"It's too dangerous, Ivy."
"No," she replied firmly. "Living in the same house with him and trying to avoid him-that would be dangerous. I can't hide from him, so the trick is never, ever to take my eyes off him." She picked up a glittering black mask and held it in front of her face.
"I have to know what he's doing and what he's saying," she continued. "I have to wait for him to slip up.
As long as I'm here-and I told you, Tristan, I'm staying here-it's the only way."
"There's another way to keep track of him," Tristan said, "and to keep a person between you at the same time. Will is his friend. You could date Will."
There was a long silence, and Tristan could feel Ivy cloaking her thoughts from him. "No, that's not a good idea," she said at last.
"Why not?" His voice came out too sharply. He could feel her searching carefully for the right words.
"I don't want to get Will involved."
"But he already is," Tristan argued. "He knows about me. He took you to the train station to help you remember what happened."
"That's as far as it goes," Ivy said. "I don't want you to tell him anything else." She started sorting through the costumes, shaking them out, then folding them.
"You're protecting him," Tristan said.
"That's right."
"Why?" he asked.
"Why put someone else in danger?" she replied.
"Will would put himself in any kind of danger for you. He's in love with you." As soon as Tristan said it he wished that he hadn't.
But certainly Ivy had already figured that out. Maybe not, he thought suddenly. He felt her struggling. He was caught in a swirl of emotions that he couldn't understand. He knew she was confused.
"I don't think so," Ivy said. "Will's a friend, that's all."
Tristan didn't say anything.
"But if it is true, Tristan, then it's not fair to use him like that.
It'd be leading him on."
°Would it really? Tristan wondered. Maybe Ivy was afraid to admit her attraction to Will.
"What are you thinking? What are you cloaking?" Ivy asked.
"I'm wondering if you're being honest with yourself."
Ivy walked briskly across the shop, as if she could walk away from him, hanging up the costumes, tossing misplaced objects into their bins. "I don't know why you think the way you do. It's almost as if you're jealous," she said.
"I am," he replied.
"You're what?" Her voice sounded frustrated.
"Jealous." There was no point in trying to hide it, Tristan thought.
"Who said that?" Ivy demanded.
"Who said what?" Tristan asked.
"Who said what?" a female voice echoed, the same voice that had sounded frustrated a moment ago.
"Lacey!" Tristan exclaimed. He hadn't seen her come in.
"Yes, sweetie?" Lacey was projecting her voice so Ivy could hear it, too.
Ivy glanced around the room.
"This is a private conversation," Tristan said.
"Well, her half was private," Lacey replied, still projecting her voice.
"When your chick speaks inwardly, I can hear only your part. Talk about frustrating! This year's romantic smash, and I'm missing half the dialogue. Ask your chick to speak out loud, okay?"
"Your chick?" Ivy repeated aloud.
"That's better," said Lacey.
"Is she that purplish blob?" Ivy asked.
"Ex-cuuuse" me?" Lacey said.
Tristan could feel a headache coming on. "Yes, that's her," he told Ivy.
"A blob?" Lacey spit out the word.
"That's how you look to Ivy," Tristan said. "You know that."
"How does she look to you?" Ivy asked Tristan.
He hesitated.
"Yes, tell us both, how do I look to you?" Lacey asked.
Tristan tried to think of an objective description. "Like… five foot something… with brown eyes, I think… and a roundish nose, and sort of thick hair."
"Good job, Tristan," Lacey remarked. "You've just described a bear." To Ivy she said, "I'm Lacey Lovitt.
Now I'm sure you can picture me."