothing?
Had she imagined it all?
CHAPTER THREE
The rest of the week between Christmas and New Year’s was weirdly normal. The lull between the holidays was filled with the mundania of making fancy coffee drinks at the cafe and teaching kids who were still sugar-high and wallowing in their vacation from school. Gwen gave up trying to drill forms and did nothing but games in a vain attempt to bleed off their extra energy.
I could be saving the world right now,she thought, using her practice sword to walk through forms after her last class ended. It was solid, even if it didn’t have the same heft as her steel sword.I could be doing something with my life. I could have true love and purpose.
She leaned the wooden blade against her forehead.
“I don’t know that form,” a voice behind her teased. “Is it a new stretch?”
“Resting brain fart,” Gwen said with a dry chuckle. “Hey, Karma.”
Karma was a blackbelt who taught kids classes in the same studio, and Gwen always regretted that they weren’t better friends. Karma was kind and outgoing andeveryoneliked her.She charmed the kids, respected the elders, and was diligent in her studies. She’d be a perfect candidate for saving the world.
Not like Gwen, who always fell short of amazing, pursued dead-end degrees, and had an awkward-at-best personality more suited to video games than real life.
And when push came to shove, she’d given up her chance at greatness out of fear and pride. She’d lost her opportunity. It was the last day of the year. Robin must have found someone else to fill her shoes of destiny and was probably even now involved in a noble battle for their world.
Gwen gave an angry swish with her sword. She was an idiot. Robin was right, she was a coward. She didn’t deserve a knight, and she’d ruined her only chance at greatness.
“Do you have plans for the countdown?” Karma asked. She’d already changed into street clothes, and was checking the texts on her phone.
“Sort of,” Gwen said evasively. She couldn’t exactly admit that she was waiting around to see if Robin showed up at the last minute to give her a second chance at destiny. Or that her other big plan was to play video games and have a toast of Mountain Dew at midnight in true geek style.
“There’s a party at Larry’s if you want to come by later,” Karma offered with a shrug, still focused on her phone.
Gwen blinked at her. Wasthisan opportunity? Karma had casually invited her to things before, but Gwen had always figured she was just being polite.
Maybe chances weren’t always little winged jerks trading candy bars for quests.
Maybe chances were being brave about the little things, like making friends and opening up to people and trying new things. “I might come by,” Gwen said.If I can’t save the world, anyway…
Karma gave her a bright smile over her shoulder as she left and Gwen was alone in the studio wondering how many other moments she had missed. How stubborn was she that she needed someone to smack her in the face with a Swedish Fish before she realized what an idiot she was?
