Page 33 of Wings of Reverie

“You’re frowning.” Periwinkle paused, tilting her head to study him. “Although that might just be your face.”

Weaver scoffed. “No, it’s not.” Her knee bumped his, and he yanked it out of her way.

“I think it is.”

“No, it’s not,” he snapped. And then Weaver did the most shocking thing he could have possibly done.

He smiled at her.

It was a huge, brilliant, charming smile. It shone in his eyes, filled out his cheeks, lit up his entire face. Periwinkle felt a little like she’d had the wind knocked out of her.

Then, like a star had winked out, it was gone, and Weaver was scowling again. “See? My face can do whatever I tell it to,” he said. Periwinkle cleared her throat.

“Fine,” she said. “You win. Your face can do all kinds of things.” She slumped against the chair back, trying not to look as out of breath as she felt. “Anyway, the book—I didn’t know what youusually liked to read, but it’s full of old stories. Some for human children, some from Pixie Hollow. I thought at the very least it would keep you from getting bored while I sleep. And I’ve never gotten to celebrate the Book Flood before, so I kind of got excited.”And also, it’s part of my secret mission to un-cynic you, she said silently to herself.

“There’s no rush to return it, if you’ve got tons of other books to read,” she added, when Weaver didn’t answer. “The Keeper told me he just asks everyone to return their Book Flood books by the end of winter.”

Weaver acknowledged this with a bare raise of his eyebrows as he finally began paging through the book. “I didn’t get any other gifts for Book Flood.”

His voice had been completely neutral. But Periwinkle couldn’t help her surprise. “Oh.” For some reason, she couldn’t think to say anything else.

Out over Snowlight Square, an aurora lit up the sky to appreciative whoops and cheers.

“Look,” Weaver finally bit out. “Everyone knows who your friends are. Your friends, your boyfriend. You didn’t even know who I was when we met in the woods night before last,” he said, flinging his arm out at her pile of gifts. “We aren’t allyou.”

Periwinkle bit her lip. This was the second time Weaver had called Fletcher her boyfriend, and he wasn’t, but she wasn’t going to argue with him about it. Especially because—he was right aboutthe rest of it. Because she wished she’d known who Weaver was, before. Sheshouldhave known.

“Perfect Periwinkle,” he said. “Pretty Periwinkle. Popular, perpetually adored Periwinkle.” His words were bitter. His face was just bored.

Was that how he saw her?

More to the point, wasperfectall she really was? And did she want better—different—more—than that?

Periwinkle stared into her lap. “I’m sorry,” she said. She measured out the words slowly, wanting to make sure she said exactly what she meant to. “I’m sorry I didn’t know who you were before, and I’m surprised at myself for not knowing. I thought I was friends with everyone, but I’m coming to realize that my definition ofeveryonehas been kind of narrow. It’s possible I’m a little self-centered, or just overly focused on my closest friends.” She glanced up at Weaver. “But it’s also possible you’ve been keeping people at a distance on purpose.”

Weaver had been watching her strangely—guardedly. But there was surprise in his expression now, and his bearing relaxed a little. “It’s not your fault that a lot of people like you,” he finally said. “They have good reason to like you.”

“Maybe. But I’m going to do better.” Periwinkle gave him a small smile. “Watch out, though. Sounds like I’m growing on you.”

Weaver scoffed. “Yeah, I think I’ll be fine.” Still, he watched her a moment more after that, sprawling back in their chair, handstoying with the book she’d given him. When their knees bumped, he pulled away, and Periwinkle curled her feet up underneath her.

“No Legs?” she asked. “Uh—the spider. Not—” She gestured vaguely at their limbs.

Weaver shook his head, still studying her. “Not tonight,” he said. Periwinkle nodded and turned away, not able to hold his gaze.

She looked out past the porch again, across the Frost Forest, out into the Winter Woods. Somewhere, out in a secret forest, the magic scissors were waiting for them. Periwinkle wished she knew where to start looking.

“What is it?” Weaver asked.

She shrugged. “Same thing I’d guess is on your mind. I’ve been thinking all afternoon where the Bobbin Wood might be, and I can’t work it out.”

“Me either.”

“Do you think it’s a misspelling?” Periwinkle asked. “Do you think it’s supposed to saybobbingwood? The Keeper doesn’t make mistakes very often, but maybe he forgot a letter when he copied it down.”

“Well,bobbinis a word. It’s a thing you wrap thread around.” Weaver shook his head. “But I don’t know. I don’t understand it either. Where is a whole other forest hiding in the Winter Woods?”

Mistletoe Terrace. The Frost Forest. Evergreen Overlook. Though Winter had plenty of trees, that was it as actual forests went. But—