person makes me want to clap my hands over my ears. “I know what’s wrong with you, A.L. It’s that girl, isn’t it? The one you had on the show last week. Well, I’m not going to say I told you so.”
“Hold up! I know that voice,” Terra squeals.
“I know, right? It’s been driving me crazy but I can’t—”
Terra cuts me off. “That’s Rayann.”
“No, this girl’s name is Capri.” I pause to listen more.
“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Logan says.
“If you say so,” Capri says, and it feels like a heavenly light of knowledge bursts through my ceiling to shine down while a choir sings in the background. Those words sound exactly as they did a couple of weeks ago when they were spoken to me.
“Oh my good gravy, it is her!” I yell into the phone.
…
Saturday night finally arrives. I glance over my list one more time to make sure I have everything (yes, I’m a list maker: to-do lists, shopping lists, and now, stuff-to-transform-myself-into-a-smoking-hot-elven-princess lists). I’ve already put my bag full of supplies in my car so I don’t look like I’m hitchhiking to Texas when I say bye to Mom and Dad.
I’ve explained my entire plan to Mom, and even though she doesn’t really understand the LARP thing, she understands the purpose of what I’m about to do, which is why she’s letting me go.
After assuring Mom I’ll be back before twelve, I hop in the car and head across town. When I pass The Phoenix, a nervous tension inches its way into my shoulders. My grip tightens on the steering wheel as images of what tonight holds in store flash through my mind. First, my thoughts take the path of triumph, of Logan realizing how much I care for him, of Laowyn doing everything right. But when I park in Logan’s next door neighbor’s driveway—they’re on vacation and even though Logan should be over at Dan’s getting ready for game, Martha said it’s better to be safe than sorry—my thoughts do an about-face. I have to force them to calm down, to stop picturing everyone laughing at me, to stop seeing Laowyn’s life points depleted.
Jonah answers the door. He’s already in his sleep clothes, a T-shirt and sweats with no socks.
“She’s upstairs in her room.” He turns to go into the living room.
I glance in after him as I pass. Vera and Moira are cuddled up on the couch, both in frilly, pink, little-girl nightgowns.
“Hey, Maddie, you want to watch Miss Lovey’s Luminous Leggings with us?” Vera asks.
Dear Lord, yes. Yes, I would love to do anything other than what I’m about to do.
“Sorry, I have plans. Remember?” I wink at her.
“Right, right, right. Have fun storming the castle!” She waves.
At the top of the stairs, I stand in the middle of the hall and stare at Logan’s door. My comic journal seems to call my name. “Maddie, he’s been writing things. Come back.”
“I thought I heard someone at the door,” Martha says from behind me, and I stifle a squeal. “Let’s get you ready. You can use my bathroom, if you want.”
Maybe it’s just me, but being in Martha’s bedroom feels really weird. The walls are painted a deep, hunter green and all the furniture is in a dark wood. On top of a chest of drawers on the wall next to door to the bathroom are about seven or eight large sculptures of wizards and unicorns and other mythical beings. I pause to admire them.
“I’ve gotten one every Christmas for the past seven years from the kids.” She kind of nudges a couple of the sculptures around, repositioning them.
“Martha, how did you and Mr. Scott meet?” I’ve been dying to know the answer to this question ever since the day Logan first introduced me to her.
A wistful, half smile appears on her face. “I was cheering in college, and Steve was in the marching band.”
“Wow, that’s different. It’s normally the cheerleader and the football star who get together, right?”
“I guess, but not all the time. I caught him reading The Fellowship of the Ring during halftime and couldn’t stop myself from starting a discussion. I’m really a hobbit at heart, ya know.” She giggles.
“Was that… I mean, did you guys get any flack for being together?”
“Oh, sure.” She waves her hand. “People made fun of our trips to Renaissance festivals, but we didn’t care. We were ourselves, and we were happy together. Still are, in fact. That’s what matters. You can’t spend your life