“Oh, God," I said."No, it's Dexter," he replied, offering me his hand, which I ignored.He glanced behind him, then back at me. "I'll see you soon," he said, and grinned atme."Like hell," I replied,”

“But you, fine sir." John Miller clapped Dexter on the shoulder, a bit unsteadily. "You have problems of your own.""This is true," Dexter replied, nodding."The women," John Miller sighed.Dexter wiped a hand over his face, and glanced down the road. "The women. Indeed, dear squire, they perplex me as well.""Ah, the fair Remy," John Miller said grandly, and I felt a flush run up my face. Lissa, in the front seat, put a hand to her mouth."The fair Remy," Dexter repeated, "did not see me as a worthwhile risk.""Indeed.""I am, of course, a rogue. A rapscallion. A musician. I would bring her nothing but poverty, shame, and bruised shins from my flailing limbs. She is the better for our parting."John Miller pantomined stabbing himself in the heart. "Cold words, my squire.""Huffah," Dexter agreed."Huffah," John Miller repeated, "Indeed.”

“Guess what?" Maggie said as soon as I walked into Celmentine's."What?"She clapped her hands. "I have a date to the prom!""Guess what?" I replied."What?""I don't." Her mouth dropped open. "Oh, and," I added, "I bought a bike.".... "Okay, let's just slow down." She held up her hands, palms facing me. "First things first. What do you mean, you don't have a date?""Just that," I said, sitting down at the desk. "Jason bailed on me.""Again?"I nodded."When?""About twenty minutes ago.""Oh, my God." She put her hand over her mouth: her expression was so horrified, like someone had died. "That's the worst thing ever.""No," I said, swallowing. "It's actually not.""No?"I shook my head. "The worst thing is that right afterward, I marched right into the bike shop and asked Eli to go with me, and he said no."She threw up her other hand, clapping it over the one already covering her mouth. "Holy crap," she said, her voice muffled. "Where does the bike come in?""I don't know," I said, waving my hand. "That part's kind of a blur.”

“Okay," I said, "what's your biggest fear?"As always, he took a second to think about the answer."Clowns," he said."Clowns.""Yup."I just looked at him. "What?" he said, glancing over at me."That is not a real answer," I told him."Says who?""Says me. I meant a real fear, like of failure, of death, of regret. Like that. Something that keeps you awake nights, questioning your very existence."He thought for a second. "Clowns.”

“Plastic ware," he said slowly, "like knives and forks and spoons?"I brushed a bit of dirt off the back of my car—was that a scratch?—and said casually,"Yeah, I guess.Just the basics, you know.""Did you need plastic ware?" he asked.I shrugged."Because," he went on, and I fought the urge to squirm, "it's so funny, because I needplastic ware. Badly.""Can we go inside, please?" I asked, slamming the trunk shut. "It's hot out here."He looked at the bag again, then at me. And then, slowly, the smile I knew anddreaded crept across hisface. "You bought me plastic ware," he said. "Didn't you?'"No," I growled, picking at my license plate."You did!" he hooted, laughing out loud. "You bought me some forks. And knives.And spoons.Because—""No," I said loudly."—you love me!" He grinned, as if he'd solved the puzzler for all time, as I felt a flushcreep across myface. Stupid Lissa. I could have killed her."It was on sale," I told him again, as if this was some kind of an excuse."You love me," he said simply, taking the bag and adding it to the others."Only seven bucks," I added, but he was already walking away, so sure of himself. "Itwas on clearance,for God's sake.""Love me," he called out over his shoulder, in a singsong voice. "You. Love. Me.”

“You bought me plastic ware," he said. "Didn't you?'"No," I growled, picking at my license plate."You did!" he hooted, laughing out loud. "You bought me some forks. And knives. And spoons. Because—""No," I said loudly."—you love me!" He grinned, as if he'd solved the puzzler for all time, as I felt a flush creep across my face. Stupid Lissa. I could have killed her."It was on sale," I told him again, as if this was some kind of an excuse."You love me," he said simply, taking the bag and adding it to the others."Only seven bucks," I added, but he was already walking away, so sure of himself. "It was on clearance, for God's sake." "Love me," he called out over his shoulder, in a singsong voice. "You. Love. Me.”

“He handed me a bandana. "Tie that on.""Why?" I said, but I did it anyway. "Norman, you are way too into ceremony.""It's important." I could hear him moving around, adjusting things, before he came to sit beside me. "Okay," he said. "Take a look."I pulled off the blindfold. Beside me, Norman watched me see myself for the first time.And it was me. At least, it was a girl who looked like me. She was sitting on the back stoop of the restaurant, legs crossed and dangling down. She had her head slightly tilted, as if she had been asked something and was waiting for the right moment to respond, smiling slightly behind the sunglasses that were perched on her nose, barely reflecting part of a blue sky.The girl was something else, though. Something I hadn't expected. She was beautiful.Not in the cookie-cutter way of all the faces encircling Isabel's mirror. And not in the easy, almost effortless style of a girl like Caroline Dawes. This girl who stared back at me, with her lip ring and her half smile - not quite earned - knew she wasn't like the others. She knew the secret. And she'd clicked her heels three times to find her way home."Oh, my God," I said to Norman, reaching forward to touch the painting, which still didn't seem real. My own face, bumpy and textured beneath my fingers, stared back at me. "Is this how you see me?""Colie." He was right beside me. "That's how you are.”