“And here we are, it wasn’t far.”

 

Gwendolyn blinked. They were in the Central City. Skyscrapers towered around them. Streetlights gleamed in the blackness.

 

Gwendolyn looked around. “Are you sure we’re in the right place?”

 

Robin rolled her eyes and jerked her thumb at a stairwell across the street. “A revel is as revels be, but it ain’t no party without me.”

 

Gwendolyn nodded. “Fine. Follow me. I’ve heard my friends talk about it enough that I think I know what to do.” She dashed across the street. “Come on, faerie boy!”

 

“Faerie girl, if you do please, I—”

 

“And no rhyming. Not if you’re going to blend in.” Gwendolyn took them down a set of stairs to an alcove below street level. There was a door with a slitted peephole, which slid open at her knock.

 

A pair of eyes peered through the slit. “Yeah?”

 

She vividly remembered her friends’ conversations about the Revels, given how jealous they had made her. She remembered the code phrases they’d talked about. “We’re here for a real sock-dollager,”

 

The eyes moved up and down, taking in the pair’s colorful attire. “Ain’t gonna drop a dime?”

 

“We’re all jake here,” Gwendolyn replied, finishing the passphrase.

 

“Swell. Welcome to the Revels.”

 

The door opened, and the two of them were stunned into silence by a wave of color, and music, and light.

 

It was a large basement storage room, full of wooden crates that had all been shoved against the walls. Strands of colored lights were hung along the ceiling, and the whole place was bathed in a warm orange glow. Round tables dotted the floor, but the center was left clear for the dozen or so dancers who seemed to be having a fantastic time. A makeshift stage had been placed at one end, where a band was playing a jazzy tune, with instruments and music that had no doubt been found through the Lambents new trove of information.

 

Vendors had set up displays on top of the boxes that lined the walls. They showed off new artwork, new clothing, even new foods, though the fare was much more limited than the feast Puck Robin had conjured. Everyone wore the most eye-watering colors they could find. The whole place seemed to be a competition to see who could be the brightest, most exuberant, and most full of life. Five hundred years of pent-up energy and imagination all trying to get out at once.

 

“Now this is more like it,” Puck Robin said, eying the room with unbridled glee.

 

“Don’t get into any trouble just yet,” Gwendolyn said. “This isn’t one of Lady Fen’s balls. These are real people, who aren’t accustomed to magic, so keep it in your pocket.”

 

Puck rolled her eyes. “Yes, mother.”

 

Gwendolyn rolled her eyes right back. “You’re so terribly ironic. There they are!” she said, spotting her friends across the room. “We’ve got to get them out of here before—“

 

Robin grabbed her arm. “You promised me fun,” and her tone was anything but. “Break your word to me again and I’ll flay the skin from your bones with a cocktail fork.”

 

Gwendolyn blinked, stunned. “No, no, I just meant ‘there they are, come on, I’ll introduce you.’ Well, I’ll try, I’m not sure how I’m going to explain you to anyone…” Gwendolyn gulped, forced a smile, and tried to put on a casual air. If Robin wanted a good time, she’d give Robin a good time.

 

How hard could it be? After all, she was out of the Home. She was even out of her stifling apartment for once. She had a pretty dress on a pretty night full of pretty people. She approached the table where Jessica, Ian, Missy, and Tommy all sat, chatting and sipping fizzy concoctions. Seeing them all, out on the town and having a good time, made her smile anything but forced.

 

“Hello, my mollys,” Gwendolyn said, using one of Cyria’s phrases.

 

“We’ve already got our drinks, thanks,” said Ian, turning around. Then he froze, squinting. “Gwendolyn?”

 

“Gwendolyn!” Missy exclaimed then rushed over to wrap her in a hug, which Gwendolyn happily returned. It did a lot to repair some of the damage of the past day.

 

“You made it!” Tommy said.

 

“It’s about time,” Jessica added. “Those parents of yours are positively tyrannical.”

 

“Yes, I… uh, managed to sneak out.”

 

“And what a sneaking! Just look at you,” Ian said, grabbing her hand and twirling her out of Missy’s embrace. “That fringe is to die for. You should doll up more often.”

 

“Uh, thank you, Ian. You’re all quite… uh, smashing… as well.”

