Chapter 38
Lara
You can ask the book spirits on the outskirts of Novel Haven for help with everyday tasks in your lighthouse.
Solve their riddles, befriend them, and recruit them by having the local carpenter build them a hut in your garden.
Independence is all well and good, but we all need help now and then—and asking for it is a sign of strength.
I fling my arms around Nataly’s neck like I haven’t seen her in years, not just two days. She hugs me back just as tightly, gently patting my hair.
“Everything’s going to be all right.”
It’s only now that I realize how much I needed to hear those words. While I’ve been smiling like a good girl over the past two hours, putting on a brave face, I now allow myself some weakness, just for a moment.
“Thank you for coming. I really owe you.” I let go of her, and she gives my arm another soothing pat.
With the pale-blue ribbon loosely tying up her hair and wearing a powder-blue dress, she looks like she’s just stepped out of a cute little pixel-art game herself. She’s a perfect match for our booth.
“Aria would have liked to come too, but the crowds and the excitement back at the office ever since Sophia’s performance . . .”
“I know. Things would have gotten a bit tight in here with the three of us anyway. Besides, the rules only allow two employees—we don’t want to push our luck. Though I suppose that doesn’t really matter right now, does it? I’m surprised no one has come to kick us out yet.”
Nat and I share an uneasy smile, and it’s only then that she lets her gaze wander around the book nook.
“Wow.” Despite everything, there’s a smile on her lips. “It’s even more beautiful than the pictures.” She winds her way past two elderly women, running a finger along the leaves of our large potted plant. “Oh wow, this one is real.”
“Yeah, I hope it survives the convention.”
“Eh, as long as you don’t try to take care of it, it’ll be golden.
” Nat gives me a broad grin, and for the first time since Hank raised his stupid hand, I’m able to relax a little.
I’m not alone anymore. Nataly’s here—and she’s always been the member of our trio of flatmates who’s had everything under control.
“All right, so . . .” Nataly begins like she’s just read my thoughts.
“Sophia’s up in her room, and she’s already sent the PR-friendly phrasing to Kamal, who’s currently taking all the calls.
Aria is managing our Discord server, and my last status update on Ramon was that he was making macchiatos spiked with Baileys Irish Cream for general morale.
That interview with Mr. Crow and the BBC is still scheduled, right? ”
I nod.
“OK. If Sophia can’t make it on time, I’ll take over for her. Where are they?”
“No idea; they didn’t come over after the performance like they promised.”
Nat presses her lips together. “Do you think they caught up with Sophia on her way out? Or did they find someone else for their interview?”
“I hope not. But I wasn’t able to check; someone always has to be at the booth.”
“OK. I’ll do a quick round and keep an eye out for the BBC folks, and then you can tell me how all of this lot works, and you can go and join Sophia.
She has quite the explaining to do, and you’ll go and wheedle it out of her.
” Nat turns on her heel, yanking open the fridge with gusto and grabbing an energy drink she probably doesn’t need. “All right, see you in a moment.”
“Nat?” I call after her before the crowd can swallow up her bouncing mane of blond hair.
“What?”
“Love you.”
It’s not long before Nataly comes back. I’ve barely managed to hand out a few flyers and have avoided appearing in a few TikToks with varying levels of success. She’s dragging two men along with her: a tall blond one and a shorter, bald one with a bushy beard. Only Mr. Crow is nowhere to be seen.
“And here we are,” Nataly’s saying, like she just gave the two of them a tour of the premises. “But I’m sure you’ve visited our booth already; it’s the most beautiful one here.”
The blond man chuckles, and Nataly’s smile looks so cheerful and relaxed that the entire fiasco around Sophia and Hank might as well have never happened.
Where does that woman get her energy from?
All I want is to disappear up to my room, watch Spirited Away for the hundredth time, and only come back down when it’s all over.
“I’m Marcus,” the tall man introduces himself, shaking my hand and then indicating his colleague. “This is Bartek, my cameraman.”
“Nice to meet you,” I reply. “Would you mind calling Mr. Crow? Do you have his number? He was meant to be here for the interview.”
I register Marcus and Bartek’s surprise at the sound of my voice, which is even huskier than usual because of all the excitement, but for once, I don’t mind. What do I care what they think about my voice when there’s so much more at stake?
“We will; just a moment,” Marcus tells me. “I thought we could ask you a few questions ourselves first. They can serve as an introduction to the actual interview.”
“Sure,” Nataly says, and an uneasy feeling creeps up on me, because I have an inkling what the questions will be.
Bartek is about to set up his camera and position himself in front of Nataly when Rodrick Crow appears at her side.
His suit and his tall frame still add a certain sense of grandeur, but the worry lines on his forehead are deeper than they were this morning.
“Mr. Crow! There you are!” Marcus says, beaming, as though he was waiting for him.
“Yes, my assistant just informed me you were here. As I’ve already explained to you . . .” He gives us all a tight smile. “. . . I don’t think it would be wise, under the circumstances, to conduct the interview here. Should the accusations hold true, which remains to be investigated . . .”
