TWIN ROSES CAFÉ was known by its two signature rose trees: white roses bloomed to the left of the door, red roses to the right. Inside, the floor was painted cherry red; the walls were white with a mural of black roses, castles, and crowned bears in silhouette. Vanilla cupcakes went on one side of the pastry case, red velvet on the other. There were crown-shaped sugar cookies, white chocolate and cranberry scones, lattes topped with foam roses.
When you did a fairy-tale theme in Beau Rivage, you did it all the way.
Ruby Ramble brewed coffee and chatted with customers while her twin sister, Pearl, mixed batter and shaped cookies in the kitchen. The sisters’ curse had inspired the theme for their mother’s café, and they were as much a part of the atmosphere as the decor. Ruby with her bright red lipstick, Pearl with the dusting of flour on her braided hair and dark brown skin.
There was a hand-painted sign nailed to the counter: Please don’t feed the bears. The customers got a kick out of it—and it was a bad idea. Just because the occasional enchanted animal wandered through town didn’t mean every black bear deserved a cupcake. And on the wall behind Ruby was a poster that read: My cupcakes bring all the bears to the yard. Though it had been years since the bear prince had appeared in the Rambles’ yard, let alone anywhere else.
The café’s best seller was their Twin Roses cupcake—red velvet cake topped with vanilla buttercream and decorated with two marzipan roses. They were a nod to the twin roses Pearl and Ruby had on their lower backs: their märchen marks, the sign of the Snow White and Rose Red curse they shared. Pearl’s mark was composed of two white roses; Ruby’s double roses were a rich bloodred. They’d had the marks since they were six months old and, unlike some Cursed, they weren’t afraid of their shared destiny. They were fated to care for each other, to always be there for each other, to keep each other safe. Animals loved them and, thanks to a fairy’s gift, no harm would ever come to them.
They were more blessed than cursed.
Until they found something they couldn’t share.
“Do you remember when we were kids?” Pearl asked. She was in the kitchen after hours, putting away a fresh batch of marzipan roses while Ruby swept the floor out front.
“Are you asking because you think I have amnesia?” Ruby called.
“No. I was just thinking. Remembering our friend.”
Our friend was the way they referred to the prince: the little black bear who had knocked on their door one winter night when the sisters were eight years old, and asked to come in. He hadn’t been in danger of freezing—it rarely got cold in Beau Rivage—but he was hungry and lonely.
Mrs. Ramble had invited the poor cub inside, and the sisters fed him blackberry jam and raw honey from a jar. Pearl brushed the dead leaves from his fur while Ruby picked off the brambles, and then the two girls piled on top of him like he was a giant pillow, and all three watched cartoons together. That night the bear slept on the rug in front of the TV, the all-night cartoon channel keeping him company, and in the morning Pearl and Ruby fed him cinnamon toast, bacon, and waffles with honey. Some nights the bear prince made a weeping sound, and Pearl and Ruby would creep down the stairs and pat him and feed him Pop-Tarts until he seemed cheerful again.
The bear came almost every night that winter, the next winter, and the next. The winter of their eleventh year, the girls expected him; they’d stockpiled his favorite foods and made a bed of pillows for him on the carpet. But the bear prince never returned. Not that year or any year after. When the sisters were fourteen, Pearl had spotted a black bear rooting through their neighbor’s trash, and Ruby ran up to it and cried, “Where have you been?” But the bear—whoever it was—had fled.
“I remember everything from back then,” Ruby said, her voice softening. The sisters talked about the bear prince from time to time, but always carefully. They didn’t speculate about where he was or what had happened to make him go away. Both girls knew without saying it that a prince who looked like a bear was as vulnerable to a hunter’s bullet as any other animal.
“Remember when we used to kick him?” Pearl asked the question like she was horrified at herself—because she was.
Ruby laughed. “Yes. Why were we so mean? You especially. You’re the sweet one.”
“I don’t know. But I was rolling out dough before, and it made me think of it. How we’d lie on our backs and pummel him with our feet. He seemed so chubby and invulnerable … like we couldn’t be doing more than tickling him. But he was small for a bear. Not much older than we were.”
I wonder where he is now, Pearl thought.
“Remember what he used to ask us?” Ruby said. “Straight out of the fairy tale?”
They recited it together:
“Snow White, Rose Red, will you beat your lover dead?”
“Mom hated that,” Pearl said.
“She didn’t think it was appropriate for eight-year-olds to have a lover.”
“Well, it’s not.” Pearl laughed. “But I still thought of him as our boyfriend.”
“Me, too.”
“You’re lucky you didn’t keep a diary. It was hard to know how to write about a bear romantically. I think I just called him ‘the prince.’ ”
“You did,” Ruby said.
“What?” Pearl came out of the kitchen. “How would you know?”
“I used to read your diary. Obviously.”
“Don’t act surprised! Mom told us to share everything. And you didn’t hide the key very well.”
They were laughing—Pearl threatening to pelt her sister with sprinkles, Ruby protesting, “No, I’ll have to sweep up again!”—when there was a tock sound against the front window.
“A bear?” Ruby said.
“I doubt it. Sounds like someone throwing a rock.”
“I’ll go see who it is.”
“Wait for me,” Pearl said, undoing her apron. They’d been through plenty of sketchy situations and always came out okay, but she never let Ruby walk into trouble without her. Pearl worried that the fairy’s blessing—the magic that kept them safe—only worked when they were together.
They’d flipped the Closed sign and locked up an hour ago, but occasionally people saw the lights on and tried to get in for a late-night coffee. Ruby unlocked the door and stepped out onto the street; Pearl followed immediately after. The rose trees’ fragrance was strong in the sultry night air.
At first they didn’t see anyone, but then Ruby motioned to a spindly man bent almost double near the bike rack, where the girls’ bikes were stowed. The man was twisting around, tugging at something—a scarf?—that had tangled around Pearl’s bike chain and trapped him.
“What are you doing?” Ruby called out. She held her broom like a weapon.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” the man shouted. “I’m trying to get free!”
“You’re stuck?” Pearl asked.
“ ‘You’re stuck?’ ” the man mimicked. “Now, isn’t she observant? Yes, you useless twit, I’m stuck. Thank you so much for your help.”
As he turned to scowl at them, Pearl realized just what was stuck: not a scarf but his beard. A long white beard stretched between his chin and the bike chain like a ratty piece of wool.
“Don’t get feisty,” Ruby told him. “We’ll help you. But how did you manage to get your beard caught?”
“I was trying to free my bike from this contraption, and the light is so poor outside this idiotic shop—”
“That’s my sister’s bike,” Ruby told him.
“Are those hedge clippers?” Pearl asked. She saw them now that she was closer: an open pair of hedge clippers lying on the ground next to him. “Were you trying to steal my bike?”
“How should I know whose bike it is?” the man screeched. “This street isn’t well lit and I feel very unsafe! Why are you harassing me? Get my beard out of this godforsaken chain!”
“I’m not even going to touch that logic,” Ruby said. “But I’ll free you just to get you away from our café.”
Ruby picked up the hedge clippers and used them to snip off the end of the man’s beard—the portion that was caught in the chain. He howled like they’d murdered his whole family.
“You harlots! You’ve vandalized my glorious beard! What kind of monster cuts off a man’s beard when a simple untangling will do?”
“Next time you try to steal someone’s bike,” Ruby told him, “tuck your beard inside your shirt. You leave it hanging out like that, I can’t be held responsible for what happens to it.”
The man snatched up a plastic shopping bag that had been hidden behind the bike rack. As he did, a few pearls rolled out. Then he ran, gasping for breath as if he were being chased—and disappeared down the first alley he came to.
“Ungrateful bastard,” Ruby muttered.
“Ick, now there’s beard stuck in my bike chain.” Pearl picked up the fallen pearls and held them out to her sister. “Think he stole these?”
