In Love with the Prince (of Darkness, That Is)

Dreama returned home on a cold, cloudy day in the middle of January. Craig and Gemini met her at the airport and drove her home.

Taylor's funeral was held the next day, and Dreama thought that it was almost cruel that it was the sunniest, warmest winter day on record in years.

Grief was nothing new to her, but this was different. For a week she walked around in a haze of dark depression, and despaired of ever feeling normal or happy or free or in love again. Her brothers' words of comfort did nothing, and not even Gemini seemed to be able to find the right thing to say.

It was only with mild curiosity that Dreama opened and read the letter that arrived in the mail for her eight days after Taylor's funeral, with the Juilliard school crest stamped on the corner.

To Ms. Dreama Margulis:

After careful review of your audition tape, letters of reference, and referrals from prominent staff members at our college, it is with great pleasure that we inform you that you have been accepted into our professional dance training program.

Dreama stopped reading for a moment, and then scanned the paragraph again. Audition tape? Referrals?

It was making no sense.

She emptied the envelope and found a messily handwritten note.

Hey Dray!

All right, so don't freak when you get this. I was a little more in on the plan than I made out to be that day.

After Taylor taped your little performance, he gave me the tape. We'd hit up some of your old teachers and whatnot for reference letters and they came through shockingly fast.

Then all that was left was to hand it all over to my mom, who watched them personally and then showed them to her bosses (and put in a good word for you, if I'm not mistaken....).

And the rest, as they say, is history.

I know it's hard to think about this kind of thing right now, but you have until May 1st to reply to them, so take your time, but, you know, my mom wants to train you if you go.

This is what Taylor wanted for you, Dray, and he put everything he had into making sure it would come true. Don't let it go to waste--you'll love every minute of it, I know.

Love, Rick.

Dazed, and confusedly disbelieving a word that she had read, Dreama picked up the phone and dialled the Gables' house.

Mrs. Gable picked up on the second ring and sounded delighted to hear her. She laughed when Dreama told her the contents of her envelope.

"Oh, I knew he had something planned when he asked us."

"Asked you what?"

"Taylor convinced his father that it would be beneficial to everyone if he were to let you live in the apartment in New York while going to school."

"How did he do that?"

"I have no idea."

"Oh." Dreama shook her head. "I can't go to Juilliard."

"Why ever not?"

"I wouldn't even be able to afford to eat, let alone tuition."

"Taylor took care of that one, too."

"What do you mean?"

"He left you every penny, Dreama. Everything he owned, his entire trust fund, all of his savings, it's all yours. He hoped you would use it for school."

Dreama was reeling, her mind working double-time in an attempt to process this.

"He did?"

"He wanted your dream to come true."

"I can't... I can't even think about this now."

"There's time."

"Not enough."

They hung up after a few more words, and Dreama drifted back to the letters on the table.
How could Taylor expect that she would find life worth anything without him? Especially enough to chase some ridiculous pipe dream of being a dancer.

"You going to throw it away?" a voice asked from behind her.

Dreama turned to find all three of her brothers, Lindsay, and Gemini standing in the hallway of the apartment.

"What are you doing here?"

"We're waiting for your answer."

Dreama opened her mouth to state her inability to think, but Gemini held up a hand before she could speak.

"And just so you're aware: 'no' is the wrong one."

Her brothers nodded their agreement. Dreama stood underneath their gazes until she felt as if she were drowning.

"I need a walk," she said, pushing past them, trying to find fresh air.

"Don't come back until you've decided to go."

She ran down the hall, down the stairs, and out of the front doors. The wind whipped at her face relentlessly, and the moon's shadow was winking in the sunlit sky.

If things had gone as planned, Dreama Margulis would not be standing in the middle of the street, looking down at a silver charm bracelet on her wrist and contemplating a life in New York at the best-known arts school in the world.

With a wry smile, she crossed the road and headed for the park. After all, when was the last time things had happened as she'd planned them to?