Oliver #4
This isn’t the first time I’ve had troubles, but it is the first time I haven’t had anyone to share them with.
In the past, my confidants were Frump and Queen Maureen, but even if the fairy tale were in my possession and not Delilah’s, I know I couldn’t turn to them.
They’re happy, and my problems should no longer be theirs.
I fall asleep, tossing fitfully. My dreams are full of Delilah—the tears that made her eyes too bright, the way her voice shook. The expression on her face when I turned out not to be the person she’d hoped I would be.
In the book, it was so easy. I fell in love, I kissed the girl, she loved me back unconditionally. I’ve never had a script for an apology.
Suddenly I understand all the facades Frump put on, trying to win Seraphima’s heart. I know what it feels like when being oneself isn’t good enough.
I wish that someone would flip backward through the pages of the story of me and Delilah, bringing us back to the Once Upon a Time.
I wake with a start, the blankets tangled around my feet. My hair is damp with sweat, my fists curled in the sheets, and nothing has changed. Delilah is still farther away from me than she’s ever been.
I have to make this right. I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, then sit down in front of the computer. There is a little green circle next to Delilah’s name. I quickly click CALL, waiting for her face to fill the screen.
Instead, a box pops up. CALL ENDED.
Before I can try again, the little circle next to Delilah’s name disappears.
I bury my face in my hands. What’s the point of being in this world without her?
All right, I think. Pull yourself together, Oliver.
It’s perfectly normal to feel overwhelmed.
This is a problem I’ve never encountered before—it has nothing to do with getting out of the pages of a book or seeing letters appear in midair or bleeding ink.
For once it is a completely ordinary problem that could affect any teenage boy who quarreled with his girlfriend.
Which means that maybe I’m not alone after all.
The house is dark, although it is only eight p.m. Jessamyn has left dinner for me on the kitchen counter, but I am not hungry. I pad upstairs again and pause outside her bedroom. Slowly I open the door, fearing she may already be asleep.
Jessamyn is perched on the edge of her bed. When she hears the door creak, she whips around, wiping her eyes.
It takes me aback. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own problems that I never stopped to consider I might not be the only one who is struggling.
“Are…are you all right?”
“I’m fine. I just have a bad headache, that’s all.” She fakes a smile. “Did you need something?”
“No, no. You’re ill. I’ll leave you be.”
I don’t know Jessamyn Jacobs very well. But in that moment, she looks very small, and very tired. “Good night, Edgar,” she says.
“Good night…Mom.” I start to pull the door closed behind me, and at the last moment duck back inside. “Try leeches,” I suggest helpfully. “They work wonders for me.”
“Dude…what’s up with you?” Chris asks me. “You’ve been staring at that beaker for, like, fifteen minutes.”
“Delilah and I had quite an argument yesterday,” I say solemnly, measuring out hydrochloric acid. We have been left to our own devices to complete the day’s chemistry lab. I’m trying to follow directions to the letter, because I’m so distracted I fear I may accidentally cause an explosion.
Delilah wasn’t waiting for me today when I arrived at school. She wasn’t at my locker.
Chris hands me an eyedropper. “Girls go crazy. It’s just what they do. Give her a couple of days to chill, and she’ll forgive you for whatever you did.” He glances at me. “What was it, anyway?”
“I kissed Allie McAndrews.”
Chris winces. “Bro, Delilah’s not coming back to you.”
“Thank you so much for the support,” I mutter.
“Well, damn, what were you thinking?”
“We were role-playing,” I explain.
“Call it whatever you want,” Chris says, smirking.
“It was for the drama club. Delilah walked in at the worst possible moment.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know what to tell you, man. From her point of view, it doesn’t look good.”
I pass him the evaporating dish so he can hold it over the Bunsen burner. “I’d do anything to take it back.”
“Well, unless you have a time machine, that’s not gonna happen,” Chris says. “What you need is a grand gesture. Something that makes her completely forget what she saw.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’m talking going all out. Flowers. Get down on one knee. Confess your love. Haven’t you ever seen The Notebook?”
