I look around to find everyone staring at me, waiting for answers.
The way people explained death to me, after my dad was gone, was a load of crap.He’s in a better place. He’ll always be with you. As long as you remember him, he’s still alive.None of that’s true. When someone you care about dies, no matter how hard you hang on, he starts to fade away. One day you can’t remember the pitch of his voice anymore. Then you forget the way he smells. And before you know it, the only memories you have are the ones that come from photographs.
“Not this week,” I tell Socks. “Not ever.”
“Could we maybe talk to Frump about this?” Socks asks. “I’m pretty sure I can get him to reconsider dying.”
“It’s not his choice,” I explain. “It’s like getting erased. Like he’s not part of the story anymore.”
“Like Oliver?” asks Glint, the fairy.
“Yeah, kind of . . . if Oliver could never open this book. And if you were never able to speak to him again.”
I glance around at the stunned faces on the beach, wondering if I’m only making this worse. If Oliver were here instead of me, he’d know exactly what to say. As usual, I’m just a poor substitute.
Socks’s upper lip trembles. “But I didn’t get to say goodbye.”
“That’s the thing about death,” I hear as Jules steps forward. “You hardly ever do.”
Until now, I almost forgot about her.
The streak of white in her hair has tripled in size. She still looks ridiculous in a princess’s gown and combat boots, but the characters are hanging on her every word, as if each one is a precious gift.
“The fact that you don’t get to say goodbye is what makes it feel so unreal,” Jules continues. “That’s why it’s so hard to wrap your head around. You feel like if someone’s going to leave forever, there should be a last hug or kiss, right? But death’s a bitch.” She sits down on a rock. “Maybe you’ll see a cloud the shape of a dog bone and you’ll call out Frump’s name, so that he can see it too—but he isn’t with you anymore. Or you might dream about him digging in the castle’s strawberry patch as if he’s still here, when he’s not. But as much as you think it hurts now, I’m sorry to say it only gets worse. Once the shock wearsoff and the truth sets in . . . that’s when you realize how much you’re missing.”
Queen Maureen frowns. “Then what do we do?”
Jules glances at her. “We keep on living.”
As the group begins to disperse, Jules walks toward me. “Thanks, Dr. Phil,” I mutter.
“Shut up, Edgar.”
I flinch, remembering what high school was like. It was a hell of a lot easier to be silent and overlooked than to be constantly shut down.
A spark of anger flares in me. “What makes you the expert on death, anyway?”
“None of your business.” She glances at me. “We’d better get moving if we’re going to find that portal. Because I’m not planning on sticking around another day.”
There must be a thousand trees in the Enchanted Forest, and we have to examine every one. Jules and I stuff our fists into the small hollows of the trunks where squirrels usually live, trying to see if there’s a hidden passage out of this book. Glint, Ember, and Sparks crawl into crevices in the trees as well, lighting them up like display cases in a museum as they peek inside, trying to find something of value.
“I don’t get it,” Jules says, up to her elbow in a willow. “Haven’t you guysdonethis before?”
“Oh yeah. I stick my hands into trees whenever I get a chance.”
“No, I mean the whole escape-hatch thing. Isn’t that how you and Oliver switched lives in the first place?” Jules cranes her neck around a trunk. “Can’t we justFreaky Fridaythis and be done with it?”
“If it were that simple, don’t you think I would have already done it?” I point out. “The way Oliver and I traded places was by rewriting the plot so that it was a sci-fi battle starring me instead of him, saying he was an imposter all along. And yeah, I guess we were able to fool the book long enough to make the switch. But the book wants to go back to its original form. It started leaving notes for Oliver in the real world. And it started to turn Frump back into a dog, before he left.”
“So . . . if we wait long enough, won’t we get spit out of this book anyway?”
“No, it’s not like that. It seems to be able to tolerate swapping characters but not messing with the story. It wants a happily-ever-after.”
Jules rolls her eyes. “That’s so Disney.”
“So was Miley Cyrus,” I say, and Jules laughs.
“Can I ask a stupid question? What are we looking for? Is it an actual Easter egg?”