Pearl sketched the bearded man’s portrait and wrote, Are you missing a large quantity of loose pearls? The thief looks like this, and Ruby tacked the picture to the café’s bulletin board, where people seeking odd jobs or lost dogs posted flyers. The sisters weren’t surprised to have met the ungrateful bearded man—it was part of their curse. They’d probably meet and save him again. The real question was not Would it happen? but When?
And would their curse end the way the fairy tale did?
In the story, after the sisters saved the ungrateful dwarf a third time, their bear friend appeared and struck the dwarf, killing him. Then the bear’s furry hide dropped from his body to reveal the shining figure of a prince. Enchantment: broken.
Did meeting the bearded man mean their old friend would return?
Not every curse went according to the fairy tale. Not every “happily ever after” came to pass. Ruby and Pearl’s safety was built into their curse, but the bear prince had no such assurances.
For the first time in a long while, Ruby was distracted at work. More than one customer had to tap the counter or call her name to get her attention. She tried to make up for it with bigger smiles and extra whipped cream, but she kept gazing out the window, waiting for a black bear to appear on the other side of the glass.
The bear prince would be bigger now, older. The sisters were seventeen, and the idea of being in love with a bear seemed as strange to Ruby as living out a different fairy tale—one where a teenage girl had to accept a monster as her lover. But as children she and Pearl had fallen in love with the bear prince in the same way they’d had crushes on talking animals in cartoons.
He wasn’t a bear; he was a boy trapped inside of a bear. And love at ten was different than love now. Ruby didn’t know what love felt like at seventeen. The only love she knew for certain was the one she felt for her mother and sister. And that was solid, unquestionable, eternal.
When business slowed, Ruby went into the kitchen and found Pearl cutting out dough with a bear-shaped cookie cutter.
“You’re thinking about him, too?” Ruby asked.
Pearl jumped. She was easily startled—she’d get so lost in what she was doing—but today Ruby felt the same way. Their minds were both elsewhere: wondering, hoping, afraid to hope too hard.
“It’s been so long,” Pearl said. “But if everything else is falling into place, maybe …”
“I know you don’t want to say it—I don’t, either—but if he’s alive, why didn’t he ever come back?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he still will, and we can ask him.”
“Maybe,” Ruby said, and then lingered in the kitchen, breathing in the warm smells of butter and vanilla. She didn’t want to go back to her regular life yet—being the girl behind the counter, thinking about senior year and that book she still needed to pick up for summer reading. Acutely aware of what was missing.
Pearl could get lost in her baking, but while Ruby could be—and usually was—totally engaged in whatever she was doing, there was nothing that would take her away from her thoughts when something was haunting her. What happened to you, Prince? Are you alive? Will we ever see you again?
On one of their rare summer days off, Pearl and Ruby went to a nearby pond to picnic and swim. Pearl would have preferred to sit in the air-conditioned house, drawing, but her sister wanted an outing, and Pearl’s desire to be with Ruby trumped her desire to avoid the heat.
“I don’t like sweating,” Pearl reminded her sister.
“That’s why you should swim with me.”
“I don’t like smelling like pond scum, either. I like being in a nice, temperature-controlled environment. With food nearby.”
“I brought food,” Ruby said. “Do you think this cooler is full of stolen treasure?”
“Don’t jinx us.”
“What? You don’t want to see that glorious beard again?”
They were nearing the pond when they heard a shrill cry and a bout of frantic splashing. Ruby laughed in delight and ran toward the sound. Pearl hurried after her, muttering, “She totally jinxed us” and “On our day off? Really?” but secretly she was excited.
The bearded man was thrashing at the end of the dock: his body in the water, chin tipped upward, ratty beard trapped between the planks. He was paddling wildly, trying to climb onto the dock, but fell back with a cry, submerged up to his neck again. He clearly wasn’t a good swimmer, and the heavy clothes he was wearing—Pearl had seen a cable-knit sweater and a fishing vest—made it harder for him to heave himself out of the water.
A bag of treasure lay open on the dock. The afternoon sun glinted off a mix of gold coins and jewelry.
“What did I tell you about keeping that beard tucked?” Ruby asked.
“There’s a nixie in this pond!” the man cried. “Do you want her to drown me? Help me! Help me, you fools!”
“Nixies lure cute guys to their deaths,” Ruby said. “You should be safe.”
“Why did you jump into the water and use your beard as a bungee cord if you knew a nixie lived here?” Pearl asked, unable to resist. She was already taking out the scissors she’d started carrying since they’d met him.
“Who were you robbing this time?” Ruby asked. “The local cash-for-gold place?”
“Robbing? What are you talking about? Can’t a man carry a sack of gold coins without being abused?”
“Hmm.” Pearl opened her scissors, taking aim. “I think I’m going to have to cut right here.…”
“Do not—DO NOT TRIM MY BEARD! Hey! Hussy! Are you listening? Get a hammer and smash up the planks to free me!”
The man’s beard was so twisted and tangled around the boards that Pearl had to cut it at the midway point, a few inches below his chin. It took three cuts to free him—then he dropped into the pond like a clown in a dunk tank. Ruby had already waded into the water to fish him out.
The man came up sputtering and spat a stream of water at Ruby. “Fiends! As if it wasn’t enough to cut off the tip—you’ve brutalized the best part! The finest, lushest portion of my beard!”
“What’s that?” Ruby cupped her hand around her ear. “Did you say thank you?” The man splashed water at her—angrily, like a child—but Ruby just took his arm and guided him out of the pond. The pockets of his fishing vest sagged with the weight of the water and the rest of the gold coins.
He took a moment to recover—gasping, coughing—then charged down the dock and snatched the sack of gold from where it lay near Pearl. He hugged it to his chest as if he’d retrieved it just in time.
“I wasn’t going to steal your stolen gold,” Pearl said.
“No? No? It was enough to steal my beard?” The man trembled with rage. “I won’t forget what you’ve done to me. One day you’ll suffer as I’ve suffered!”
With that he slogged away, wet clothes squishing against his body, gold clanking—off to his home, or a hole under a rock, or wherever he kept his treasure.
“Do you want to add this beard chunk to your collection?” Pearl asked Ruby.
“Next time we see him I’m going to recommend beard extensions. I think he’d appreciate that.”
“I don’t think he appreciates anything.”
“Such a pessimist, Pearl.”
“Beard extensions. Now I can’t stop picturing it.”
Ruby grinned, bright red lips catching the sun. “Ten times as luxurious as before!” She stripped down to her red bikini and waded into the pond again, shivering, shaking her hands. “Cold! It’s so much colder when there’s no hot bearded guy in here warming it up!”
Pearl unfolded her towel and lay down on her stomach. “Watch out for that nixie.”
She opened her sketchbook and started with a scribble, uninspired but needing to make a mark. Gradually, the scribble morphed into a crown, spiky and studded with gemstones. Not that a bear prince wore a crown. But it was the idea, the symbol; she could draw a crown, and to her it meant our prince, but to anyone else (except maybe Ruby) it would just be a picture of a crown.
She didn’t know why she felt the need to be coy within her sketchbook. No one ever looked at it, except maybe Ruby, and it wasn’t as if she kept secrets from her sister. Their mother had always told them to share everything, and that was what they did. Possessions, friends, information, happiness. Whatever one sister had, she split with the other.
Absently, Pearl drew a line down the center of the crown, dividing it into two halves. And then her hand hovered above the page. What was that for? She started filling in one side of the crown with shadows, and as she did, the halved crown made her problem plain.
You couldn’t divide a prince. You couldn’t share him like a cookie. Like a threesome, maybe, but there were some things she didn’t want to do with Ruby.
Quickly, Pearl filled in the rest of the crown. Who knew if the prince would even return? And if he did, if they would both like him—love him? It was silly to worry about that when she didn’t know if they’d ever see him again.
