Bookishly Ever After by Isabel Bandeira Page A

how getting set up by you does that.”
    “It’s a good first step.” She looked from me to Alec. “Trust me.”
    Alec stuffed the tissue between her arm and his in one last Howard Hughes imitation. “Pass.”
    She twisted her lips and shoved Alec so we were in a big heap on my side of the couch. “Good thing I love you both enough to ignore your wishes and do what’s best for you, anyway. You’re lucky I’m so selfless.”
    Alec and I shared a glance over Em and he rolled his eyes while I held back another laugh.
    I practically danced off the bus. My handknit Maeveinspired shawl wrapped me in cozy, sparkly, merino silk goodness. One of the few seniors who still rode the bus had dropped into the seat opposite me and fawned over it the entire ride. And it was a perfect shawl day—foggy, autumn-y, and breezy. Just like the day Maeve first entered the Otherland.
    Today was one of those days when everything seemed to come together, like I had woken up in a Disney movie. It wasn’t going to last, but I basked in it while I could. And
    I had to fight to keep from skipping down the hall to my locker with my shawl swirling around me, or running while singing out to the hill behind the football field like Belle in
Beauty and the Beast
.
    Grace stood at her locker and I whacked her with the edge of my shawl as I passed. She looked up and watched me with an unreadable expression as I twirled the combo and opened my locker.
    “Please don’t tell me you’re planning to wear that today.”
    Okay. Not that unreadable. “Yes, I am.” I gripped the locker door until the metal cut into my palm. Buh-bye Disney movie mood. “I wore skinny jeans today. I haven’t worn anything comfortable for almost a week. I took an hour this morning to curl my hair. I’m wearing eyeliner, for frak’s sake. Let me have my wool.” My patience had suddenly worn as thin as lace weight mohair.
    Grace blinked, taking a step back. “Moody much? God, if it means that much to you, keep the damn thing. I quitas your stylist.”
    Someone stepped between us and I backed up a bit to see Grace. “Oh, come on. I read
Teen Vogue
. Knitwear is all over the runways.”
    “Quit. As. Stylist.” Grace said, but then closed her locker and walked over to tug at my shawl. “Fine. One day a week, you get a pass to dress like my grandmom. But Monday, I’m bringing an eyelash curler.” Before I could protest, she waved and headed for her homeroom. “Later.”
    I stuck my tongue out at her, but quickly hid behind my locker door when Kris turned down into the hallway. My face grew warm and I resisted the urge to press it against the cool metal. “Crud, crud, crud,” I said under my breath.
    “Hey Phoebe,” Kris called out as he passed, but I didn’t turn around, hoping he hadn’t seen the tongue thing. Of course. The
one
morning he actually noticed me was the morning I acted like a two year old.
    As soon as I thought I was safe, I peeked around my locker door to watch him. His hair was getting longish, curling in dark waves above the collar of his jacket just like Aedan’s would. I caught his profile as he turned to walk into his homeroom and caught the hint of a smile as one of his friends said, “Man, I don’t know what happened, but she got hotter.” Right before they disappeared through the door.
    I was not one of those girls who cared about appearances, but maybe Grace was right about the skinny jeans. I clutched my shawl and floated down the hallway to my homeroom.

14
    Late fall home football games meant huddling in ridiculously cold weather in clumps of woodwinds and brass on the metal bleachers, trying to keep at least slightly warm between fight songs. I was wrapped in enough woolen goodness to make a sheep jealous, from my hand-knit tam to the matching scarf and fingerless gloves, all in Pine Central’s signature red and orange, but my nail beds were still a purplish-blue color. I rubbed at my fingers and went back to knitting.
    Before