Chapter Text
Pink Hearts was beginning to suspect there was a fundamental difference between being loved and being chosen.
It was an awful thought.
Actually, it was worse than awful.
It was ungrateful.
And Pink knew it was ungrateful, which meant the thought had barely finished forming before guilt came rushing in behind it, scolding her in a voice that sounded suspiciously like her own.
Her mother loved her.
Red loved her.
Pink knew that.
She knew it with the kind of certainty she knew the roses outside the palace would bloom red in spring and that Auradon Prep’s enchanted bells would always ring exactly thirty seconds too loudly on Monday mornings. She knew it the way she knew Red would complain if Pink borrowed something from her wardrobe but become personally offended if Pink went shopping without asking whether she wanted anything. She knew it the way she knew her mother would still reach across a breakfast table to straighten Pink’s collar even if Pink had fixed it three times already.
There had never been a question of love.
That was precisely why feeling lonely seemed so horribly unfair.
“Give it back.”
“No.”
“Hazel.”
“No.”
“That is my notebook.”
“Then you should’ve guarded it better, Princess.”
Across the Auradon Prep common room, Chloe Charming made an outraged noise that would have been significantly more convincing if she weren’t fighting a smile.
Hazel Hook was stretched sideways across one of the upholstered chairs near the windows, one boot hanging over an armrest, Chloe’s blue notebook held high above her head. Hazel had somehow managed to turn sitting improperly into an art form. Her other arm was tucked lazily behind her head, and the smug little curve of her mouth suggested she was enjoying herself far too much.
Chloe stood beside her.
“Hazel.”
“Chloe.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
“Give. It. Back.”
Hazel considered this. “No.”
Chloe lunged for it.
Hazel twisted away, laughing, and lifted the notebook even higher.
Chloe nearly fell across her.
Hazel caught her automatically.
For approximately one second, the entire thing stopped being funny.
Chloe’s hand landed against Hazel’s shoulder.
Hazel’s arm was around Chloe’s waist.
They stared at each other.
Pink slowly lowered the cookie she’d been about to eat.
Oh, for heart’s sake. Pink almost rolled her eyes, but a grin tugged at her lips.
Neither girl moved.
Hazel’s expression shifted first, her usual wicked amusement becoming something smaller and strangely uncertain.
Then Chloe seemed to realize exactly where Hazel’s hand was.
She straightened so quickly she nearly knocked over the side table.
Hazel released her.
Neither mentioned it.
Naturally.
“You’re impossible,” Chloe said, smoothing her skirt. “And yet,” Hazel said, “you keep coming back.”
Pink’s eyebrows rose.
There was a pause.
Chloe stared at Hazel.
Hazel stared back.
Neither appeared to realize what Hazel had just said.
Pink looked toward Red.
Nothing.
Red was occupying the opposite end of the couch beside Luis Madrigal, their shoulders pressed together while Luis showed her something on his phone.
Pink looked back at Hazel.
Still staring at Chloe.
Chloe was now pretending to be very interested in fixing her sleeve.
Pink looked at Red again.
Still nothing.
Were they all blind?
Luis murmured something.
Red snorted.
Luis said something else.
Red elbowed him.
He laughed.
Red tried not to.
Failed.
And then there was that smile.
Pink knew all of Red’s smiles.
There was the sharp one that meant someone was about to regret challenging her. The smug one that usually followed being proven right. The enormous fake one she used whenever an adult said something particularly irritating and she was technically required to remain polite.
This one was different.
Soft.
Unthinking.
Private.
Pink looked away.
Not because she was jealous.
She wasn’t.
She needed that distinction to be clear, even if the only person she was explaining it to was herself.
She liked Luis.
Luis made Red happy.
More importantly, he seemed to understand that Red being difficult was not an unfortunate obstacle one had to overcome to uncover some secretly sweeter person underneath. Red was difficult. Red was sharp and stubborn and impulsive and occasionally infuriating, and Luis seemed perfectly content to like her that way.
Pink loved that for her.
She did.
It was only—
Luis took his phone back, but Red’s hand stayed resting against his wrist for another second.
He didn’t seem to notice.
Or maybe he did and it was simply so normal between them that neither thought anything of it anymore.
That was what got Pink.
The little things.
Everyone talked about true love like it was grand.
Balls.
Glass slippers.
True Love’s Kiss.
Princes riding across kingdoms.
Battles and curses and sacrifices and happily-ever-afters.
Pink had grown up surrounded by stories like that. She was a princess. Romanticizing love was practically in the job description.
But lately she found herself wanting things that seemed embarrassingly small.
Someone reaching for her hand without thinking.
Someone automatically making room beside them.
Someone knowing which drink she’d choose.
Someone sending her a picture because it reminded them of her.
Someone noticing she’d gotten quiet before she had to announce that something was wrong.
Someone entering a crowded room and looking for Pink first.
Not Princess Pink.
Not Red’s little sister.
Not Bridget’s youngest daughter.
Just—
Pink.
The thought brought another one with it.
Her mother.
And suddenly Pink wasn’t looking at the Auradon Prep common room anymore.
She was remembering Wonderland.
Three mornings ago.
Breakfast.
Her mother had been standing behind her chair.
Pink had been talking about something—she couldn’t remember what now, which somehow made the memory worse—and Bridget had absentmindedly smoothed a loose strand of hair away from Pink’s forehead while listening.
Then Red had entered.
Pink remembered the change immediately.
Not a bad change.
That was important.
Bridget had smiled when she’d seen Red.
Red had rolled her eyes because Bridget had apparently chosen another ceremonial dress for some Wonderland function that Red considered “an embroidered prison sentence.”
“You cannot wear trousers to every royal event,” Bridget had said.
“Watch me.”
“Red.”
“Mom.”
“Your title is Princess of Hearts.”
“Unfortunately.”
Pink had laughed.
Bridget had pointed toward Red’s chair. “Sit.”
Red had dropped into it.
“Now fix that pout.” Bridget corrected. “You know I’m right.”
