The wind was starting to sound operatic.
“Where could she be?” Will was frantic. “She’s all alone out there in the storm!”
“She can handle it,” Tiny said. “If anyone can, it’s Lu. She’s scrappy.”
Will considered this. “That’s true.”
“She’s tough. She’ll be okay. And she’d be super pissed if she knew you were talking about her like she’s some princess who needs to be rescued.”
Will/Jon’s face turned pale, probably at the thought of Lu being super pissed at him again.
“Besides,” said Tiny. “I know where she is.”
Will and Nathaniel turned to her. “You do?” they said in unison.
Tiny nodded. They weren’t as close as they used to be, but Tiny knew Lu almost as well as she knew herself.
“She went back to Central Park. To Hurricane Fest.”
She had gone to find Owen.
They took off in the direction of the park. Lu hadn’t been missing for that long, so she couldn’t have gotten too far. Tiny watched her reflection in the windows of stores and apartment buildings as they ran, flickering in the dark between each brightly lit streetlamp.
She felt a weird mix of fear and elation. She was disappearing. She definitely was.
At the entrance to the park, they stopped. “Which direction is Hurricane Fest?” Tiny muttered.
“You got me,” Will said. “Weren’t you and Lu going to go there anyway?”
“Lu was the one who knew where we were going—not me.”
And that’s when Tiny realized something.
Going out tonight, it had never been about her and Josh.
Lu’s plan was always to go find Owen. Tiny had just been her excuse.
The boys were watching her. She couldn’t even meet their eyes.
She wondered: If she stopped holding on to this friendship, would Lu miss her? It was the last connection she had to her old life, before the night Tobias—
A pair of figures emerged from the dark.
“What the hell is that?” Will whispered. “We probably shouldn’t just stand around here so late at night.”
“Don’t make eye contact,” Tiny whispered back.
“Good thing Nathaniel is strong as fuck.”
“Just because I can tear a door off its hinges doesn’t mean I can take on two guys who are fighting back,” Nathaniel said.
As the figures drew closer, Tiny realized it wasn’t two big guys. It was a guy and a girl, maybe a few years older than they were. The guy was short, with a jet-black asymmetrical haircut, and a beard. The girl was ethereal and flowy, her long, shocking red hair swirling in the wind. They half danced, half slunk toward them. It was hard not to notice them—they looked like they were in a movie, floating dreamily along the path between the streetlights and weaving between the trees.
They were like an indie prince and princess.
“Hey,” Tiny said. “I recognize them.”
“Those kids went to Daybrook?” Will made a face. “I’ve never seen them before.”
“Yeah,” Tiny said. “They graduated last year.”
“They don’t look familiar.”
“They did theater,” Tiny explained. “And since I’m sure you wouldn’t dare step foot in the theater for any reason other than assembly . . .”
Will glowered. “I’ve seen school plays.”
The princess skipped past, unknowingly knocking Tiny backward as she found a lamp pole to lean against, sighing.
It felt stupid to have been brushed aside by such an incredibly beautiful person. Tiny wondered if the princess had even seen her. She pulled back and looked down at herself. Tiny looked like someone had tried to erase her with a not-very-good eraser. Still there, but just a little bit less there than she’d been before the girl had pushed her out of the way.
The guy shouted: “Ladies and gentlemen!”
Tiny looked around. It was just the three of them.
“If the world ends tonight, let it to go out in a blaze of art and beauty! Let the last thing you remember be Shakespeare! On this dark and stormy Friday night, we are proud and honored to present to you: Shakespeare in the Park!”
“I’ve always wanted to see Shakespeare in the Park!” Tiny said.
“More like Shakespeare at the Park Entrance,” muttered Will.
“Hey,” the girl said, opening her eyes. “This is no amateur performance. We go to Tisch School of the Arts. Can we continue?”
The guy got down on one knee and put a hand over his heart. Will snorted.
“But, soft!” Romeo stage-whispered. “What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.”
Juliet sighed and twirled around a lamppost like a hipster Elizabethan stripper. Tiny half expected her to pirouette away on a breeze.
“O, Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?”
“Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?”
“Speak at this!” Will shouted.
Tiny gave him a look, but she wasn’t sure he could see it.
Inside, she couldn’t help resenting them, though. Just a little bit. Sure, they looked all romantic and cool, and everyone was smiling like Romeo and Juliet weren’t going to have a tragic miscommunication and kill themselves in a few acts. But there was no such thing as a happy ending. That kind of stuff didn’t happen in real life. Star-crossed lovers weren’t meant to be together—that was why they were star-crossed and not just regular lovers.
Tiny knew this better than anyone. She knew it in her heart and lungs and on the underside of her skin—places it was hard to get it out.
“Oh, come on,” she snapped. “Romeo and Juliet die at the end.” She didn’t realize she’d even opened her mouth until she looked up and saw that the actors had paused between lines. Her voice echoed in the awkward silence.
“Hey!” Juliet shouted, one hand on her hip.
“Do you mind?” Romeo said angrily.
“I mean, seriously?” Juliet flipped her hair over her shoulder. “I think everyone knows that already.”
“What the hell?” Will said, throwing up his hands. “I didn’t!”
Nathaniel rolled his eyes. “Dude, really? We read it in freshman English.”
“No,” said Will. “You read it in freshman English.”
“Whatever,” Romeo added. “There are, like, a million movie versions. There’s really no excuse.”
