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The drawings of various birds were framed and visually balanced on the wall surrounding her recently dusted headboard, lamp and nightstand, desk, and computer. Her pink quilt and frilly pillow case were freshly laundered and ironed. A fawn-colored Tribble was positioned exactly in the pillow’s center. No dirt speck dared cross the duct taped line which separated her side of the room from Bianca’s side. “I love birds.”
The army of action figures on her desk, which had grown too since her admirer had materialized, stood ordered by show, season, and rank, if applicable. A cartoon version of the Scientific Method was listed on a framed poster next to her white curtained window.
She opened her fist and examined the Star Trek cereal box trinket again. “He gave me this at the store, tossed it at my feet from his hiding place.”
“I’m telling you...” Bianca cupped a hand over hers “...the boy’s one love-sick puppy.”
“Why won’t he let me know who he is?”
“Face it, Ophelia, you’re drop-dead gorgeous, and you’ve been going out with a rich guy. He’s intimidated. So, make the last step easy for him.”
The December sun finally came up, only to be hidden behind clouds. It went back down a few hours later.
The oppressive night returned, and Ophelia parted the curtain to see Martin barrel out of his truck in a long, black trench coat. Beneath it he wore a black waistcoat with tails, white shirt and bowtie, and a red and gold sash across his chest. He smiled, revealing plastic fangs.
“Oh, good grief.”
“What?” Bianca elbowed her away. “Oh. My. Dog.”
“Bram Stoker must be rolling over in his grave.” Ophelia fetched her dress coat from a chair.
“Who?” Bianca chased her out, fussing over her tiara.
“Bram Stoker, author of the original vampire novel, Dracula. I had to read it for Honors English. Mrs. Cox wouldn’t let me opt out.” Ophelia had been sorted into all advanced classes when they were freshmen. “I wanted Frankenstein by Mary Shelley, possibly the first Science Fiction novel ever.”
“I thought it was Horror.” Bianca picked up her coat. “Martin’s no vampire. He’s just a jackass with delusions of grandeur.”
Martin walked in and grinned up at her. For an instant, he was the boy she once loved and her heart hurt.
“You’re an angel.” Martin took her hand as she came down, turned it over and licked her fingers.
Ew, I used to like that. She freed herself, but it was only a brief escape from his suffocating presence.
“That’s disgusting. And right in front of me? Creep.” Bianca spoke her thoughts, as always.
The big sleeves of Ophelia’s pale blue dress did resemble angel’s wings. The raised-waist bodice corseted in and tied with laces in the front. A fake pearl necklace hung at her throat. An old rhinestone tiara was set upon her head, hair swept back into a diamond and pearl barrette behind and flowing in curls down her back. Okay, so maybe I do make a good Princess Buttercup waiting for my sweet Wesley and his buddies to show up, so I can finally pitch Prince Humperdinck.
From the moment she started going out with him, she had been referred to as ‘Martin Brynner’s girlfriend’ and nothing else. I want my own name back.
Bianca thrust her arms into her coat, bunching up her sleeves. “She’s Buttercup, you lard-butt, from The Princess Bride and so am I. She plays the part better than me, thanks to you.”
“What?” Martin glared at her.
“You make a great Prince Humperdinck, you miserable vomitous mass. I can be the witty Spaniard, so all we need is a hot pirate in a black mask and a lovable powerhouse.” Bianca fastened her buttons.
“A loveable powerhouse?” Ophelia released her coat to Martin.
“Fessic the Giant,” said Bianca.
“Oh, right. Loveable. Powerhouse. Got it.”
“Where’s your idiot boyfriend?” Martin slipped Ophelia’s coat on her.
“My hotter-and-smarter-than-you boyfriend’s changing a tire. I’m coming with you guys.” Bianca had planned it out, so Ophelia wouldn’t be alone with Martin.
“Oh, no, you’re not, bitch.”
“Don’t call me that in front of my parents, you muskox-faced buffoon. My dad just bought a new shotgun and there’s always—”
The dog charged in the back door, barking and sliding into the archway on his way to rip out Martin’s throat.
Ophelia faced the dog. “Sit.”
Kiska sat and growled at Martin, real white fangs bared.
Ophelia drew a deep breath and pushed it out. “Can we please go?”
