“That’s not why I called you here.” I swallow. “I don’t know how to say this. . . .”
Delilah covers my hand with hers where it rests on the edge of the page. “It’s Frump.”
“He . . . he’s dead,” I manage to say.
Queen Maureen blinks up at me. “For goodness’ sake, darling. That happens to Rapscullio every day. Just close the book.”
“I don’t live in a book anymore,” I reply. “And neither did Frump, when he died. It’s different here. There are no second chances. It’s . . . permanent.”
A cloud of shock settles over the cast. “What if we bring him back here?” Socks asks. “Maybe he just needs to be back in the book?”
“It doesn’t work that way, my boy,” Orville answers. “Whenyou’re in a given world, you must play by its rules. Frump can’t die out there and be resurrected here.”
One of the mermaids starts to cry, and then another, and then the third, and the tide begins to rise. Pyro exhales a plume of white smoke. Socks sits down heavily on his rump. “But he was myfriend,” the horse wails. “How can he just be gone?”
“I know it hurts,” Delilah says, “but every day, it will hurt a little less.” She turns away from the book to wipe her eyes.
If I stay with them while they grieve, I’m going to be ripped apart all over again too, and I have barely managed to regain control since the funeral. “It’s more important than ever that you find a way for Seraphima to return to the book,” I tell Edgar. “She needs to be back there with all of you.”
Rapscullio puts his arm around Queen Maureen’s shoulders. One by one, the fairies emit a shower of sparks, becoming memorial candles for Frump.
“I’m sorry,” I tell everyone, my voice husky with regret. “I never thought something like this could happen.”
And then I can’t hold myself together anymore. I step back before everyone sees me fall to pieces. Before I can, however, Delilah closes the book.
I sit down on the edge of her bed, burying my face in my hands. “How can anyone survive in this world?” I ask. “How can you keep letting go of people you care about?”
I don’t really mean for Delilah to answer, but she sits beside me and threads her fingers through mine. “Because you know they’re in a better place,” she says quietly. “That’s whateveryone always tells you, but I didn’t really think it was true, until now.”
There is something in the tone of her voice, a catch to her words, that makes me look up at her. Her eyes shine with tears, and she’s biting her lower lip. “Since Edgar told us he wanted to get out of the book, I’ve been trying to find a way to keep you here too. When you love someone, you want to keep him safe. It’s why Frump wanted Seraphima to go back to the book with him.” She takes a deep, rattling breath. “I am so scared of losing you forever. I don’t think I could live, if you didn’t. Which is why I realize Seraphima isn’t the only one who needs to leave.”
Slowly her words swim into focus in my mind, and I realize what she’s saying. “But I love you.”
“I love you too. So much that I’d rather have you a world away, safe, than not have you at all.”
I want to argue, but I know I’ll never win. The proof is in Delilah’s backyard, under the willow tree. The proof is in the dirt still caked beneath my fingernails.
Delilah throws herself into my arms, and I clutch her, as if holding her tightly enough were all it would take to keep me from falling back into those pages. I hold her as if she could leave her impression on my skin, on my heart.
I try to commit all of this to memory: how it feels to touch her, the vanilla scent of her hair.
I wonder how many people I will lose in one day.
Death is the guest you didn’t invite: arriving when you least expect it, when you least need it, and when you least want it.
It’s a blow from behind.
A knife in the back.
The shadow that’s following you.
It’s why you always keep looking over your shoulder.
EDGAR
How do you explain the idea ofneverin a world where possibility is endless?
Socks turns to me, his eyes clouded with confusion. “So when Oliver said that Frump isn’t coming back,” he asks, “he just meant, like, thisweek. . . right?”
