Even If the Sky Falls Read Online Free Page B

miss the Midsummer Boys!”
    â€œThe what?”
    She’s dancing away from me, and I marvel at her stamina. I’m shaking my head, back into the sway, watching this woman who could be my grandmother shimmy with more energy than I’ve ever had, when I see him. I mean, I see the whole street band tucked in front of one of the many stores down the block, momentarily stationary, but I only really see him.
    I stop staring, because I was—am—staring, and try to focus on anything else. The balconies, the half-naked ladies in costume—some just half naked; I mean, more power to them—but still I keep drifting back to him, a tall, muscular boy with a ’fro dyed electric blue and a cardboard top hat with big paper donkey ears poking out of its side. He sways back and forth to the music, his smile so wide it takes over his face. I am caught, frozen, as the parade continues to flow. I smile before I can stop myself, and our eyes lock.
    For a moment I think I know him. His smile, his eyes,something feels familiar, but I would remember if we had met.
    He’s singing something, but I can’t hear the words. His gaze is locked on mine and that’s all there is.
    Oh yeah, I would remember that smile.
    Look away, Jules! Look away!
    But I can’t. I’m stuck in the tractor beam of his eyes and lips. I’ve never wanted to touch a guy’s lips as much as I do now. I turn, expecting to find his gorgeous bohemian girlfriend right behind me and instead see my eighty-year-old savior dancing up a storm. Maybe he is smiling at her? Because who wouldn’t? She’s fantastic! I turn back and . . . he’s definitely looking at me. “Fairy girl!”
    Annnnnnd he is calling me over.
    Crap.
    â€œFairy girl!” he shouts again, this time motioning me over with his banjo—did I forget to mention the banjo? He has a banjo. And lean, long fingers that strum said banjo like no banjo has ever been strummed before. “Fairy girl!”
    He could mean anyone really. Half the people here have wings.
    â€œRed-winged fairy girl, I see you!”
    Maybe not.
    I move closer, weaving through people, careful not to snag my wings on the way. “Hello,” I say once I’m close enough to hear him without having to shout.
    Hello?
    Why didn’t I say “Hi”? Don’t look so eager, Jules.
    â€œHello back.” He smiles and continues to play, accompanying the band. “I like your wings!”
    â€œThanks. I made them myself, like, an hour ago. I like your hat.”
    â€œThank you. Took me days.”
    We smile at each other like idiots. Or at least I do. Yeah, probably just me on the idiot front.
    When he turns away, I look him up and down, taking in his hands as they strum along, his chest (he has a few buttons of his shirt unbuttoned, so sue me—I ogled him), a thin gold band around his left wrist, blue-tipped hair and handmade hat with the ears. A grin spreads across my face. “‘What fools these mortals be,’” I say again, and he looks back to me, beaming.
    â€œYou’re Bottom, right? From A Midsummer Night’s Dream ?”
    He bows and brays like a donkey.
    I take in the rest of his band, dressed in a similar style, when it hits me. “You’re the Midsummer Boys!”
    â€œThat we are. You a fan?”
    â€œI—uh.”
    Crap, say yes!
    He laughs. “No worries. No one really knows us; I’m just messing with you.”
    â€œI love the name though.”
    â€œNice, isn’t it? Just thought of it today! Last week wewere No Return Policy.” He shrugs. “I like the Midsummer Boys better though, don’t you?”
    I nod.
    â€œLet’s do ‘I am that merry wanderer of the night,’” he says to the guys behind him, and the boys start the tune. He turns back to me. “Will’s got a way with words, don’t you think, Sunshine?”
    With a wink he dives into the