I look at him, dubious. “That sort of thing really works?”
“Chicks eat it up,” Chris assures me.
The evaporating dish cools, leaving behind pure white crystals, tiny diamonds. It is remarkable to think that something so beautiful was born from acid.
Maybe Chris is right.
Maybe there’s still hope for me.
I just wish there were a recipe I could follow that would make it easier.
“What’s wrong?” Jessamyn asks that evening, when we are sitting at dinner.
“Nothing,” I say, using my fork to push around the peas on my plate.
“Well, you’re not eating. Or at least, you’re not eating as much as usual….”
I put down my utensils. “Did you ever fight with…Dad?” I ask.
“No,” Jessamyn answers, straight-faced. “We were Barbie and Ken.” Before I can even ask who on earth they are, she continues. “Of course we fought, honey. All couples argue. If you’re in a relationship and you’re not fighting, you’re probably doing something wrong.”
“Delilah saw me kissing another girl,” I blurt out.
She chokes on her sip of water. “Excuse me? Is one girl not enough?”
“It isn’t what you think,” I explain. “It was part of a play.”
“I might have to take her side on this one….”
I rest my head in my hands. “I’d apologize, but she won’t even give me a chance to speak.”
Jessamyn’s gaze softens. “Once, I bought a brand-new pair of designer heels. I had them in a bag outside my closet door. When I came back that night before bedtime, the shoes had disappeared. I asked your father if he’d seen them and he said, ‘Oh, you mean the stuff you put out for Goodwill?’ He’d accidentally donated a pair of Jimmy Choos to charity.
” She shakes her head, lost in the memory. “I didn’t speak to him for a week.”
“Then what happened?”
She grins. “He bought me an even more expensive pair.”
“I don’t think shoes will work here,” I say glumly.
“It’s not about the shoes,” Jessamyn replies. “It’s about what the shoes represent. A simple I’m sorry can go a long way.”
“If she ever listens to me again…”
“Give her time. She’ll hear you out.”
“But it hurts me to know I can’t fix this.”
“Well,” Jessamyn says, “imagine how much it hurt her to see you with someone else.”
I glance up. “I guess you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right; I’m your mother.” She blots her mouth with her napkin. “I’m just glad you’re speaking to me. I’m used to you grunting through dinner.”
My mouth quirks upward. “Thanks, Mom.”
“You’re welcome, Joseph.”
“Joseph?” I repeat.
It’s Edgar’s father’s name. I’ve seen photos of him, with his name and a date scrawled on the back. He looks exactly like King Maurice.
Jessamyn presses her fingers against her temples. “Oh my God. I’m getting so old.” She smiles at me. “Give it a day. You two will be all over each other.”
I wince. “God, Mom!”
She laughs. “Now, there’s the Edgar I know and love.”
At least someone does.
I have planned it to perfection.
With Ms. Pingree’s permission, I have raided the drama club costume closet, picking out an ill-fitted yet passable prince’s tunic, crown, and boots.
A plastic sword is strapped to my side. I sneak into the biology class greenhouse with a pair of art room scissors and cut the stems of a dozen tulips, gathering them into a bouquet before a teacher can catch me in the act.
Then I stride proudly into the cafeteria, my gaze narrowing like a beam on Delilah.
I can feel the entire room watching me, and their whispers are cobwebs I easily brush aside.
I march to her table, fall to my knee, and present her with the flowers.
“Milady,” I say, “your eyes are but twin stars in my universe. Your voice is sweeter than a robin’s song.
You are the very beat of my heart; the rush of my blood. ”
I believe I’m doing quite well. The cafeteria has begun cheering me on, and two spots of color appear on Delilah’s cheeks. Chris was correct; I am surely going to win back Delilah. After all, what girl doesn’t want a knight in shining armor?
“ED-GAR! ED-GAR! ED-GAR!” My borrowed name echoes in the room.
Those two roses blooming on Delilah’s cheeks have somehow spread, making her entire face as red as a lobster. She doesn’t meet my eye, and if I’m not mistaken, she seems to be sinking farther and farther under the table.
