Frustration flares inside me, making heat rise in my cheeks. “That’s the point of drama club.”
She scoffs. “You know, I actually came to the auditorium because I felt bad about the way I treated you back at the library. But now I realize I have nothing to apologize for. Just go back to Allie. It’s obviously where you want to be.”
As much as I want to fix things with Delilah, I don’t understand why I’m in the wrong. “For heaven’s sake, Delilah, how many times do I have to say it? She’s just a friend.”
“She’s a bitch. You just don’t see it yet. She once told me that my new haircut made my face look less fat.”
“That’s a compliment!”
“I hadn’t gotten a haircut!” Delilah says, her teeth clenched.“She spread a rumor about Jules being a hermaphrodite. When one of her own friends finished a treatment program for eating disorders, Allie told her she was pretty enough now to be a plus-size model.”
“You’re being just as judgmental as you claim Allie is,” I point out. “Have you ever even tried to open up your friend circle beyond a single person, and get to know her? You might find she isn’t the monster you make her out to be, if you’d just talk to her.”
Delilah’s eyes glitter with tears. “You weren’t just talking,” she whispers, and she walks away.
For the rest of the day, I keep replaying my fight with Delilah. I don’t hear anything around me; I don’t see anything in front of me. When I walk down the halls, even though they’re crowded, they seem empty.
At home, when Jessamyn asks how my day went, I walk right past her and into my bedroom, shutting out the world.
This isn’t the first time I’ve had troubles, but it is the first time I haven’t had anyone to share them with. In the past, my confidants were Frump and Queen Maureen, but even if the fairy tale were in my possession and not Delilah’s, I know I couldn’t turn to them. They’re happy, and my problems should no longer be theirs.
I fall asleep, tossing fitfully. My dreams are full of Delilah—the tears that made her eyes too bright, the way her voiceshook. The expression on her face when I turned out not to be the person she’d hoped I would be.
In the book, it was so easy. I fell in love, I kissed the girl, she loved me back unconditionally. I’ve never had a script for an apology.
Suddenly I understand all the façades Frump put on, trying to win Seraphima’s heart. I know what it feels like when being oneself isn’t good enough.
I wish that someone would flip backward through the pages of the story of me and Delilah, bringing us back to the Once Upon a Time.
I wake with a start, the blankets tangled around my feet. My hair is damp with sweat, my fists curled in the sheets, and nothing has changed. Delilah is still farther away from me than she’s ever been.
I have to make this right. I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, then sit down in front of the computer. There is a little green circle next to Delilah’s name. I quickly clickCALL, waiting for her face to fill the screen.
Instead, a box pops up.CALL ENDED.
Before I can try again, the little circle next to Delilah’s name disappears.
I bury my face in my hands. What’s the point of being in this world without her?
All right,I think.Pull yourself together, Oliver.It’s perfectlynormal to feel overwhelmed. This is a problem I’ve never encountered before—it has nothing to do with getting out of the pages of a book or seeing letters appear in midair or bleeding ink. For once it is a completely ordinary problem that could affect any teenage boy who quarreled with his girlfriend. Which means that maybe I’m not alone after all.
The house is dark, although it is only eight p.m. Jessamyn has left dinner for me on the kitchen counter, but I am not hungry. I pad upstairs again and pause outside her bedroom. Slowly I open the door, fearing she may already be asleep.
Jessamyn is perched on the edge of her bed. When she hears the door creak, she whips around, wiping her eyes.
It takes me aback. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own problems that I never stopped to consider I might not be the only one who is struggling.
“Are . . . are you all right?”
“I’m fine. I just have a bad headache, that’s all.” She fakes a smile. “Did you need something?”
“No, no. You’re ill. I’ll leave you be.”
I don’t know Jessamyn Jacobs very well. But in that moment, she looks very small, and very tired. “Good night, Edgar,” she says.
“Good night . . . Mom.” I start to pull the door closed behind me, and at the last moment duck back inside. “Try leeches,” I suggest helpfully. “They work wonders for me.”
“Dude . . . what’s up with you?” Chris asks me. “You’ve been staring at that beaker for, like, fifteen minutes.”
