“I can’t believe it,” he murmured. “I can’t believe this is all happening.”
None of it should have happened. From Kay falling into the stream, all the way back to the atom bombs dropping, to before that to when the first battles between dragons and humans took place. A cascade of terrible events.
And she was continuing the cascade. But the alternative was ending up in jail and watching the world burn.
“Are you really going to go through with this?” Jon asked.
“I don’t know. I guess I could still chicken out,” Kay said.
Jon stared at her. “I’m right on the verge of telling Tam to drive away. We could kidnap you. For your own good.”
Tam shook her head. “I couldn’t do that.” Kay met her gaze in the rearview mirror. She should have kept them out of this—how much trouble were they going to get in because of her? But she was glad they were here.
“Jon, I need you to hold some stuff for me. Wait out by the football field, that’s where he’ll land. And can you look out for my mom?”
“Okay.”
Kay swallowed. “Tam, can you drive out toward the border? Keep a watch out for him. Call me when you see him, so I know when he’s on his way.”
“This isn’t actually going to work, is it?” Tam said.
“I don’t know.”
“You’re bringing your phone on this adventure, right? I expect you to call me.”
Kay got out of the car, and Jon followed. “Totally.”
“Be careful!” Tam said out the window.
“You too.”
Tam pulled out of the parking lot and drove away. Kay and Jon watched her. He grabbed Kay’s hand and squeezed; she squeezed back.
“Where’s this stuff?” Jon said.
Kay went back to her mother’s car and found the backpack. Before giving it to Jon, she pulled out the dress. The gesture was starting to seem overly dramatic. But she didn’t want there to be any misunderstanding.
Jon touched her hand, holding the gown. “Is that your homecoming dress?”
She was kind of thrilled that he recognized it. She doubted Carson remembered what Tam’s gowns looked like. “Yeah.”
“You’re not the only virgin around here. I should do this. I’ll do this. Why does it have to be a girl in a white dress?”
“Tradition?” Kay said.
“That’s sexist bullshit and you know it. I’ll do it.”
“Jon. You don’t know how to ride. Artegal doesn’t know you. I don’t want to you get hurt.”
“I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I won’t. That’s why I have to do this. I’m not afraid.” And she realized she wasn’t.
“Kay. When are you coming back?”
She looked at him, the worry in his eyes, a tightness in his jaw. He looked at her so intently, and she wondered if it was love. She said, “I don’t know.”
They kissed. None of their kisses had ever felt like this, long, intense, rough almost, as if they were making up for lost time. She gripped his shirt in her hands, and he held her close. When she had to catch her breath, she turned away and rested her head on his shoulder. She was crying.
It was almost noon. She was running out of time. She pressed the backpack and her heavy coat into his hands. “Wait for me, okay?”
He nodded, and she pulled away. As she slipped through the door to the school, she glanced over her shoulder to see Jon looking back.
Mom came toward her, as if on her way to meet her. Kay scrunched up the dress and hid it behind her back.
“Where are Tam and Jon? Did they come with you?”
“They wanted to watch from outside.”
“Are you ready?” she asked.
“Can I hit the bathroom first?”
As she’d hoped, her mother gave her a look of sympathy. “Come out the gym doors when you’re ready.” She walked off in that direction herself, toward the hubbub and chatter of the temporary offices.
Kay ducked around the next corner, into the bathroom, and into the gown.
She was going to freeze in this thing.
Temporary, she told herself. It was only temporary. As a compromise, she kept long underwear on and wore her hiking boots. It wouldn’t look great, but she had limits she’d go to in the name of fashion.
Squaring her shoulders, she looked in the mirror. Her hair was in a quick ponytail, coming undone, brown strands loose around her face. The dress looked lumpy rather than sleek, with thermal underwear and without heels. With all those cameras out there, she was going to end up on every TV channel and a million websites looking like this.
But it didn’t matter if she looked glamorous. It was the symbolism that mattered; she looked like the image in the book. People wouldn’t need to be able to read to understand what was going on. They’d look at her and know, from that deep tribal memory of the stories.
She pulled the elastic out of her hair, shook her head, and smoothed her hair out anyway. It looked a little better.
A knock came at the door, and Kay’s mother asked, “Honey? Are you okay? We can still call this off if you don’t want to go through with it.”
“No, Mom. I’m fine. I’ll be out in a couple more minutes.” Pacing now, avoiding the mirrors so she wouldn’t keep messing with her hair, she waited for the call. She wouldn’t be able to stall for much longer. What was taking Artegal so long?
Even though she was expecting it, when her phone rang, she still jumped and fumbled when she answered it. “Hello? Tam?”
It was Tam, in a panic. “He’s on his way! Oh my God, Kay, he’s flying so fast.”
Which meant she didn’t have much time. “Okay. Thanks.”
“Kay?” Tam said, when she was about to hang up. “Be careful, okay? Whatever happens, be careful. I want to hear the whole story when this is all over so you have to be there to tell me, okay?”
Kay couldn’t help but smile. “Okay, I promise.”
Head up, chin out, copping all the attitude she could muster, she marched to the gym and to the press conference outside. She hadn’t figured out how she was going to explain why she was wearing her homecoming dress for this, so she just wouldn’t explain.
When she entered the gym, where the temporary FBBE offices still resided, the bustle fell still. It wasn’t an immediate thing. Instead, one person noticed her and stared, then another, then a few more who looked up to see what the others were looking at, until the whole room was quiet.
Kay’s mother was waiting by the outside door, where Kay could just make out another waiting crowd.
“Kay?” Mom said, confused. “Kay, what is this? Why are you dressed like that?”
“I wanted to look nice,” she said.
Her mother looked quizzical but didn’t say anything else. As much as Kay tried to act as if this were all normal and nothing were wrong, this was too weird. She wasn’t fooling her mother. She wasn’t fooling herself.
Mom glanced out the door and pressed her lips together in an expression of satisfaction. “Are you ready?”
“I’m ready,” she said, breathing too fast, then marched past her mother and through the door.
On the pavement outside the gym, a podium, microphones sprouting up from it like a spiky mechanical flower, had been set up in front of several rows of folding chairs. Reporters sat in many of them, while many others stood, gathered in clumps, talking.
She went to the podium and tapped on one of the microphones. An echoey thumping noise came from somewhere. She couldn’t see where the speakers were. Reporters looked up, looked at her, and made their way to their seats, murmuring.
“Hi,” Kay said, and winced because it sounded stupid.
Everyone sitting in the two dozen chairs must have raised their hands and shouted at the same time, asking questions before she had a chance to collect herself. Kay stepped back, assaulted by the aggression of it. Mom came up beside her and took charge.