Gwendolyn sat in the living room, across the coffee table from Cecilia Forthright. Each of them stared at the other as though blinking would be a sign of full surrender. Even Mr. Mason seemed to notice the tension.

 

“So… Gwendolyn, yes? Where is your father? I assumed he'd be dining with us.”

 

Gwendolyn glanced at Father’s typewriter in the corner. “He's ill, like I said.”

 

“Well, perhaps, I'll just pop my head in and say hello—”

 

“No!” Gwendolyn wished she was as skilled a liar as Puck. “I mean, he's at a friend’s house. He… he didn't want to disturb the meal.”

 

Mr. Mason frowned. “If he’s so sick, why would he go to—”

 

“Dinner!” called Mother’s voice, and Robin swept into the living room.

 

“Excuse me, Marie, but will Danforth be joining us? Gwendolyn seems a bit confused, says he’s sick at a friend’s house or some such rubbish.”

 

“That is what she said, yes. Enough of that. Come on, everyone, before it gets cold! Or warm, depending.” And she giggled girlishly.

 

“That’s laying it on a bit thick…” Gwendolyn grumbled to herself as she stood.

 

“Excellent!” said Mr. Mason, heading into the dining room. “I’m positively famished!”

 

Cecilia crossed her arms and stormed after him.

 

Gwendolyn followed as well, but froze as she stepped into the dining room. The sight that met her eyes was simply too much for her to handle after the evening’s events thus far, and all she could manage was a stunned, “What… the… devil…”

 

It was a feast. An utterly unfathomable feast. A fantastical, fantabulous feast.

 

The glass topped table was loaded with so much food it was like to shatter. The sideboard tables groaned under the weight of countless dishes. Summer salads, stuffed mushrooms, wheels of cheese, glistening berries, plates of turkey and ham, strings of sausages, joints of mutton, pots of oysters, slices of lavender bread, cakes and candies and sweets of all kinds, and even a box of iced cookies that said EAT ME in large, friendly letters, all of it gleaming with goodness.

 

The room practically steamed, and a warm wave of delicious smells wiped away any trace of thought.

 

Eventually, Mr. Mason found his voice. “What… What is all this?”

 

The faerie in the polka dot dress swept around the room, though there was scarcely space for sweeping among the towering piles of food.

 

“We have lembas, ambrosia, rainbow fish sprinkled with melange, golden goose eggs, roast beast, diamondfruit marmalade, deeper’n’ever beetroot pie, sweet cream, heavy cream, honey cream, nevercream, a couple gargle-blasters for us grown-ups and fizzy lifting drinks for the girls, and then for dessert there’s treacle tart, butter pie, strawberry glimmer pudding, Turkish delight, whistling sweets, and a little hot soma for after dinner sipping. Good for the digestion.”

 

Gwendolyn shot Robin a look of wordless, mortified shock.

 

“Where did you get this?” Mr. Mason said.

 

“Oh, you know. Lots of places. Here, there, and everywhere.” She winked at no one in particular. “Now tuck in! It’s positively scrumdiddlyumptious!”

 

Mr. Mason opened his mouth again, but there was no room for words amongst all that food. So instead he nibbled a piece of maple-glazed bacon. Cecilia, clearly against her better judgment, tried a sip of punch.

 

Their eyes lit up, and they traded a look of utter bewilderment and joy. Then, abandoning all manners, they leapt into their chairs and attacked the mountains of goodies.

 

Gwendolyn eased into her usual chair and glanced at Robin. The faerie was staring hungrily at the pair as they aggressively stuffed their faces.

 

“This is…” grunted Mr. Mason between bites of venison. “This is stupendous! I’ve never had food like this.”

 

“No,” Gwendolyn said through clenched teeth, glaring at Robin. “No one has. We don’t have food like this here.”

 

“Well, it’s not my fault you live in such a wretchedly dull story,” Robin growled back, using Mother’s own exasperated tone. “Do you know how many other stories I had to pull this from? Ungrateful child.” She snorted. “I’d like to see some mere Christmas Ghost do better.”

 

If Mr. Mason noticed anything odd about the comment, he could hardly be bothered to mention it. Cecilia could hardly be bothered to breathe, given the way she was inhaling her pepper cheese popovers. Her face and fingers glistened with juices. All thoughts of ensnaring Gwendolyn seemed to have fled somewhere around the first bite of lobster roll.

