The Forest of Sleepers (Nowhere Book 2)

n i n e : m a g i c

Ophelia unwound a spool of paper streamers that had been used and reused ever since she could remember. The cafeteria of the high school was empty. There were supposed to be other classmates to help decorate for the dance, but none of them had shown up. Thankfully Ophelia had asked if Marshall wanted to come help after her sisters were busy.

Saturdays were always booked for Birdie, who had to format the papers to be delivered on Sunday. Marigold was at the shop fixing an old truck, which was her usual excuse when she was actually going to Gwydyr, but today it turned out she was telling the truth.

That left Ophelia with all of the other work. Even though she was only two years younger than Birdie and one year younger than Marigold, she couldn't help but feel inferior to their grown-up lives.

"Purple and orange are the two most horrid colors together," Ophelia complained. "Why can't Halloween be more...I don't know...chic?"

"Halloween doesn't strike me as a very chic holiday," Marshall replied, testing his weight on a nearby ladder.

"Oh, I don't know." Ophelia held the streamer spool as he tacked the end to the wooden beam of the cafeteria ceiling. "Masquerades, nighttime galas...it could be so romantic."

She looked around the cafeteria dolefully, noting the chipped white walls and waxed floor.

Marshall followed her gaze and said, "I don't remember going to any school dances. What are they like?"

"Well, we usually do a sock hop. Hardly dreamy. We have to take off our shoes and dance in our socks so we don't scrape up the floors. Then we swing each other around like completely uncivilized animals until Principal Meyer does a random slow dance." She scowled up at the stage as if the principal were already standing up there. "You never know when it's coming and you have to stay with whoever you were dancing with during the last song."

"Hardly romantic," Marshall piped up, copying Ophelia's dismal tone.

She laughed much like her father did--carefree and open--until Marshall was laughing too. The streamer being held between them quivered with mirth until, suddenly, Marshall wasn't laughing anymore.

Ophelia wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and looked up.

Marshall's brow was bent as he stared intently at the floor below him.

"I remember something," he murmured, "a poem."

"A poem?" Ophelia echoed.

"Escaped from bitter youth, escaped out of her crowd, or out of her black cloud. Ah, dancer, ah, sweet dancer..." he said, his voice like a wistful song.

Ophelia wasn't very familiar with any sort of poetry, even though Birdie was quoting some sonnet wherever she went.

"Yeats," Marshall finished, taking a distracted seat on top of the ladder, which made Ophelia infinitely nervous until she realized that he wouldn't actually be in danger of dying. Again, anyway.

"You remember lots of things, though," Ophelia said as gently as possible. "Most ghosts remember things they learned before."

"No." Marshall shook his head. "No...I remember sitting in a--in a closet. It smelled like..." he closed his eyes. He was silent for a long time, grasping for the memory.

"Sulfur," he said finally. "It smelled like sulfur. I was in our cellar, where we'd cure apples in these barrels filled with gas to keep them through the winter. I'd read poetry down there."

Ophelia's lips parted with wonder. "You said "ours". You mean your family?"

"My father said it was unmanly to read poetry," Marshall continued. He rubbed his chin and his face fell with a little disappointment. "That's all I've got."

"It's a start," Ophelia replied hopefully. "Maybe since you've begun remembering, it'll come back easier."

In the blink of an eye, one second Marshall was on top of the ladder, and the next he was standing on the ground in front of Ophelia.

The disappointment was gone and he seemed to be genuinely happy. "Teach me to dance?" he asked.

When Ophelia hesitated, taken off guard by his suggestion, his confidence shattered. His shoulders slumped with embarrassment.

"I mean, I don't--I didn't--" he stumbled.

Ophelia took his arm. "Of course I will! We've got an old record player somewhere..."

Said record player was located amongst a plethora of wartime posters that told students to "Ditch the Stitch--Ration Cloth!" (this was directed towards certain girls who had a certain penchant for frills, namely Ophelia Penny, who took it personally at the tender age of five) and "Loose Lips Sink Ships!" (which Ophelia, at the tender age of five, took to mean that she couldn't talk at all, which was very inconvenient for three whole days).

Beneath all of this, and a pile of unfinished stage props, they uncovered the record player. Once it was plugged in, the scratchy notes of Tommy Dorsey's orchestra filled a small corner of the cafeteria.

Ophelia taught Marshall all of the latest dances and found that he was an excellent student.

Soon, they were jitterbugging and boogey-woogey-ing all around the cafeteria, laughing breathlessly when they'd stumble.

There was magic in the way Marshall, once so lonely, now glowed with mirth. He was funny once he was out of his shell and had shed his cloak of despair.

There was magic in the way the room spun as Marshall twirled Ophelia around and around and when they thought they heard someone coming. They shut off the record player and, once the coast was clear, struck it up again even louder than last time.

There was magic in the way the music slowed and Ophelia's breath caught as Marshall quoted another line of poetry he had remembered.

This was the magic that Ophelia chased with every breath life granted her.

When the record ended and needed to be flipped, Ophelia did something she'd never done before with such astounding confidence that Marshall was positive she'd been planning it all along.

She kissed him.

It was cold, but the warmth she felt inside was real.

They stared at each other for a moment, Ophelia unwavering in her gaze.

Here was a fact about Ophelia Penny: she did not do things by accident. She followed her heart and listened to its every pattering beat. She made many mistakes this way, some of which she regretted afterward, but nothing she didn't mean to do at first.

This, however, did not feel like a mistake.

She grinned at the way Marshall looked completely flabbergasted and she said, "I wish you could come to the real dance."

He replied, "This dance was real enough for me."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hey guys! Ophelia's a bold one, isn't she? XD

~What do you think of Ophelia and Marshall?

~Do you think it'll work out?

~What will her sisters think?

Thank you so much for reading! Don't forget to comment, vote, and share!