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When she's six, Evie has her first crush.
Sitting villain-style on Wicked Stepsister's coarse kindergarten rug, Evie stares at the other child with open-mouthed adoration. The girl is wild-purple-hair, ripped-knee-jeans and green eyes so clear, Evie longs to know what they hide inside.
One day, the girl wears leather dragon wings upon her shoulders. They jut out just so from her leather shirt, giving her the appearance of flight.
Evie nibbles on her lip, wondering how to make such a shirt. How was the scrunched leather created? Do the sewing stitches go through the middle or the outside of the leather? Why does it look like the girl can fly?
Beneath the sewing questions thrums another thought, like a hidden heartbeat. Evie wonders what it would be like to kiss the shoulder beneath the wings. What would the girl's skin taste like?
If Evie touched the wings while kissing, could she fly, too?
~*~
Mal. The girl's name is Mal.
Evie tries it out on her tongue once, twice. It tastes like moonlight and stars.
She likes the way it dances from her lips. Dances like the shadow of a fairy twirling in mid–flight.
~*~
Silent questions about dragon wings transform into spoken-aloud questions about all sorts of things green-eye-related. They float from Evie's mouth, fluttering forth whenever she has her mama's attention:
"Mama, what do you think makes Mal's eyes so green?"
"Mama, do you think the fairies gave Mal those eyes?"
"Mama, why do you think Mal –"
"Enough." Evie's mama's eyes flash like dark thunderclouds and rainstorms. "No more questions, Evelyn."
Evie swallows. "But I have one more."
Her mama studies her long and hard, like she sees something inside Evie she wishes to squash with the sharp heel of her slipper. "And what would that be?"
"I..." Evie squishes her hands together. "I wanna know if Mal can come to my party."
"Absolutely not."
"But –”
Evie's words are silenced by the squish of her mama's fingers, clenched around her jaw. "Let's get something clear," her mama says in a voice like icicles. "We do not ask questions about little girls. We do not follow them like we are lovesick puppies. We do not spend all our time thinking about them as though we are flies to their waste."
Evie tries to speak, to ask why she can't talk or think about Mal –– the fascinating girl with the dragon wings –– but her mama's fingers are clamped too hard around her cheeks. Later, Evie will have bruises. Black-and-blue welts. For now, she must have open ears if she is ever to escape her mama's wrath.
"We may do all those things with little boys," her mama says, her icicle–voice melting into a warm chill. "We may think about them. Talk about them. Even follow them. Especially, Evelyn," her mama continues, squeezing harder around Evie's jaw, "if those little boys are perfect princes. Do you understand?"
Evie does not understand. She does not understand at all. She does not like the boys at her school. They are gross, silly and stupid. Not like Mal with her wild purple hair and bright green eyes and dragon wings.
But when her mama's fingers cut so deep, Evie cries out in pain, she nods. Yes, mama, her nod says. Yes, I understand. Yes, I'll look for a perfect prince. Yes-yes-yes, just let me go.
Satisfied, her mama releases her jaw and swishes from the room like one of Ursula's cruel electric eels.
~*~
Her mama has left a crescent-moon-fingernail scar upon her cheek. It moves when Evie talks. Stretches when she says the words "perfect prince."
Perfect–prince–perfect–prince–perfect–prince.
Stretch–stretch–stretch.
Evie stares at the scar in her not-at-all-magic-mirror, thinking of green-eyed Mal. Mal, whose mama has banished them. Mal, whose mama is evil. Mal, who's stuck with her mama just as gluey as Evie is stuck to her own.
She hopes Mal's mama doesn't leave crescent-moon scars upon Mal's cheeks.
Every night before Evie goes to sleep, she stares at the dim-lit stars and asks them to watch over the dragon-winged girl.
~*~
Ten years ghost by. Ten years of solitude. Ten years of banishment. Ten years of dust-motes-in-abandoned-castles and vultures-bringing-supplies and hiding-in-plain-sight.