“Yeah, let’s.” Martin guided her out. “Stupid dog. What kind of name is ‘Kiska’ anyway? Sounds Chinese.”
“It’s Russian, you twerp, after the Aleutian island,” said Bianca. “It means ‘pure.’ Don’t you know anything beyond the end of your own nose?”
Ophelia rolled her eyes and didn’t complain when he swept her off her feet and carried her to his truck. It was Alaskan chivalry to keep a lady’s bare ankles out of the snow. “Can you please take those plastic fangs out? They’re ridiculous.”
“Anything for you, my Sweet.” Martin spit them onto the icy road.
Litterbug.
Flapping wings before the truck’s hood drew her attention. “Oh.”
A raven lit upon the cottonwood tree across the road.
Martin glanced. “Garbage bird.”
“Ravens are sacred to Alaska Natives.” Something about this particular bird converted her faith. “And I think they’re beautiful.”
The raven cocked his head at her.
Martin glared at Bianca and walked around his truck to the driver’s door.
Ophelia watched the raven. “Isn’t he magnificent?”
The raven looked straight at her.
Bianca didn’t bother a glimpse. “It’s a bird, Ophelia.”
“I love birds.”
Martin shifted in the driver’s seat. “I’ll buy you a parrot.”
I don’t want a pet bird. I would feel sorry for it sitting in a cage.
On the way, Martin bragged about his new truck while Bianca accused him of overcompensating for poor romantic skills.
Ophelia stared out her sister’s window and glanced at the side-view mirror from time to time. She saw movement and leaned closer, over her sister.
Bianca peered into the side-view mirror and saw the large body move from one black tree to the next. “Whoa. That is one big raven.”
Martin tilted the rear-view mirror and glared. “A geezerpop.”
“What’s a geezerpop?”
Bianca had once wondered aloud if maybe Martin had gotten into steroids to get ahead in hockey. She still wasn’t keeping her mouth shut. “What kind of weed have you been smoking to come up words like that??”
Ophelia tried to remember what he used to be like, but couldn’t think past his hot, narrowed eyes. “And a diabecracker. What’s a diabecracker?”
“Nothing.” Martin tilted the mirror back into place. “They’re nothing. Guess I’m a little jumpy after what happened this morning.” He rubbed her knee. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you, divine princess.”
“She’s not your princess, you drooling pig.”
“I won’t let you ruin this evening for Ophelia, Bianca.” Martin put his hand back on the steering wheel.
“If anyone ruins this evening for her, it’ll be you.” Bianca leaned his way and glowered.
“If you weren’t her sister...”
“I am, so get used it to already.”
“Will you two please shut-up?” Ophelia rubbed fingers to her aching forehead.
A second later, Martin pulled his truck into the student parking lot, lights shining on the gray cinderblock gym’s sign, ‘Togo High School, Home of the Tundra Wolves.’ He navigated into his favored place in the front and cut the engine.
The raven landed on the school mascot statue near the snow-buried picnic tables.
Martin got out, walked around the truck, and opened the passenger door. “Hurry up, bitch.”
“Warthog.” Bianca planted feet on a spot of compacted snow.
Ophelia scooted to the edge and Martin scooped her up. “Stop calling my sister a bitch. I can walk by myself.”
“You’ll slip on the ice.” Martin elbowed the door closed and carried Ophelia away.
Ophelia watched the raven as she was carried up the steps and finally set down. “His eyes are...”
“What?” Martin scowled over his shoulder.
Ophelia looked into Martin’s hard face. He’ll kill the raven if he finds out that it’s different. Martin only hunted animals with large antlers which he mounted on his wall, but he might make an exception for such an unusual trophy.
“Ravenish.” Ophelia had never heard of a raven having blue eyes before. Alaskan huskies, sure, but not ravens.
Martin led her inside, leaning to keep an arm locked around her waist.
Bianca yanked off her own coat, tossed it at the rack, and charged ahead through the gym doors. “See ya. I’m on a mission tonight.”
The full force of the bad music struck Ophelia as Martin led her through the crowd.
A Christmas tree towered to the right, flown in from Seattle by the Brynners. Nothing was too good for their little boy. On the left, a buffet table was laden with both Christmas treats and Halloween candy, draped with red and green crepe paper on one end and orange and black on the other.
