‘Come greet your guests, Asta,’ Mama said, making way for Asta to come down the stairs.
A few weeks before Asta’s eighteenth birthday, Mama had suggested the idea of a big family party. Asta had waffled about it, but Mama insisted.
‘Everyone wants to see you before you head off to college,’ she’d said.
‘Or the Pillar School,’ Asta had added, her stomach tight with worry. Felix had helped her study for the exam, and they had driven in together for the riding test. When Felix received his acceptance, she had been elated, expecting hers to follow any day. But when the letter came, it was only to say that her application had been waitlisted. She felt sure that Felix would go off to Pillar and forget all about her within the first month. All she wanted in the world was to go with him.
‘Be realistic, Asta,’ Papa had said. It was the same thing he always said. ‘You should be planning for your future. Rawlings Community has an excellent agricultural program.’
‘Stop!’ Asta had whined. ‘I don’twantto be a farmer. I want to race. I told you that a thousand times.’
‘Damned dragons.’
‘Linden,’ Mama had scolded. ‘Mind your language.’ But Maeve had not forgotten about the party. ‘Asta, we are having a dinner with the family, whether you like it or not. You will smile and say, “Thank you for coming,” and you will be decent to the people who love you.’
So here Asta was with a house full of relatives while all she could think about was the letter that might or might not be coming any day from Pillar.
‘There she is!’ Uncle Rashad called once he caught sight of her. ‘The birthday girl!’ His broad smile made Asta smile too, in spite of her bad mood. He got up to hug her and started a round of ‘For She’s a Jolly Good Fellow’, waving at his children to join in.
Gem caught his father’s enthusiasm and sang along, conducting the song with Leif’s reluctant arm. Hadi instantly mimicked his big brother with Leif’s other arm. Leif was doing their best to remain unamused. Uncle Carl, Aunt Leona, and Grandpop came in from the dining room and joined in the singing, smiling genially at Asta. When the song ended, Grandma tacked on a creaky-voiced, ‘And many more,’ which made everyone laugh.
‘That’s for the birthday song, Ma,’ Aunt Alice said. ‘What are you wishing her many moreof, exactly?’
‘Oh, well,’ Grandma laughed. ‘Many more jolly fellows, I guess.’
‘Grandma!’ Asta gasped. ‘Is that what you got me for my birthday?’
‘No, ma’am. If I find any jolly fellows, I’m keeping them for myself!’
‘I heard that,’ Grandpop called from the doorway.
Grandma waved her makeshift fan at him as if he were a pesky fly. She reached out for Asta’s hand, and Asta came over to her. ‘What do you really want for your birthday, dear?’
‘Kind of late to be asking, Grandma,’ Gem joked.
But Asta had been giving the same answer for the past six years. ‘My own dragon.’
The air grew still. Grandma let go of Asta’s hand. A look passed between the adults in the room, eyebrows raised and mouths taut. Hadi stifled a giggle, for which Leif punched him. Gem shot Asta a sympathetic smile.
‘The girl still got dragon fever?’ Grandpop grumbled. Papa looked at a spot on the rug, embarrassed by the question.
‘Oh, it’s nothing serious.’ Mama’s tone was dismissive and light. ‘She rides with one of the neighbor boys. That’s all. They have fun together.’
‘So to speak,’ Leif added under their breath. Gem’s eyes grew wide, feigning shock.
‘It’s not like that, dummy.’ Asta snatched up a decorative wicker basket shaped like a rooster and hurled it at Leif, nailing Gem instead, who howled in exaggerated pain. ‘Felix is my best friend.’
‘Felix is my best friend,’Leif echoed back in a mocking tone. ‘Sure. Doesn’t everyone write their best friend love notes every day?’
‘What’s this?’ Aunt Alice asked, intrigued.
‘Felix is a very nice boy,’ Mama told her sister-in-law. ‘Very polite.’
‘They’re not love notes,’ Asta protested. ‘They’re just notes-notes.’ Her stomach felt queasy. DidFelixthink they were love notes? He wasn’t supposed to know.
The brutal truth was, Asta was in love with her best friend. But she had sworn to herself that she would never tell him. If he knew, then he would tell her that he didn’t like her like that and that she was being weird, and then she would have to force herself to stop feeling this way. And she couldn’t.
Whenever he touched her, it felt like her skin was on fire. Whenever he looked at her, she could feel it down to her toes. She obsessed about the way his dark hair curled behind his ear, the shape of his fingernails, the dorky little snort he made when he was laughing uncontrollably. It was horrible and wonderful, and she couldn’t stop it.