Then they were talking.
Not merely talking.
Trying.
That was what Pink had noticed.
There was something careful about the way Red and Bridget talked to one another now.
Something precious.
Something Pink would never dream of interrupting.
Pink always felt as if Red remembered things Pink didn’t.
As if she had a mother Pink had never known— when her mom would do something she always did and Red looked appalled, as if she’d never experience it when she did. She looked at wonderland shocked, as if she wasn’t born under the same blue skies that always dawned over Wonderland, like she remembered a completely different Wonderland that Pink had never lived in.
Pink didn’t know enough about that pocket watch Maddox was desperate for to understand why Red sometimes looked at their mother like she was seeing a ghost and a miracle simultaneously.
Pink had always understood that Red was the firstborn. Of course Bridget focused on her a lot— she was the future queen.
But sometimes, it felt as if there was a bond written solely for them that Pink was excluded from. As if it was natural she didn’t exist with that bond while they did.
Like there was a conversation happening between Red and Bridget that Pink could understand intellectually but could never truly enter because she hadn’t lived there before.
Bridget loved her.
Red loved her.
Pink knew that.
It still hurt sometimes.
Which was stupid.
Which made her guilty.
Which made her irritated that she felt guilty.
Which made her more irritated.
“Pink.”
She blinked.
Auradon Prep returned around her.
Luis was looking at her.
“What?”
“You’ve been staring at that cookie for, like, a full minute.”
Pink looked down. The cookie was still suspended halfway to her mouth. “Oh.”
Red glanced over. “You good?”
“Yeah.”
Easy.
Immediate.
Automatic.
Pink smiled. “Just thinking.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“Ha-ha.”
Red grinned and returned her attention to Luis.
Pink bit into the cookie.
See?
Red had noticed.
She loved her.
Everything was fine.
Across the room, Squeaky and Squirmy Smee were sitting on the floor beside a low table, attempting to construct something out of enchanted playing cards.
Pink had stopped asking what.
“That’s wrong,” Squeaky said.
“No, it’s not.”
“It is.”
“You’re holding the instructions upside down.”
Squeaky looked at the parchment.
Turned it around.
Paused.
“You gave it to me upside down.”
“I handed it sideways.”
“That’s worse.”
They began arguing.
Three seconds later they were laughing.
They had each other.
Of course they did.
They were twins.
Near the fireplace, Robbie Hood and Felix Facilier were engaged in a conversation that appeared to involve increasingly exaggerated reenactments of something that had happened during the whole rescue-Bridget-from-Maddox disaster.
“And then,” Robbie said, standing on the edge of a chair despite the large sign Auradon Prep had recently installed specifically forbidding students from standing on furniture, “you said, ‘I’ve got a plan.’”
Felix pointed at him.
“I did have a plan.”
“You jumped.”
“It worked.”
“You didn’t know it would work.”
“That’s what made it exciting.”
“You screamed.”
“I did not.”
“You screamed my name.”
“I was warning you.”
“You screamed, ‘ROBBIE!’”
“That could’ve meant anything.”
Robbie laughed.
Felix shoved him.
Robbie shoved him back.
Then Felix nearly fell over the chair and Robbie caught him, both of them dissolving into another round of laughter.
Pink stared.
Even those two had become inseparable.
Apparently surviving a homicidal Hatter together was excellent friendship bonding.
Wonderful.
Lovely.
Pink was happy for them too.
She really was.
She was happy for everybody.
That was the problem.
She was surrounded by people she loved being happy with people they loved, and somehow the happiness seemed to make the tiny hollow feeling inside her more noticeable instead of less.
Pink glanced down at her purse, wide open beside her.
Something inside it glowed.
Very faintly.
Pink froze.
No.
She nudged the purse beneath her leg.
The glow disappeared.
She waited.
Nothing.
Good.
Pink returned to her cookie.
A warmth spread against her thigh through the fabric of the purse.
She went still.
Oh, come on.
Slowly, Pink opened the purse.
Inside, beneath her lip gloss, wallet, phone charger, two wrappers she’d forgotten to throw away and approximately twelve other things she insisted were necessary, sat the rock.
Calling it a crystal made it sound prettier than it actually was.
Technically, it was crystalline.
Probably.
Pink wasn’t a geologist.
It was roughly the size of her palm, heavy enough that carrying it around had made her purse noticeably heavier. Its uneven exterior looked almost like ordinary stone except for the translucent fractures running through it, veins of something glasslike catching the light.
She’d found it after her mother’s celebration, beneath the table under her and Red’s treasure box.
Everyone had been leaving.
The excitement had been dying down.
Pink had spotted something glittering near the edge of the grounds and picked it up.
That was all.
She’d thought it was pretty.
Interesting.
Hers.
The last part had become unexpectedly important.
Pink knew she should tell Red.
Obviously.
Red had significantly more experience with mysterious Wonderland magic than Pink did.
Pink had actually considered telling her the first night.
She’d carried the rock into Red’s room.
Red had been talking to Luis.
Pink had waited.
Then Red had laughed at something he’d said, and Pink had looked down at the rock in her hands and thought—
Later.
The next day, she’d tried again.
Red had been with Bridget.
Then Chloe.
Then Hazel.
Then everybody.
And somewhere between one attempt and the next, Pink had stopped wanting to tell her.
Not because she didn’t trust Red.
She did.
But—
Pink had found it.
Not Red.
Pink.
It hadn’t come from some adventure Red had dragged everyone into.
It wasn’t connected to Red’s time-traveling pocket watch.
It wasn’t something Red had discovered first and Pink was being included in afterward.
It was Pink’s.
Her strange little discovery.
Her secret.
One thing that belonged entirely to her.
Besides, it was harmless.
Mostly.
Pink looked down.
A faint rose-colored light moved beneath the rock’s translucent cracks.
Once.
Twice.
Almost like a heartbeat.
Okay.
Slightly less harmless than she’d originally believed.
But it hadn’t actually done anything.