“Well, sorr-ee for having a social life and not spending all my free time with my nose in a book, like some people.” Will jutted his chin at Nathaniel.
“Listen,” Nathaniel shot back. “It’s because I spend all my time studying that I might be able to help us get out of this nightmare.”
Tiny let them argue. She turned back to Romeo and Juliet.
“Sorry,” she said. “We’re having a bad night.”
“It’s okay,” said Romeo. He looked closer and squinted. “Whoa,” he said. “You’re transparent.”
“Yeah.” Tiny shrugged, like, What can ya do?
“What happened?” Juliet asked, wide-eyed.
“I got struck by lightning.”
Juliet grabbed Romeo’s hand and gasped.
“That is literally the most dramatic thing I’ve ever heard,” she said.
Tiny didn’t know how to respond to that.
Juliet took a step back and appraised her. “Hmm,” she said. “I might be able to help.” She reached into her purse and extracted a makeup bag. “May I?” Tiny opened her mouth to say no. Then she closed it. Then she opened it again.
“Okay. Why not try it?” Juliet got to work. She dusted some powder over Tiny’s face and brushed a rosy shimmery blush onto her cheeks. There was a zing of eyeliner and a whoosh of mascara and a slick of berry gloss across her lips.
“Pucker.”
Tiny puckered.
“Look.”
Tiny looked at her reflection in the little compact mirror. In the movies, putting makeup on the invisible girl always seemed to make people notice her. So was it helping? Was the girl who looked back at her more beautiful than she had been before? Was she someone worth noticing, now that her eyes were lined and her lips were glossed? Her heart lifted at the thought. But then Tiny saw herself fade just a little bit more, behind the blush and mascara, like a waning lunar eclipse. And her heart fell again.
“Feel any different?” Juliet asked hopefully.
“No,” Tiny said. “I’m sorry. But thanks anyway.”
“Man,” said Juliet. “I really thought that would work.”
Tiny thought of something. “Actually, maybe you can help. We’re looking for Hurricane Fest. Do you know where it is?”
Juliet beamed. “Yes! We just performed there.”
“You could hardly hear us over the music,” said Romeo. “I can’t believe it hasn’t been broken up yet.”
“But the music is good,” Juliet added. “If you go now, you’ll probably make it in time to hear Unsexy Gum. They’re great.”
Unsexy Gum. That was Owen’s band!
“It’s just down that path and under the footbridge. You definitely can’t miss it.”
“Thanks,” said Tiny, grabbing Nathaniel and Will by the sleeves. “We owe you one!”
“Good luck!” Juliet called. “You were our most enthusiastic audience all night! Except for you.” She frowned at Will. “I don’t know who you think you are, but if you keep making fun of things, you’ll miss out on everything.”
“On what?” Will asked.
“On all this.” Juliet spread her arms and twirled. The wind caught her dress and swept her hair up like a Disney character. Tiny thought she might be about to break into song. “Anyway, see ya,” she said. And they started walking down the path out of the park.
“Godspeed!” Romeo waved. “‘Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win, by fearing to attempt!’”
“Whatever that means,” Will muttered. “Whatever any of that means.”
The night air was heavy, and the wind was still blowing like mad. Juliet’s perfect twirly beauty still taunted her. Despite the makeup, she felt even more invisible. Tiny wondered if, when Juliet saw Romeo at that party, all the decisions were suddenly easy for her. She wondered if Juliet ever really stopped to wonder, wait a minute, if I let this guy into my life, will I end up dead in some mausoleum in Verona somewhere? Probably not. Because there’s no way to know how things will end up until they end up there.
Tiny wondered where she would end up.
The truth was, she didn’t fit in anywhere, and if she could choose one group to fit into, she didn’t even know which one it would be.
It was why she was always grateful to be friends with Lu. She admired Lu, she really did. Lu didn’t want to fit into any of the groups. Lu said “fuck you” to groups. Except that meant if she didn’t have Lu, she had no one left.
“You’re, like, the only person I can be strange with,” Lu told her on the last day of sixth grade. They had been sitting outside the Guggenheim Museum and gulping down ice cream and the promise of summer. Ahead of them stretched infinity more warm breezy start-of-summer days like this. Even then Tiny knew exactly what Lu meant, because she felt it too.
In The Great Gatsby, which was fast becoming her favorite book, Nick Carraway says this thing: The rock of the world was founded securely on a fairy’s wing.
When Tiny read it, her heart stumbled a little. It made her think of how a person’s whole life could be anchored to something so intangible. A crush. A grade. A college. An image of yourself you have in your head. A best friend.
I have to find Lu.
Tiny blinked, standing in the middle of Central Park. She looked down at herself under the orange glow of a streetlamp. Her skin flickered in and out. She hesitated.
She realized in that moment that she had a choice.
If she fled the park and ran for home, she would only continue to fade into nothingness. She would dry up and float away with nothing more than a little pop. She’d fizzle out like a lightbulb in a power outage.
Or she could smack her berry-glossed lips, stand a little straighter, and keep going down the path ahead. She might have been fading away, but she hadn’t lost sight of herself just yet.
The risk in the decision lay, not in making the right choice, but just in taking the leap to choose. In the act of choosing itself.
She didn’t know what would happen at Hurricane Fest, or the rest of the night, but she knew something would. As Lu would say, What if?
And for once in her life, she wanted to find out badly enough to risk choosing.