Ten years of Evie. Only Evie. Evie and her mama, whose name shifts to Mom and then transforms to Mother, the word like a poisoned apple in Evie's throat.
Ten years of lessons. Lessons about makeup. Lessons about clothes. Lessons about perfect princes and faraway castles and how to be the fairest, the fairest of them all.
Ten years of watching. Watching-through-dingy-windows, searching-for-green-eyes, ducking-into-shadows-whenever-they-are-found.
Ten years of murmuring the name "Mal," savoring the taste of moonlight and stars.
Ten years of dreaming about the flutter of dragon wings perched upon cream-colored shoulders, promising to take flight.
Ten years of prison-but-not, in which Evie is subjected to her mother's cruelty. Cruelty crucibled in life lessons.
"We do not watch girls from castle towers, Evelyn." Mother's fingers clench around Evie's throat. "We reserve that activity for boys."
"Come here, Evelyn." Mother quirks a crooked finger. "I have brought you a young man. Play nice, and he may teach you about kissing."
"Lower your voice, Evelyn."
"Show the young man your pretty pout, Evelyn."
"Close your eyes, Evelyn. Close your eyes and let him touch you. Close your eyes and let him kiss you." Close-your-eyes-close-your-eyes-close-your-eyes.
Close.
Your.
Eyes.
Ten years of pretending. Ten years of perfecting her princess pout and low-dipped voice. Ten years of letting Mother's suitors kiss and touch and sigh, all while Evie thinks about clear green eyes and the flutter of dragon wings.
Close.
Your.
Eyes.
~*~
Ten years of forgetting.
Forgetting what she wants.
Forgetting who she is.
Forgetting about dragon wings.
"Close your eyes, Evelyn."
~*~
Ten years of becoming a princess in search of Mother's perfect prince.
Yes, Mother. I have closed my eyes.
~*~
Banishment crumbles without any fanfare. One day, Evie is castle-schooled; the next, Mother requires wrinkle cream. And Evie is released.
Mother doesn't seem to care that Evie may be punished for breaking Maleficent's rules. Mother's complexion is more important than Evie's fate.
~*~
When she's sixteen, Evie has her second crush.
It doesn't go at all to plan.
~*~
First, there are bear traps, a scepter and an almost-thousand-year-nap, all tools of evil Evie's crush uses to torture her.
What can she say? Evie's crush is just . . . unique.
She's also vindictive. Bossy. And skilled at holding a grudge. All things Evie tells Mother to quell suspicion.
Don't worry, Mother. My eyes are closed.
Until they start to open. Open to everything Evie’s crush keeps hidden: her thoughts, her dreams, herself. Evie’s crush hides so well, Evie is left to unravel her secrets.
Evie learns that her crush is self-sacrificing. When Evie almost touches the scepter that will send her spiraling into that thousand-year nap, her crush touches it first. Knowing that she may never wake up.
Evie learns that her crush is protective. When Evie's mother throws her tantrums (close-your-eyes-close-your-eyes-close-your-eyes), Evie's crush finds excuses to stay by Evie's side, drawing pictures. Sometimes, she draws Evie. Sometimes, Evie's heart flutters when her crush gazes at her a moment too long, reminding Evie of long ago days dreaming about clear green eyes.
Evie learns that her crush is compassionate. Whenever Evie rushes from her mother’s castle, unable to take another life lesson or perfect prince, her crush meets her at their hideout. Always bringing a blanket. Always bringing a meal. Together, they fall asleep in the hideout’s bed, her crush wrinkling her adorable nose when she dreams.
~*~
Second, Evie's crush is a girl.
A girl with green eyes and clothes that taper off into wings, often crafted from leather, always giving the impression of flight.
You mustn’t fall in love with little girls, Evelyn.
Sorry, Mother. You’re too late.