It glowed.
Sometimes.
Usually when Pink was emotional.
And once or twice—
Pink frowned.
No.
She wasn’t counting the whispering.
Because rocks did not whisper.
Wonderland had talking flowers, disappearing cats, sentient furniture and enough magical nonsense to make Auradon’s fairy godmothers develop headaches.
But rocks?
Pink wouldn’t draw the line at rocks.
Pink’s fingers snapped around it.
She looked up.
Nobody reacted.
Hazel was still tormenting Chloe.
Red was still beside Luis.
Robbie and Felix were arguing.
Squeaky and Squirmy had somehow managed to set one playing card on fire.
Nobody had heard.
Pink looked down.
The rock was glowing brighter.
Her stomach tightened.
“Stop,” she whispered.
It warmed against her palm.
They don’t see you.
Pink shoved it back into her purse.
“Nope.”
Hazel glanced over. “What?”
“Nothing.”
Hazel raised an eyebrow.
Pink smiled.
Hazel shrugged and immediately turned back toward Chloe, who had finally managed to reclaim her notebook.
“You read it.”
“I glanced.”
“You read it.”
“Your handwriting is surprisingly neat.”
“HAZEL.”
Pink stood.
She needed air.
That was all.
Fresh air.
A walk.
A little space away from everybody else’s—
Everybody else’s somebody.
She hated herself for thinking it.
“I’m going for a walk.”
Red looked up. “Where?”
“Outside.”
“Very specific.”
“Thank you.”
Hazel pointed lazily toward Pink. “Don’t get eaten.”
Pink stared at her. “By what?”
Hazel shrugged. “Forest.”
“The entire forest?”
“Could be hungry.”
“You’re so helpful.”
“I try.”
Chloe smiled apologetically. “Be careful.”
“I will.”
Squeaky looked up. “Want us to come?”
For one second Pink almost said yes.
Then Squirmy whispered something to him and Squeaky laughed.
Pink smiled. “No, I’m good.”
She picked up her purse.
The rock shifted inside.
Heavy.
Warm.
Hers.
Pink left.
And approximately ten seconds after the common-room doors closed behind her, the rock whispered—
They let you go.
Pink stopped walking.
Her jaw tightened.
“Okay,” she muttered. “You’re becoming a serious problem.”
A passing Auradon student gave her a concerned look.
Pink smiled brightly. “Not you.”
The student hurried away.
Pink continued toward the doors.
She should tell Red.
Tonight.
Definitely tonight.
Probably.
Maybe.
The rock warmed.
“Don’t judge me.”
It remained warm.
Pink had the distinct impression it was judging her.
Wonderful.
Max Hatter was also having a terrible day.
Unlike Pink, Max had absolutely no problem admitting it.
His problem was that everyone else insisted on telling him why.
“You’re sure?”
Max stopped in the middle of the Auradon Prep corridor.
Slowly—
Very slowly—
he turned around.
Chloe immediately looked like she regretted speaking.
Hazel, standing beside her, looked like she wanted to physically drag Chloe away before this conversation could continue.
Max stared between them. “Am I sure about what?”
Chloe adjusted the strap of her bag. “You know.”
“No.” Max folded his arms. “Enlighten me.”
Hazel closed her eyes. “Chloe.”
“What? I just want to make sure.”
“Don’t.”
“I think we should talk about it.”
“I think,” Max said, “I would rather eat my own hat.”
Chloe’s expression fell.
Immediately, guilt twisted in his stomach.
Great.
Fantastic.
Now he felt bad.
Again.
“Chloe.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t.”
She blinked.
“Don’t what?”
“Do that.”
“What?”
“The face.”
“What face?”
“The guilty face.”
“I don’t have a guilty face.”
Hazel looked at her, leaning down to whisper, “You absolutely have a guilty face.”
Chloe turned. “Whose side are you on?”
“Currently?”
Hazel glanced at Max. “His.”
Max pointed at her. “Thank you.”
Hazel nodded solemnly. “You’re welcome.”
Chloe looked between them. Max sighed. “Chloe, you didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I know.”
“You don’t sound like you know.”
“I just don’t want things to be weird.”
“They’re only weird because everybody keeps asking me if they’re weird.”
Chloe opened her mouth. Max raised one finger. “If you ask me whether I’m okay one more time, I’m walking into the Queen of heart’s enchanted hedge maze and never coming back.”
Hazel snorted.
Chloe shot her a look. “I’m serious.”
“So am I,” Max said. “You don’t like me like that. Fine.”
It wasn’t fine.
Not completely.
That was the part nobody seemed capable of understanding.
Max still liked Chloe.
Of course he did.
Feelings didn’t evaporate the moment someone politely explained they weren’t returned.
He hadn’t gone to sleep after Chloe rejected him and woken up cured.
He still noticed when she smiled.
Still liked making her laugh.
Still occasionally caught himself watching her before remembering there wasn’t going to be anything after the watching.
Sometimes it hurt.
Sometimes it was embarrassing.
Sometimes he wished things had gone differently.
But Chloe didn’t owe him a different answer simply because he would’ve preferred one.
Max understood that.
Apparently everyone else had decided understanding rejection and being hurt by rejection were mutually exclusive.
They weren’t.
Max could be disappointed and survive.
He could still have feelings for Chloe and not secretly expect her to change her mind.
He could wish she’d liked him back without resenting her because she didn’t.
He was allowed to be sad.
He was also allowed to move forward while still being sad.
Why was this apparently a revolutionary concept?
“You still like me,” Chloe said carefully.
Max stared at her.
Hazel stared at the ceiling.
“Yes.”
Chloe’s shoulders sank.
Max groaned. “And there it is.”
“What?”
“The face!”
“I’m not making a face!”
“You are.”
Hazel nodded. “She is.”
Chloe glared at her. “You are being extremely unhelpful.” Hazel shrugged. “It’s one of my gifts.”
Max rubbed his temples. “Chloe, listen to me. I like you.”
She winced.
