“What were you expecting?” Xotichl navigates her way to my bed, where she sits at the end.
Lita shakes off her jacket, drapes it over the back of my chair, and drums her fingers hard against her hip. Inspecting my desk, the dream catcher hanging over the window, the tall dresser with the picture of Django displayed on its top. “I mean, it’s not like I haven’t been here before, though I never made it past the den. I guess I didn’t expect it to be so much like the rest of the house. I thought it’d be more stylish. More fashionable. Maybe even—dare I say—glamorous. I thought there’d be at least some small smidgen of something, anything, that might hint at your former Hollywood past. But, nope. The only word to describe this four-walled box is efficient. Your room is clean, tidy, and efficient. It does what a room is supposed to do and no more.”
“Sorry to disappoint. Guess my Vane Wick poster got lost in the move.” I push deeper into the row of pillows at my back, reminding myself that this is just Lita being Lita, there’s no use taking offense. And when she turns to me with flashing eyes and curving lips, I brace for whatever comes next.
“Speaking of…” She pauses dramatically. “You never want to talk about it. But since it’s Christmas and all, I was hoping you might relent and toss a little Tinseltown morsel my way.”
She steeples her hands under her chin, striving for a hopeful, angelic expression, which only makes me laugh. “I knew it!” I shake my head, pretending to be far more upset than I am.
“Knew what?” Her eyes grow alarmed, though she keeps her hands firmly in place.
“I knew that’s why you befriended me. I’m
just surprised you held back for so long.”
Her hands drop to her hips, as the look of feigned innocence fades. “Not only is that not fair, but it’s also not true, and you know it. I mean, how about showing a little mercy for the less privileged among us? This is the only place I’ve ever lived. I grew up in Enchantment and I’ll probably die here as well. The most I can hope for is the occasional shopping trip to Albuquerque. I’ll never have the opportunities you’ve had, so the least you can do is throw me a bone.”
“You have to admit, it’s a pretty good argument,” Xotichl says. “Besides, we’re your friends, and that’s what friends do. They dish about the past—whine about the present—and fantasize about the future.”
“You guys really know how to wage one heck of a guilt trip,” I grumble. Though the truth is, I’ve already decided to spill. What harm could it do? “What do you want to know?” I ask, directing the words mostly at Lita, watching as she gnaws her bottom lip in feigned consideration, although the answer comes so quickly, it’s clear she’s rehearsed it.
“Two things.”
I narrow my lids, try to guess what they’ll be.
“First—how was Vane Wick as a kisser? On a scale of one to ten. One being the worst ever—and ten being—”
“Ten being Dace!” Xotichl cuts in.
“Ew.” Lita makes a face of distaste. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but I can’t get over him being Cade’s twin.”
Join the club.
“Seriously, though—was it dreamy? I mean, it must’ve been superexotic since you were in Morocco and all—but details are desperately needed. Nothing but full disclosure will do.”
I glance at Xotichl, surprised to find her leaning toward me, just as hungry for the details as Lita. Then I slide my eyes shut and allow myself to remember. Allow myself to travel to a time before Dace. Though it seems like there was never really a time before Dace. It feels like he’s always been with me.
“You know, originally I was so angry about that tabloid story and the way he betrayed me, I promised myself if anyone asked, I’d claim that he was totally overrated. But the truth is, he was a really good kisser.” I slide my feet across the duvet, bringing my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms loosely around them. “But then, he should be. He’s had a lot of practice, both in real life and movies.”
Lita presses one hand over her heart while fanning herself with the other. Swooning onto my chair so dramatically, I can’t help but laugh in a way I haven’t indulged in for a while. And it feels so good to have this moment with my friends, I go on to say, “But—you know who’s a terrible kisser?”
Xotichl perks up as Lita slides to the edge of her seat, lips parted in anticipation.
“Will Harner.”
“No!” Lita cries, face lit with the kind of delight only the juiciest scandal can bring. “But didn’t he win an MTV award for Best Kiss?”
“Trust me, he’s the absolute worst—all spit, teeth, and crazy/floppy tongue. It’s like sitting in the splash zone at Sea World or going through a car wash with the top down—you end up drenched. The actress who played opposite him is truly gifted.” I cringe at the saliva-filled memory.
“So disappointing.” Lita sighs. “Still, I totally envy you. Even if it was a sucky, sloppy kiss, the fact is you still got to kiss him, while I’ve been stuck with the same group of boys my entire life. How can you stand it here? I mean, yeah, granted, I used to think this place was the greatest. Heck, I used to think I was the greatest—like Cade and I were the king and queen of Milagro High.”
“Um, that’s because you were Milagro royalty,” Xotichl says, causing Lita to roll her eyes and groan at the not-so-distant memory.
“I guess so,” she admits. “Still, it’s so weird how I no longer care about that stuff. It’s like I spent my whole life working to maintain my position as top dog—or top bitch as most people would say—but now all I can think about is ditching this place as soon as high school is over. I can’t get out of here soon enough.”
Her gaze drifts, as though searching for the exact moment when her opinion of Enchantment changed. Having no idea it happened on the Day of the Dead. The night a chunk of her soul was restored—released from those undead Richters and returned to her.
She’s no longer under their spell. No longer seeing this place the way they once manipulated her to see it. For the time being, they’re unable to touch her, unable to tweak her perception. And if it’s up to me, they’ll never be able to reach her again.