“Lame. Lame lame lame lame.”

Kitty leans against the hood of the black Jeep parked at the Forest Park entrance.

“I don’t have the car keys,” she says. “They’re at the cabin.”

No surprise there, after Kitty and I practically ran away from the cabin without warning, Kitty in nothing but a silk nightgown and her slippers.

I look back in the direction of the forest. It’s at least a forty-minute walk back to the cabin, and after our grand exit in front of Felix and Alastaire, I’d feel really stupid going back.

“Let’s go to my house,” I say. “You can borrow some of my clothes. And we can probably take my mom’s car or something.”

“No,” says Kitty firmly. “There’s no time for dealing with the parentals. Let’s just go straight into town. It’s just a few minute’s walk right?”

“But you’re wearing a dressing gown,” I say, noticing how the red silky fabric ends just inches below her crotch. “And slippers.”

She looks like a porn star. A high-class porn star, but still.

“I’ll buy something to wear from the first shop we pass, I promise,” she says.

“Okay…” I say, as Kitty grabs my hand and we set off down the road.

A few cars drive by as we walk through the suburbs, and we get some funny looks in passing, but luckily no one hoots or makes a scene. That’s Portland for you I guess – Kitty’s fitting right in. Over here it’s weird not to be weird.

The first shop that we pass is a Walmart, and Kitty breaks her promise, marching right past it and saying that it doesn’t count.

Quite a few of the shops we pass on the way don’t count – Target, Kmart, even Macy’s apparently. Only upmarket French designer boutiques count as clothing stores in Kitty’s mind.

We finally reach the high street. It’s busier than the rest of town – there are lots of pedestrians out enjoying the sunshine, milling around the cafés and quaint specialty stores.

Even here, Kitty’s crazy attire doesn’t get more than a few sideways glances. After all, this is the street where a guy dressed as Darth Vader is frequently seen riding a unicycle while playing the Star Wars theme on his flaming bagpipes. Literally, bagpipes shooting fire.

One hot girl walking around in her pajamas isn’t going to cause much of a scene.

We’re about to cross the road when I see three familiar faces.

Faces I’d hoped not to see at all this summer.

Beth, Bailey and Becca, the Three Bs.

Even from this distance, I can see the sun shimmering off their bleached platinum blonde hair, the small silver angel wing necklaces glinting at their collarbones.

They haven’t spotted me yet, but it’s only moments until they do. I don’t expect them to act the way they would at school – surrounding me, calling me ‘Ghost’, taunting me until Jamie comes to my rescue with her epic bitchslap (she actually slapped Beth so hard one time that she got a bruise on her cheek than even foundation couldn’t cover up – that was cool.)

But still, some impulse takes over, and I grab Kitty’s hand, pulling her into the first store I see. I drag her several feet into the shop, then look out the window, watching the Three Bs pass by on the sidewalk.

“What on earth are you doing?” Kitty says.

“I just thought this shop looked cool,” I say. “Let’s look around.”

For the first time, I actually look at my surroundings.

Oh no. I couldn’t have picked a worse place.

“Why in the name of god would you want to look around a video store?” Kitty says, rumpling her nose in disgust as she scans the aisles. “I didn’t know these things even still existed.”

However, this isn’t just any video store. This is the video store owned by Zee and Alix’s parents. Which means there’s a pretty good chance that Alix is working behind the counter, what with it being summer break and all.

I drop down to the ground, hiding behind a life-sized cardboard cutout of characters from some movie.

I told Alix and Micah that I can’t make band practice for our band Wild Blue Yonder because I’m staying with my aunt in New York over summer. If Alix sees me now, I’m screwed.

“Ash, you’re acting really strange,” Kitty says, crouching down next to me, her back to a display case stacked with cheesy Adam Sandler VHSes. “Stranger than usual, I mean.”

“Sorry,” I say. “It’s complicated. Can you see the counter from here?”

Kitty pokes her head around the side of the display case.

“Yeah, there’s a cute boy there,” she says.

Dammit. How are we going to get out of here without him noticing?

On my knees, I shimmy to the side, praying he can’t see me behind the cardboard cutout. I stand up carefully, my face pressed against the cardboard, measuring the distance to the door. Anyone in the aisle behind us must think I’m totally nuts, but that’s fine. All that matters is not getting seen by Alix.

“What the hell are you doing Ash?” Kitty asks. “Why are we hiding? Do you like that guy or something? Don’t you think he’s a bit young for you?” There’s a hint of teasing in her voice.

Young? Alix is eighteen, only one year younger than Kitty.

“Or maybe it’s Lyall you’re crushing on?” She teases. “Is that why you’ve got your cheek squashed against his lips? You know that doesn’t count as a real kiss.”

What the…

I stumble back. A life-sized cardboard Lyall cutout grins at me, the warm brown eyes and cinnamon-reddish hair slightly off-color due to a bad printing job, low quality ink maybe. The rest of the guys stand around him, and it takes me a moment to realize that the cardboard cutout I was hiding behind is promoting their WISH Tour 3D Concert Experience DVD.

Which means that while I was on my knees I probably had my face pressed up against someone’s crotch.

Freaking hell.

With a start, I realize I’m standing in the middle of the aisle, out in the open. Alix might have spotted me. I’m about to dive down behind a display case when I catch a glimpse of the ‘cute boy’ Kitty saw working behind the counter.

YAAAAAAAAS hallelujah thank god.

It’s not Alix after all – it’s his and Zee’s younger cousin, Demetrios.

I heave a sigh of relief, grateful that Demetrios is too absorbed in his iPhone to notice the crazy girl pressed against the Fable cutout and her friend in the red dressing gown.