“Stop doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Reacting like I’ve confessed to a terminal illness.”
Hazel coughed suspiciously into her fist.
Max continued. “I like you. You don’t like me. That sucks for me.”
“Max—”
“But it’s not your fault.”
Chloe stopped.
“And,” Max added, “I am not waiting around for you to suddenly realize I’m secretly your true love.”
Chloe went pink.
Hazel looked away.
Max’s eyes narrowed.
There.
Again.
He looked between them.
Chloe.
Hazel.
Hazel.
Chloe.
“Oh, for the love of—”
“What?” Chloe asked.
“You two are ridiculous.”
Hazel stiffened.
Chloe blinked.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.”
Hazel narrowed her eyes.
Max smiled without humor. “Exactly.” He turned.
“Max.”
He kept walking.
“Max!”
He lifted one hand.
“I’m fine!”
“That’s what you always say!”
“BECAUSE I AM!”
The corridor went silent.
Several students turned.
Max lowered his hand.
Excellent.
Nothing communicated emotional stability quite like yelling I’M FINE at the top of your lungs in a school hallway.
He walked faster.
It wasn’t until he’d made it down the stairs that the morning returned to him.
His mood immediately worsened.
Because apparently the universe believed in themes.
His father had looked smaller behind bars.
Max hated that.
He would’ve preferred Maddox furious.
Laughing.
Scheming.
Ranting about clocks and timelines and Wonderland and everything that had been stolen from him.
Anything except sitting quietly on the narrow bench inside his cell with his elbows resting against his knees.
Maddox had looked up when Max approached.
For a second, neither spoke.
Then Maddox smiled. Not the grin. Not that sharp, unpredictable expression Max had learned to distrust.
Just—
His dad.
“There he is.”
Max stopped outside the bars. “Here I am.”
“I was beginning to think you’d forgotten me.”
“Hard to forget the guy who nearly destroyed Wonderland.”
The smile disappeared.
Max immediately wished he could take it back.
Not because it wasn’t true.
Because for approximately two seconds before Max said it, they’d almost been normal.
Maddox looked down. “Still angry, then.”
“Shouldn’t I be?”
“I didn’t say that.”
Silence.
Max hated silence with his father.
It left too much room for remembering.
Maddox leaned backward eventually. “How’s school?”
Max blinked. “What?”
“School.”
“You kidnapped a queen and now you’re asking about my classes?”
“I’m attempting conversation.”
“You’re bad at it.”
“Runs in the family.”
Max’s mouth twitched. He stopped it.
Maddox saw anyway. Of course he did. His expression softened. “Come on, kid.”
Max hated that too.
Kid.
He hadn’t realized how badly he’d missed hearing it until his father said it.
Max moved closer to the bars.
They talked.
For a while.
Nothing important.
Auradon.
Classes.
Whether Max was sleeping enough.
Whether he was eating.
Maddox complained about prison food.
Then prison beds.
Then prison tea.
Especially prison tea.
“It’s criminal.”
Max stared. “You’re in prison.”
“Exactly. Even I think this is excessive.”
“It’s tea.”
“It is hot leaf water masquerading as tea.”
“That’s literally what tea is.”
Maddox stared at him in horror. “I have failed you.”
Max laughed. He couldn’t stop himself.
Maddox smiled.
And there—
For one tiny, treacherous moment—
Father and son.
No Wonderland.
No pocket watch.
No timelines.
No Queen of Hearts.
No villain.
No hero.
No wondering whether Max was supposed to hate him.
Just Max and his dad arguing about tea.
Then Maddox said, “Do you really believe it’s destroyed?”
Max stopped smiling. “Don’t.”
Maddox’s expression changed. “The watch.”
“I know what you meant.”
“Max—”
“I said don’t.”
“You know I was right.”
“No.”
“You know.”
“I know the watch existed.”
“And everyone called me mad.”
“You hurt people.”
“Because nobody listened!”
Max stepped backward.
There.
There he was.
The father Max remembered.
The anger.
The obsession.
The way every conversation eventually curved back toward the same wound. “You don’t get to use being right about one thing to excuse everything else.”
Maddox stood. “I was trying to get our life back.”
“And what about everybody else’s?”
“Our life was stolen from us!”
Max flinched.
Maddox saw.
His anger faltered. “Max.”
“No.”
“Son—”
“Don’t.”
Max backed away.
Maddox gripped the bars. “You think they understand you?”
Max stopped. “Don’t do this.”
“You’re a Hatter.”
“So?”
“They’ll always wonder.”
Max’s jaw tightened. “Wonder what?”
Maddox looked directly at him. “How much of me is in you.”
Max left.
He hated his father for saying it.
He hated everyone else for making it feel true.
By late afternoon, Max had decided there was only one sensible solution.
Avoid everybody.
So he walked.
No destination.
No plan.
He left Auradon Prep behind and followed the paths winding toward the wooded edge of the grounds, where Auradon’s polished perfection gradually gave way to something older and stranger.
It wasn’t Wonderland where his father resided.
Nothing was Wonderland.
But it was quiet.
Mostly.
Max shoved his hands into his pockets.
His father’s words followed anyway.
They’ll always wonder.
A branch snapped somewhere behind him.
Max ignored it.
Another snap.
Then—
A scream.
Max spun around.
Something pink came flying through the trees.
He had approximately half a second to register hair, skirts, a purse bouncing wildly against someone’s side and an expression of absolute terror before Princess Pink Hearts slammed directly into him.
“Oomfph—”
Max staggered backward.
Pink grabbed the front of his jacket.
“RUN.”
Max stared.
“What?”
“RUN!”
“Pink—”
“THERE’S SOMEONE IN THE WOODS.”
Max looked behind her.
Nothing.
Pink looked genuinely terrified.
Her eyes were huge.
Her breathing came too quickly.
Max’s irritation disappeared. “Hey.”
“No, don’t ‘hey’ me, we have to go.”
“Pink.”
“Hatter!”
