Page 17 of Barbie: Dreamscape

“Being Fateless isn’t contagious,” I can’t help myself from spitting out.

“I’m not taking any chances,” Paige calls back.

Callie’s arms are around me in a moment. She’s wearing her Librarian outfit, a soft gray-checkered skirt and matching sweater vest, and accessories, including a magic-infused notebook with pages that turn into small library faeries who help fetch books. “You haven’t responded to any of my messages!” she says into my hair.

Apparently Callie’s librarian faeries do more than just deliver books, because they’ve been knocking against my window every few hours since she left Swancrest. Once I let them in, they turn back into inanimate pieces of paper. I’ve let them all pile up in my room as I wallow in the misery of not having any idea what to do for the first time in my life, realizing everything I did was for nothing, and being just generally full of regret and self-pity.

I don’t say any of that, though. All I say is, “I ran out of ink to reply.”

Callie narrows her eyes at me. “Since when do you lie?”

I just shrug, too tired from crying (it’s exhausting work, really), to even try denying it. “Recently. You should try it.”

“No, I shouldn’t,” she says, shaking her head and leading me to a less public part of the library. We settle into a table partially obscured by one of the stacks, and she sighs. “I’m worried about you.”

I laugh, but it comes out sounding strained. “I’m worried about me.”

“Yes, well, I’ve been doing something about it,” she says, and her tone is so sharp that I close my mouth against the next generally self-pitying thing I was about to say. She opens her notebook, rips out a sheet, whispers something into it, and we both watch as it magically folds into a faerie who zips away.

A moment later, a giant book comes soaring down the stacks, carried by the faerie she summoned—barely missing a few people perusing, who duck just in time. “Hey!” one yells.

“Sorry, I’m new here!” Callie says as the text slams onto the table, emitting a cloud of dust.

The Book of Fates.

I cough.

The pages begin to magically flip open under Callie’s command. They reveal an endless string of illustrations of the rectangular windows from Boxing Day, all with a person inside, surrounded by their accessories.

“I’ve been trying to think of a role that isn’t already established. Because maybe… maybe you didn’t get a Fate so you can be the first to create it?” Callie exhales roughly. “But, literally everything I can think of is taken.”

“How about Being Miserable?” I ask, grumbling.

But Callie shakes her head gravely. “Taken,” she says, as the book flips to an illustration of someone weeping, professionally.

“Oh.”

Great. I guess even my crying and feeling sorry for myself aren’t up to the Fates’ standards.

“There has to be something we aren’t thinking of,” Callie says, flipping through the book again. I feel a rush of love for my friend, who is fighting harder for my future than I am. But even though I’m grateful she’s trying to help me, every page turn sends my stomach sinking lower and lower.

Because there are hundreds of roles. Thousands.

And I wasn’t worthy of a single one.

“I have to go,” Callie says, looking over her shoulder at Head Librarian, who has stepped into our row and doesn’t look very happy.

“Thank you, Callie. You’re the best,” I say, trying for a smile.

Callie frowns, seeing right through it. “We’re going to figure something out,” she says reassuringly.

“You don’t need to. This is my problem, not yours.”

Callie gives me a look. “I’m your best friend. You don’t face problems alone, Barbie.” She looks around. When Head Librarian’s back is turned, she rips out a few pages from her notebook and hands them to me. “Here. I told the faeries they need to listen to you. Solutions are sometimes just a question away…”

Before I can say anything else, she’s gone.

I sigh, staring at the still opened Book of Fates, which now seems to be mocking me. The Fate of “Shoe Enthusiast” stares back.