 

And indeed they were. Ian was decked out in a bright blue suit with a gold paisley shirt. Jessica wore a pair of high-waisted red trousers, along with a short sleeve shirt of white and blue horizontal stripes, and a red neckerchief tied around her throat, the knot at a jaunty sideways angle. Her dark hair was done up in a bun of braids on top of her head.

 

Missy and Tommy wore their usual clothes, but had managed to scrounge a piece or two of color. Tommy had a green pinstriped vest and his trademark yellow bow tie, and Missy had an orange bow that nearly glowed against her almost-white hair.

 

 “Isn’t it all just the bees knees?” Missy said.

 

“The what?” Gwendolyn said, straining to hear over the music.

 

“It’s an expression.” Missy shrank, embarrassed. “I’m just trying it out.”

 

“Oh,” Gwendolyn said. “Well, I suppose I should introduce you all. This is… Robin.”

 

“Another imaginary friend?” Tommy said, grinning.

 

Gwendolyn turned, confused. “No, what—” But Puck Robin was nowhere to be seen.

 

No, that wasn’t true at all. Puck was quite easily seen, a whirl of red out on the floor. She was dancing with three boys at once and easily keeping up with all of them.

 

Gwendolyn turned back to her friends. “That’s her. In the red.”

 

“Wow,” Tommy said, mouth agape. “Where’s she from? I haven’t seen her around the School. And believe me, I’d have remembered that.”

 

Jessica slapped his arm. “Don’t you dare objectify her.”

 

Ian grinned. “You better tell that to those boys out there.”

 

“Yes, she’s…” Gwendolyn tried to think of what Puck would say, lying while telling the truth. “She’s home schooled.” Which was probably true, in a sense.

 

Ian raised an eyebrow. “What the devil is a home-school?”

 

“It’s exactly what it sounds like. She doesn’t get out much.” Which was obviously not true. Puck was a lot of things, but shy wasn’t one of them. But this was Gwendolyn’s chance. “Listen, you aren’t safe here, you—”

 

“I find nontraditional education fascinating,” Jessica said. “Not many people work outside the City’s structures like that. Did she start before the Change, or after?”

 

“Oh no,” Ian said. “We can talk politics later. The music’s keen, so let’s cut a rug!”

 

Tommy took a long sip of his drink and slammed down the empty glass. “Yeah, it’s Freckle’s first time. No sense standing around.”

 

“You don’t understand, you all need to leave, right now!”

 

“No, ma’am, you just got here, and we’re not letting you off that easy.” Tommy grabbed Gwendolyn’s hand and pulled her toward the dance floor, just as the lights above changed to a rich green. Ian and Jessica followed. Missy stayed behind, looking content to watch the spectacle with a dreamy smile on her face.

 

The music was indeed “keen”, the best Gwendolyn had ever heard in the City. There was a pounding piano, brassy horns, and jazzy drums that kept everyone moving.

 

And now that Puck Robin was in earshot, she couldn’t risk trying to warn her friends. She’d have to play the party girl, and no holding back. If she did, the consequences did not bear thinking about. This was officially a life-or-death situation. She would just have to force herself to have a good time. She wouldn’t enjoy it, she told herself, but what other choice did she have?

 

Ian and Jessica lost themselves in the music, showing off the dances they had learned from the Lambent. Tommy seemed intent on staying as close to Gwendolyn as possible. Gwendolyn ignored him.

 

She moved with the tune, grateful that her dancing skills had not deserted her, and soon found Puck Robin alongside her. Well, if the faerie wanted a party, Gwendolyn would give her one. Wordlessly, the two of them slipped into step together. They twisted low, kicked high, held hands and twirled and dipped. Puck picked her up and swung Gwendolyn’s legs to one side, then the other, then tossed her feet up into the air, fringe flying.

 

When the music stopped, Gwendolyn was surprised to hear a roar of applause. The other dancers had all stopped to watch, and were now clapping and cheering. The music shifted to something slower, and the crowd drifted apart. The five of them headed back to the table and Puck took Gwendolyn’s elbow. “Rosecap, I must say, you do know how to show a girl a good time.”

 

“Rosecap?” Tommy asked.

 

“My little nickname for her,” Puck said with a flirtatious wink. “An inside joke. You had to be there.”

 

“Be where?” Ian said.

 

“I can explain—” Gwendolyn began.