That was what she told herself. Still, she worried. It grew in her like a cancer, the one secret she wouldn’t share.
“If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you were worried they won’t like your cake,” Ruby told her sister.
“What?” Pearl blinked like she’d just emerged from one of her dazes. There was a flour smudge on her brow and Ruby had the urge to wipe it off, but if she did, she’d drop the cake they were carrying. It was one of Pearl’s finer creations, special ordered for a Royal birthday party: a two-tiered chocolate cake frosted with almond buttercream and covered with a pattern of marzipan crowns.
They stopped on the Hansens’ front porch. Ruby made sure her half of the tray was secure, then reached out and rang the bell.
“They’re going to love it,” Ruby said. “And if they don’t, they’ll at least pretend to.”
Mrs. Hansen opened the door. “Oh, wonderful,” she said, admiring the cake. “Did you girls make that?”
“Pearl did.” Ruby nodded in her sister’s direction. “She’s the cake wizardress.”
“Well, it is a work of magic. Let’s put it in the kitchen. Careful not to trip.”
Slowly, the sisters followed Mrs. Hansen to the kitchen and set the cake down on the table. A pigtailed little girl leapt up from where she was watching TV and climbed onto one of the kitchen chairs to get a better look.
“Is that for me?” the girl asked.
“It’s for your brother, sweetie. You know that.”
“Can it be for me? I want it.”
“Hush. Get down from that chair. And don’t take any of those crowns—I’ll know.”
The girl stayed where she was, staring at the cake like it was her prey.
“I mean it,” Mrs. Hansen said before she accompanied the sisters to the door.
“She’s so jealous of her brother,” Mrs. Hansen confided. “It’s nothing to be jealous of, believe me. My son has had that awful Beauty and the Beast curse since he was six. I’m always worried that this will be the year a fairy changes him into a Beast. Can you imagine? Covered in fur, with claws and whiskers?”
“He’ll still be himself,” Pearl said. “He’ll be the same person, just hidden inside another form.”
“I know that,” Mrs. Hansen said. “But I’m not big on transformations. I like things to stay the same.”
“Better go check on that cake,” Ruby said.
“Yes. Because she would feel no remorse, let me tell you. Thank you so much for bringing it over. I already paid your mother, but here’s a little something for the two of you.”
They thanked her for the tip and headed down the front walk. “I wanted to swipe a crown from that cake,” Ruby admitted. “You should make me one like that for my birthday.”
“Our birthday. Maybe I will. If you do the dishes.”
“That could be arranged.”
They weren’t due back at the café right away, so Ruby took a detour, driving through some of the fancier neighborhoods where the cursed kings and queens, princes and princesses, and other tycoons lived. Ruby liked the Rambles’ house just fine—it had charm, and the perfect amount of space—but there was no denying the appeal of a mansion. These were the castles of Beau Rivage: rooms filled with fairy-tale heirlooms, furniture you weren’t supposed to sit on, treasure that was meant to stay in its chest.
What Ruby really wanted to see was the Wilders’ enchanted rose garden, but it was surrounded by a high stone wall that blocked it from view. Rafe Wilder, another soon-to-be Beast, threw parties all the time, but Mrs. Ramble wouldn’t let her daughters go to those.
Ruby had been scanning the edge of the stone wall, hoping to catch a glimpse of just one enchanted rose peeping over the top, when Pearl yelled, “Dog!”
Ruby hit the brakes. She narrowly missed hitting a white pit bull that ran across the street in front of them.
“Thanks. I was looking at—”
“Unbelievable,” Pearl muttered. She unhooked her seat belt and climbed out of the car.
“Pearl?”
Ruby had been so elated not to have hit the dog that she hadn’t bothered to check where it went. But now she saw that the dog was attacking someone on the front lawn of one of the estates: a man stuck in a hydrangea bush. His skinny legs flailed, and purple flowers shuddered back and forth.
Pearl—who wasn’t exactly a dog person—was clapping her hands and calling, “Hey! Get away from him!”
Ruby ran up the lawn. Even from a distance, she could see that there was more than just an ungrateful bearded man in the bushes. There was also a sack of jewelry and a large framed painting balanced crookedly on a bed of mulch. A rope made of bedsheets hung from a second-floor window.
Ruby snapped her fingers. “C’mere girl!” She dropped to a crouch and went on snapping and calling, not even sure the dog could hear her over the sound of her own growls.
Finally, the dog released the man’s leg, wheeled around, and dropped onto her back for a scratch. She squirmed in the grass, head and butt wriggling in opposite directions, while Ruby patted her. “What’s your name, girl? Wonder Dog? Defender of Justice?”
Pearl made her way past them to help the bearded man out of the bushes. He was limping, rubbing his chewed pant leg, but at least there was no blood. His pants were stained with mulch and his short beard had bits of flowers stuck to it.
“Do you want us to wait with you until the police arrive?” Pearl asked. “So you can explain how that painting got here?”
“Would you like to explain what you’ve done to my clothes?” the man retorted. “I’m sure the police would be very interested to hear why you let your dog assault me—when I was simply minding my own business, sniffing these flowers.”
“That’s not what you were doing,” Ruby said.
“Do you know how much these clothes cost?” the man continued.
“Nothing? Because you stole them?” Pearl guessed.
“One hundred dollars! Just for the pants! And this sweater is irreplaceable! They don’t make garments this fine anymore. And now they’re ruined. Ruined!”
“Gosh,” Pearl said. “You’d think we hadn’t just rescued you.”
“You sic your dog on me, then expect me to be grateful once you finally call it off? The audacity!” His face was turning red; he lunged forward and spat on Pearl’s shoe.
“Hey! Watch it!” Ruby yelled. “You do that again and I’ll let this dog bite a hole in your ass.”
“It’s fine,” Pearl said, wiping her shoe on the grass.
The pit bull was lying down now, head resting on her paws, watching.
“I’m going to leave,” the man announced. “If you harlots want to turn yourselves in to the police, it’s probably for the best. Make the streets a little safer.” He bent over, giving them a view of the dirty seat of his pants, and began gathering the stolen jewelry that had fallen out of the bag.
The pit bull’s ears perked up.
“What is it, girl?” Ruby whispered.
“It’s obvious you robbed this house,” Pearl said. “You’re not leaving with that stuff.”
“This is my house,” the man said. “I’m merely transferring my property to another location.”
“Do you always climb out your window using sheets?” Ruby asked.
“Why don’t you mind your own damn business?” In a fit of pique, he grabbed a handful of jewelry and flung it at her. Then he went still.
Ruby turned to see what had stopped him.
A fully grown black bear—about two hundred pounds—had come around the side of the house and was lumbering toward them. The man scrambled backward, shouting,
“This is a mistake! A mistake! I wasn’t the one who got you cursed, it was these girls! I’ve been tracking them down for you—searching for years! You see? I’ve finally found them. Here—take your revenge! Eat them! They have plump, round limbs and I’m all skin and bones. This sweater makes me look fatter than I really am!”
The man had retreated so that his back was against the front door. “I mean it!” he said as the bear came closer. “These wicked girls stole the fairy’s jewels! They blamed you for the theft! Not me! It’s not my fault you were cursed, it was theirs!”
Ruby was running her hand down the dog’s back to keep calm.
She wasn’t afraid. Not exactly.
“Our prince,” Pearl whispered.
Ruby knew how the curse was broken—but she still flinched when the bear struck the bearded man across the face and his body slumped onto the porch, the life knocked out of him with one blow.
The bear prince’s voice was deeper now. “Pearl … Ruby. Don’t be scared. You know me. I won’t hurt you.”
The bear pelt wilted around him. It split down the middle and he shook it off, then stumbled away from it, unused to walking on human legs. His skin was lighter than the bear’s fur had been, but still dark: a rich brown that was tinged gold from the clothes he wore. He was dressed in a royal court uniform of gold silk, embroidered with gold flourishes, so that he looked like a prince from a storybook.
