Protagonist Bound (28 page)

“Lady Agnue,” I managed to stutter after the initial shock had passed. “That can’t be my prophecy. It just can’t be! I mean, it’s like . . . and I’m like . . . Well, for starters there is absolutely no way that I’m marrying
Chance Darling
! Everything about that prophecy is wrong. It has to be.”

Our headmistress shut my book sternly and glared at me dead on.

“Believe me, Miss Knight, I am as surprised as anyone. To begin with, in order for a lady to accomplish any of the events in this prologue I would have assumed she needed to be a good princess, which we all know is simply not who you are. Nevertheless, it would seem that we were both wrong. Myself in regards to believing that a terrible princess such as yourself could not lead a perfect fairytale life, and you in regards to believing you could be some kind of hero.”

“But—” I started to protest again.

“But nothing,” Lady Agnue interceded. “While you may not like the truth, Miss Knight, I strongly suggest now, as I have for years, that you stop fighting the inevitable and get over it. This, and nothing more, will be your fate. Who you are has been decided, and it is in no way up for debate.”

With that, Lady Agnue nodded goodbye to SJ and Blue and excused herself from the infirmary with a loud slam of the door. When she’d gone, I leaned back against the coldness of the headboard and closed my eyes to the coldness of the world.

For years I’d wondered what my reaction would be when I someday received my prologue prophecy.

Would I yell and scream? Burst into tears? Throw a tantrum? Pretend like nothing was wrong? Take a flame-thrower to my book? Or all of the above?

In truth, however, my reaction was absolutely nothing like that. In fact, it was nothing like I’d expected it to be, period.

At first I sat in silence staring at the swelling sea as I tried to process the news. I attempted to analyze every logical option, reasonable consequence, and inherent domino effect of the different courses of action I might take next—just as I knew SJ would do. Although, in the following moments, the gut feelings and uncensored instinct that were more characteristic of Blue’s teachings struggled against such rationale and begged for a more impulsive, ardent response.

Both these forms of influence persisted to pull me back and forth for a few minutes—each competing for my undivided commitment and urging me to make a definite choice between leading with my head or my heart from here on out.

But then, as I stood on the threshold of this crossroads and felt the weight of both paths begging for fidelity, something happened.

An idea suddenly formed within me that was a by-product of both. It was something logical and instinctive, something thought-out and impetuous, and something that my head knew was possible just as surely as my heart knew it was right. Call it a burst of genius or a stroke of utter insanity—it was by far the strongest, most ridiculous, most inspiring thought I’d ever had. And the second it was born I knew there would be no going back or reasoning with it.

“No,” I abruptly blurted out.

SJ blinked. “What do you mean,
no
?” she asked.

I sat up straight again, my blood practically boiling from the resolve beginning to burn inside of me. “I mean NO. I don’t care what Lady Agnue, or that stupid prophecy, or the Author says. The girl described in that book isn’t who I am. I won’t . . . I
can’t
let it be. There has to be another way, another option. And I don’t know how, but I’m gonna find it and I am going to change my fate. I have to.”

“Crisa,” Blue sighed. “Believe me, I get how you feel; you know that I do. And you know I’m very pro rule-breaking. But defying one of the Author’s books isn’t about breaking a rule. It’s trying to go against life and, like, nature itself. That’s never been done.”

“Then it’s long overdue,” I responded without pause.

SJ and Blue looked at me like I was crazy. But, honestly, I would’ve thought they were crazy if they hadn’t. What I was suggesting was unheard of—it was completely insane. Of course, that didn’t mean it was impossible . . . Right?

I could see the gears turning in their heads as they tried to wrap their minds around the ludicrous prospect I’d just presented them with.

My friends were loyal, dependable, and usually game for whatever mischief or adventure came our way. However, I wasn’t exactly asking them to crash a tournament or play a prank on Madame Lisbon. I was asking them to believe that we could rebel against everything we’d been taught to accept our entire lives,
and
believe that it could work.

Moreover, I was asking them to put their faith in that idea as it came out of me—the girl who’d just thought of the totally bananas plan within moments after receiving life-altering news, and who might’ve also been suffering the side effects of a partial concussion from a 500-foot drop.

Eventually though, it was Blue who first began to humor the notion.

“Let’s say it could be done . . .” she pondered aloud, “changing your fate, changing all our fates I mean. How would we even go about it?”

“The Author,” I answered firmly. “Everyone knows that the only person with the power to control fates is the Author. And I figure if she wrote these in the first place, then there’s no reason she can’t just write us new ones—but this time ones of our own design.”

“Okay, so we’d have to get to the Author,” Blue continued.

SJ shook her head. “It is impossible.”

“Or something very close to it,” Blue corrected.

The two of them had a kind of silent conversation with their eyes for a beat as they thought on the notion. After a few moments had passed I let out a deep breath and readdressed them before common sense could cause their conviction to slip away from me any further.

“Look,” I asserted. “Blue, you were right before. Wishes don’t change anything. But actions
can
. We can change that prophecy the Author gave you and rewrite your destiny to be something that you actually want it to be. And, SJ, we can insure that the one you eventually get is based on your will, not someone else’s, and that the only role assigned to you in the future is one that you picked out for yourself.

