Page 16 of The Queen's Box

“It certainly is,” said the judge. “Every day, science makes the impossible possible.”

“Well, therearelimits,” Ash said. “Wings, for example.” She glanced at Willow and gave a light laugh. “I know how much you want them, but don’t cut slits in your shirts just yet.”

The atoms holding Willow together detached again, this time violently, and she heard her own voice before she realized she’dopened her mouth to speak. “Okay, Ash. I won’t. But do you know what?”

She stepped closer to her sister. The air between them hummed. “I’d rather be a fool who dreams of flying than the bitch who shoots them down.”

Shock swept through the room, swift and devastating. Conversations died. Faces turned their way. Willow’s father turned to stone, and Juniper froze where she stood, her tray at a precarious angle. Even Ash was speechless, blinking rapidly as twin spots of pink rose on her cheeks.

“Go upstairs, Willow,” her father said. His voice was cold and furious. “Now.”

Willow knew she’d gone too far, but it had been a long and awful night. A long and awfulyear, and she just... she couldn’t anymore. She just couldn’t.

What was it Miriam Candler had said?Leave now, before the shadows grow teeth? Willow’s teeth came out fast and sharp, hungry for blood.

“Or what?” she said, planting her hand on a cocked-out hip. “Will you bend me over your knee and spank me? That’s what happens to bad little girls, isn’t it?”

Her father’s face turned a mottled shade of red.

Ash—Ash!—sidled close to Willow and tugged her arm. “Don’t,” she said viciously.

All right, then,Ash. Willow pulled free of her sister’s grasp, faced Ash head-on, and smiled. “Don’t what? Say the things that shouldn’t be said?”

“Not here. Notnow,” Ash said under her breath. She bugged her eyes at Willow, and in their depths, Willow saw something she’d never seen before: fear.

Ash, the good sister, was afraid of what Willow might do. Afraid of just how bad Willow might choose to be. Adrenaline coursed through Willow’s veins, and it was delicious.

“I’m confused,” she said, spooling the words out slowly. She spun around in a small circle, taking in all the eyes, everyone’s attention squarely on her. This was how she used to feel when she’d been up on stage. Electric. Powerful. The star of the show.

“I’m not supposed to be a dreamer.” She fake pouted. “No wings for me. No fairy tales, no happy endings. But, Ash—”

Her father unfroze, and with one swift step, he was at her side, gripping her arm.

She struggled, but he was stronger than Ash.

Mr. Chapman had been stronger than Ash, too. Mr. Chapman, who’d told everyone that Willow was averybad girl, despite having given Willow the opposite message for months. “She was so talented,” he’d said! “A star!” In Mr. Chapman’s eyes, as Willow saw it, she’d been a good girl right up until that moment in the Pattersons’ hot tub when the night had stopped going his way. Then Mr. Chapman had reversed his opinion so quickly it would have given Judge Baylor whiplash.

So maybe her father was right. Maybe it had been confusing—what hadtranspiredbetween Willow and Braxton Academy’s esteemed and beloved drama teacher.

Confusing to her father. Confusing to the world. But not to Willow.

“Letgo,” she said to her father, twisting her arm and trying to slither free.

“You’re causing a scene,” he hissed. “Stop it.”

“I can’t be a dreamer,” she said loudly, twisting to face Ash as her father propelled her toward the staircase. “But I’m supposed to live in a world of make-believe? How can I do both at once?”

Juniper stood by the side table, as rigid as a toy soldier. She tracked Willow’s progress up the stairs, her lower lip trembling as tears streamed down her cheeks. Willow’s heart seized at the sight of her, and she stopped fighting, at least on the outside.

“Dad, it’s okay,” she said, speaking quietly and letting her muscles go slack. “Look. Here I am, not causing a scene.”

He glared at her, searching for the trick.

She held his gaze defiantly, but there was no trick. The act was over, and there would be no round of applause or final bow.

“I’ll go to my room,” she said evenly. “Would you please let go of my arm?”

She raised her eyebrows.

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