“Is it over?” the prince asked. “Is it really—”
Ruby sat there gaping at him, her eyes filling with tears from pure amazement. Before she could answer, her sister ran to the prince and embraced him like a girl reuniting with her lost love.
“It’s over,” Pearl said. “The curse is broken. The curse is broken.…”
Their arms were wrapped around each other so tightly that Ruby felt a little confused watching them. They clung to each other as if this moment was the culmination of years of longing. Ruby wasn’t sure where that left her. She had worried and missed him just as much, but now she felt like an interloper, someone who could witness their happiness but couldn’t share it.
Was it simply that Pearl had gotten there first? And the prince had such a need for human affection that he’d poured it all into that first embrace?
Had he missed them both, or just Pearl?
By the time the prince and Pearl separated—newly shy and happy—Ruby felt like the moment had been stripped of its sparkle. But she’d looked forward to the reunion for so long that she went up to the prince anyway, hugged him quickly, tried not to smell the vanilla-cake scent Pearl had left on his clothes.
“Welcome back,” she said, afraid to show how much she had missed him, too.
“You remember me,” he said, a little astonished. “You both … remember me.”
“Of course we remember you,” Ruby said. “What other enchanted bears do you think we know?”
The pit bull had gone up to nose around the bearskin; now she was rolling on top of it, getting the scent on herself. Fortunately, she had no interest in the corpse. Pearl took a step toward the blood-smeared front door, the bearded head limp against the lintel, toes pointed upward like the Wicked Witch of the East.
The prince was turning to look at them, to take everything in with human eyes. It reminded Ruby of the time Pearl had first entered the lobby of the fancy hotel where their junior prom was held: she’d tilted her head back and turned in a circle, mouth open as if to breathe in all that beauty.
“I can’t wait to go home,” the prince said. “See my family again. I want you to meet them. Both of you.”
“We’d love to,” Pearl said. “But we can’t just leave this body here. We have to call the police. They’ll want to see our marks, to prove it wasn’t a regular killing.”
“You’re right,” the prince said. “Of course. How could I not think of that?”
“You’re allowed to be overwhelmed,” Ruby said. “I think you’ve earned it.”
“Thanks. I am overwhelmed.” His smile was lovely, warm and genuine. None of the posturing Ruby was used to with boys. He’d missed that part of growing up—the competitive years, when so many people developed an attitude, a too-cool-for-you coldness.
“Um, so … do you have a name?” Pearl asked. “One you’re finally willing to tell?”
“You said you were ‘just a bear.’ We had to come up with all those nicknames.”
“Theo,” the prince said. “Theo Trevathan. I didn’t want to be called that back then because … I wasn’t that person. I was something else. Something in between.”
“Theo,” Pearl repeated, trying it out.
The three of them sat on the curb while they waited for the police, Theo in the middle, the pit bull stretched out beside Ruby. Theo picked at the gold embroidery on his jacket while Pearl described all the treats he had to try at their café, and Ruby glanced at the blood-covered door and hoped the police would arrive before the homeowners did. Every time Ruby let her gaze travel from the street to the house and back she paused on Theo’s face, memorizing another part of it: the curl of his eyelashes, the gold glow on his cheekbones, the curve of his lips. He was so busy talking, reacquainting himself with civilization, that he didn’t notice her staring. She almost wished he would catch her. It would mean he was looking at her, too.
A few of the neighbors appeared on their lawns, some squinting at the body on the porch, others making their way over to ask questions. Normally, Ruby didn’t mind nosy strangers—she could talk to anyone—but right now she wished they’d go away. She was worried someone would ask Theo, “So which of these girls is the lucky one?”
Because everyone knew that, traditionally, Snow White married the prince and Rose Red married the prince’s brother.
The curse didn’t always play out that way, but in the fairy tale, that was the happy ending. In real life, it was the worst consolation prize she could imagine.
“Do you have a brother?” Ruby asked Theo, once the nosy neighbors had wandered over to inspect the bearskin. She hoped he’d say no.
“I do. He’s a year older.”
“Are you a lot alike?” Pearl asked.
“Probably not anymore. He hasn’t been living as a bear for the past ten years.”
“What was it like, being a bear?” Pearl asked. “We used to play with you, but we never asked.”
“It was … lonely. Except for the two of you. I was hungry a lot. And scared. Scared that I’d be shot, that I’d never break the curse. Or that I would, but I wouldn’t know how to be human anymore.”
“You were always human,” Pearl said. “You never stopped being human.”
“When things got really bad, I used to think about the winters I spent at your house. How nice you were to me.”
“Hitting you with sticks,” Ruby said. “Rolling you over with our feet. Real nice.”
“Yeah, but you gave me Pop-Tarts. And let me watch cartoons. That was worth a few beatings.”
“Snow White, Rose Red, will you beat your lover dead?” Pearl murmured.
“When I said that, it felt so strange. Natural, in a way … but the words weren’t mine. It was like the curse was speaking through me.”
Finally, a police car pulled up. Two officers got out, a woman and a man. Ruby recognized the woman from the café; she came in occasionally and ordered a coffee and a cranberry scone.
Ruby and Theo were already in the process of exposing their märchen marks: tugging their shirts up and their waistbands down to show the double roses imprinted on their lower backs. Pearl was wearing a dress, which made a quick reveal impossible, but the officer who knew the sisters vouched for her.
After a few more questions and an examination of the bearskin, the officers told them they were free to go.
“Enjoy your happily ever after,” the scone-loving officer called after them.
“Don’t forget to invite us to the wedding!” her partner said.
“There’s not going to be a wedding,” Ruby said. “We’re seventeen.”
“What’s the matter, you don’t like this guy?” the partner asked.
Pearl gave the soft, vacuous laugh she used whenever she was humoring someone. “We’ll send you an invitation.” Then she took Ruby and Theo by the hand and led them to the car.
“Thank you for your help!” the prince called over his shoulder.
Pearl had never seen so many tears, hugs, startled cries; Theo’s reunion with his parents was one emotional torrent after another. Pearl smiled supportively and watched her sister out of the corner of her eye. Ruby: her best friend, the girl she would give anything to, the girl she felt she was stealing from now.
Ruby had been uncharacteristically quiet since Theo had transformed, and Pearl had to admit that during those precious minutes she’d lost track of her sister and had completely forgotten she was one half of a whole. In Theo’s arms, she’d just been Pearl—not Ruby’s sister. And she had, just then, wanted something for herself.
Now she felt sick over it. Not because she regretted those feelings, but because she still had them.
She wanted Theo to love her. Not to love them both. And she couldn’t decide if that was normal or horrible.
After the reunion, Mr. and Mrs. Trevathan invited the sisters to stay for dinner—“We know Theo doesn’t want to be separated from his heroes”—but Pearl declined, explaining that they needed to get back to Twin Roses. Privately, she hoped that being away from Theo would help her to get a handle on her feelings—and on Ruby’s feelings. There was so much to sort out, and she figured she’d have a better sense of whether her sister was hurt or angry once they were alone.
But on the way back to the café, Ruby talked as if nothing extraordinary had happened. She prattled on about customers, what they had to do today, how hot it was. Pearl tried to follow suit—she kept the conversation bland, easy—until they arrived at the café and went right back to work.
Rolling out marzipan and shaping tiny rose petals, feeling the familiar ache in her fingers, Pearl could almost make herself believe that no one was upset, no one was deliriously happy. Today was as simple as yesterday. Tomorrow would be the same. She wasn’t really in love—why would she be in love?—and Ruby wasn’t hurt. Listen to her out there, talking with customers and laughing! Ruby was fine; she hadn’t fallen for Theo. It had just been … intense. The reversal of the curse. The death of the thief. Theo’s return.