~*~
Third, Evie’s crush comes with her to Auradon. Auradon, where there are frilly-pink-curtains-in-a-room-for-two, scowls-scowls-scowls, spells-spells-spells. And a perfect prince.
Only the perfect prince does not belong to Evie. No, he belongs to Evie’s crush. To the girl with luscious lips, wild purple hair and green eyes so clear, Evie believes them portals to their owner's soul.
Evie's crush has fallen in love, but not with Evie.
And if Mother has taught Evie anything, it's that Evie's nothing. Nothing compared to a perfect prince. Especially one about to become King.
Close.
Your.
Eyes.
~*~
At first, Evie ignores the ta-tump-tump of her heart. The skittering rush of her pulse. The tingles coursing across her skin every time her crush is nearby.
At first, Evie ignores the way her crush's name feels tangled upon her tongue. Mal. Mal-Mal-Mal. Tasting like moonlight and stars, just as before.
At first, Evie pretends. Pretends that the reason she is no longer searching for a perfect prince is because she has found "A Very Nice Boy." A boy with chiseled features and a handsome laugh and an amazing mind. A boy who even plays the trumpet.
Doug takes her on walks around the pond, where they feed the ducks and cast each other side–long glances.
Doug takes her to the movies, where they hold hands and nibble on popcorn. (Just a couple kernels, of course. Mother has taught Evie the evils of food.)
Doug takes her to the library, where they sit in hard–backed chairs, studying and learning about science.
Doug does not take her to that magical, skin-tingling place Evie can only reach in her dreams. The place reserved solely for Mal.
On their one–month anniversary, Doug surprises her with a silver–sterling bracelet made of dangling silver apples. When he slips it on, his fingers trace her hand. He shuts his eyes, hoping for a kiss.
Close your eyes, Evelyn.
But she cannot. Because as Doug's fingers trace her skin, she realizes: She does not feel it. She cannot feel it. She has never felt it. Not with any boy.
The tingling, pulse–racing sensation comes only when she’s with Mal, especially when they touch.
~*~
They touch by accident.
When they’re walking side-by-side in the halls, and Evie’s shoulder brushes Mal’s, and Mal catches Evie’s waist with her arm, holding her so that their shoulder-swipe doesn’t unbalance Evie.
Or when they’re sitting in class, and both reach for the same pencil, their hands fluttering around each other’s before stilling. Skin-against-skin.
Or when they’re watching TV on the couch, and Mal readjusts her position, curling her legs beneath her body, balancing herself with her hand. Her fingers brush against Evie’s and linger. Linger between heartbeats.
~*~
They touch on purpose.
When Evie fits Mal for a dress. A dress Mal plans to wear to a royal gathering, so she can look sharp and beautiful for her perfect prince. Evie’s hands whisper along the exposed skin of Mal’s back, under the pretense of measuring. Measuring a place that is bare, where there is no material to measure.
Or when Mal has a nightmare and wakes tangled in her purple sheets, murmuring about duty and royalty and sacrificing herself and all-that-she-is, and Evie cloaks Mal in her arms, hugging her close, murmuring about shh and quiet and I’m–here–always–here–never–gonna–leave–you–right–here–here–here–it’s–all–gonna–be–okay.
(And then Evie pretends to forget. Forget the way Mal feels in her arms. Forget the warmth that courses through her whenever they touch. Forget Mal’s nightmares, her dreams, the signs of Mal’s unhappiness. Because Mal cannot be unhappy; she has found her perfect prince. And Evie is nothing but a poisoned princess. So Evie stays quiet, sewing Mal a wingless dress to wear to the cotillion, where she will cement her relationship with her prince-turned-king.)
Or when Mal runs away to the Isle, breaking open from the inside–out, her heart torn open because she has been pretending–pretending–pretending, and can’t pretend anymore. And Evie runs after, relishing every chance she has to loop their arms together or slide their fingers together or touch their foreheads together; savoring every opportunity she has to fill the space between with the tingling touch of her best friend’s skin. Until Mal is reunited with her princely king, and Evie must fade into the shadows once more.
