This was why there was music, he realized. There were some feelings that just didn’t have words big enough to describe them.
“I’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding,” Oliver manages, getting to his feet. “Delilah here is an old friend.”
“Then why did you need me to sketch a Wanted poster for—”
“I thought she was lost!” Oliver says, and then he grins widely. “And look at how well it worked, Rapscullio, since here she is! You deserve a reward. Queen Maureen, didn’t we get a rare Japanese water caterpillar as a state gift last month?”
“Oh, yes.” She claps her hands, and one of her footmen runs off to fetch it. “Funny,” she says, scrutinizing me. “I make it my business to know all the characters in the book, and yet I don’t think we’ve ever met. How could that be?”
“This is Delilah,” Oliver says, quickly glossing over her question. “Delilah, Queen Maureen.”
I stick out a hand, only to have Oliver elbow me in the side. “Curtsy,” he coughs.
Right. I sink into my best curtsy, which isn’t very good, given that I’m wearing a horse blanket.
“Where do you hail from, Delilah?”
“Oh, I live in New Hampsh—”
“Page twenty-two,” Oliver interrupts. “Delilah works in the butchery.”
“Butchery?” I whisper under my breath. “Really? That’s the best you could do?”
“How… intriguing,” Queen Maureen says. “You must come see our cattle sometime.”
“That would be… great,” I reply.
“Well, we’d better get going,” Oliver interjects. “Delilah was planning to show me how to trim out a roast.”
Queen Maureen shudders delicately. “I didn’t know you were interested in the trades, dear,” she says. “Have a lovely afternoon.”
Oliver grabs my hand (again!) and pulls me through the courtyard. We pass gardens filled with lady slippers and bluebonnets, a small sitting area with stone benches, and the royal croquet court. Finally, we come to the entrance of a maze. Oliver leads me into the center, where the boughs of trees form a tangled roof over our heads.
“It’s you,” he says. “It’s really you!” He pulls me into his arms and hugs me tight.
I thought I knew Oliver from reading this book over and over, but here are the things I didn’t know: that there is a spot near the hollow of his collarbone where I seem to fit perfectly. That he smells of freshly cut hay. That when we are touching, I can’t seem to hold a single thought in my head.
“I don’t know what happened,” I tell him. “I was reaching up in my closet one minute, and the next, I was falling through the pages.” I pinch my own arm. “Am I dreaming this?”
“No,” Oliver says. “You’re really here. Isn’t it remarkable? I can’t believe it worked.” He smiles at me. “Your freckles seem a lot smaller when your face isn’t the size of the whole sky.”
Embarrassed, I cover the bridge of my nose, and then I replay his words. “You can’t believe it worked,” I repeat slowly. “What do you mean by that?”
Oliver leans his forehead against mine. His breath smells like maple syrup. “When I tried to write myself out of the book, it failed. Since it didn’t seem like I was going to be able to leave any time soon, I had Rapscullio draw youintothe book instead.”
I push away from him. “You didwhat?”
“I thought this way, we could be together. I knewyou wouldn’t get hurt. I’ve seen him paint butterflies that come to life right off the page.”
“Wasn’t the whole point to get yououtof the book? Now we’rebothstuck here. Not to mention the fact that you didn’t evenaskme before ripping me out of my life!”
Oliver shakes his head, confused. “But you told me you wanted to be with me.”
“Not like this,” I say, as the enormity of this situation washes over me. “What if I never get to leave?”
“As soon as the book’s opened up, it will correct itself,” he says, thinking out loud, but I can tell he hasn’t considered this beforehand.
“And who’s going to open that book, since I’m inside here?” I point out. “It’s jammed in a bookshelf at home with dozens of others. Plus, even if someonedidfind it and open it, how do you know I’ll wind up back in my world, and not disappear completely?”