All those years they’d spent worrying had come to an end in seconds—it was as shocking as being in an accident. Maybe she and Ruby and Theo were still recovering. Thinking they felt one thing, but …
That night, in the bedroom the sisters shared, Pearl remembered the accidental brush of Theo’s finger against her hand as they’d sat at the curb. It was nothing—just the side of his finger—but her hand had grown warm in that spot, and she’d shivered a little and wished he’d touch her face. Not right then, but someday. He was human again—finally himself. Rediscovering skin, and fingertips, and the back of a girl’s hand, and she wanted to be there for all of it. It felt a little like waking a boy from a sleeping curse and being the first person he saw when he opened his eyes. She wanted to extend that moment, to keep being the first. First person he touched, first person he held, first person he kissed.
Was that love or selfishness?
Was it both?
“Ruby,” she whispered. “Are you awake?”
Ruby didn’t answer.
There wasn’t enough coffee in the café to perk Ruby up that morning. The night before, she’d pretended to be asleep when Pearl called her name, and eventually her sister had sighed like she’d reached the end of a particularly good romance novel, and that sigh had kept Ruby awake another two hours, at least.
Around eleven, the college students, tourists, and lonely regulars started filling the tables. Ruby played low-key music for the sake of the summer school kids studying and locals reading the paper. One table was occupied by a couple who came in a lot: Jewel, a girl with a Diamonds and Toads curse, and a blonde Goldilocks named Luxe. Jewel paused periodically to cover her mouth with a handkerchief—to catch the gems and flowers that slipped out when she spoke. Luxe was one of those people who thought the customer is always right was an essential truth instead of a mildly helpful suggestion. Earlier, she’d complained that the frosting on the cupcake she’d ordered was too gritty, and while Ruby was plating a new one for her, she’d made a face at the My cupcakes bring all the bears to the yard poster and asked, “Why would you want bears in your yard?”
“It’s a joke. A reference to a song. Swap out ‘cupcakes’ for ‘milkshake’ and ‘bears’ for ‘boys.’ ”
“That is the dumbest thing I have ever heard.” Then Luxe said something about the replacement cupcake not having enough sprinkles on it, and Ruby handed her a whole shaker so as not to hear the inevitable Now there are too many sprinkles! she was sure would follow if she attempted to remedy the situation herself. Then Ruby watched as, back at her table, Luxe dropped the shaker into her purse.
Jewel eyed her girlfriend critically. “Seriously, Luxe?”
“She gave it to me!”
A few minutes later, the shaker was back on the counter.
Since then, the café had been mostly quiet—a steady flow of customers, but nothing hectic. Jewel was writing in a notebook, her free hand linked with her girlfriend’s, and Luxe was eating her cupcake, which, with the addition of about four hundred sprinkles, Ruby assumed was now just right.
The chime over the door sounded, and Ruby’s welcome smile switched on. A young guy had come halfway in but was still holding the door, facing the street and looking out. The silhouette of a crown was shaved into the back of his dark hair, just above the nape of his neck. It was something Royal guys did when they wanted to broadcast their status. Ruby had always found the trend obnoxious. It was one thing if you wanted people to know about your curse, but if you needed them to know your family tree had noble blood coursing through its branches, you were probably a jackass. The guy was wearing a red T-shirt, shorts, and red sneakers—casual, but everything looked expensive.
When he finally turned, and she saw his face …
He looked like Theo. If Theo had grown up surrounded by guys who shaved crowns into the backs of their heads.
She wanted to hand him off to someone else, but the only other employee in the café was Pearl. And asking Pearl to use the register was like asking Ruby to frost a cake.
Theo came in then, and together the boys approached the counter. The older Trevathan brother scanned the signs, the chalkboard menu with the little roses and bears Pearl had sketched, the Twin Roses mugs for sale. He looked everywhere but at Ruby.
Theo stood admiring the pastry case. The bounty of frosted, glazed, and otherwise sugary treats was kind of amazing if you’d been living in the woods for ten years. “Did Pearl make all of these?”
“Pearl or my mom,” Ruby said. “What would you like? Yours is on the house. No freebies for your friend, though.”
“Brother,” Theo corrected. “Thurston’s my brother.”
“I hear I’m your boyfriend now,” Thurston said, finally looking at her. “That doesn’t get me a free cupcake?”
“Any guy who wants the world to know he’s a Royal as much as you do can afford to pay for a cupcake.”
Thurston leaned over to check out the display. “I don’t know if these are worth it. They’re probably straight out of a box.”
“Pearl made them,” Theo said. “Didn’t you hear Ruby?”
“She’s in the kitchen,” Ruby said, pointing the way. “If you want to say hi.”
“Yeah, just don’t startle her and make her break something. You don’t have paws anymore, so she’ll make you clean it up.”
Theo laughed. “That’s right. I never had to help out at your house. Whenever I tried, I just made a bigger mess.”
Ruby would have liked to talk to Theo—to have him to herself for once—but it wasn’t like they could have a quality conversation while Thurston was there.
She turned to Thurston. “So do you want a coffee? Or were you just dropping him off?”
“Is she prettier than you? Your sister?”
“We’re twins.”
“I just wondered if there was a reason Theo didn’t pick you.”
“No one’s picked anyone.” She’d already disliked him because of the crown, but now he was earning it. He had to know that would be a sore spot for her—after all, being second-best was his role in the curse, too.
Thurston pointed to a row of raspberry sodas in the refrigerator. “One of those.”
“Anything else?”
“No. Just waiting for Theo.”
He paid, dropped a dime in the tip jar—cheap-ass Royals—then picked a table and angled his chair toward the counter, watching Ruby like she was a TV in a sports bar. She did her best to ignore him.
She put on some noisier music and turned it up—her usual tactic when she wanted lingering customers to leave. The ones who came to read the paper were the first to clear out. Jewel and Luxe stayed put—Jewel was in a rock band, so she probably enjoyed the change. The students, desperate for the steady stream of caffeine from free refills, hunched over and focused harder on every page.
Ruby was tempted to drop by the kitchen. She told herself it was because she wanted to see how Pearl and Theo were getting along, but the truth was that she didn’t want to be left out. She’d never felt awkward about inserting herself into Pearl’s life before; it was their life, and anyone who befriended them was drawn into their world.
Now she worried Pearl and Theo might form a new world—one she could only visit.
“Do you think it’s worse being Rose Red in the curse or the prince’s brother?” Thurston asked.
“Theo’s the one who had to live as a bear for ten years. We didn’t suffer. Do you think you suffered?”
She didn’t ask like she cared—more like she was smacking down his pity party. He shifted in his seat, restless. He was one of those guys who treated every piece of furniture like it was too small, when really he just needed to take up more space. It was ironic, she thought, that he was sitting a few feet away from a cursed Goldilocks. This chair is too big, this chair is too small.
“Just so you know,” Thurston said, “I don’t date girls who work in coffee shops. Or girls with sisters.”
“When did I give you the impression I was interested in your life?”
Luxe twisted around in her chair. “Can you two take your romance somewhere else? It’s embarrassing.”
Thurston laughed. Ruby thought to herself, The customer is always right. Whoever had said that had never dealt with a Goldilocks.
Jewel flipped her notebook closed. “Change of scenery?”
“Please,” Luxe said.
Now the customers were down to Thurston and a few stalwart students. But they were buried so deeply in their textbooks and laptops that it was almost like she and Thurston were alone.
“What kind of a name is Thurston?” Ruby asked. Rude, rude, rude. She was never rude at work. It was kind of nice to have an excuse.
“A regal one. How’d your mom decide on Ruby and Pearl? She own a jewelry store before this?”
“She renamed us once we were cursed. Pearl was marked with white roses; mine are red. We started out as Ava and Zora. Now those are our middle names.”
“Which one of you was Zora?”
“Does it matter?” She was tired of answering his questions. She wasn’t sure why she’d answered him at all.