Or when Mal becomes a lady of the court, and Evie, who has talked Mal into taking this step, smiles and takes Mal’s hand, leading her down the stairs to her royal suitor, committing to memory the warmth of Mal’s skin and the way Mal’s fingers feels wrapped up in her own.
Mal becomes a dragon that night, soaring above the ship. Evie’s heart soars when she watches her fly. But there will be no way to join the girl in flight. Mal does not belong to Evie. She belongs to Ben, her perfect king.
~*~
And even though Evie knows she and Mal will never be together, not when Mal has the perfect boy, she opens her eyes to the realization that she will never feel with Doug or any other boy what she feels when she’s with Mal.
Her mother was right all those years ago. There is something inside of Evie. Something different. Something her mother failed to squash beneath the pointed heel of her slipper. Something that has only grown more intense.
She does not want a perfect prince. She wants a devilish dragon. And if she can’t have her, then she hopes one day she can have someone else. But that someone else will never be a boy.
And so she breaks up with Doug. “I’m sorry,” she says. “It’s me, not you,” she says. “You’re really quite a catch,” she says. I’m in love with my best friend, is something she does not say.
~*~
Evie comes out two days later. Comes out on social media, on a platform used by the entire school.
It takes her an hour to decide on the right message. Sitting alone in her dorm room, hunched over her sewing table, she scribbles several possibilities onto a loose page in her Chemistry notebook:
I LIKE GIRLS. AND NOT JUST AS FRIENDS.
I’M IN LOVE WITH A GIRL. YOU MIGHT KNOW HER. SHE HAS PURPLE HAIR AND GORGEOUS GREEN EYES.
I’M A PRINCESS WHO LOVES A DRAGON.
She slams her notebook shut and tosses it to the floor, where it rustles in the breeze drifting from her air conditioner. Pushing out of her seat, Evie crosses the room and plunks herself down in her desk chair. Powers on her laptop. Stares at the colorful landscape of Auradon that serves as her screensaver. Okay, Eves, she coaches herself, dropping her fingers onto the keyboard. Time to stop searching for the perfect prince.
When Evie’s fingers glide over her keyboard, clicking her message, she finds it surprisingly simple. Just two words:
I’M GAY.
She hits the “Enter” key, confirming her announcement. It appears on the screen for the school to see.
She feels as though she is floating. Floating in warmth.
A mirror hangs above her desk. She glances at her reflection, at the determined tilt of her chin and the flash of her bold brown eyes. At the crescent–moon scar carved out by her mother, the tiny blemish that slices into her cheek.
The scar stretches when she smiles. My eyes are open now, Mother. I wish you could see them.
~*~
Auradon lives by a rule. A rule that freakish things are banished to rot on islands far from sight, and everything normal is given free rein to grow and thrive.
Until now, Evie has been blind. She has believed herself normal. The kid of a villain, yes, but a normal girl who has fit in at Auradon Prep, where she’s grown and thrived into a fashion designer and a straight-A student.
Well-liked.
Popular.
Trusted even.
And then the comments start coming in. And everything begins to change.
Some comments are supportive:
I LOVE YOU NO MATTER WHAT, Jane writes.
YOU’RE STILL MY GIRL, is Lonnie’s response.
GLAD TO HAVE YOU AS MY ADVISER, Ben says. LET ME KNOW IF I CAN DO ANYTHING TO HELP.
But there are other comments, too. Comments that cause Evie’s heart to bottom, while tears sting her eyes. Comments that bring back her mother’s icicle-laced voice, causing it to swirl through her mind with its condemnation and cruelty.
THIS IS WHY VKs DON’T BELONG AT AURADON. YOU’RE ALL FREAKS, writes Harold, the son of Happy.
