hope you'll consider letting me interview for the position." WHAT? "Sam, I--"
He popped his glasses back on his face and took a step toward the door. "Okay," he said. "Now that I have thoroughly embarrassed myself, I'm going to let you return to your fairy-tale life." He
made an elaborate bow and turned to go.
"Sam, wait!" I practically had to run to catch up with him. The heel of my shoe caught on the
carpet, and I would have fallen if he hadn't grabbed me.
"Whoa," he said, holding me by the elbow. "Careful."
"Sam?" I said, looking into his eyes.
"Lucy?" he said, looking straight back at me.
I took a deep breath. "Sam, let's blow this fairy tale."
He laughed uncertainly, then stopped when he saw the expression on my face. "Seriously?" he
asked.
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"Seriously," I said.
But as we turned to go, I realized there was one more thing I needed to do. Just because I was
sure they were going to start ignoring me big-time on Monday didn't mean it was okay to leave
without saying good-bye.
"Could you give me a second?"
"Sure," said Sam. "I'll meet you by the door."
I looked around, finally spotting them on the dance floor. As soon as she saw me, Madison
grabbed my arm. "Hey," she said, "where were you? You weren't in the bathroom."
"Are you okay?" asked Jessica. "Connor's being a total ass." I looked past her to where Kathryn and Connor weren't dancing so much as they were standing in one place, arms around each other.
"No, he's not," I said. "I think he really likes her."
"Are you crazy?" Jessica took both my hands in hers. "He likes you."
"The thing is, Jessica, he doesn't even know me." I let go of her hands since I knew the next
sentence out of my mouth would probably make her want to let go of mine. "And anyway, it
doesn't matter because I don't really like him."
Jessica's eyes grew enormous, and Madison clutched her hands to her chest. "You don't?" they
asked in unison.
"Then, who do you like?" asked Jessica.
"I like ..." Without my meaning them to, my
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eyes found Sam standing by the door. He waved at me.
Jessica saw. "You like Sam Wolff? No way.''''
I gave her a tiny smile. "Way," I said.
Jessica considered what I'd said. "But doesn't he just stare at you and not say anything? How can
you know you like him?"
I laughed. "He doesn't not say anything."
And then, like a character in a comic strip who suddenly gets an illuminated lightbulb over her
head, Jessica shouted, "Oh, I know! It's because you're both into art and stuff." She nodded to
emphasize the accuracy of her insight.
"Totally," said Madison, nodding too. She looked over at Sam and narrowed her eyes. Then she
looked back at me. "Actually, he's kind of cute," she said.
"Thanks," I said. I let my eyes rest on Sam for a second before turning back to Madison and
Jessica. "Well, have fun in the Hamptons."
"I wish you were coming," said Madison. "You have to call us while we're there."
"And you'll come over Sunday night," said Jessica. "So we can debrief."
"Really?" I said, surprised.
"What do you mean, 'really'?" Madison looked confused.
"Yeah," said Jessica. "I mean, we're not going to see you all weekend." She and Madison both hugged me. Before letting go, Jessica gave me one last piece of advice.
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"If your stepmother says you can't come Sunday, just tie her up and lock her in the closet."
"I don't think it'll come to that," I said. "I'll see you Sunday."
And as I crossed the ballroom, I felt a tremendous surge of joy. Who knew you could dump your
prince and still keep your loyal court?
Outside the wind was whipping a few pale clouds across the sky, which was bright with the
nearly full moon. A row of horse-drawn carriages was lined up across the street, waiting to take
people on rides through Central Park.
"I can't believe this is happening," Sam said. He took my hand and gestured with it toward the
horses. "So, what do you think? Want to ride off into the sunset on a slightly anemic steed?"
I took his other hand in mine and turned him to face me. "Look, you should know. It turns out I
don't really have a wicked stepmother," I said. "So I don't believe in fairy tales anymore."
"Really?" He furrowed his forehead. "No magic spells?" I shook my head. "No fairy godmothers?" I shook it again. "What happened? Ding-dong the witch is dead."
I laughed. "She's not dead." I looked across the street, as if the answer to Sam's question was
hiding somewhere in the park. When it didn't emerge, I just
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shrugged. "I don't know," I said. "It's like everything changed but nothing changed, you know what I mean?" Sam shook his head. "Yeah, I don't exactly know either."
Sam put his hands on either side of my face. "Well, anyway, I'm glad," he said. "It must really suck to have a wicked stepmother." He kissed me lightly on the lips. "Then again, I wouldn't
have minded being your Prince Charming."
I slipped my arms over his shoulders and touched his soft, curly hair. "Oh, yes you would have,"
I said.
Sam wrapped his arms around my waist and leaned his forehead against mine. "Well, if you still
want to be a princess, that's okay by me."
I considered it for a second. "You know, I think I'll pass," I said.
"Suit yourself," said Sam. And then, just as we were about to kiss, he froze. "Wait, we still get to have the happy ending, right?"
"Oh, definitely," I said, tilting my face up to his. "We definitely get to have the happy ending."
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I am lucky enough to owe thanks to Ben Gantcher, Neal Gantcher, Elizabeth Rudnick, the Saint
Ann's Community, Angle Sheldon, and my extraordinary editor, Helen Perelman.
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Check out Melissa Kantor's newest story...
The Breakup Bible
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***
I Am Trying to Break Your Heart
In nineteenth-century novels, characters die of heartbreak. Literally. A girl gets dumped, and
she's so grief-stricken she suffers a "brain fever," or goes wandering out on the moors, and the next thing you know the whole town is hovering by her bedside while a servant gallops on a
desperate midnight ride to fetch the doctor. Only, before you can say Bring on the leeches!, the
guilt-ridden rake who abandoned our heroine is strewing rose petals on her grave and begging
God to Please, take me, too, because his ex is dead, dead, dead.
According to Mrs. Hamilton, my English teacher, this is known as a "convention." After writing
convention on the blackboard, she gave us a lecture explaining that conventions are things we
accept when they happen in books and movies even though they never happen in
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real life. Then she asked us to think of some modern conventions, like how characters on soap
operas get amnesia constantly, and in teen movies the only thing an ugly girl needs to be pretty is
contact lenses and a new haircut, when in real life if an ugly girl gets contact lenses and a new
haircut, she's just an ugly girl with contact lenses and a new haircut.
But when Max told me that he'd "been thinking about it a lot lately" and had "decided it would be better if we were just friends," it occurred to me that dying of a broken heart might not be a