“I guess I’ll find out when they print the wedding invitations. Pearl Ava-or-Zora Ramble and Theodore ‘Grizzly’ Trevathan invite you to join them for their happily-ever-after kickoff party. We’ll probably walk down the aisle together. As maid of honor and best man. That’ll be the only time, though.”
She was saved from getting into it with him by a pair of customers who wanted smoothies. Throwing ice and fruit into a blender and listening to the growl of it being pulverized was about as therapeutic as it got around here. Aside from eating half a row of cupcakes and then chasing the sugar high with espresso.
Through the open door to the kitchen, she could see Pearl and Theo, their hands covered in flour, adorable smiles on their faces. Adorable. Pearl was a happy person, generally, but she rarely shined like she was doing now.
Pearl deserved so much happiness—all the happiness in the world. Ruby wanted that for her, and she wanted to share it—even if it meant being happy for her instead of alongside her.
Why was that so hard? Why did she see Pearl and Theo together and feel sad?
The well-trained smile was back by the time she rang up the smoothies. No broken hearts at this counter.
Thurston was still watching her—quietly. She went about her business. Nabbed a cupcake from the pastry case. Started in on round one of her sugar high. Laughter wafted out of the kitchen—sweeter than the smell of cookies baking.
She wanted to be happy for her sister. She did.
“I missed hot food,” Theo said as he slid the tray of cookies into the oven. “And I don’t mean hot like old cheeseburgers roasting in a garbage can.”
Pearl laughed. “I didn’t think that was what you meant. Also, that’s disgusting.”
“I know. Yesterday my parents tried to take me to a steakhouse for dinner, but all I wanted was macaroni and cheese. I ate five boxes. I used to like the ones with noodles shaped like dinosaurs, so my mom bought some that were teddy bear–shaped, but I had to leave those in the pantry.”
“Too soon?”
“Too soon. I don’t want to see any bears for a while. Not even in pasta form.”
Pearl pulled Theo toward the air conditioner at the back of the kitchen. “It’s cooler over here. The kitchen gets so hot in the summer.”
“It’s nice here with you,” he said.
“Thanks.” She paused to take it in, to wallow in that niceness. Being with Theo gave her a feeling like she was smiling with her whole body. “I wish I could go wherever you’re going today. But Mom needs us at the café. I have to bake a zillion more cupcakes and make some brownies or something. I haven’t decided yet.”
“Do you need an assistant?”
She smiled. “Why? Are you interested in assisting?”
“I’d like to help. To learn how to do it. That is, if you don’t think I’ll slow you down.”
“Doesn’t your family want to see you?”
“They do, but—it’s awkward. My parents act like they’re afraid I’ll disappear again. When I’m home they watch me nonstop. If I leave the room and don’t come back in five minutes, one of them comes looking for me. And then there’s Thurston.”
“Your brother’s acting weird, too?”
“Yeah … like he doesn’t know me. It’s hard to talk to him. I keep feeling like I must be doing something wrong, or not acting human enough.”
“You’re one hundred percent human, Theo. You’re not doing anything wrong.”
“I don’t know what it is, then. We were really good friends before the curse. He used to beat me up occasionally, but that was normal brother stuff. I really missed him. As much as I missed you and Ruby. Maybe more. He’d known me when I was my real self, so all my memories of being human were tied up with him. Playing video games, betting who could get across the monkey bars faster. Pretending to drive my dad’s boat—like we were spies or pirates. I used to love being with you and Ruby because the way you were together reminded me of me and my brother. Except you guys never punched each other. You beat up on bears instead.”
Pearl flushed. “I think that was because we liked you. Well—I can only speak for myself. But I think I liked you so much that … it scared me a little. In my diary I used to write about ‘my love’ for the prince—”
“You did?”
She laughed, then winced. It was so embarrassing. “When you weren’t around it was easy to think like that. It all seemed clear, and obvious, and romantic. But when you were actually in the room—when you were real—it was scarier. The possibility of being loved back was almost too exciting. I had to push that away. Or kick it away, as the case may be.”
“Or beat its fat, furry ass with a broom.”
Pearl laughed. “I did that to get the leaves off your coat!”
“So you said.” But Theo was smiling. She leaned her head against his shoulder and wondered if that was okay. If she should ask Ruby if it was okay. She wondered—
“It makes me happy, knowing that,” Theo said quietly. “That you—that I was important to you. You and your sister were so important to me.… When I left, it was because—well, I guess I was scared, too. The way you described. Liking you so much, and wanting you to like me, but being afraid to want it, too. Because I wasn’t human. And I didn’t know then if I ever would be. It wasn’t like the fairy who cursed me sat me down and explained everything.
“All I knew was that that guy with the beard told a fairy I’d stolen from her. I was on my way home when I saw him. He’d gotten his foot caught in a hole and tripped, and there was a sack in front of him. It’d spilled open and all these jewels and coins were in the grass. I couldn’t stop staring. My mom had a lot of jewelry, but I’d never seen gold coins and giant diamonds and stuff. You probably know what happens next.”
“The fairy.”
“I didn’t know she was a fairy at first. I just knew she was angry. She ran up to us, screaming about her treasure, how dare we steal from her—and I started denying it. But I was a kid and I was pretty afraid of her. I guess I didn’t sound convincing. When the bearded guy told her I was a liar, that he’d seen me running away with a bag of treasure and had tried to stop me and I’d tripped him, she didn’t even think about it. She pointed her wand at me and changed me into a bear.
“I knew the ‘Snow White and Rose Red’ tale, but I didn’t realize that was my curse until later. I hadn’t been marked until that moment. And my märchen mark was hidden by fur. So I knew the bear prince killed the ungrateful dwarf in the story, but I didn’t know I was that bear. I didn’t know what curse I was in. East of the Sun, or Goldilocks, or …
“When I met you and your sister, everything clicked. Though I still didn’t know how I was supposed to free myself. Yesterday, when I saw you two again … something drew me to that place. I can’t explain it. Just an instinct to go there. To be there. Right then.”
“Fate,” Pearl murmured.
Theo slid his flour-dusty fingers between hers. It felt … both more innocent and more intense than any hand-holding she’d done before. Pearl had never been in a serious relationship. All her dates had been double dates with Ruby—almost like going out with her sister and allowing two boys to tag along. Prom, dinners, movies. There had never been someone who’d made her feel short of breath or shy. Before Theo, the boys she’d dated had been like Cinderella’s ball gown—good until midnight. By the next day, they’d lost their magic.
“I should probably get started on those cupcakes,” Pearl said.
“We should.”
“You really want to help?”
Theo nodded. “As long as you’re not making any bear-shaped desserts.”
“No. Not today.”
Pearl opened her hand. His touch was gone, but in a way she still felt it. The memory of the sensation clung to her fingers—like sticky dough, like fragrance.
“Let’s get to work,” she said.
Thurston ended up staying until the end of Ruby’s shift. He was in and out of the café all day—at his table, messing with his phone; then on the sidewalk out front; then back again, watching Ruby, taking her picture and probably uploading it somewhere with a caption like I am never dating this girl.
By the time the evening crew arrived and Pearl and Theo emerged from the kitchen, Thurston had gone through five sodas and half a pizza from down the street. The open box was splayed out on his table like a Reserved sign.
“What are we doing now?” Theo asked.
Pearl glanced at Ruby. “I don’t know. Are you hungry? Should we all get something to eat?”
“Anything but sushi,” Theo said. “I had enough of that as a bear.”
Pearl laughed. Ruby would have laughed, too, normally, but all she could think of was being stuck with Thurston while Pearl and Theo did various cute, couple-y things. She waited for Thurston to protest—he’d been ready to leave for hours—but he didn’t. He raised his eyebrows at her, like it was her call. What—were they friends now?
“Ruby?” Pearl prompted. “You want to?” There was a hopefulness in her voice. Ruby didn’t want to disappoint her.
