I swallow hard.
“Well, his mom got clean,” she says. “And, long story short, she sued the grandparents for custody and won. We all left for winter break and I never saw him again.”
The story feels like a punch in the gut.
“That was grandparents, not an actual parent, so I’m sure it’s different,” she says quickly. “But…”
I lean forward, elbows on knees.
“…Daniel probably needs everything he can get,” she says quietly.
“Betsy, I can’t act engaged,” I say. “I can’t just tell everyone I know that we’re, you know, in love and getting married. I’m a terrible liar. I’m a terrible actress. This farce is going to last exactly one point one seconds, and then we’re going to get found out and it’s going to be even worse than if I just said no.”
“Chuck,” she says slowly. “Everyone already thinks it’s true.”
“Only because they heard the rumor,” I say. “Once we have to actually—”
“They think it’s true because it’s believable,” she says. “Admittedly, it’s been like six hours, but everyone who’s called me has been like oh my God, finally, not I think this is a farce.”
I look away from the floor and over at her, and I can feel the heat creeping into my face.
“You’re the only one who thinks this is some crazy, unbelievable lie,” she says. “Well, and me. I didn’t think you guys were a thing, for the record. But I think that telling people you are will raise exactly zero eyebrows.”
“What about Mom and Dad?”
Elizabeth looks at me steadily.
“I’ve fielded some inquiries,” she says.
“I don’t know how to act engaged,” I protest. “What do I do? Do I have to kiss him in front of people? Hold hands? Do… engaged stuff?”
I can tell that my face has gone flaming red as the images float through my mind: holding hands. His arms around me.
Kissing.
I pretty much break out in a sweat at that one. A memory tries to surface, and I frantically push it back down.
Elizabeth just shrugs.
“Hold hands once in a while, give him a peck on the cheek, act like you normally do, and you’re fine,” she says. “It’s not like you’re a medieval queen and everyone needs to watch you get deflowered.”
I just stare at her, and she waves a hand.
“Sorry. It used to be a thing. And yes, I know that your v-card got swiped long ago,” she says.
“My vag is not a credit card reader,” I mutter, then finish off my beer.
When it’s gone, I look down at the label: Loveless Brewing Co., Sprucevale, Virginia. My mind feels fractured, like I’m trying to have a thousand thoughts at once, but none of them can form more than halfway before being shoved aside by the next one.
“What happened to the kid whose mom got him back?” I finally ask, voice quiet.
“I don’t know,” Elizabeth says. “I never followed up.”
She leaves I couldn’t bear to unspoken.
I stand. I take her empty beer bottle and walk to the kitchen.
“I’m getting some water,” I call. “You want anything?”Two hours later, after we have a mishmash of leftovers for dinner, Elizabeth leaves and I finally gather the courage to look at my phone. I’ve had it on Do Not Disturb mode this whole time, but even so, the battery is at 5%.
I have more texts than I can read. Texts from people I haven’t talked to in years. Texts from numbers I don’t recognize. There are two texts from international numbers, because apparently my fake news has even made it overseas.
It would be sweet if it weren’t so nerve-wracking.
Congratulations!The two of you are soooo good together!Can’t wait for the wedding - I knew something was up!So happy you’re engaged! You guys are perfect.Haha, I always thought you guys were up to something! Congrats.They’re endless. They’re unfailingly positive. They’re emoji-filled. At least fifty percent of the people who’ve texted me claim that they just knew that Daniel and I were secretly dating.
Reading the texts has the weight of certainty. Elizabeth was right. She usually is, a fact which has been annoying me my entire life.
I bite my lip. I shut my eyes for a moment, because what I’m about to do seems completely, utterly, and totally insane.
Then I text Daniel.Chapter FourDaniel“The door opened,” I intone. “Inside the cave were vast piles of gold, silver, and gems, and to one side, an enormous desk. Sitting behind the desk was the biggest — and first — dragon that the Princess Ophelia had ever seen.”
Rusty is sitting bolt upright in bed, eyes the size of saucers, watching me.
“‘Hello, Ophelia,’ said the dragon. ‘I believe you’re here to apply for a job?’”
It’s so quiet I could hear a pin drop as I take the bookmark off Rusty’s side table, place it gently in Apprenticed to Dragons, and close the book around it.
“One more chapter,” Rusty says, breathlessly.