“Are you done pashing Lyall yet? Can we leave?” Kitty asks, wiggling her eyebrow and smiling cheekily at me. “I’m pretty keen to get changed out of this getup.”

“Yeah, let’s go,” I say. “Sorry about… um… the craziness.”

“You’re such a nutter sometimes,” Kitty says, sniggering as she takes my hand. “But that’s part of what I like about you.”

“Rich coming from the girl walking around in her PJs,” I say with a smirk.

We burst out laughing as we leave the video store arm in arm.

*****

After trying on several skirt and top combinations and more than ten dresses at la Magie Rouge Dress Boutique, Kitty finally settles on a slinky black and red embellished tank dress with a high collar. She says she wants something sexy without being slutty, sophisticated without being preppy, vampy without being goth. She also selects some ‘backup’ dresses to buy, in case she changes her mind later – a pretty white sun dress, a turquoise maxi dress, a silky pink mini dress. And as if all that wasn’t enough, she also chooses a lilac midi dress with a vintage floral print, to wear for the rest of the day until the date this evening. Each dress costs close on a thousand dollars, and I wonder if her parents ever look at her credit card bill.

She’s probably got a big fat trust fund. It must be in the millions, at the rate she’s spending.

It’s not surprising, really. I’ve always known that Felix is the son of the one of the richest men in Britain, maybe even in the world – just like Alastaire, who also comes from old money. Elliot on the other hand comes from a wealthy family but they’re nouveau riche, new money – his dad made a fortune as a celeb soccer player and now owns a team. It’s common knowledge, and all Fable fans know about it. But as for Ben and Lyall, there’s not much out there about their family circumstances. They’ve made millions since starting Fable, but unlike the other boys, you never hear anything about their families.

Why is that?

“I wish I’d gotten a photo of you snogging that cardboard cutout of Lyall,” Kitty says, flicking boredly through the dresses hanging on the rack in front of her. “I could have printed it out and given it to him as birthday present. I bet he’d like that.”

“I wasn’t snogging it,” I say hotly, feeling my cheeks flush. “I was just pressed up against it a bit while I was hiding.”

“Sure, sure,” Kitty says.

Lyall’s birthday is next week, the 16^th of July. I can’t believe I forgot. Most enfablers know the boy’s birthdates off by heart, and embarrassingly enough, I’m one of them. I never would have imagined in a thousand years that I’d someday be personally buying one of the Fable guys a birthday gift though. Luckily though, I know just the thing.

“I noticed Lyall’s wallet is sort of beat up,” I say to Kitty. “Do you think he’d like a new one?”

I don’t have much money in my bank account, but I know a cool leather shop down the road where they make beautiful, quality items for really reasonable prices. I don’t mind spending a bit more than I usually would, if it means I can give Lyall a gift he’ll actually use.

“No, I don’t think a new wallet is a good idea,” Kitty says, her eyes flashing with a sudden darkness, her voice turning strangely somber. “Lyall’s really attached to his. He’s had that tatty old thing for ages now. It was his dad’s. I think… I think it might be all he has left to remember him.”

There’s a tense silence. I want to find out more, but before I can speak, Kitty suddenly smiles, and grabs a dress off the rack.

“Found it! Ash, you have to try this on, it’ll look amazing on you,” Kitty says, holding up a dark purple bodycon dress.

The hemline is above the knees, but overall it’s not too revealing – just the right amount of skin. Still, the price tag is probably going to be way out of my league.

“That’s ok, I don’t have a thousand dollars spare on me,” I say. “And beside, I’ve got plenty of dresses at home.”

“Of course I wasn’t suggesting that you buy it, silly,” Kitty says with a giggle. “I’m paying. Go wild. We still need to get shoes, jewelry-”

“No,” I say firmly. “Thanks, but I really don’t want you to buy me anything.”

“Don’t feel bad about it,” Kitty says. “Think of it as payment for your services as a guitarist on the album.”

“Thanks, but I’m fine, really,” I say.

Part of me wants to just take her up on her offer. She’s always trying to buy me stuff recently – just the other day she asked if after she and the boys leave, I want to keep the black Jeep she’s been parking outside the Forest Park entrance. I assumed she was renting it. Turns out she bought it, literally just for the few weeks they’re in Portland.

But somehow, I feel like I can’t accept anything from her. I’m trying not to get entangled after all, not until I understand more about the myth and how everyone’s involved. Letting Kitty spend thousands of dollars on me just doesn’t sit right.

“But it even has detachable straps, see,” she says, pouting as she clips the straps off. “And this sash thingie. You can tie it in different ways to make a bunch of different looks. It’s like three dresses in one. So economical.”

“I’m good,” I say, waving her off. “Are you hungry? Maybe we should-”

I stop speaking mid-sentence. The most exquisite dress I have ever seen is hanging on a mannequin in the corner of the room. 

It’s a strapless, floor length, silver sequin evening gown with a simple sweetheart neckline. The dress flares slightly at the bottom where it sweeps the floor; the effect is like molten metal, bewitchingly beautiful. A multitude of sequins overlap like scales, sparkling and dazzling in the sunlight streaming in though the window.

I stand enchanted for a moment, entranced by some memory that creeps into my mind.

I’ve worn something like this before. A very, very long time ago.

“You like it?” Kitty asks. “Try it on!”

I shake my head, lost for words, as faded memories whisper through my mind like tendrils of smoke.

“Seriously Ash, I want to see it on you,” Kitty pleads. “Maybe it’s a tad formal for tonight, but it would make one hell of a prom dress. And it would look so good on you, it’s almost like it was made for you. Please?”

“No thanks,” I say firmly, turning my back on the dress and the creeping memories of another life by the sea that it seems to evoke. “You go pay for your stuff and put on that lilac dress, and then let’s eat. I’m starving.”

Starving for answers.