He caught her gently by the shoulders. “Look at me.”
She did.
Barely.
“Slow down.”
“Something’s following me.”
“Okay.”
“Why are you saying okay like that?”
“Like what?”
“Calm!”
“Would screaming help?”
“Maybe!”
Another branch snapped.
Pink jumped.
Her fingers tightened around his jacket.
“There!”
Max looked toward the trees.
Pink lowered her voice. “We’re going to die.”
“We’re not going to die.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I feel pretty confident.”
“Hazel and Red made us watch that movie where the girl says exactly that and then—”
“Stop remembering horror movies.”
“I can’t!”
Max moved Pink behind him. “Stay here.”
She immediately grabbed his sleeve. “Absolutely not.”
“I’m going to look.”
“That’s what the stupid person does!”
“I thought we were dying.”
“We don’t have to make it easier!”
Max looked at her.
Despite himself—
he laughed.
Pink stared. “This isn’t funny.”
“It’s a little funny.”
“If I get murdered, I’m haunting you.”
“Deal.”
Max stepped toward the noise.
Pink followed directly behind him.
“I said stay.”
“And I rejected that suggestion. Don’t talk to me like I’m a dog.”
“You’re breathing on my neck, and I’m not.”
“I’m using you as a shield.”
“Good to know.”
Another rustle.
Max pushed aside a branch.
Pink grabbed the back of his jacket.
Something moved.
Pink made a tiny strangled noise.
Max froze.
Two dark eyes stared back at them.
There was a beat.
The deer stared.
Max stared.
Pink stared.
The deer chewed.
Max slowly looked over his shoulder.
Pink’s expression went blank. “No.”
Max bit the inside of his cheek.
“Don’t.” She pointed a manicured finger at him.
He failed.
A laugh escaped.
Pink shoved him. “Hatter!”
“It’s a deer.”
“I see that!”
“A terrifying predator.”
“Shut up.”
“Known throughout Auradon for its bloodlust.”
“I hate you.”
The deer wandered away.
Max laughed harder.
Pink folded her arms. “I genuinely thought I was going to die.”
“Death by deer.”
“I’ve had a stressful week.”
That did it.
Max stopped laughing.
Pink’s expression had changed.
Only slightly.
But Max recognized it.
He knew what pretending not to be upset looked like.
He’d been doing it all day.
“You okay?”
Pink groaned.
Max blinked. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“You made a noise.”
“Because apparently that’s everybody’s favorite question.”
Max stared.
Then he laughed once.
Not because it was funny.
Because—
of course.
“Yeah,” he said. “Tell me about it.”
Pink looked at him.
Something passed between them.
Recognition, maybe.
Max nodded toward a clearing farther through the trees. “Come on.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere without homicidal deer.”
Pink glared.
Max grinned.
“Too soon?”
“Way too soon.”
She followed him anyway.
The clearing wasn’t much.
That was probably why Max liked it.
A crooked willow tree leaned over a patch of grass beside a narrow stream. Roots pushed unevenly through the earth. Wildflowers crowded the bank, and the canopy overhead broke in just the right places for late-afternoon sunlight to spill through.
Pink sat beneath the tree.
Max sat beside her.
Not close.
Not far.
For a while neither spoke.
Pink set her purse beside her.
The rock shifted inside.
Max tossed a pebble into the stream.
“You first,” Pink said.
“What?”
“Bad day.”
“How do you know I had one?”
“You were walking alone in the woods.”
“So were you.”
“I was being hunted.”
“By a deer.”
Pink kicked his shoe.
The rock warmed inside her purse.
She ignored it.
“So,” she said. “Bad day.”
Max sighed. “My dad.”
Pink’s expression softened. “Oh.”
She suddenly remembered blaming him, accusing him of helping his father at his worst moments, and guilt twisted into her stomach.
He told her.
Not everything.
Enough.
The prison.
The conversation.
The tea.
The argument.
Pink listened. Actually listened. She didn’t interrupt to tell him Maddox was horrible.
She didn’t tell him Maddox loved him.
She didn’t try to turn something complicated into something simple because simple things were easier to comfort.
When Max finished, Pink was quiet.
Then she said, “You can miss someone and still be angry at them.”
Max looked at her.
Pink shrugged. “I think.”
“No.” He looked toward the stream. “I think you’re right.”
Inside Pink’s purse, the warmth faded.
“And Chloe,” Max added.
Pink’s head snapped toward him.
Max noticed. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“That was something.”
“I was listening.”
“Your whole face changed.”
“It did not.”
“It did.”
Pink tucked her hair behind her ear. “Continue.”
Max eyed her.
Then sighed.
“Everyone knows.”
“About you liking Chloe?”
“Apparently.”
Pink knew.
Everyone knew.
Max hadn’t exactly been subtle.
“She doesn’t feel the same way,” Max said.
“I’m sorry.”
“See? That’s the thing. I’m fine.”
Pink stared.
Max groaned. “Not you too.”
“No. I’m deciding whether I believe you.”
“Great.”
Pink studied him. Then nodded. “I believe you.”
Max looked genuinely surprised.
Pink continued. “I don’t think you’re saying you don’t care.”
“Exactly.”
“You still like her.”
“Yeah.”
“And it still hurts.”
“Yeah.”
“But you know she doesn’t like you back and you’re not expecting some dramatic confession where she suddenly realizes she’s been secretly in love with you the entire time.”
“Exactly.” Max pointed at her. “Thank you.”
Pink smiled. “So what’s the problem?”
“Hazel.”
Pink’s smile immediately widened. “Oh.”
“You know.”
“Max.”
“Everyone knows.”
“They don’t.”
“They’re the only ones.”
“Exactly.”
Max leaned back against the tree. “Hazel won’t do anything because I’m basically her brother to her and she doesn’t wanna betray me— which, she wouldn’t, and Chloe won’t do anything because she thinks she’s betraying me.”
Pink considered it. “That’s kind of sweet.”
“No. It’s annoying.”
“It can be both.”