 

“Don’t bother, I am entirely inexplicable.” Puck interrupted.

 

“Ooo, I like her,” Ian cooed.

 

Jessica nodded. “Yes, I think it’s important to reject labels, so we can create our own identities rather than be forced into the roles society has chosen for us.”

 

“Is it bad that most of the time I have no idea what you’re talking about?” Tommy said.

 

Ian grinned. “That says more about you than it does about her. Jessica’s got more good ideas than you have bowties.”

 

Tommy sank a little. “That’s not hard, I’ve only got the one…”

 

“Besides, Jessica’s the only one of us delinquents who might actually amount to something,” Ian said. “I’m thirsty. Come on, new girl, let’s get some drinks. I’m dying for a little girl talk, and these three are all terrible at it…”

 

Ian whisked Puck away, the two of them getting much more friendly than Gwendolyn would like. But this was her chance. She leaned across the table. “Listen to me, you all have to go, right now!” she said in an urgent whisper. “There’s going to be a raid tonight!”

 

“What?” Missy said. “How do you know?”

 

“I…” How could she explain without explaining? She couldn’t tell them about her time in the Home. “I just do. I overheard one of the policemen on my street.”

 

“Oh, that,” Jessica said. “We already know.”

 

“No, you don’t underst—wait, you do?”

 

“Of course,” Jessica said. “Zelda got wind of the whole thing. She’s the organizer. That’s why she changed the location last minute. We’re completely safe.”

 

Tommy grinned. “I’d like to see their faces when they bust onto an empty rooftop.”

 

“But… but… how can you be sure?”

 

“We have been doing this for a while, you know,” Jessica said.

 

“Still, I think we all better—”

 

But at that moment, Ian and Puck returned with a tray of colorful drinks. The music ended and a poet took the stage. He was dressed all in plaid with a black beret. He read from a crumpled sheet of paper in a flat, expressionless tone.

 

“A tree. A tree. I never see. A single tree. I’ve seen them of course, in my mind, in the shimmering light of the Lambents shine. Where have they gone? Where are they now? Their roots no longer grip the ground.”

 

“That boy up there dost hurt mine ears, is he supposed to bring on tears?” Puck said.

 

“No more rhyming, I mean it,” Gwendolyn hissed.

 

“Anybody want a peanut?” Tommy said, digging into the bowl on the table.

 

“He gets to rhyme,” Puck grumbled and crossed her arms petulantly.

 

Missy scrunched up her nose at the poet’s dreadful recitation. “You’re right, he’s not very good, is he?”

 

“At least he’s putting himself out there,” Jessica said. “Challenging the system.”

 

“Which is what you’re going to do, old gal.” Ian got up and pulled Gwendolyn out of her seat.

 

“What are you doing?” Gwendolyn said, digging in her heels.

 

“Anyone can get up there,” Jessica said. “That’s the beauty of the Revels. As long as you have something new to contribute, you get to share with everyone.”

 

Tommy nodded. “And we know your stuff is better than most anybody else here.”

 

“But… but… I don’t have my notebook!” she said, by way of excuse.

 

“You mean this notebook?” said Puck. She whipped Gwendolyn’s journal out of thin air, and tossed it like a disc.

 

Gwendolyn caught it. “Thanks,” she grumbled. “But… what if someone recognizes me?”

 

“I don’t think anyone will recognize you with that wig on,” Missy said.

 

“That settles it. Up you go, Gwendy-girl, before someone else takes your spot!” And Ian pushed her toward the stage again.

 

Well, she reminded herself, Puck wants a show. Again, she supposed she had no choice. She clambered up onto the stage.

 

All eyes were on her. The lights above changed to a low red.

 

“Umm… hello,” Gwendolyn said. She was met with a wave of expectant silence. She had fought monsters and pirates and suchlike, but this was an entirely new sort of terrifying.  “I’m, er… Wendy. Yes. So…” She flipped through her notebook, looking desperately for something worth sharing. Everything else was either too childish, too personal, or had already gone into one of her books. And she hadn’t had any new ideas in weeks.

 

But then she looked out at the crowd. At all the people just waiting to hear her stories. Waiting in a way that no one ever had before. She looked at them, dressed in their brightest colors. Artists and poets and musicians, all here together to share whatever they could imagine.