“Sure. Why not?”
They chose Will & Jake’s because it was nearby and there was nothing even close to raw on the menu—everything was barbecued, seared, deep-fried, or baked to bubbly perfection. It was the kind of restaurant where people talked loudly instead of murmured. Everything was tinged with burnt red light, and even the air smelled grilled.
Ruby ended up sitting next to Pearl and across from Thurston. The food was fine, the company less so. Thurston kept giving her these looks that were just … annoying. Constant reactions to things the happy couple said and did. She might have thought he was trying to commiserate with her if he hadn’t gone out of his way to irritate her all afternoon. Theo and Pearl were too busy exchanging embarrassed glances and giddy smiles to notice.
When Pearl and Theo got up to go look at the kitchen—which was open so diners could watch the chefs at work—Thurston said, “I guess they haven’t spent enough time in kitchens today.”
He was leaning back in his chair, doing that must take up more space thing again. It was supposed to look relaxed, but Thurston looked like a kid who wanted to hurl rocks into the sea until his arm gave out. He was harboring some less-than-cool emotion and doing his best to hide it with a gratuitous show of disdain.
“So what’s your deal with Theo?” Ruby asked. “I haven’t heard you say you’re happy he’s back. Are you?”
There was a long pause while he finished his drink. “I’m not unhappy about it.”
“Then …?”
“It’ll be better when my parents calm down. Right now it just feels like an extension of the last ten years of my life. All Theo, all the time.”
“They’re excited. Can you blame them?”
“Excited, obsessed.” He shrugged. “They’re already planning your sister’s wedding. Yours, too. White-and-red theme—I’m not kidding. Maybe you should stop by and tell them it’s not gonna happen.”
“Can’t you tell them? You didn’t have a problem telling me.”
“I don’t talk to them about my life. Or anything, anymore. All they ever wanted to talk about were my feelings about Theo. My grief. And then, when I wouldn’t, they sent me to a therapist. They were sure I was repressing it.”
“Were you?”
“No. I was convinced he was dead. And I thought they were crazy. Going into the woods with his old sketchbooks and waving them at the trees, like Theo-the-bear had amnesia and they were going to jog his memory with a bunch of old drawings. They even bought a second house in the woods—and they hate the woods. They left the doors and windows open and were always grilling steaks, hoping the smell would bring Theo home. They’re lucky a real bear didn’t show up and kill them.”
Thurston bowed his head, toyed with the bones on his plate. “Ten years. I thought they were crazy … and they needed to get over it and give up on him. Like I did.”
Pearl and Theo returned, scooting into their chairs with county-fair smiles on their faces—like they’d spent all day eating cotton candy and dancing to bad local bands. They pored over the dessert menu and ordered a giant wedge of chocolate cake dripping with chocolate ganache, and strawberry shortcake stacked so high it toppled over when the plate was set down.
Pearl and Theo fed each other forkfuls of cake, and the cuteness didn’t even seem disgusting. They just wanted to share everything so badly—and Ruby felt a twinge at that realization.
Because sharing everything—that was what you did with the person who was your everything. And how could Pearl have two everythings?
When the desserts had been demolished, Theo told Pearl, “The stuff you make is better.”
“You’re only saying that because you helped.”
Sparkle. Smile. True love’s grin.
Ruby looked away.
When they left the restaurant the street lamps were glowing. Theo stood behind Pearl, put his hands on her shoulders, and said, “Where to?” As if the night was their adventure and it never had to end.
Pearl laid her hand on one of his. “Home, I guess, but …” And then her gaze shifted to Ruby. “We should probably get home. Ruby and I have work in the morning.”
“Can I see you tomorrow?” Theo asked. “I could come by the café. Help again?”
“Yes, you should. Absolutely. Come by and see both of us.” Pearl squeezed the hand that cupped her left shoulder and smiled at Ruby, like, See? That’s settled.
Ruby knew what her sister was doing—she’d seen the uncertainty, the worry in Pearl’s face, the way she hesitated and then made up for it with more enthusiasm. She was making a resolution that Ruby was not going to let her make.
Changing out of her work clothes, alone for the first time all day, Pearl touched her arm, her shoulders, her hands—every place that Theo had touched. He’d marked her as surely as the fairy who’d bestowed her curse had done. Twin roses at the small of her back. Hello on her elbow. This is nice tucked inside her palm. Can I see you again? on her shoulders. Every moment was still with her. Every word.
And yet …
Her happiness felt like a crime. It lifted her up—and then it turned heavy, sinking from her heart to her stomach, where it settled like guilt.
They were supposed to share everything. Their mother had instilled it in them: What one girl has she must share with the other. And while it was impossible to share Theo, it wasn’t impossible to give him up. They could share him as a friend. Or—Ruby could have him. Pearl couldn’t imagine Theo not liking Ruby—not loving her, if the two spent more time together.
Snow White and Rose Red shared; they weren’t selfish. In the fairy tale, things were settled neatly—Snow White married the prince and Rose Red married the prince’s brother. That was considered a happy ending once. But now it was sad and unfair. It presumed that Rose Red’s feelings were so unimportant that it didn’t matter who she married, as long as she and her sister had the same social status. The married sisters shared a castle, and their princes were probably off waging wars or hunting most of the time. So maybe it really hadn’t mattered.
But it did now. She saw in Ruby’s face—in the absence of her usual smile—just how much it mattered.
When Ruby entered their bedroom, Pearl waited for her to say something, and when she didn’t—when she just settled on her bed with a bottle of nail polish remover, as if that task required all her concentration—Pearl sat down next to her, determined to talk about things they didn’t want to talk about. They were too good at sharing silences when a difficult subject cropped up.
“Tired of the red?” Pearl asked. It was a silly question—Ruby only wore red polish. Occasionally, she’d let Pearl paint a design on her nails. A rose, a bear’s head, a crown.
“Tired of this red,” Ruby said, splaying her fingers so Pearl could see. “It’s chipping.”
“Want me to do a design for you?”
Ruby shrugged. “I don’t know if I feel like having curse-themed nails right now.”
“Ruby—” Pearl’s voice broke.
“Pearl, everything’s fine. Calm down.”
“It’s not fine. I know you. I know it’s not.”
“Would we be having this conversation if I’d let you paint a rose on my nail?”
“This has nothing to do with your nails. It’s about your heart. I care about your heart. About how you feel. And—”
“Pearl,” Ruby said softly.
“No, listen to me. Please.” Pearl couldn’t look at her sister. Not now. She linked her own fingers together and clung to the invisible marks as she forged ahead. “I love you. I love you so much. And I know you’re unhappy. I don’t want you to feel that—that my happiness has to come at the expense of yours. Because it doesn’t. Nothing—nothing, Ruby—is more important to me than you are. Theo and I are close. But we’re still just friends. We haven’t kissed, or—anything.” She stumbled over the partial lie. “He’s just—he’s been so lonely, trapped in his enchantment all those years, and so—he forms attachments quickly. And he always liked us. Us. Not just me, Ruby. And if you like him—if you love him—if you even think that you might …”
“Don’t be stupid, Pearl.”
“Stupid?” Pearl looked up.
“Theo likes you—he genuinely likes you—in a different way than he likes anybody else. And you feel the same way about him. Don’t try to pretend you don’t care.”
“It’s not that I don’t care, it’s just that—”
“It’s just that you’re willing to break your own heart—and his—because you think it’ll make me happy. Why would taking away something you love make me happy?” Ruby sighed. “Look. I’m not going to lie and say I haven’t been upset about the way this turned out. I don’t think you can blame me for being disappointed.”
Pearl started to respond, and Ruby shook her head.
“But I’m not disappointed that you’re happy. I feel left out. Like the curse came with a happy ending built for two and I don’t really have a place anymore. It was always you and me, or the three of us. And then … I mean, I had a crush on Theo, too. That was years ago, but when he first came back, I didn’t even have time to figure out how I felt before you guys … well, it’s obvious you’re made for each other. So I knew that before I knew what was going on in my heart. And it hurt.”