“I don’t need them putting their lives on hold because Chloe rejected me.”
“Have you told them?”
“Yes.”
“Properly?”
Max paused.
Pink raised an eyebrow.
“I said I’m fine.”
“That’s not telling them.”
“What am I supposed to say?”
Pink straightened and adopted an exaggeratedly formal voice. “Dear Chloe and Hazel, please kiss already because watching you pretend you don’t want to is making everyone uncomfortable.”
Max let out a laugh. “I do not sound like that.”
Pink smiled.
There.
That tiny feeling again.
Satisfaction.
She liked making him laugh.
That wasn’t concerning.
Max was attractive.
Objectively.
Pink had eyes.
There was nothing wrong with acknowledging observable facts.
She had always had a minor weakness for boys who looked like they might make terrible decisions.
Apparently Bridget had passed down more than her hair.
It was genetic.
A bad-boy phase.
Perfectly normal.
The rock warmed through the fabric of her purse from where it sat on her lap.
Pink’s smile faded.
You want him.
Her eyes widened.
Max looked over. “You good?”
“Perfect.”
“You sure?”
“Never been better.”
The rock grew warmer.
Pink shoved her purse off her lap.
Max looked at it.
“What did your purse do to you?”
“Nothing.”
“You kicked it.”
“It knows what it did.”
Max stared.
Pink smiled brightly.
“My turn.” Max muttered.
“Your turn for what?”
“To listen.”
Max studied her.
Pink’s smile weakened.
“Come on,” he said.
“What?”
“You don’t run screaming through a forest because you’re having a fantastic day.”
“That was the deer.”
“Before the deer.”
Pink looked away.
Max waited.
That irritated her.
Not because he was impatient.
Because he wasn’t.
He didn’t fill the silence.
Didn’t tell her what she must be feeling.
Didn’t start guessing.
Didn’t give her that gentle, patronizing expression people sometimes used with Pink when they had already decided her problems couldn’t possibly be serious.
He just waited.
Pink hated how badly she wanted to tell him.
“I feel stupid.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t have a reason to be upset.”
“That’s stupid.”
Pink looked at him.
Max shrugged. “Not you. The idea.”
Pink picked at the grass. “My mom loves me.”
“Okay.”
“Red loves me.”
“Okay.”
“My friends love me.”
“Starting to see a pattern.”
Pink gave him a look.
Max mimed zipping his mouth.
She continued. “Nobody’s doing anything wrong. That’s the problem.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Everyone has someone.”
Max went quiet.
Pink gestured vaguely.
“Mom and Red have all this history together that I feel like wasn’t part of. And I know it’s not their fault.”
Max, beneath his calm exterior, tensed— recalling the oraculum. Pink hadn’t known anything about that erased timeline, hadn’t she?
He’d much prefer if she didn’t.
“But?”
Pink swallowed.
“But sometimes I feel like I came into the story after the important part happened.”
Max didn’t answer immediately.
Pink continued before she lost the nerve.
“Then Red has Luis. And I’m happy for them. I really am. He’s good for her.”
“Annoyingly good.”
“Exactly.” Pink smiled. “And Squeaky and Squirmy have each other. Hazel and Chloe have whatever disaster they’re refusing to call a relationship. Robbie and Felix are practically attached now. And I’m…”
She stopped.
“Pink,” Max said.
She laughed softly.
“Yeah.”
“No, I mean—you’re Pink.”
“That’s the problem.”
Max frowned. “Everyone likes Pink.”
Her voice got quieter. “Sure.” She looked down at her hands. “But nobody…”
“Everybody what?”
Pink hesitated.
Inside her purse—
Chooses you.
Pink closed her eyes.
“Chooses me.”
The words escaped.
Max went still.
Pink laughed quickly. “Wow. That sounded pathetic.”
“No, it didn’t.”
“It did.”
“It didn’t.”
“I sound like I’m complaining because I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Are you?”
Pink hesitated. “Not just that.”
Max raised an eyebrow.
“Not like that.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t need a boyfriend.”
“Good.”
“But I want…” Pink struggled. “The romantic part.”
Max looked amused. “Very specific.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I genuinely don’t.”
Pink turned toward him.
“I want somebody to save me a seat.”
Max’s amusement disappeared.
“I want someone to know what I order without asking. I want someone to text me when something happens because I’m the first person they thought of. I want someone to look for me in a room.”
Max watched her.
“I want someone to choose me,” Pink said. “Not because I’m Red’s sister or Mom’s daughter or because I’m Princess Pink and everyone thinks I’m sweet.”
Her voice wavered.
She hated that.
“I want somebody to look at me and think, her.”
Silence.
Pink looked toward the stream. “And it feels like…” Pink searched for the words. “I mean, even outside of romance, everybody has someone. I thought I had my sister, and I love her, but sometimes it feels like.. one day.. she woke up and didn’t remember who I was. I mean, she went from being the most loving sister ever to someone who looks at me and doesn’t.. know me at all. Like she’s relearning me. Like some person that looks just like Red replaced her, which is awful to think because she is my Red. I know she is. We were so close and now..”
Max picked up another pebble. “That’s not pathetic.”
“It feels pathetic.”
“Why?”
“Because everyone else seems fine without needing what I need.”
Max tossed the pebble into the water.
“Everyone else you’re talking about already has it.”
Pink looked at him.
Oh.
She hadn’t thought about that.
“And,” Max added, “not having a boyfriend doesn’t make you a loser.”
Pink narrowed her eyes.
“I didn’t say loser.”
“You were thinking it.”
“How would you know?”
“You have a very expressive face.”
“I do not.”
“You really do.”
Pink nudged his shoulder.
Max nudged her back.
Inside the purse, the rock grew warmer.
Choose him.
Pink froze.
No.
Absolutely not.
Why not?
Because Max liked Chloe.
Because Pink had dignity.
Because having a tiny crush on a boy did not mean she should—
He understands.
Pink looked at him.
Max was watching the ripples spread across the stream.
