Just at that moment, the band bursts into a lively jig. She turns her head as though she can see the music floating on the breeze.
My body grows rigid, paralysed, and frustration builds deep inside, pushing upwards and outwards until I think I might burst. ‘But that’s not why we’re here. In case you’ve forgotten, we’re here to make sure Willow still falls for Rose. To make sure the story runs its course so we can go home. Remember? The psychic lady with no face . . . “You must save the Imps, Violet.”’
‘Yeah, but Thorn’s priority is still getting Willow to blab about Daddykins.’
‘And your priority is . . .?’
‘To help you, obviously.’
‘By hitting on Prince Charming.’ I tap my foot – she hates it when I do that.
She wrinkles up her nose, her make-up cracking like a china glaze. ‘Look, Violet, things have deviated from canon already. You’re not Rose for a start – you may know her lines, but you’re still not her. You need all the help you can get.’
This tugs at some deep-rooted insecurity. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Do you know how eligible Willow is? Seriously, every unmarried Gem girl wants a piece of him, he’s gorgeous and kind and rich—’
‘Says the unmarried Gem girl.’
‘Violet, don’t be an idiot. If I’m seen with Willow, then I’m putting off the Gem competition and you stand a better chance.’
‘A likely story,’ I snap.
‘I’m just trying to help.’
The insecurity grows and grows until all I can hear are the words Violet the Virgin. ‘What, you think I can’t do this on my own? You think I can’t make a guy fall for me?’
‘Not just any guy – Willow Harper. You know, the most perfect man in the universe . . . this universe and ours.’ She makes a circular motion with her finger.
‘Oh, so if he was an ugly loser, then I’d stand a chance.’
‘That’s not what I’m saying.’
‘Then what exactly are you saying?’ My tone rises, and I realize this is the first argument we’ve had since she stole my red dress and wore it to a party back in Year Ten. I remember feeling so angry, not because she didn’t ask me, or even because she slopped garlic dip all down the front, but because she looked better in it than me.
She exhales quickly. ‘I’m saying, we just need to get Willow to fall for you and follow you to the city, how it happens doesn’t matter.’
‘Jesus, Alice, this isn’t some little fanfic exercise – you can’t just rewrite the plot and hope for the best. We’re the butterfly, remember, flapping our massive wings. Just the slightest change and the consequences could be drastic.’
‘Yes, but you also said the story wants to unfold. Anyway, I’m not rewriting the plot, I’m ensuring it hits its key climax moments.’
A bitter laugh erupts from my lips. ‘Yeah, I can see climaxing is your main concern.’
‘Now you just sound jealous.’
‘Well maybe I am. You get to be with Willow, the most perfect man in existence, and I have to slum it in the Imp-hut, worrying about me and Ash, Saskia breathing down my neck, and you get to live like – like –’ I gesture around me, to the manor, the estate, the stars – ‘a Gem.’
Her brow knots. ‘You’re worried about you and Ash?’
I stutter on my words. ‘Well, not worried . . .’
‘Seriously, the hero with the big dong and the massive crush? He’s just background noise in canon, you know that, yeah?’
I study the ground, dodging her accusatory stare, banning thoughts of feathers and potential first kiss scenes from my mind. I notice how intricate her diamanté sandals look in comparison with my boots. ‘Of course I know that.’
‘You’re a hypocrite, Violet.’
The band stops and the world seems strangely empty. Flat. Like a reflection of itself. I open my mouth to respond, but only a strange hissing noise escapes.
We stare at each other for a moment, and then she does this familiar thing – she rubs the little split heart between her thumb and forefinger. A sign she’s anxious. I hadn’t realized she was wearing it till now.
I feel myself soften. ‘Where are you staying?’
‘With a Gem family who live nearby. Thorn has a lot of connections – there are Symps in all sorts of places.’
‘So they know you’re—’
‘An Imp?’ She laughs. ‘Yeah they know. I don’t think they believe it, though.’
‘Try not to sound too pleased.’
She glares at me. ‘Look, I need to get back to Willow.’
‘Wait.’ I catch her arm. ‘How did you end up as his date?’
‘I need to get back to Willow,’ she repeats. ‘If he comes looking for me and sees us together he’s bound to get suspicious.’
I know she’s right, but I can’t bring myself to agree. ‘Yeah, and I need to get back to waiting on you and your Gem friends, slave that I am.’
‘For God’s sake, Violet, I’m an Imp too.’
But I think of those honey hands wrapped around her waist and the jealousy combines with anger, a lethal combination. ‘You’re also supposed to be my best mate – turns out you don’t know how to act like either.’ I turn on my heel and slam my feet into the gravel, my head full and hot and ready to burst.
The rest of the night passes in a blur of perfect teeth and multicoloured dresses. I complete my duties robotically, just trying not to drop that blasted tray. Gradually, the music ends and the guests disperse. I watch Alice and Willow walk up the stairs together, his hand resting on the small of her back, and I feel the pressure of a thousand tears building behind my eyelids. He will never kiss me now, and I may never go home.
I know it’s pathetic, desperate even, but I hang back just like in canon, sweeping the floor. The rhythmic action soothes my mind, the swish of the broom drowning out the words in my head: Violet the Virgin.
I sweep and sweep until the first signs of dawn push through the windows. I’ve let everyone down – Nate, Katie, even Alice, though I think she may deserve it. Finally, I let the tears flow. They drop from my chin and splat on the floor, transforming to smears beneath the bristles of my broom. The treachery burns deep in my chest – how could Alice sabotage our only hope of going home? I know she’s always had this bunny boiler, fangirl crush on Willow, and I know she loves being a Gem, but this is different, this is our lives. Now I have to return to the Imp-hut and look Nate in the eyes as I tell him what’s happened. And then an even more terrifying thought rams its way into the forefront of my brain . . . Thorn will kill Katie.
Katie. I wish she was here instead of Alice. She would never sleaze all over Willow. She would never put the Gems on a pedestal – she would call them a bunch of douchenoggins and follow it up with a quote from Shakespeare. I really miss her.
I pull my sleeve across my face and step into the cool of the dawn. The faint outline of last night’s stars still blink in the sky, speaking of what could have been. Slowly, I drag my boots over the lawn, hoping that if I walk really slowly, I may never reach the hut.