We’d reached the scene where Satina and Azor were trying to find their way out of the carnival fun house when I finally had the nerve to turn to Eliza and ask, “So if Camden will be Marr and Max is Bram, who are you dressing up as?”
Eliza paused the DVD. “I’ll be Azor.”
“You’ll be Azor.”
“I’m actually really excited about it. I’ve never crossplayed before.”
The hardcore Arrowhead in me bristled. Eliza was short. Way too short to be Azor. Azor was quiet and mysterious and repressed, and even though I didn’t know Eliza well, I did know she was none of those things. But her dark, hint-of-exotic features were right, from a purely physical standpoint. And I knew she had plenty of confidence and creativity to pull it off.
“I know,” she said, breaking into my silence. “You’ve been hot for Azor for years. It’ll be a little weird for us.”
“Is that true?” asked Camden, shifting his position on the sofa so he could face me.
I looked at him, then back at Eliza, then up at the highest shelf of the tallest bookcase.
“No,” I lied.
“Why are you embarrassed?” teased Eliza. “Sure, the guy is trained as a Zendian Nocturne monk and all that. But there’s that episode where Satina learns about the rumors.”
“Okay, stop,” I said, still unable to look at them.
“What rumors?” asked Camden, his voice electric with curiosity.
“That the Nocturnes have amazing sexual abilities, and take the vow of celibacy in order to protect others from a pleasure so pure, it leads to addiction . . . and death.” Eliza echoed the memorable, overdramatic way that line had been delivered on the show.
“Oh,” said Camden. “Yeah. That’s pretty hot.”
I felt my face flush.
“A pleasure so pure. Guys never remember that line,” said Eliza. “But trust me, the girls do.”
“There is definitely some tension between Satina and Azor in this episode,” said Camden. “I always thought it was there for comic relief.”
“Can we please watch the rest of the episode now?” I asked, finally looking at them. I didn’t want Camden to know how hard I crushed on Azor. It felt like I was cheating on him.
Eliza studied me for a moment, her finger hovering over the Play button on the keyboard. “It’ll be okay, Ari. We’re going to have an epic time with this.”
We finished watching in silence, but even our silence was different from the Mom silence. When it was over, Eliza and I made some notes about the costumes, then I let them out through the back door.
Camden lingered on the step for a moment, his face searching mine. Was he going to kiss me? Were things forever awkward now that I’d been outed as an Azor girl?
“Call me tonight?” he whispered, although I wasn’t sure why.
My hand reached out of its own volition and touched his shoulder. “Can’t wait,” I said. He smiled and jumped down the steps to the alley. It took all my self-control not to follow him.
When I came back into the store, Richard raised one eyebrow at me.
“All will be revealed?” he asked.
“In time, my friend. In time.”
On my next afternoon off two days later, when I knew Camden was working at the hotline, Eliza summoned me to the Barn. I drove there through a thunderstorm, wondering what could be so important.
Inside, she had all the elements of my costume laid out on the couch.
“It’s done,” she said. “All that’s missing is you.”
I took the costume into the downstairs bathroom and began putting it on. First the brown leggings we’d bought online, which nearly sparkled in the bright lights above the bathroom mirror and instantly itched. Next, the white shirt Eliza had gone to four different area thrift stores to find; it had a slight ruffle underneath the V-neckline. Then, the purple tunic and brown belt, both of which Eliza had designed and made herself. I’d helped by sewing on the belt buckle and three brown triangular buttons—miraculously, we had them in stock at Millie’s—down the front of the tunic. Eliza had ordered handmade replica flight pins from some woman in North Dakota, and had already stuck mine on the collar.
Finally, I slipped my feet into my boots.
Silly stupid silly. You’re going to look like an idiot.
I turned away from that voice. It was too late to listen. I put on the wig cap and called to Eliza.
“I need some help with her hair!” We were always referring to Satina as “her,” the silent third wheel in our new friendship.
Eliza came into the bathroom and smiled when she saw me, but didn’t say anything. She picked up the wig, a long cascade of hair the color of cherrywood, and shook it out, held it delicately. I turned toward her and she slipped it on, taking a few moments to adjust it. She bit her lip and then said, “Check it out.”
I turned back to the mirror.
I was not me. I was not really Satina, either. I was someone beyond both those people, too shocked to try and figure out who.
“I like,” said Eliza. “Do you?”
“It looks . . . fantastic.”
“Not it. You. You look fantastic.”
“Yes, ma’am.”