UGH. REMIND ME NEVER TO CHANGE NEXT TO YOU IN THE LOCKER ROOM. This one comes from Audrey.
GO BACK TO THE ISLE, LESBO, types Chad.
And then Doug comes online. Doug, who Evie dated. Doug, who Evie liked. Doug, who Evie almost kissed.
GLAD WE NEVER KISSED, he writes. YOU’RE A LIAR AND A MUTANT. STAY AWAY FROM ME.
A small cry escapes Evie’s lips. She dabs at her eyes, willing away the tears. And in that moment, she realizes: Here in Auradon, she’s more of a freak than she ever knew.
Maybe Mother was right: Maybe Evie really is Nothing.
~*~
Ten minutes after she posts her announcement, Evie’s door is flung open, the VKs huddled in her doorway.
Carlos’ arms are crossed, his forehead creased in concern.
Jay is smiling his lazy smile, but his muscles are tense as if prepared for a fight, and a bruise blossoms along the length of his jaw.
And Mal. Mal is clutching her smartphone in a tight–knuckled grip, a wild glint in her eyes. “Is it true?” Her voice is low, a predator’s growl. She holds out her phone.
Evie stares at the phone, her post emblazoned across the screen. She tries to speak. Once, twice. But her words are caught, trapped like broken glass within her throat.
Close your eyes, Evelyn.
Mal drops to her knees, simultaneously sliding forward until she’s kneeling before Evie, cupping her hand. “Evie, talk to me. Is it true?”
Evie can only nod, wincing when a tear slips down her cheek.
Mal catches the tear with her fingertip, leaving it glistening against her skin. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was afraid.”
“Of me?” Mal jabs her thumb at her chest.
“Yes. No.” Evie raises her fingers to her cheek, tracing the crescent–moon scar. “Of everything. Of the truth.”
“What is the truth?” Mal’s voice has dipped to a whisper, so low only Evie can hear her.
Nearby, the boys take up posts on either side of Evie’s door, glaring into the hallway.
Evie stares into Mal’s green eyes, and swears she glimpses her soul. It cries out from the depths of Mal’s gaze, a wild thing begging for answers, for truth.
But Evie cannot give Mal truth. Because Mal has found her perfect prince. And Evie will not shatter that.
"E?"
“I’m gay,” Evie says, dropping her gaze to her lap.
She expects questions about Doug. She expects questions about perfect princes. She expects questions about Evie’s past on the Isle. Her past with guys.
What she receives is silence. Silence stretching between them, so tangible it becomes a living, breathing force. But in the silence, there is certainty: In the time she and Mal have shared a dorm room, they’ve come to know each other’s secrets, their true selves. Maybe Mal knew this secret long before Evie ever admitted it to herself.
Finally, Mal leans her forehead against the top of Evie’s head. “I love you, E. Nothing’s ever gonna change that.”
“So do I,” Carlos says, his tone soft and kind.
“Me, too,” Jay confirms, his tone sharp and rough.
And the two boys stand guard at Evie’s now-closed door for the remainder of the night as Mal paces the room, growling with each new comment, delivering several stinging comments of her own, each skillfully aimed at those who would dare use words to hurt her best friend.
~*~
Auradon Prep is a war zone.
It’s even worse than when the VKs first arrived. There is no parade, no marching band. No welcome signs or banners. There is only Them and Us.
Them linger at lockers, watching-watching-watching, whispering-whispering-whispering. Conversations behind closed hands; plans behind closed doors. Them hand out anti-homosexuality pamphlets and pass petitions in classes (Get the Villain Kids Sent Back to the Isle. There is No Room for Homosexuality in Auradon.).
Us watch, too. They watch out for Evie. They meet her at classes, walk her down the halls, flank her on every side. Mal leads the procession, her gaze sharp, her fingers tensed into fists. Any time one of Us spots a pamphlet or petition, they crumple it into a little ball, joking about bonfires.
