Page 66 of Everything She Does Is Magic

“You look beautiful,” I say.

She twirls to give the full effect. Then she holds my hand so I can do the same. I’m in a lavender gown that has enough movement at the bottom to flow outward as I spin, and I would never admit it to Kyle, but I understand what he meant now about wanting to be a charming prince—any charming prince—because this dress makes me feel like a princess, not from any story but my own.

Beside Grace is the one and only Parker Holt. They stretch out a hand to shake mine, which is so formal, so nervously human of them, that I find it endearing. They have on a collared black button-down tucked into black pants, the first few buttons open. Their hair is longer than the last time I saw them, messy in that cool way I’ve never understood how people achieve.

“Been a while,” I say. “How’s Scarlet Creek?”

“Same as ever,” they say back. “Trying to be Fableview and failing.”

Anya steps beside me, and Grace slings an arm around Parker’s neck. “Mystery and trouble collide,” she says, pointing between Anya and Parker.

Parker gives Grace a kiss on the cheek, and she goes gentle in a way I don’t often get to see from her. For all of Parker’s faults, they coax out Grace’s softer side. I have to appreciate them forthat.

Anya introduces herself, going through the usual pleasantries. Then she fixes her face into something serious, pulling Parker closer. “Take good care of her tonight,” she whispers.

As we make our way farther into the crowd, almost everyone stops to say hi, complimenting us both on our dresses. They’re friendlier to Anya tonight than they’ve been all year, and I knowit’s because of the way my Fall Ball ask sent ripples through the school. But she’s done so much other work to become the person she is on my arm. If that’s what it took to have her finally catch the eye of our classmates, I’d do it again a hundred times over.

Anya takes me by surprise when she presses her body into mine to whisper, “I want to dance.”

My eyes light up with hope.

“I don’t want to be the person I’ve been anymore, who’s so scared of everything,” she continues. “I want to make this night count. And I know that if I’m the one lucky enough to be here with you, then I better get out onto that floor and give you the night you deserve. It might be one of my last.”

She’s been doing this. Referencing her departure from Fableview once her birthday passes in November.

It’s frustrating me that she can’t see the solution yet. But I trust that she will.

On the floor, Anya outdanceseveryone. When my feet start to hurt or I need to get a drink of water, Anya continues dancing. When Kyle Holtzenberg starts asking who will let him lift them, she offers herself up as the first person to be hoisted above the crowd.

She smiles at everyone so much I think her mouth must be sore, because it’s never gotten this much use. I’d say I don’t recognize her, but that wouldn’t be true—I see her better than ever. The light behind all that darkness has been waiting to be let out, and tonight she’s like a star, bright and inextinguishable.

“We need to start bringing her water,” Grace says, catching me watching. “This pace is unsustainable.”

“You’re right,” I say. “Let’s put together a little food plate too.”

We head to the snack table, scanning the various treats forthings we think would appeal to our dancing queen. Most of the baked goods are homemade, brought in by members of the Fableview Fall Planning Committee. They’re all labeled, but so many people have stampeded through the table that some of the labels are too water stained or crumpled to read.

Grace throws together a plate, and I get the waters. When we return to the gym, Anya is exactly where we left her, spinning and clapping in the middle of the floor.

“Doyle!” Grace calls out. “It’s time for you to eat.”

“I’m dancing!” Anya responds.

Grace gives me a look. “Does she think I can’t see that?” She shoves her way back through the crowd, still holding the plate of treats. I follow with the waters, taking a sip of my own along the way.

“Take a bite,” Grace says, pushing the plate toward Anya.

Anya almost keeps going, but she seems to think better of it, stopping and grabbing the first thing she sees—a cookie she shoves into her mouth in one piece. “This is good,” she says, pointing to her mouth in shock.

“What is it?”

“Oatmeal chocolate chip.”

“My favorite.” Grace grabs the next cookie on the plate and takes a bite.

For a while, the four of us dance. It’s the most fun I’ve had in months. Maybe ever. There is no one asking anything of me. No pressure to keep this whole dance running. It’s just my girlfriend, my best friend, her love interest, and me, spinning together under a disco ball, not a single care in the world.

Midway through one of our favorite songs, Grace’s expression shifts. It’s not her usual Grace drama either. It’s something…flatter, somehow. She says nothing, just heads toward the gym exit, her pace increasing with every step.