“So did you,” I say. I decide to test things a bit, and race to the side of the page so that I can run up its edge and do a standing flip. “Did you see that?”
“Yes, but—”
“How about this?” I grab on to the cliff wall and climb it like a monkey. When I reach the top, I take a flying leap and loop my arm around the tail of a letterg,swinging back and forth.
“Now you’re just showing off,” Delilah says.
I laugh. “Do me a favor,” I ask. “Turn the book sideways?”
She does, and I let go so that I drop lightly on the long edge of the page and slide down it to the illustration at the bottom.
“That’s amazing,” Delilah whispers, setting the book upright again. “How do you move?”
“The same way you do, I guess.”
Tentatively, she holds up her hand in front of the book. “How many fingers?”
“Three.”
“So you can see me too?”
“I’ve always been able to see you,” I say. “It’s a rather lovely view.”
I watch her face flood with heat. “I’ve read hundreds of books. How come this hasn’t happened before?”
“I’m not like most characters, I guess,” I say slowly. “Everyone else in here seems to be happy having their lives already planned out for them, and doing what they’re told to do. But I’ve never really fit in. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be someone… different.”
Delilah’s eyes widen. “I’ve always wondered that too.”
Brightening, I smile at her. “Look at how much we already have in common.”
She smirks. “Yeah. Like, for example, I’m talking to a book, and you think you’re alive. We’re both insane.”
“Or very, very evolved….”
“Maybe it was something I ate,” Delilah says, standing up and pacing in a circle. “Maybe the milk in my cereal was bad or I took an accidental overdose of vitamins and now I’m hallucinating—”
“Not this again.” I sigh. “Haven’t we established that I am not a figment of your imagination?”
“You can’t be real,” Delilah murmurs.
“Says who?” I ask. “Did you really think that a story exists only when you’re reading it?”
“Um,” Delilah says. “Well, yeah.”
I settle my hands on my hips. “When you go to sleep at night, do you cease existing?”
“Obviously not….”
“And how do you know thatyou’renot part of a book? That someone’s not readingyourstory right now?”
She looks at me, narrowing her eyes as the implication sets in. “But you’re part of a fairy tale.”
“Exactly.Partof a fairy tale. Which suggests that there’s more to me than meets the average Reader’s eye. Did you ever think that maybe what you see isn’t really what’s true? Take Socks, for example. Actually, please,dotake Socks. He’s not a fearless steed—he’s a hopeless one. And Rapscullio—he’s actually a rather nice guy! He collects butterflies and is quite the pastry chef in his time off! And Seraphima—”
Delilah sighs. “I always wanted to be Seraphima….”
I snort. “Youmightwant to revise your life goals, then. She has the brain capacity of a sea cucumber.”