Sometimes, Evie wonders why she ever came out.
Sometimes, Evie wonders why she’s letting her friends do all the work. On the Isle, she would have been all over this. She’d have left Them cowering.
But on the Isle, she wore a mask. Here in Auradon, she has taken off the mask. Showed her true self. And been met with rejection so scathing, it cuts into her heart the way her mother’s fingernail once cut into her cheek.
Here in Auradon, she is a freak. And she hasn’t quite learned how to handle that.
But she promises herself that she will.
Soon.
~*~
Evie and Mal have stopped touching. Stopped any form of skin-to-skin contact. It makes Evie’s heart ache.
Until one day when things begin to change.
Banished to the far side of the dining hall, as far from Chad and Them as she can sit, Evie toys with her pancakes. Rolls them beneath her fork, coating the silver tines in syrup.
“I never noticed this,” Mal says, and before Evie realizes what is happening, Mal is touching her fingertip to the half-moon scar on Evie’s cheek.
Evie’s breath catches, stuck within her throat. “It was a present from my mother.”
Mal presses down a little harder. “Why?” she asks, her voice laced with venom.
Evie spears a bite of pancake. Shakes it off her fork. Spears it again. “I couldn’t stop talking about a girl in my kindergarten class. She was beautiful.” Evie drops her fork. “She still is.”
“Who was it?” Mal whispers.
“A little girl with wild purple hair and dragon wings.”
Mal’s finger lingers on Evie’s cheek until the bell rings.
~*~
Fairy Godmother calls Evie into her office. Offers her words of wisdom and support. They do nothing to change the situation in the halls.
~*~
Ben calls Evie and Mal into his office. Voices his concern. Tells them both that there has to be a better way, a way beyond hallway bickering and fist fights. “Try to make peace,” he says, steepling his fingers beneath his chin.
Mal stares hard at Ben. Stares as if he has spoken in a foreign tongue. “Ben, they’re harassing Evie. Threatening her. What do you want me to do?”
“Be the bigger person, Mal.” Ben’s words are clipped, in direct contrast with his warm golden gaze. “Maybe you can just ignore them.”
Mal pushes back her chair, scraping the legs against the carpet. “I’ll tell you what. You get these jerks to stop hurting my best friend, and I’ll ignore them. Until then, I’m handling this my way.”
“And what way is that?”
A wicked gleam pierces Mal’s gaze, and she cracks her knuckles before marching from the room.
Evie is left alone with Ben. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.
He shakes his head. “It’s not your fault.”
~*~
Two days later, Mal and Ben break up.
Evie finds Mal laying on her bed in the dark, staring at the pink canopy above. “We’re too different,” is all she says. But her voice cracks.
Evie steps across the room in two long strides. Drops onto her best friend’s bed. And wraps Mal in her arms, nuzzling the top of her best friend’s head. “I’m sorry, M.”
Mal cuddles closer, her nose against Evie’s neck. “Can you just hold me?”
“Of course.” Evie winces when Mal’s warm tears dampen her skin, but she holds her close. Holds her as the night turns dark and stars sprinkle across the sky, shining their silver glow.
Mal’s breathing deepens and Evie closes her eyes, giving into the first touches of sleep.
Just before Evie is given into dreams, Mal shifts so that her head rests upon Evie’s chest. “I found the paper, E.”
“The paper?”
Mal nods, tracing her fingers along Evie’s arm, which has gathered around Mal’s waist. “The one you used to practice how to come out. You…” Mal’s fingers curve around Evie’s hand. “Said some things. About being in love.”
Evie’s heart stutters. Stops. Splutters to life. “Oh.”
“Is it true?”
“That I’m a princess in love with a dragon?”
Mal nods, a soft hum echoing from her throat.
Evie’s pulse thunders so fast, it thrums within her ears. “Yeah, M. It is.”
Silence stretches between them. Silence so charged, Evie’s skin prickles with electricity.