 

“I didn’t know there was so much food left in the whole City,” Mr. Mason said, spluttering bits of peach across the table. He reached out and tore the leg off a chicken. “What with the shortages and all. We’re hardly destitute in the Central, but even we’ve seen a bare shelf or two since the Change. Darling, could you pass those little pastries over there?”

 

Cecilia did, in between mouthfuls of lemon-spiced almonds.

 

Gwendolyn wondered what sort of spells might be on this food to reduce those two to little more than ravening animals. Then again, maybe it was just that good. It smelled absolutely heavenly. Her stomach rumbled. The past two years had involved a lot of macaroni. She reached out and tried a jeweled pomegranate seed, which looked like a tiny ruby.

 

The sugary crust crunched with a delicate sweetness, followed by a burst of juice. The tartness of it made her mouth tingle and pucker and water. Her eyes shot open, and she let out an involuntary moan of delight. She was just about to jam a handful of them into her mouth when she was startled by a loud bang.

 

She looked up to see Mr. Mason, face down in a plate of abbey cake. He didn’t move.

 

Gwendolyn leapt back from the table just as Cecilia dropped as well, her head hitting the table with a heavy thud.

 

“You’ve killed them!”

 

“Did I?” Robin said, looking up. She was peeling an apple with a wickedly curved knife that was very out of place in her mother’s hand. “Oh. That. Seems they’ve found the twilight forest truffles. It does tend to knock mortals out for a while.”

 

“They’re not dead?” Gwendolyn asked.

 

Robin poked Cecilia hard in the cheek, who muttered and turned her head away. “Merely sleeping. It could be worse. At least I didn’t serve them the pansy blossom juice. We could hardly have them falling in love with us at first sight. Though what fun that could be…” She twirled around, and suddenly Gwendolyn’s mother was gone. Puck Robin stood in her place, now in her own voluptuous female form.

 

“That’s my boss. You’ve knocked out my boss. In my house. And his daughter. What are they going to say when they wake up?”

 

“I imagine they’ll thank you for the best meal of their lives.” The faerie pulled back one of Mr. Mason’s eyelids. “What does it matter what they say? These two were dullards anyway.”

 

Dashing around the table, Gwendolyn pushed Robin up against the wall, upsetting a tray of fig tartlets in the process. “Because I needed them to go away! I needed them not to know I’ve been living here alone! And I needed Cecilia Forthright to stop trying to ruin my life!” She didn’t know what gave her the nerve to shove the faerie about, but Robin seemed too surprised to react.

 

“Do you think it’s easy, pretending to be your own parents?” It all came rushing out in an unstoppable flood. “I’ve been doing everything on my own the past two years, and I wanted you to pretend to be my mother so that Mr. Mason would go home happy and keep paying me, only I haven’t been able to write anything in weeks, and now I—”

 

“Gwendolyn?” came a voice from behind her.

 

Gwendolyn spun around.

 

Miss Sahida, her teacher, stood in the hall, staring into the dining room with eyes as wide as saucers.

 

The three of them stood in silence for a moment. They all glanced at one another, and back again.

 

Robin clapped her hands and disappeared with a loud pop. The feast vanished with her.

 

Of course, seeing a grown woman and a room full of food vanish into thin air didn't exactly help matters. Miss Sahida gasped, and stumbled back against the wall. “The… the door was open, so I just… I just…” Her knees buckled.

 

“Miss Sahida!” Gwendolyn rushed to her teacher.

 

“I—I need to sit down.”

 

Gwendolyn led her into the living room and away from the bodies slumped over the dining room table. She sat her down on the couch, then went to get a glass of water. Gwendolyn’s mind whirled for something, anything she could say to explain what the woman had just seen.

 

Gwendolyn gave the glass to her teacher, and Miss Sahida took it. Her eyes were glazed, staring off into the distance.

 

“What are you doing here?” Gwendolyn asked.

 

“Huh?” Miss Sahida said, turning toward Gwendolyn. She shook her head, and her expression cleared. “Oh, I, uh… You called me. Invited me over for dinner.”

 

“I most certainly did n—oh,” said Gwendolyn, burying her face in her hands. “Cecilia.”