Couples danced in the middle of the gym with fake spiders and snowflakes dangling above their heads. Most danced like moose struggling out of a frozen pond, but a few rocked gracefully.
Better music would help. Ophelia wished the band could do their own thing and strongly suspected the band members wished the same. She was surprised the Brynners hadn’t flown in a popular band from Seattle too. Bianca would know who was on what world tour or which band’s latest album had gone platinum, but Ophelia didn’t care about such things.
Maybe the Brynners are tone-deaf anyway. She let herself be led along with Martin to his friends who greeted her with fake smiles. Most were girls and they’d been nice enough to her in the past, before she upset the social order by snagging the hottest guy in school.
She was only a geek, after all.
Ophelia scanned the room and discovered the rest of her calculus class gathered around the dessert table, dateless.
All male and mostly blond, they raised plastic cups to her. She waved at them and longed to discuss the latest Star Wars computer game. Three were costumed as Darth Vader, one as a Storm Trooper, and Trevor Wilkowsky was Zorro.
She sighed. She hadn’t exactly dumped Trevor. He’d just kind of backed off when Martin took over. Oh, well, he kissed like a Labrador puppy anyway.
“Found him,” Bianca whispered as she popped up at Ophelia’s elbow.
“Found...who? What are you talking about?”
Martin was too busy bragging about his new truck to notice Bianca drag her aside.
Bianca nodded to the geeks. “Right there, all in black, your Sweet Wesley.”
Ophelia looked. “Trevor’s Zorro, not Wesley from The Princess Bride. See the hat? You don’t really think he’s been trying to get me to go out with him again. Do you?”
“No. Sure, Trevor’s hot for you. He’s a heterosexual male, it’s involuntary. But he doesn’t love you. He’d never stand up to Martin. Your Sweet Wesley’s right behind him, blending in with all the Darth Vaders.”
“But, how do you—”
“Because. After all the action figures he’s given you, I knew he must be a geek too. So, yesterday when I walked by their table at lunch, I casually mentioned you were going as Princess Buttercup tonight. If he was paying attention, he’d come as Wesley. And there he is. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything.” Bianca patted her shoulder.
“Bianca.” Ophelia checked on Martin, who was still bragging to friends.
Jimmy Lopez, Bianca’s boyfriend, appeared with a couple of his buddies, all dressed as pirates in various red and black patterns. “Hey, Martin. Heard your new truck has a six-cylinder.”
That was guy-talk for ‘Dude, you’re the Alpha Male.’
“Eight cylinders, actually.” That meant ‘Damn straight, I am.’
“Can we go see?” Meaning, ‘We acquiesce to your awesomeness.’
Martin kissed the top of her head. “Be right back. Don’t wander off.” And he walked away with them.
Free. New oxygen rushed into Ophelia.
“Ooh, Buttercup.” Bianca tapped her shoulder.
Ophelia spun around.
Her sister pointed to a boy next to her.
Costumed in Renaissance black, the boy’s face was masked, a scarf tied at the back of his head. His thin lips trembled, his chin smooth, his eyes stormy blue.
“Meet your Sweet Wesley. Isn’t he hot?” Bianca patted his shoulder like she was presenting a prize stallion.
Ophelia’s mouth fell agape.
“Wesley, this is Princess Buttercup.” Bianca smacked hands together between them. “The courtship may now commence.”
“Uh.” Sheer mortification shot through Ophelia from her cheeks, down her neck, and all the way to her toes. She resisted the urge to slap her sister.
‘Sweet Wesley’ didn’t seem to know what to do either.
Bianca shoved her straight into his arms. She pointed back to the tables with her thumb. “I’ll, um, just go away and, uh, plot world domination now. Okay? Buh-bye.”
Ophelia was suddenly very conscious of the boy’s arms around her. “I’m sorry. My sister’s insatiable, I mean insane.”
“My sister’s insane too.” A little dimple indented near the right of his mouth.
Bianca signaled the band.
The lead singer, a pretty brunette, stepped up to the mike and crooned an old Elvis Presley tune, ‘Love Me Tender.’
I am going to die. Ophelia couldn’t pry her gaze away from her secret admirer’s eyes, hand on his solid shoulder. I can live with that.