Finally, Mal nuzzles her head beneath Evie’s chin and breathes in deep. Breathes in like she’s breathing in Evie. "Okay."
"Okay." Evie pulls her closer.
They fall asleep nestled in one another’s arms, a dragon protecting her princess, a princess loving her dragon.
~*~
Three weeks after she comes out, Evie snaps.
She steps into the dining hall to discover Mal holding Chad in a headlock, a pamphlet balled in her fist. “Burn it,” Mal says, her voice jagged metal and fractured glass. She’s surrounded by a crowd of kids, Us and Them, screaming and jeering and crying out for blood.
A shudder courses through Evie’s body, and she freezes. Suddenly, she cannot hear the noise. It stutters to a screaming halt, even as the kids continue to howl.
“Enough,” she says, her tone lethal and strong. She marches to Mal, curving her hand around her best friend's shoulder. “That’s enough.”
But Mal’s still glaring at Chad. “They have a new pamphlet, E. It’s called ‘How to Silence the Freaks. Stop the Spread of Homosexuality.’”
Evie clenches her teeth so hard, her jaw screams. Dropping her backpack to the floor, she hops up onto the nearest chair, and then onto the table. “Enough,” she shouts. “Yes, I’m gay.” There is an undercurrent running through her words. An undercurrent of anger and hurt and pain. “And nothing you can do, Chad, Audrey, Harold, Doug,” she glances at each of them in turn, pausing to glare at her ex, “is ever gonna change that.
“Look at you all. At some point, you’ve all been afraid to be yourselves.” She swallows the tears from her throat. Turns her gaze to Chad. “Maybe you wanted to be king, but because of some twenty–year treaty, you never got the chance.” She looks at Audrey. “Maybe you were always just a pretty face, wanting to be seen as something more.” She glances at Harold, Happy’s son. “Maybe you were expected to be just like your father, but you could never figure out how.” She stares at Doug. “Or maybe you just wanted to be accepted. To get the girl.”
The kids break her gaze to stare at the ground. Audrey twists her lips. Chad’s shoulders slump. Harold kicks at the floor. Doug removes his glasses, polishing them on the hem of his sweater.
Evie fingers the scar sliced into her cheek. “All I’ve ever wanted is to be myself. I spent my life locked in a castle with my mother, who never thought I was good enough. When I came here to Auradon, I thought I could finally be myself. And then this happened.” A lump lodges in her throat. She swallows it, blinking the sting from her eyes. “But it doesn’t matter. Because for the first time, I don’t care what you think. I care what I think. And I think I’m amazing.” She stops. A smile curls the corners of her lips. “I am amazing. And you need to stop. Because if you keep this up, you’re just going to turn Auradon Prep into a battlefield. A war zone where no one feels safe.”
With a final glance at all the kids, lingering on Mal, who gifts her a fierce smile full of pride, Evie hops from the table. Grabs her backpack. And strides from the cafeteria. She’s trailed by a scattering of applause, which fades into silence when she steps into the hallway.
Evie’s not dense. She knows her speech isn’t going to change the way the kids feel. It probably won’t even stop the pamphlets or the petitions. But it might make Them think.
And really, she doesn’t care. For the first time in her life, she is free. Free of hiding behind a mask. Free of worrying what other people think.
Free of being anyone but herself.
So free, it almost feels like she can fly.
~*~
Five weeks after Evie comes out, the mayhem has dwindled from a roar to a murmur. Petitions still line a few lockers; pamphlets are still discovered wedged into corners. But the war zone has faded, the accusations and tirades stopped.
And now, Evie has other thoughts to occupy her mind.
Today, Mal posted her own pulse-thundering, skin-tingling announcement:
I'M A DRAGON IN LOVE WITH A PRINCESS. AND I’M BISEXUAL. IF ANYONE WANTS A FIGHT . . . I’M WAITING.