“The bottom line is this, guys: I know it sounds nuts, but I also know that neither of you are happy with the Author’s ability to just up and take our lives from us.
So
, I am simply saying that we shouldn’t just sit here and throw in the towel. We owe it to ourselves to at least try and take them back. You know that we do.”

I paused and watched as contemplation cut across my friends’ faces.

The idea sunk in.

The idea took hold.

The idea was . . .
considered
.

“All right,” SJ said after the beat of reflection had passed. “Suppose it
were
possible. To begin with we would need to find a way to escape Lady Agnue’s in order to even attempt a journey to the Indexlands at all.”

“And more importantly, we’d have to figure out how to break the most permanent, and supposedly unbreakable spell in Book: the In and Out Spell
around
the Indexlands, “ Blue added.

I raised my eyebrows hopefully. “Does that mean you’re in?”

Blue and SJ looked at each other. I figured they were each racking their brains trying to see if any of the reasons not to do this outweighed how much they knew they actually wanted to.

As suspected, none did. The idea to change our lives, take our fates into our own hands, and decide who we were for ourselves—it was an insane, beautiful, tempting idea that could not be extinguished now that we’d given life to it.

SJ placed her fingers to her temple to ward off a headache for the second time today. “Crisa, if we are going to do this, first and foremost we will need information.”

Blue tilted her head curiously. “What kind of information?” she asked.

I smiled mischievously, leaned forward, and lowered my voice to a whisper to avoid being heard by a passing nurse.

“
Fairy Godmother
information,” I replied.

I Hitch A Ride On A Magic Mushroom

rying comes easy for teenage girls. Frankly, I think we’re genetically engineered for the vulnerable undertaking.

In my opinion, this sucked. For, no matter how tough or logical we were, if we lowered our defenses at the proper moment all it took was the right emotional rise to get the waterworks going.

I’d lived at an all-girl boarding school long enough to validate this claim,
and
confirm that the innate shortcoming was as inconvenient as it was annoying.

Like thanks, nature. It’s super helpful to get all misty-eyed just from reading a sad book or because the banquet hall ran out of chocolate chip cookies.

Sigh.

Emotions are the worst, aren’t they?

Anyways, it was because of this inherent ability to turn on the waterworks that the Fairy Godmothers no longer responded to every princess or female protagonist at the drop of a tear like they used to. Now there was a whole routine we had to go through in order to get their attention.

My friends and I were presently in the back garden of Adelaide Castle just past the orchard where we’d been conspiring earlier. The hour was late, the stars were out, and the odds were not great. But, there we were.

SJ was fixing my makeup (for extra showmanship when the performance commenced) while Blue was standing beneath a weeping willow nearby, talking with Daniel and Jason. She was holding a large purple textbook with “
Damsels in Distress 601
” written on the cover in silver. She was laughing, smiling, and seemed to be having a good time.

“Look up,” SJ ordered as she applied my mascara.

I held back my urge to object and obeyed her request, but tried to keep Blue and the boys in my line of sight in the process.

More than ever I wanted to ask Blue why she still remained so amicable with Jason. The behavior she’d been exhibiting was mind-boggling. I mean, not only was he the guy she was unwillingly chained to for the rest of her existence. But the main reason she was game for this little fate-challenging adventure was to fix that very problem.

Despite my longing to probe into the matter further, I forced myself to continue to leave it alone just as I had been doing for the past month. SJ and I had made a promise to each other that as long as Blue didn’t bring it up, we wouldn’t bug her about it. An agreement I was seriously trying to respect since I could truly empathize with our friend’s situation. Now that I had a prologue prophecy of my own, it was totally the last thing I wanted anyone to bother me about.

Hmm. Maybe in hindsight of those feelings . . . I
could
understand Blue’s silence on the subject. At least from a practical standpoint.

I’d been devastated to receive my prologue prophecy. But I’d immediately realized in the ever aftermath that allowing myself to writhe in that distress was pointless. The only thing it would accomplish would be me feeling more miserable.

Conversely, if I ignored these feelings of dismay and refused to give them the satisfaction of crushing me and taking away my sense of fight, then I could turn around and try to convert my energy into something useful. And that (like Blue, I garnered) was the course of action I’d elected to take.

It was simply more productive to keep my mind focused on the long, arguably impossible goal ahead rather than get caught up in the despair of the present. Turning melancholy into fire for fueling resolve was a far better use of one’s time than sulking in it, after all.

This had always been as much Blue’s style as it had been mine. And now, more than ever, I was truly grateful for my tendency to bottle up weaker feelings in this manner. For if I could keep doing that—keep my eyes on the prize and avoid the heartache that common sense or cowering to the odds would bring—it might just give me the inferno-sized fire I’d need to fight what was coming.

SJ finished with my makeup and called the others over so that we could go through our plan once more.

“Okay, Blue,” I said when we’d all gathered round. “Read the checklist again.”

Our friend opened her textbook to the designated page. “Alrighty,” she said. “‘A princess or other female protagonist will surely receive help from a Fairy Godmother if she experiences: One: An Unpleasant Confrontation. Two: Insulting/Hurtful Words. And Three: Tears that cause her to run away to a private location, fall to the ground, and bury her face in her hands.’”