Something reckless rose inside her.
Warm.
Bright.
Bold.
Maybe it belonged to the rock.
Maybe it didn’t.
That was the frightening part.
“What if we dated?”
Max’s next pebble missed the stream completely, silently crashing into the dirt.
Silence.
He turned. “What?”
Pink’s heart slammed against her ribs.
She should take it back.
Laugh.
Say she was joking.
Instead—
“Fake dated.”
Max stared.
“That clarification did not help nearly as much as you think.”
“Think about it.”
“I’m trying very hard not to.”
“It solves both our problems.”
“How?”
“Everyone stops worrying about you and Chloe.”
Max blinked.
Pink gained momentum.
“And Chloe stops feeling guilty, which means maybe she and Hazel finally figure out whatever they’re doing.”
“And you?”
Pink hesitated.
“I get a boyfriend.”
“A fake boyfriend.”
“Details.”
“Pink.”
“I know it’s fake.”
“Then how does that solve your problem?”
“It doesn’t.”
That stopped him.
Pink looked down.
“But maybe I could…”
She searched for the words.
“At least look less alone. I don’t wanna be alone.”
Max’s expression softened. “Pink.”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Use the voice.”
“What voice?”
“The ‘I’m about to explain why this is emotionally unhealthy’ voice.”
“I don’t have that voice.”
“You absolutely do.”
Max rubbed his hand over his face. “This is a terrible idea.”
“It’s a great idea.”
“It’s objectively terrible.”
“Those aren’t opposites.”
“Yes, they are.”
“Not in Wonderland.”
Max stared at her.
Pink smiled sweetly.
He groaned. “You’ve thought about this for thirty seconds.”
“Some of my best ideas happen quickly.”
“Name one.”
Pink opened her mouth.
Paused.
“Not important.”
Max laughed.
Pink leaned toward him. “Come on.”
Pink felt strangely fearless. “You’re telling me you don’t want Chloe and Hazel to stop treating you like a wounded animal?”
Max’s jaw tightened.
Got him.
“And,” Pink continued, “if everyone thinks you’re dating somebody else, they’ll stop assuming you’re waiting around for Chloe.”
Max considered it.
Pink could practically see the argument happening inside his head.
“And you get what?” he asked.
“Experience.”
“Experience.” He echoed.
“Yes.”
“Dating experience.”
“Why are you saying it like I’ve proposed tax fraud?”
“Because this is insane.”
Pink smiled. “Scared, Hatter?”
Max slowly turned his head.
Oh.
That worked.
Interesting.
“Did you just—”
“Scared.”
“I’m not scared.”
“Then say yes.”
“That’s manipulation.”
“Is it working?”
“No.”
“You’re considering it.”
“I am not.”
“You are.”
“I’m considering how to politely inform Wonderland’s perfect princess that she has completely lost her mind.”
Pink gasped theatrically. “Perfect princess?”
“That’s what everybody thinks.”
Pink’s smile changed. “Maybe everybody doesn’t know me as well as they think.”
The words hung between them.
Max’s expression changed.
Because he understood.
Of course he did.
Everyone looked at Pink and decided sweet meant push aside.
Everyone looked at Max and decided Hatter meant dangerous.
Different cages.
Same lock.
Max held out his hand.
Pink stared.
“What?”
“If we’re doing this, there are rules.”
Pink’s entire face lit up. “You’re saying yes?”
“I’m saying this is probably the worst decision I’ve made all week.”
“You helped fight your father.”
“Exactly.”
Pink grabbed his hand. “Deal.”
Max looked down at their joined hands.
Pink did too.
The rock flashed inside her purse.
Pink released him quickly. “Rules.”
“Right.”
Max lifted one finger. “Rule one. Nobody gets hurt.”
Pink nodded. “Obviously.”
“Rule two. Either one of us wants out, it’s over.”
“No questions asked.”
“Good.”
Pink raised a finger. “Rule three. We actually have to look convincing.”
Max frowned. “What does that involve?”
“Holding hands.”
“Fine.”
“Hanging out.”
“We’re doing that now.”
Pink blinked.
They were.
Interesting.
“Good. Easy. Sitting together. Couple things.”
“Define couple things.”
“I’ll make a list.”
“That sentence terrified me.”
Pink ignored him. “Rule four. No jealousy.”
Max laughed. “What would we be jealous about?”
Pink’s stomach twisted.
“Exactly.” She smiled.
“Easy.” Max nodded.
“Rule five. Chloe can’t know.”
“Obviously.”
“Hazel either.”
“Definitely.”
“Red?”
Pink winced. “Absolutely not.”
“Your mother?”
Pink looked horrified. “Do you want to die? You know she doesn’t play about love like that!”
“Fair.”
Pink thought.
Then raised another finger.
“Rule six.”
“What?”
“No falling in love.”
Max stared.
Then laughed.
“Seriously?”
“It’s traditional.”
“Traditional?”
“Fake dating always has that rule.”
“According to what?”
“Movies.”
“The same movies that convinced you a deer was hunting you?”
“Different genre.”
Max shook his head. “Fine.”
He held out his hand again. “No falling in love.”
Pink placed hers in his.
“No falling in love.”
Max released her hand. “So what now?”
Pink was already pulling out her phone.
Max’s eyes narrowed. “What are you doing?”
“Making it official.”
“We’ve been fake dating for fourteen seconds.”
“And nobody knows.”
“That’s generally how secrets work.”
Pink opened the camera. “We need evidence.”
“Evidence.”
“Come here.”
Max didn’t move.
Pink grabbed his sleeve and pulled him closer.
“Pink.”
“Smile.”
“I am smiling.”
“You look like you’re being held hostage.”
“I feel like I’m being held hostage.”
“Boyfriend.”
“Fake boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend for photographic purposes.”
Max sighed.
Pink lifted the phone.
Their faces appeared together on the screen.
Pink smiled.
Max looked deeply unimpressed. “No.”
“What?”
“You look miserable.”