“I’m sorry, Ruby.”
“Shhh. Listen. I’m used to having you all to myself. We shared everything but I never had to share you. That’s new to me; I don’t know how to deal with that yet. No one ever came between us. No one ever made me feel like I was second—”
“You’ll never be second.”
“I know,” Ruby said with half a smile. “I was being stupid, too. So please: don’t try to give me your boyfriend. There’s been enough stupidity over this curse already.”
“You’re really okay with it?”
“More than okay.”
“I’m glad,” Pearl said. “I can’t stand hurting you.” She hugged her sister—a long embrace that squeezed the worry out of her and made her feel like they were truly together again. “Can I do your nails now?”
Ruby held out her hands. “Make me art.”
Pearl painted a twin rose design: red roses on white polish, white roses on red. Before any enchanted bears had come into their lives, before the ungrateful thief, before the prince, the curse had been about them. Two sisters. Best friends. Girls who protected each other, looked out for each other, loved each other. They would always share that.
No matter what happened, that part of the curse would never be broken.
Ruby stood on the porch like an overprotective mom while Theo walked Pearl to the car—their own mother was too laid-back to harass Pearl’s dates. Mrs. Ramble had met Theo inside, said it was nice to see him and that he was almost as cute now as he’d been as a bear. Then she’d told Theo and Pearl to have a good time. Reminding them about curfews was left to Ruby.
“Make sure you bring yourself home by midnight,” Ruby called to her sister, since Pearl was driving.
Thurston had brought Theo over so Theo could meet Mrs. Ramble, and now he added, “Don’t steal any picnic baskets!” But he pronounced it pic-a-nic, à la Yogi Bear.
“Okay!” Pearl called back, laughing. She stuck her arm out the window and waved good-bye.
Ruby watched her sister drive off on her first-ever solo date, feeling wistful. Then she turned to Thurston. “Did you scour the Internet for outdated bear jokes?”
“Bear jokes never go out of style.”
“I’m sure I’ll get to hear the rest of them. Well, have fun. Whatever you’re doing tonight.”
Thurston rubbed the freshly shaven crown on the back of his head. He didn’t look like he was getting ready to leave—more like he was searching for an excuse to stay.
“What?” she said. He didn’t bother her as much as he had at first, but she wasn’t exactly his biggest fan.
“You’re not jealous that Pearl’s the star of the curse?”
“No. Pearl’s always been the star of my life. I like her in that role.”
“God. You two are unbelievable.”
“Are you jealous that I actually get along with my sister?” Thurston laughed. A yeah, right laugh. But then he got quiet. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
Ruby sat down on the porch steps. She’d been planning to watch TV, maybe finish the last half of a pint of ice cream Pearl had started, but she didn’t want to ditch him if he needed to talk. “Go on. Tell me. I don’t have to be your girlfriend. I can be your therapist.”
Reluctantly, Thurston lowered himself to the porch, his long legs stretched out over the stone steps. “I don’t know how to do it. I don’t know how to be his brother. I missed him, but I was angry, too. It wasn’t his fault that he disappeared, but once he did, everything was about Theo. And I just wanted it to stop. I spent a lot of years not even wishing he’d come home, just wishing my parents would shut up about him. But I’m his big brother. I should’ve cared more. Cried more. I should’ve been … however you’d be if you lost your sister.”
“I don’t even want to think about that,” Ruby said. “I wouldn’t be anything without her. But—you were a kid. And kids can be selfish. The way you felt while he was gone, and the guilt you’re feeling now—if it is guilt—”
“It is. I think.”
“That doesn’t mean you and Theo can’t have a good relationship. You just have to get used to each other again. And considering Theo has to get used to not scratching himself against a tree when he has an itch, in addition to being your brother, you have it a lot easier than he does.”
“Ah, bear jokes,” Thurston said with a happy sigh.
“Thought you’d like that one.”
“He also has to get used to using toilet paper again. And not running through the woods naked.”
“Careful. That’s my sister’s boyfriend you’re talking about.”
Thurston grinned, like he was still relishing the image of Theo in the woods—and then the joy dropped away and he was quiet again. Ruby waited while he gathered his thoughts. There was so much twisted up in there. It had probably been a long time since he’d admitted these things, even to himself.
Finally, Thurston said, “I didn’t want my life to be defined by what happened to Theo. But it is. It always was.”
“How could it not be? He’s your brother, and one day he was just … gone.”
“And then I had this märchen mark on my back. Double roses. I never even saw the fairy who marked me. But that was the proof my parents were looking for. They knew what had happened to him then. I felt more like a piece of evidence than a person after a while. They knew I was there, and I wasn’t going anywhere, so they could afford to forget me while they focused on finding their lost son. I guess things were supposed to go back to normal once they found him. But ten years is a long time. We don’t have any normal left.”
“Something’s missing—a lot has been missing,” Ruby said. “But Theo didn’t take anything from you. You both had ten good years stolen. If you need someone to blame, blame the fairy who cursed Theo, or the bearded guy who set all this in motion. Or just … decide what you actually want out of this. The past isn’t going to change. What do you want now?”
Thurston laughed. Shaded his eyes.
“Did I say something funny?” Ruby asked.
“No … just … this curse. All this time, I’ve been looking at it like Theo and Pearl were the chosen ones and we were in the background. You were the runner-up and I was the consolation prize. Because that’s how everyone else sees it. But—”
“You’re starting to realize that I’m amazing, but you’re still the consolation prize?”
“I’m starting to think I’m lucky. Way luckier than I have a right to be.”
“It’s too bad I don’t date boys who have brothers. Especially if their brothers used to be bears.”
“I don’t need to date you. I just need your help. I think … you could really help me. Maybe that’s why the curse brought us together. So you could help me get my brother back.”
“So I could help you pick a different hairstyle.”
He laughed again. Squinted at her, sidelong. “I’m serious.”
“I know,” she said. “But I can’t only make jokes about Theo.”
“He’s smarter than the average bear. In his defense.”
She rolled her eyes—although she actually didn’t mind that one. “You’re going to have to do better than that if you want me to tolerate these jokes.”
“I will. I’ll do better. And you’ll help me?”
“I’ll help you.” She got up, smacked at a ticklish feeling on her ankle. “I taught your brother to ride a unicycle. I think I can teach you to be a good brother again.”
“You beat me to the unicycle joke! If that really happened, you better have pictures to prove it.”
Ruby grinned—of course it had never happened. There was no way her mom would have bought a unicycle just so she could teach Theo circus tricks.
“I don’t have pictures of that. But I have pictures of Theo from back then. You want to see them?”
“Yeah … I think I do.”
She took his hand and led him inside. Sat him down in front of her computer and a bowl of honey ice cream—she gave him half of what was left—and opened her file of Theo photos. Theo as a bear prince. Theo with Ruby and Pearl piled on top of him, planting a flag in his furry back like it was a mountain. Theo and Pearl and Ruby with raspberry jam on their faces. Ruby and Pearl curled up against Theo, all three of them sprawled on the floor watching cartoons.
It felt weird to share this part of her life with someone new. Weird, but good, too. Because it wasn’t just her life she was sharing—it was Theo’s, and Pearl’s, and even Thurston’s. These were years he’d missed. Time with his brother he hadn’t had. Time she could give back now. She laughed, telling him the stories, and he laughed, hearing about Theo and the broom-beatings, the junk-food breakfasts, the way they rolled him over with their feet. He asked questions; once they got started, there was so much he wanted to know.
They talked for hours. About Theo, about Thurston, about her, about Pearl. About having a brother and losing him; about having a sister and feeling like you were losing her, too. But nothing had truly been lost. Everything—everyone—was still there. They were more blessed than cursed. All four of them.