 

“What? Miss Forthright? Is… was that her I just saw, unconscious in there? With her father? Are they all right?” Miss Sahida shot up and went for the dining room.

 

Gwendolyn followed, coming in as Miss Sahida checked Cecilia’s breathing.

 

“She’ll be fine,” Gwendolyn said. Or at least, she hoped Cecilia would be fine. Or at least, she hoped Cecilia wasn’t dead. Or… to be honest, at this precise moment, Gwendolyn wasn’t even sure she could say that much.

 

“But what are they doing here at all, let alone sleeping on your table? I… I can’t even… Where was that water…”

 

A dark weight settled on Gwendolyn’s shoulders. Her breathing quickened. “What did you hear?”

 

Miss Sahida’s tone grew firm. “Well, I heard Cecilia do a convincing imitation of your voice over the phone, it seems. I mean, it was all a bit suspect, so I called the number we have on file for you, multiple times in fact, but when no one answered, I got worried, and I don’t live very far from here, and—”

 

She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. Then she turned toward Gwendolyn. “But yes, I heard you. I came in somewhere around the ‘knocking out the mortals’ bit, which I’m not even going to pretend to understand—”

 

“Miss Sahida, I can explain—”

 

“Oh yes, please explain. I would so dearly love an explanation. I would love to know where all that food came from, for example, or where that woman went, and why she seemed to vanish into thin air?”

 

Gwendolyn opened her mouth, then closed it again, then opened it again, looking very much like a fish.

 

“I see.” Miss Sahida put her hands on her hips. Her usual sweetness and warmth were nowhere to be found. “Then let me explain. You’ve been living here on your own for the past two years, if I heard correctly. Your parents are gone—

 

“Yes, but—”

 

“—but Cecilia somehow found out, and invited me over for dinner tonight. So you managed to hire that… that person to pretend to be your mother. Does that about sum it up?”

 

All Gwendolyn could manage was her fish imitation again.

 

“I see. But that still doesn’t explain all that food, or the vanishing woman, or…” But she stopped. Her eyes glazed over, and her speech grew slurred. “And… it’s a good thing she scarpered out the door as quick as she did, or I’d be calling the authorities on her. Honestly, a charlatan in a cheap disguise? A room full of fake food? Well, she ran away quick enough.”

 

Gwendolyn was confused for a moment. Then she saw the glazed look in her teacher’s eye, with a twinkle of blue. It was the same one her mother had gotten whenever encountering something magical. Something was altering her memory.

 

“Miss Sahida, please listen…”

 

But Miss Sahida shook her head, eyes clearing, and stormed into the kitchen. She glanced around, spotted the phone on the wall, then picked it up and spun the dial.

 

Gwendolyn ran over and snatched the phone away. “Stop! What are you doing?”

 

Miss Sahida seemed taken aback, not used to having students snatch things from her. “Gwendolyn Gray, you give me that phone back right this minute.”

 

“Who were you calling?”

 

“I’m calling the authorities, obviously.”

 

“No, my mother’s here, you just missed her,” Gwendolyn said, panicked. “If you wait, I’m sure she’ll be back—”

 

Miss Sahida glared at her, having regained her usual piercing gaze. “And how long would I be waiting? Two more years, from what you said? Or just long enough for you to hire another impersonator? You…” She closed her eyes and massaged her brow in disbelief. “You hired someone to pretend to be your mother, I don’t even know how you would go about doing such a thing, are there ads in the paper for it, or—”

 

“You can’t tell anyone. You just have to trust me, I promise…”

 

“Trust you? You’ve been lying to me all year. Not to mention that little act today, playing on my sympathies for your…” and she waved a hand in the direction of Gwendolyn’s bare scalp, “…condition.”

 

“But I’m fine, truly, just look around.” Gwendolyn gestured to the immaculate apartment, even though she couldn’t exactly take credit for it.

 

Miss Sahida did look. And Gwendolyn saw a flicker of uncertainty. But it vanished as quick as Robin had. “So, I should just go home, and leave a poor little girl all alone, with no one to look after her? And with your condition, to be under so much stress? Just look at the lengths you’ll go to when left to your own devices. How could I live with myself? How could I come to the School, and face you each day, knowing you were out there own your own doing god-knows-what? No, I’m sorry, I know you don’t like it, but it’s for your own good.” And she took the phone back from Gwendolyn.

