While I slept in the very early days of my teendom, Goopy woke up to realize he'd forgotten his own birthday. He barely had time to roll out of bed before the sparkles overtook him.
He became ... in a word ... devastating.
Not everyone in the house was asleep, though. He had one cheering fan through his aging process. And that's one point to 'Phelia in this particular race.
We never talk about it, Ophelia and I. We're best friends. We do everything together. Art club, homework, festivals. Goopy, however, is a topic that never seems to come up. I want to believe I'm special to him because he's been mine since I was just a baby. I wake up sometimes to find him doing nice little things for me, like upgrading my laptop.
Of course I'm useless and can never even manage to say "thank you," because the words get all clogged up in my stupid teenage brain and suddenly there's a lump in my throat and I have the insatiable urge to run away.
Ophelia doesn't have that problem. She's smooth and charming and beautiful, and they get along really well. She has no problem rushing up to him and asking if he likes her dress and saying she's
so proud of him for graduating. Gag me.
She even made him blush this morning. She made waffles (his favorite) for his graduation day.
Ugh, it's the worst. Especially since I know they're working together so much for my own benefit! So they can take over for Daddy and Uncle Ed when ... when they must.
I know we both dream about a future with him too. However, maybe it's my dark, artistic temperament or maybe it's the fact that I'll be immortal one day and my future husband won't, but I have a feeling that our dreams are quite a bit different.
Maybe she'd be better for him after all. I felt so self conscious in my dress that I shuffled down the stairs in an awkward rush, worried that anyone at all would comment on it, much less fishing for compliments!
The day he graduated was a lovely family affair. Mom and I waited patiently outside for everyone and when she saw me glaring at my best friends giggling and hugging each other, she laid a comforting hand on the small of my back. She never said anything, though.
He was voted most popular. Aunt Carlotta cried and said she as so thankful he'd grown up in such a wonderful household.
We all went to have dinner afterward at the bistro and bookstore. Mom announced while we were there that she'd be buying it out today! She renamed it "Classic Indulgences Books & Bistro," and got hit on by all the chefs.
That night, I managed to get my mind off of occasionally wanting to rip every strand of perfect, thick, red hair from my best friend's head and threw myself into my painting.
It calms me, really. I'm at level 7 already. And when I paint I remember that I
love Ophelia, even if I am occasionally jealous of her charm. I hear her downstairs cooking, preparing to one day make me the ambrosia that will keep me alive forever and I calm down quite a lot.
I stayed up really late that night. I think a lot of us did, because we'd taken the motive mobile home after dinner. I watched Aunt Carlotta for a while through the window as she cared for her garden.
She went fishing for a bit and brought back some lovely red snapper for us to eat later in the week. No deathfish yet, though.
And Goopy refined his painting. He's not a natural, like me, but that's all right. He wants to be a doctor not an artist. The point is just to get to a level where his portraits are clear and flattering. I quite like his style sometimes, though, even if it is crude.
He made a big painting of a starlit sky that reminded me of the night he gave me the potion and made Ophelia real. I suppose that night really was a gift to all of us.
I went outside after watching him paint for a while to contemplate the real sky, all vast and twinkling. Aunt Carlotta came in from fishing and asked me what I was up to.
"Oh, just thinking," I said, suddenly feeling awkward.
She smiled and gave me a pat on the shoulder. "Eduardo had a girlfriend when I met him, you know."
"Oh. No, I didn't know that."
"You never know how things will turn out, princapessa," she said. "You shouldn't worry so much."
"You might be right," I smiled.
She took me inside and we shared some baked angel foodcake and, just like a good auntie should, she sent me to bed warm, happy, and full, and I had only sweet dreams that night.
