Chapter 16 IF SHE KNEW WHAT SHE WANTS #3
All right, so the headache had been a lie, and one I’d shamelessly stolen from Noah.
But it was a good way of removing myself from an awkward social situation.
I just needed a few minutes to sort myself out.
Once the others had stumbled through a few karaoke songs and a few more drinks, everything would be back to normal.
Back in my bedroom, I pulled out Josephine’s diary, flipping through the pages until I landed on the now-familiar line: You only get so many chances to tell someone how you feel.
‘C’mon, Josephine,’ I muttered. ‘Give me some diary wisdom.’
She did, but not until after I’d shed a literal tear on the pages. And a smudge of eyeliner.
The book crackled with magic, and I frowned as the page darkened to reveal a few letters, and then words:
It’s better to choose wrong than not at all.
‘You’re not helping, Josephine,’ I muttered. ‘Can you tell me who to choose at least?’
The diary was silent, even when I flipped the pages back and forth and gave the volume a shake.
I set the diary aside and moped some more before pulling out my phone to text my dad some memes of ducks with stick-figure arms and legs drawn on them. Dad always appreciated lo-fi art. And he never failed to make me laugh.
Give me terrible Photoshop over AI slop any day, he texted in response to a bear I’d sent him with cartoonishly large human eyes and teeth photoshopped on.
Don’t tell that new client of yours, I replied. They do AI stuff, right?
He sent me a vomiting face and a gif of Burn-it-Down Elmo. Can you believe they’re called AI-land, pronounced ‘island’? No wonder they need a creative team.
I was chuckling at that when my door cracked open.
‘Ah, there you are,’ said Lara, flopping down into the fuzzy white armchair in the corner. Cleo tiptoed in after her. ‘You did a Rory Gilmore and went running off. I figured I’d give you ten minutes and then come see what the drama was about.’
‘The drama is boys,’ I groaned.
‘Let me guess: you can’t choose between Dean and Jess?’
I huffed. ‘The choice between Dean and Jess was easy. This is on another level. Plus, I’m no Rory. She knew what she wanted.’
Lara chuckled. ‘I think we need to rewatch Gilmore Girls, because that is a wilful misreading of the text. Also, justice for Lane Kim.’
As though in agreement, Cleo began sharpening her claws on the rug.
‘How am I meant to choose?’ I moaned, thinking of Josephine’s message and the warning it seemed to carry. ‘I’m not made for decision-making! That stuff is for middle management, not for sports writers.’
Lara rolled her eyes. ‘Well, when you take this job with me, you’ll practically be middle management.’
I grimaced. ‘The thought of managing a team gives me even worse hives than the thought of resolving my love-life issues.’
Lara wasn’t having it. ‘Babe, we’re not doing this. In the immortal words of my dad after I cried because Susie Bruxhill wore the same Ariel costume as me during my first Halloween, Toughen up, princess. Figure out your heart.’
I frowned. ‘Do you hear that?’
‘A whisperwind?’ asked Lara, hopefully.
I shook my head. Someone was arguing outside – not loudly, but fiercely. I went to the window, trying to see what was going on. It was the boys.
I couldn’t make out what was being said, but they were in each other’s faces, exchanging sharp words. Noah’s expression was one of frustration, and Finn was waving his hands the way he did when he was upset.
‘What are they saying?’ whispered Lara, joining me. We pressed our noses against the stained glass as we spied on the brothers. ‘Can you do some magic lip-reading or something?’
I grimaced. ‘All I can make out is that they’re both pissed.’
Just then, both of the boys turned in our direction.
Lara and I ducked down.
‘Did they see us?’ she whispered.
They must have, because a huge net of magic swept across the room in a way not unlike the magical storm on the night of the Summerween Festival.
On my bed, the diary crackled, flipping open once more. The whole room seemed to fill with electricity, and I squealed as the quilt rose up on my bed as if it was possessed by a ghost.
I crouched in a ball on the floor, rising up on my toes like I’d been taught to in the event of a lightning strike.
Meanwhile, Lara threw herself into the corner armchair with a yelp, covering her face with her hands.
When the magic finally subsided, we both straightened, blinking owlishly and checking our outfits for scorch marks.
‘What the heck was that?’ I asked.
‘Oh my god, Molly,’ said Lara, clamping her hands over her mouth. ‘Your hair.’
I turned to face the mirror that leaned against the wall. What I saw there made me clap my hands to my head. Because my hair was standing on end in a giant, frizzy ball. And no amount of hair product or magic was going to fix it.
There was a knock at the door. ‘Molly?’ came Noah’s muffled voice. ‘Are you in there?’
I shook my head furiously. No way was one of the Tucker boys going to see me like this.
‘She’s sleeping,’ shouted Lara. ‘Come back later.’
Somehow this worked, because he left. I, meanwhile, was busy squinting at the new line of text that had appeared in Josephine’s diary.
The longer you wait, the harder it gets.