angles. It was longer than he typically wore it, but my boyfriend had more important things on his mind than a haircut—like being responsible for a hundred-plus people in a strange new land and finding a way to return home.
From across the hedge Alasdair’s voice whined, “I’m gonna wet m’ trousers if ye don’t get me to a privy, m’Laird!”
A nod to Rabbie sent him scurrying away to prevent Alasdair from doing something drastic. Still smirking over the old man’s cheeky response, Duncan captured a tendril of my hair and tucked it behind my ear. “What do ye think—should we leave Alasdair to wee Rabbie and pick up where we left off?”
Tempting as it was, we still had no idea whether the old man was friend or foe. Reluctant to transition back into real life, I leaned in for one final kiss. “You should go. Why don’t you take Alasdair to Oz, and then get him settled in the guys’ dorm. I’ll go check on Cheska.”
Duncan open his mouth, but was cut off before he could speak. “Unhand me, laddie,” Alasdair insisted. “I mean ta relieve m’self one way or another!”
With a groan of regret, Duncan jogged off. Not wanting to know if Alasdair made good on his threats, I waited in the garden until the guys were good and gone.
The girls’ dorm, Rose Petal Cottage, was in the opposite direction of the guys’ housing, Thornfield Lodge, with Aunt Gracie’s place right smack between the two. The journey to Rose Petal took less than five minutes. It was a lovely walk down the path that overlooked the river, but one I would forever associate with my best friend.
In a weird way, the journey reminded me of summers between seventh and twelfth grades spent at drama camp. Those six weeks were the longest, most exhilarating weeks of my life. Exhilarating because I got to perform in the camp showcase, first in the ensemble then as a soloist; long because I missed Vee every minute of every day.
Each time I made the trek, the construction of the new bridge reemphasized the absence of Vee, as if the two things were one and the same. I guess in some ways they were. They both symbolized Doon and both were inaccessible. Although restoration work had begun simultaneously on both banks, the construction had been cordoned off with police tape to keep the gawkers and everyone else back.
The media had attributed the disappearance to a freak earthquake that broke the bridge apart and caused a river surge that carried off the debris—which, to me, sounded more preposterous than an evil witch making it vanish.
After another dozen steps, I veered away from the river, following the trail that would lead me to the cottage’s back door. Before I could knock, Greta flung the door open, nearly running me over in her rush to get outside.
“Whoa! What’s the rush? Is it SpaghettiOs day or something?”
“Sorry,” she chirped as she skidded to a halt with an infectious smile. “Canna be late fer afternoon lessons.”
Without Lachlan, Greta had stepped up as the leader of the Crew—the Doonian equivalent of a mini-me service organization sponsored by Jamie himself. Her number-one responsibility was getting the other members to attend our improvised school. Which was easier said than done, especially when it came to those over the age of nine. Although the lure of SpaghettiOs did wonders to keep them in line.
“Do you need some help rounding the others up?” Tween wrangling had become one of my unofficial tasks.
“Nay, ma’am. Everyone’s in attendance. We canna wait to start the new course after dinner.” Despite her throat nearly being slit by Adelaide’s henchman when the witch had overtaken Doon, the girl had bounced back from the near-death experience without any discernable scarring. She beamed at me, waiting for me to take the cue and ask what had her pantaloons in a bunch. I knew what would do it for me—Broadway karaoke—but Greta was not a drama geek.
“What are you learning this afternoon?”
“Well,” the girl drawled as she bounced on the balls of her feet. “Missus Alsberg said we were unmanageable in the classroom, so Prince Duncan suggested we take up physical education in the afternoons.”
Really? That’s what all the fuss was about? PE? In my world, PE had been a punishment straight from the pits of Mordor.
“Okay. You’d better hurry then.” I swallowed a laugh as Greta bolted past me. “Have fun.”
“I’m sure we will, ma’am,” she replied as she jogged down the