 

This was the world she had created. This was what she’d wanted, what she’d worked for, sacrificed for. Her hair. Her parents. Her happiness. Her independence. She had given it all up, for this.

 

This was her world. Hers.

 

And she was bloody well going to enjoy it.

 

She smiled. And her imagination, which had given birth to the whole thing, rose to the occasion.

 

“Once up a time,” she said. Though it did not create any visible magic, a ripple went through the audience as she began her spell. She closed her notebook. She would not need it. And the story she told went something like this:

 

“There was once a man named Giacomo. He was a barber. But in his day, a barber did much more than cutting hair. He wandered the countryside as a jack-of-all-trades, and in the course of his business he might be asked to pull teeth, mend clothes, tend to sicknesses, or shoe a horse or two. And of course, he could give the finest shave of a man’s life. And a woman’s as well, though most were too embarrassed to present their legs to a stranger.” She winked. “But Giacomo was rather handsome, so it was not unheard of.”

 

The crowd chuckled. And that was it. They were under her spell. For the first time in her life, she had an appreciative audience, a spotlight shining on her, and a stage to stand on.

 

She told the story of how Giacomo had come to a small village in distress, torn apart by rival gangs. Giacomo, of course, was as skilled with large blades as he was with small ones. Using his many manly skills, he turned the gangs against each other and united the townsfolk to rise up and drive them out. There was action, intrigue, excitement, and even a hint of romance. And the audience loved it.

 

“Thank you,” Gwendolyn said when she’d finished, stepping down to raucous applause. She went back to the table with her head down. Her whole body was shaking. She was reasonably confident that no one had recognized her.

 

“All right,” Gwendolyn said. “That was fantastic.”

 

“Brilliant. Way to go, Freckles,” Tommy added.

 

Missy gave her another hug. Gwendolyn beamed so hard she thought she might be glowing, which was a legitimate possibility. That thought brought a sudden worry. “Where’s Robin?”

 

“Over there,” said Jessica, disapprovingly. “Making quite the spectacle of herself.”

 

Puck Robin was at another table, holding court among a group of older boys. She was sitting in the lap of one, had another one’s tie around her neck, and had her bare feet propped up on the table. Gwendolyn thought about going over to stop her, but she didn’t dare interrupt the faerie’s fun.

 

“Come on, Freckles,” Tommy said. “There’s some art I want to eyeball. This one guy has a new batch of landscapes based on these orchard things he saw in the Lambent. It should be peachy.”

 

Everyone groaned.

 

“I think I need to sit down for a minute,” said Gwendolyn.

 

“Oh,” Tommy said, crestfallen. “All right.”

 

“Don’t look so glum, chum, we’ll tag along.” Jessica gave Gwendolyn a knowing look, and her three friends headed for the art displays. Missy stayed behind and scooted her chair next to Gwendolyn’s.

 

Gwendolyn propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands. “This is amazing. I can’t believe it took me so long to come. I mean, just listen to her up there.” She nodded toward the stage. There was a singer with a slinky dress and a smoky voice. The music was soft and slow and seductive. 

 

            A girl like me can’t be too careful,

 

            The squares will say I’m rotten.

 

            But if music and dance are dis-respectable,

 

            Let’s rot from top to bottom.

 

 

Missy nodded. “Yes. She’s one of my favorites.” Then she turned toward Gwendolyn. “So where were you?”

 

Gwendolyn twitched. “What do you mean?”

 

“It’s just us, Gwendolyn. You didn’t come over yesterday to work on our math, like you said. I thought I must have mixed things up, so I went to your apartment. You weren’t there, but police were going in and out, taking all your things away. They put tape over your door.”

 

Gwendolyn didn’t answer. She just stared into her drink.

 

“You got sent to the Home for Unclaimed Children, didn’t you?”

 

That got her attention. “What? Why would you say that?”

 

Missy gave her a steady but gentle stare. “Because your parents are gone and you’ve been living on your own.”

 

Gwendolyn’s shoulders slumped. “How long have you known?”

 

“A little while. It wasn’t that hard to figure out,” Missy said. “Don’t worry. I didn’t tell anyone. And the others don’t notice things so much.”

 

Gwendolyn exhaled. “Thank goodness for that—”

 

A girl strode up and slammed her hands down on the table. “What are you doing here?” said an all-too-familiar voice.