“This is my face.”
“I’ve seen you smile.”
“That was before you blackmailed me into a relationship.”
“I didn’t blackmail you!”
“Coerced.”
“Smile.”
“No.”
Pink stared at him.
Max stared back.
Pink poked his side.
Max jerked.
The camera clicked.
Pink looked down.
Max had been caught halfway between surprise and laughter, his head tilted toward her.
Pink wasn’t looking at the camera.
She was laughing at him.
She stopped.
It looked—
Real.
Really real.
Her stomach fluttered.
Pink immediately angled the phone away.
Max leaned closer. His shoulder pressed against hers. “What?”
“Nothing.”
Pink quickly swiped. “That one’s blurry.”
“It looked fine.”
“It’s blurry.”
“It wasn’t.”
“Another.”
Before he could argue, Pink slipped her arm through his.
Max looked down.
“Convincing,” she reminded him.
“Right.”
They took another.
Then another.
The fourth caught Max smiling properly.
Not posing.
Actually smiling.
Pink stared at it.
Her heart did something embarrassing.
Obviously the rock.
Definitely.
“Wow.”
Max glanced over. “What?”
Pink turned the screen toward him. “We’re like Beauty and the Beast.”
Max went completely still.
Then slowly turned his head.
“We have been fake dating for approximately three minutes and you’re already comparing us to a love story?”
Pink blinked. “What?”
“You just said—”
“Oh.”
Understanding dawned.
Pink burst out laughing. “No!”
Max frowned. “No?”
“I mean because I’m Beauty.” She gestured toward herself. “Beautiful.”
Then pointed at him. “And you’re the Beast.”
Silence.
Max stared.
Pink smiled angelically.
“You—”
He pointed at himself.
“—just called me a beast. Are you calling me ugly?”
“A handsome beast.”
“That doesn’t help.”
“It should.”
“How?”
“It’s a compliment.”
“In what kingdom?”
“Wonderland.”
“We aren’t in wonderland.”
Pink laughed so hard she nearly dropped her phone.
Max shook his head. “I take it back.”
Pink stopped. “What?”
“The deal.”
“You can’t!”
“Rule two. Either person can leave whenever they want.”
“We’ve been dating for three minutes!”
“Longest three minutes of my life.”
Pink grabbed his arm. “Max!”
He stood.
Pink scrambled upright. “Fine! You’re not a beast.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re more like…”
Pink studied him.
Max waited suspiciously.
“A disgruntled woodland creature.”
He stared.
Pink burst out laughing again.
“Goodbye, Pink.”
“No!”
She chased him down the path. “Max!”
“Relationship over.”
“We haven’t even posted the picture!”
“Tragic.”
“You’re ruining our breakup timeline!”
Max stopped.
Slowly turned.
“We have a breakup timeline?”
Pink stopped too. “We do now.”
Max stared at her.
Pink stared back.
Then Max laughed.
A real laugh.
Pink smiled.
And Max—
Max noticed.
Not the polished princess smile.
Not the sweet automatic one Pink seemed to have ready whenever somebody looked at her.
This one was messy.
Bright.
A little smug.
Real.
Max slowed.
Pink caught up beside him. “You are exhausting.”
“You agreed to date me.” Max pointed out.
“Fake date.” She reminded.
“Technicality.”
“A very important technicality.”
Pink unlocked her phone again. “Which picture?”
“None.”
“Max.”
He sighed. “The fourth.”
Pink looked at him.
Max looked away.
“The fourth?”
“It looked convincing.”
Pink opened it.
The one where Max was smiling.
Where she was looking at him instead of the camera.
Something warm unfurled beneath her ribs. “Okay.”
Her thumb hovered over the post button.
For the first time since she’d suggested this, uncertainty broke through.
Once she posted it, people would believe it.
Red would see.
Luis.
Chloe.
Hazel.
Squeaky.
Squirmy.
Robbie.
Felix.
Eventually Bridget.
Pink Hearts had a boyfriend.
Someone had chosen her.
Except—
He hadn’t.
Not really.
They had chosen each other for pretend.
Did pretend count?
The rock inside her purse suddenly became hot.
Make it real.
Pink’s thumb froze.
Her smile disappeared.
“Pink?”
She locked her phone.
Max frowned. “Changed your mind?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
There it was again.
That question.
Usually Pink hated it.
Today everyone seemed to ask it already expecting the answer.
You’re fine, right?
You’re happy, right?
Nothing bothers Pink, right?
But Max wasn’t telling her what the answer should be.
He was asking.
Pink looked at him. “Tomorrow.”
“What?”
“We’ll post it tomorrow.”
Max nodded. “Okay.”
No questions.
No teasing.
No convincing her otherwise.
Just—
Okay.
They started walking.
Neither mentioned that they were heading in the same direction.
Neither mentioned when Pink’s shoulder bumped Max’s.
Or when it happened again.
The rock rested heavily inside her purse.
Warm.
For once—
quiet.
Pink looked sideways.
Max caught her. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“You keep doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Looking at me.”
Pink smiled. “Boyfriend.”
“Fake.”
“Still counts.”
“It literally doesn’t.”
Pink laughed.
Max rolled his eyes.
But he was smiling.
Behind them, the clearing slowly disappeared between the trees.
Pink Hearts walked back toward Auradon Prep beside her brand-new fake boyfriend, carrying a magical rock she absolutely should have told somebody about, while Max Hatter contemplated the fact that he’d somehow gone for a walk to escape everyone else’s romantic problems and returned with a girlfriend.
Fake girlfriend.
Very important distinction.
There were rules.
Nobody got hurt.
Either could leave.
No jealousy.
Nobody could know the truth.
And, most importantly:
No falling in love.
Simple.
Reasonable.
Practically foolproof.
Pink’s purse gave one faint pulse of rose-colored light against her hip.
Neither of them noticed.
Which was probably for the best.
Wonderland had always been particularly troublesome where hearts were concerned.
And pretending had never made them any easier to control.