She still hasn’t taken the bouquet. I shake it a little, still on bended knee, and clear my throat. “You’re the breath in my lungs. You’re—”
“Done,” says Jules, appearing out of nowhere to yank me upright by my velvet collar. “Get your royal ass away from my best friend.”
She tugs at my tunic, spins me around, and shoves me toward the cafeteria door. It’s all I can do not to stumble. The voices of other students follow me out: Nice try, man. Better luck next time. I would have said yes!
I realize that I’m still holding the flowers. And that they’ve already begun to die.
Slumped against my locker, I’m trying to understand how I’ve managed to make things even worse than they were. “What you need,” Raj says, “is to wow her with your intellect. You know what they say is the largest and most powerful sex organ in the body, right?” He taps his skull. “The brain.”
“I don’t think Delilah wants me to say one more word, Raj.”
“Listen. You walk up to her and you say: ‘Are you made of nickle, cerium, arsenic, and sulfur? Cuz you’ve got a NiCe AsS.’ ” When I stare at him blankly, he says, “Get it? The chemical symbols? They spell out…Oh, never mind.”
I turn to him. “Have you ever had a girlfriend quarrel with you?”
Raj shrugs. “Well, I mean, like, obviously, there’ve been women….”
“Have you ever had a girlfriend?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” he says. “In sixth-grade gym, I did fall off the ropes course and land on top of Charlotte Tazinkski and technically my lips grazed her mouth.” He looks at me. “Does that count?”
“No, Raj,” I sigh. “Not even a little.”
I drop my head into my hands, closing my eyes, which is why I don’t see Allie approach. She crouches down and lifts my chin with one finger, giving my costume a full once-over before she speaks. “I see I’m not the only one who can’t wait for drama club,” she purrs.
I push her away. “No, Allie. In fact, I think I’m quitting. I’m going to join the football team or something, where I’m less likely to encounter the opposite sex.”
She smiles at me. “You can’t tell me that was all just for show, Edgar. I felt something. I know you felt it too.”
“Honestly, I’m just a good actor,” I say. “I’m with Delilah. I’m sorry if I did or said anything that made you think otherwise.”
Her eyes flash, reminding me of the mermaids. “Really,” she says, her voice cooling. “You’d choose that over this?” She stands up, skimming her hand over her waist. “I took pity on you, because you were the new kid,” Allie continues. “But hey, if you want to socially exile yourself, be my guest.”
She walks away, hips swinging, her heels staccato on the tile floor.
It takes me a moment to remember that Raj is still sitting beside me. His jaw is practically hitting the ground. “Did you just break up with Allie?” he manages. “Are you an idiot?”
James calls my name at the end of the LGBT Alliance meeting. “Your Oreos were a hit,” he says. “There’s only crumbs left.”
“Thanks,” I say, distracted. Ever since my run-in with Allie, I’ve been trying to figure out how and when I can get Delilah alone for a minute, so that I can make a full apology before Jules tosses me down a flight of stairs.
“So rumor has it you went full Romeo in the cafeteria today,” James says. “What’s up with that?”
“I was told that a grand gesture is the way to a woman’s heart.”
“There’s such a thing as too grand,” James says. “You might want to take it down a notch.”
What was I thinking? Delilah’s not one for a show. The happiest hours we spent together were just the two of us, talking through the book. “Well, I probably won’t even get a chance,” I mutter. “I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want to speak to me.”
“Aren’t you the one who told me you believe nothing should stand in the way of two people in love? What’s in your way?”
I look up at James as understanding dawns. “Me.”
“Maybe instead of pretending to be someone you’re not, you should just be yourself,” James says. “After all, isn’t that who she fell for in the first place?”
The fog in my head finally clears. I understand what I’ve been doing wrong. James is correct—but it wasn’t just the cafeteria scene that was an act. I’ve been playing a role the whole time I’ve been here.
I don’t know how to apologize like a teenage boy who’s gotten into a fight with his girlfriend. I don’t know how to figure out who’s friend and who’s foe. I don’t understand the social conventions of high school.
But I’m an expert at happily-ever-after.