Chapter 4 Cool Cool Cool #3
“Except, what about this world?” Bridget asks. “If you leave, will I lose you?”
I hadn’t thought of that. “You’ll be with me there,” I promise, although I’m not certain of anything. For all I know, it’s a Freaky Friday situation, and MASH Me is out there wreaking havoc on my real life, having bedazzled all my blazers.
Bridget nods. “Okay. What’s your plan?”
Plan. My favorite four-letter word.
“Well, I thought I might toss the game into a fire. Try to break the spell, or whatever.”
“But it could be a puzzle,” Bridget says, eyes twinkling. “Or a map.”
I grin. I knew she’d get it. “Exactly.”
She studies the paper. “Maybe we need to play a new MASH game with each part of your other life inside it. And keep playing until you land on all of them.”
“Bridget!” I grab her arms. “That’s genius.”
We sit cross-legged on her bed and play a MASH game with Connor, accounting, and my trusty Nissan as key players.
We play again. And again. We chug Kool-Aid.
We try different colored gel pens. And when at last, nearly an hour later, I manage to land on every part of my reality, we leap off the bed in celebration.
Bridget sets a candle inside a sesame-seed bagel. I make a wish and blow it out.
Nothing.
“Maybe you need to be at Curly’s?” Bridget says.
“Or maybe I’ll be stuck here until my next birthday. Maybe this is all pointless.” Dejected, I starfish back on her bed.
She lies beside me, our shoulders pressed together as we stare up at the plastic stars on her ceiling. “What about a Magic 8 Ball? Or my old Ouija board? Actually, never mind. You threw away the pointy thing because you swore it was cursed.”
“It was.” I throw an arm across my forehead. “And now I’m cursed.”
My phone vibrates on the nightstand. Bridget grabs it and says, “It’s a text from Penn. He’s wondering if you’re alive.”
“Tell him no.”
A pause, and then: “He says to befriend Elvis in the afterlife so you can introduce them someday.” Another pause. “Also, he’s going to The Disco Diner, but then he’ll be home.”
Home. Like we’re picking out curtains together.
“Where is he going to sleep?” Bridget asks, dropping my phone onto the bed between us. “You still haven’t furnished the other bedrooms.”
“He can sleep on the kitchen floor, for all I care. And what’s the deal with that, anyway? Why haven’t I furnished all the rooms?”
“Well, you only bought the place a few years ago, and you had to fund the business, too. So you’ve prioritized the important stuff first.”
“Like the beanbag lair? And three kitchen islands?”
She laughs. “To be fair, you haven’t needed extra beds. I always sleep with you, and Ryan sleeps on the couch.” We lie there, silent, until Bridget laughs and whispers what I’m thinking. “I still can’t believe Penn asked to stay with you.”
“I know,” I whine. “He would never try that in the real world. And I never would’ve said yes if I thought I’d be stuck with him. Do we actually get along here, or something?”
“I mean, you tolerate each other. And you have things in common.”
My head swivels sideways. “What on earth do Penn and I have in common other than Ryan and a zip code?”
“You both work hard. And stay close to your friends. And you both look great in hats.” I give her a look, and she shrugs. “What? You don’t know how lucky you are to have a sensibly sized head and good hat hair.”
“What does that even mean?”
She tosses up a hand. “This is my point. You don’t even realize what you’ve got. Just know that you and Penn share a rare superpower.”
“Well, then, look out,” I joke. “Guess we’ll just be riding off into the sunset together. Wearing matching hats.”
Bridget gasps. “That’s it,” she says, jolting upright.
“What’s it?”
She darts me a look.
I sit up, terrified by the fear in her eyes. “B, what’s wrong?”
She presses her lips together. “Ruby,” she starts gently. “You told me the game came true, but it didn’t. Not all of it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, the game doesn’t call Penn your roommate.”
My body goes numb. My ears start ringing.
Other Half. That’s what teenage Bridget wrote. How she labeled one section of the game. The two words below which Penn’s name is circled.
“It could mean anything,” I sputter. “Other half of my business. Other half of my…”
“Face it, Ruby. That’s the romance section of MASH. Maybe you have to, you know, follow through.” All my nerve endings stand up to do the wave as Bridget drives home the final blow. “Maybe you have to marry Penn.”
“What?” I shriek.
“Or at least get him to fall in love with you.”
I grit my teeth. “No.”
“Think about it. In every fairy tale, true love shifts the magic. So maybe if you make that last bit of the game come true, and make Penn your other half, that will end it.”
“Absolutely not. Out of the question.”
Bridget sighs. She gives me the same resigned, apologetic expression she wore when she told me she’d signed us up to perform a Shania Twain song in the fifth-grade lip-sync competition. Her hand squeezes my shoulder and her voice lowers to a whisper. “What if it’s the only way out?”