 

Gwendolyn didn’t resist. Instead, she made her eyes as big and sad and adorable as she could make them, even trying for a tear or two. “You’d really send me to the Home for Unclaimed Children?” she said, pitifully.

 

That struck a blow. The Home’s reputation was well-known, as was the new Childkeeper’s. The flicker of uncertainty on Miss Sahida’s face grew into full-fledged doubt. She sagged against the counter and dropped the phone, letting it dangle from its cord. “I don’t know—”

 

“I’ve got it all under control, I can take care of myself.”

 

Miss Sahida put her hands on Gwendolyn’s shoulders. “That’s just the point. You shouldn’t have to.” She sighed and let her arms fall. “What would you have me do, Gwendolyn?”

 

Gwendolyn knew it was an honest question. But she had no idea how to answer. “What if…” And oh, if only her magic words still worked. If only she still had the power to create things, and make her imagination real. But she didn’t know what she could make that would do any good. She needed her parents, not a furry orange Falderal.

 

“What if you came to check on me? You could come every day, just to make sure I’m all right. Or…” She had an even wilder idea. “Or I could come with you. I could stay with you. If you’d have me.”

 

Miss Sahida looked at her. Gwendolyn looked back, and her teacher’s gentle face made her melt a little. She had meant it as a ploy, to buy her more time, but was the idea really so bad? Wouldn’t it be nice to have a… to have someone to look after her? To not have to do the shopping, or the laundry, or the bills, to not have to be a lady, and just be… Gwendolyn?

 

Miss Sahida was silent for a long, long moment. Then she wrapped Gwendolyn in an enormous hug.

 

And this time, Gwendolyn’s tears were real.

 

When Miss Sahida pulled back, her eyes were wet as well.

 

“No,” she said. “I can’t.”

 

“But Miss Sahida—”

 

The words seemed to hurt her teacher as much as they were hurting Gwendolyn. “This isn’t like one of your storybooks. I can’t just go around adopting orphans at the drop of a hat.”

 

Gwendolyn pushed her back, and Miss Sahida stumbled against the counter. “I’m not an orphan,” she spat.

 

If Miss Sahida was upset by this, she didn’t show it. “Nevertheless. You are alone. And no one should have to be as lonely as this,” she said, gesturing around them.

 

“You’re as lonely as this,” Gwendolyn said, putting some bite into her words. “Maybe you need someone more than I do.”

 

Miss Sahida flinched. “Well, that’s… that’s different. I’m an adult. Just look at the mess you’ve gotten yourself into.” She pointed at the dining room. “Consorting with shady characters. Poisoning two innocent people, or whatever you’ve done to them. No. You’ll thank me when you’re older. The Home won’t be as bad as… as everyone says. You’ll see.” She picked up the dangling phone and spun the dial again.

 

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Gwendolyn said, as firm and angry as she had ever been.

 

Miss Sahida fixed her with an equally firm stare. “Someone has to.”

 

Gwendolyn knew her attempts had backfired. Miss Sahida certainly wouldn’t listen now. She raced to the front door. She would escape, and no one could stop her. She’d faced much worse than the police, after all. Hadn’t she fought Mister Zero and Misters One-through-however-many-there-were? Hadn’t she done the impossible, quite literally, on several occasions? She might find another home out there. On another world, in some other story.

 

Except… all the portals to the other stories were closed. She couldn’t get into the Library of All Wonder.

 

She could still run, though. She could live on the streets of the City, staying one step ahead of the police and the Childkeeper, always running, always fighting… for the rest of her life…

 

Instead, she collapsed face-down on the couch, burying her head in a pillow. She didn’t even cry. She had no energy for tears. She’d been battling her depression all day, and was there really any point in fighting it anymore?

 

At least Miss Sahida seemed to have forgotten the more magical elements of the evening. Gwendolyn didn’t know what that blue flash in her eyes had been, but it seemed to cloud her mind against magic the way the Lambents once had.

 

It didn’t matter. Gwendolyn’s secret was out. She hadn’t been good enough to hide it, and there was no going back. She was tired of fighting. She was tired of being the one in charge all the time. A voice inside her screamed at her to get up, to get out, to get away. And there was a time when she would have listened.

 

But she was not the girl she used to be.

 

So, who am I? she wondered.