“They’re completely unfounded!” Nat presses her lips together like she’s just realized who she interrupted.
“I apologize, Mr. Crow,” she adds hastily.
“But those claims are baseless, and I think we, like everyone else, deserve to record a segment for the media center. Benefit of the doubt, isn’t that right? ”
“I think that would be a fair solution,” Marcus agrees eagerly. A little too eagerly for my liking.
“I don’t think that would be such a good idea,” I tell Nat.
Mr. Crow looks at her, his head tilted appraisingly to one side and his bushy eyebrows raised slightly. “And who might you be?”
“Nataly Summers, marketing and PR manager for PixelPulse. So pleased to meet you.” She holds her hand out for Rodrick Crow with a winning smile. He takes it, but as he slowly shakes her hand, he raises his eyebrows again.
“For PixelPulse? The terms and conditions state clearly that only two employees are allowed per studio. With Ms. Richards and Ms. Anderson here, that makes three of you.”
“Sophia—I mean, Ms. Richards, is ill,” I interject. “Nataly was able to take over for her on short notice.”
Now Mr. Crow turns his critical gaze on me.
There’s skepticism in his steely blue eyes.
People around us are watching curiously, and I wouldn’t be surprised if there were cameras pointed at me again.
At least Marcus and Bartek have the decency not to record the whole thing—though Marcus looks like there’s nothing he’d rather be doing right now.
“Ah? And what has enervated Ms. Richards?”
“She’s . . . she has an upset stomach,” I say, using Sophia’s illness from last time as an excuse.
That, at least, is something that can happen quickly, and it might give us a loophole for why Nataly’s here.
But Mr. Crow doesn’t seem convinced. Well, he saw Sophia’s performance too, after all.
He places a hand on my shoulder and gently steers me aside, out of earshot of the BBC reporters.
“Ms. Anderson, we are both quite aware that your manager does not have an upset stomach. I do understand that she has a few things to take care of, considering the situation—but you cannot simply bring in additional personnel. The contest rules allow only two employees. This breach of the rules along with the serious accusations currently on the table . . . It doesn’t set a good example.
” He lowers his voice even further. “I’d like to speak to Ms. Richards in person, but I cannot seem to reach her telephone. ”
“Yes, I’m sure she’s currently taking care of the situation.” Or she’s calling a lawyer . . .
“We’re already getting requests from industry press representatives, and I’m quite keen to give a statement today.
Everyone heard the accusations from Bytes all I saw was a curious visitor. ”
“Thank you,” I say feebly, because what else can I do? I realize he’s doing us a favor, that he has every reason to kick us out right now, to close down our booth and demand answers.
Mr. Crow bids Nat goodbye too, and then he leads Marcus and Bartek away from us, leaving us behind in a deafening silence.
The mood he leaves us in is strange. It has nothing in common with the earlier coziness; instead, every word feels like a verdict, every glance appraising. Rodrick Crow is right: We can’t wait. Not if we care about Novel Haven.
“Rats,” Nat says. “I was hoping we could set a few things straight in our interview. ‘Enervated,’” she imitates his low voice. “What did he have for breakfast? The Oxford Dictionary? I’ll have to remember that word for my next Scrabble game.”
“Doesn’t get you that many points. Not enough rare consonants.”
Nataly lets out a noise halfway between a laugh and a snort, and I smile for a moment before my chest tightens with anger again.
Not just at Luca and Hank this time, but at Sophia too.
What has she been doing up there so long?
She should be here with us. She should be giving us an explanation.
Taking responsibility for what happened.
Whether Hank was telling the truth or not, she should be the one sweet-talking Mr. Crow, not us.
Sure, I holed up in my room after my gaffe and cried.
But she’s Sophia. She’s my hero, my role model.
And most of all, she’s our boss. This isn’t just about her; this is about the entire team.
About our careers. I may be naive, but I can’t and won’t accept that she’s just as fallible as I am.
“I need to go to Sophia. I need to talk to her.”
Nataly gives me a nod. “Go.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’ve got this sorted. I’ll just hand everyone a drink; say, ‘No comment without my lawyer,’ whenever anyone asks me an annoying question; and I’ll force them to play our game.” Her smile fades, and she sighs. “We really are in it now, aren’t we?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
Nat takes my hand and squeezes it. “Whatever happens, we’ll be fine, all right? No matter what. With or without Sophia, and even with or without Novel Haven.”
“I don’t want to think about life without Novel Haven,” I tell her. The mere notion of it makes me nauseous and sends a jab of pain through my stomach. I hurriedly push the thought aside. As long as Sophia doesn’t confirm Hank’s words, not all hope is lost. “Don’t let Mr. Crow catch you.”
“I doubt he’ll be over again within the next half hour. Go on then!”
I squeeze Nat’s fingers one last time, and then I leave our booth, heading for the exit.