The moment Evie reads her best friend’s post, she races back to their dorm. And discovers a note perched atop her desk, scrawled in Mal’s angular handwriting: PRINCESS EVIE: MEET ME AT THE LAKE AT 7PM. – YOUR DRAGON
Evie’s heart skips into her throat. She almost doesn’t care that 7pm is in less than an hour, and she has no idea what she’s going to wear.
~*~
She settles on a royal blue dress with a flared waist which tapers off just above her knees, knee-high royal blue boots . . . and the blue studded jacket she once wore on the Isle. Because while she may live in Auradon, she will always be part-Isle. And Evie’s done neglecting any part of herself. She’s done hiding.
The night is warm, bright and silver with stars. As Evie walks to the lake, she’s serenaded by crickets. They chirp their greetings, competing with the rustling of the trees, whose branches dance in the evening breeze.
Evie’s pulse thunders when she spots Mal, who stands at the edge of the lake, her purple hair glistening in the moonlight.
A smile slips across Mal’s face. She bows, holding her hands out with a flourish. “Princess Evie.”
Evie cannot stop her grin, which forms so wide, her cheeks ache. “My dragon knight.” She curtsies.
Mal giggles. Crunching through the gravel, scattering the stones beneath her midnight purple boots, she steps closer, closer. So-so close, her breath caresses Evie’s face. “So you got my note.”
“And I saw your post,” Evie confirms, running her tongue along her lips, which are suddenly dry.
"Good." Mal toys with the zipper of her leather jacket. "That's good."
The ensuing silence is interrupted only by the splash of the lake and the steady chirp-chirp-chirp of the crickets, performing their nightly concert.
"M?" Evie's voice trembles.
"Yeah?"
"Where do we go from here?"
Mal raises her hands to cup Evie's face, her fingers trembling. "Anywhere we want, I guess."
Evie closes her eyes.
Mal’s touch is gentle. Her fingers fan out across Evie’s cheeks, smoothing the skin she finds there. Lingering. Lingering, in the space between heartbeats.
Evie opens her eyes to find Mal staring back, the clear green of Mal’s eyes darkened in awe.
“So are we really doing this?” Evie whispers. “You and me?”
“Yes.” Mal’s voice is hoarse.
Evie leans into her best friend’s touch, into the fingertips that whisper across her face, soothing the crescent-moon wound Evie's mother once carved into her cheek. “Don’t hurt me?”
“Never.” The word is a caress. A caress of strength. A caress of love. A caress rivaled only by the caress of Mal's lips, which brush against Evie’s parted mouth, a thousand promises infused within her kiss.
Later, when Evie has memorized the contours of her best friend’s mouth, and Mal has kissed Evie until their breaths come in gasps and their hearts beat in wild tandem, Mal moves her hands to Evie’s waist and gazes into her eyes. “E?”
“Yeah?”
“Since this is kind of our first date, I wondered . . . Do you want to go for a ride?” A soft glow dances across the surface of her eyes. “A flight?”
Evie studies her friend, wondering. Wondering how she knew: All these years, Evie has longed to soar with the dragon-winged girl. She parts her lips to ask, but then closes them. Of course she knew. She’s Mal. And Mal has devoted herself to learning all of Evie’s secrets, just as much as Evie has dedicated herself to learning all of Mal’s.
"I'd love to," Evie says.
And when Mal has transformed into a dragon, leaving behind a puff of purple smoke, she kneels to the ground, allowing Evie to climb atop her back. Evie slips her arm around her dragon’s neck, clambering up behind her wings.
A wild whistle sounds from Mal's throat, and she launches upward. Together, they soar into the sky, into the moonlight and starshine, looping around the inky lake, which reflects the brilliant night. An electric thrill courses through Evie, and she cries out in wonder. Finally, after all these years, she knows how it feels to be herself. She knows how it feels to fall in love.
She knows how it feels to fly with dragon wings.