School was total shit. It had been all week. Three days after Helena’s deranged news bomb and Tristan was still struggling to wrap his head around it. He was battered by guilt at skipping out on her, anger at her insane way of thinking, and sorrow at the thought of not being with her. Life was impossible. It hated him. Any time something good came to light it was snatched out of his grasp.

It made him want to retreat into a foxhole. Somewhere dark where no one could find him, need him, hurt him and tug at his heart.

Throwing his shirt on, he shoved the rest of his sweaty PE gear into his bag and zipped it shut. Hustling past the row of half-naked guys, he kept his head down and ignored the comments floating around him.

“Did you see Dana working out with the cheer squad this afternoon? Damn, man, that girl is fine.”

“Shut up, dude. She’s got a boyfriend. Besides, Harley is way hotter than that girl.”

Flinging the door back, Tristan twisted out of someone’s way and set a fast pace for his locker. He didn’t care about Dana or Harley with their preppy good looks and flirty smiles.

There was only one girl occupying his thoughts, and she was out of reach.

The idea was bitter acid in his brain.

He wanted so badly to go back to his old life, where baseball ruled and his team was everything. Heck, he’d even take his ex-girlfriend Natasha if it’d kill the ugly feeling in his chest.

But it wouldn’t…because he couldn’t turn back time.

He couldn’t make his mother not cheat, and he couldn’t make his father not be a loser. Just the way he couldn’t rescue Helena from her warped green castle.

Shit, I wish I could.

Gripping his bag strap, he kept his head down and hustled to his locker. All he wanted to do was get the hell out of school and hide away in his room.

He reached his locker without any more drama, only to find Mikayla leaning against hers. He would have said hello if it hadn’t been for her blotchy cheeks and red nose. He didn’t want to know. He had enough angst to deal with and couldn’t take on anyone else’s.

Flipping his locker open, he snatched out the copy of Romeo and Juliet, irritated with Miss Warren for calling him out in front of the whole class. So he hadn’t done his homework the night before; did that really deserve a public reprimand?

Yanking the textbook out of his bag, he winced when he noticed his algebra test float to the floor. He hadn’t meant to fail it; he’d just forgotten to study. He’d had a lot on his mind over the weekend!

Snatching it off the floor, he balled it up and threw it into his locker before slamming it shut. Mikayla jumped, her small shoulders tensing.

Mumbling a barely audible apology, Tristan brushed past her and headed for his bike. All he needed was for the damn day to be over!

The bike ride home was quick and reckless. He nearly got taken out by a pickup truck and had to pull onto the curb and swerve around a pissed-off pedestrian to avoid getting squashed. He stood up on the pedals, cycling hard to get away from her bellowed insults.

Little Red, Matty, and a posse of kids were out playing ball by the time he zipped into his driveway. He ignored their invitation to join them, shouldering the back door open and hightailing it up the stairs.

Once again his bag got flung across the room. He threw his gym clothes into his laundry basket and cursed, hating the idea that he’d be the one to have to clean it all later, hating that his dad’s laundry would be piled up near the washing machine as well.

“I’m not your mother!” he shouted at his closed door. Lashing out with his foot, he knocked the trash can over. Balled-up paper and a few gum wrappers tumbled onto the carpet along with two crumpled cranes.

His shoulders slumped, breaths spurting out of his nose as he knelt to the ground and collected them up like they were delicate petals.

“You can’t sacrifice your life for her,” he whispered. “If she’s stuck in that tower, nothing could ever come of it. You’ll never be able to take her out. You’ll never be able to do anything with her!” He squeezed his eyes shut and smashed his teeth together. “But I hate the idea of never seeing her again.”

Then why are you in your room and not climbing my tower right now?

Her posh accent made the words ring in his mind. Her eyes would sparkle as she said them, a slight exasperation tinging her tone.

Jumping to his feet, he gently laid the cranes down on his desk before yanking his door open, nearly tripping as he sped down the stairs. Not wanting to get spotted by the baseball boys, he snuck around the back of his garage and stayed low, climbing up the edge of the tower so as not to get spotted.

The window was a little ajar and he wrestled to shunt it open, hoping none of the kids would look up from what they were doing.

The sound of their shouts and laughter floated over him as he struggled to squish through the little gap he’d created. A few grunts and a lot of upper-body exertion later, Tristan was lying on the attic floor.

Craning his neck, he looked around the room, hoping to spot the girl who’d captured him, but she was nowhere to be seen.

“Helena?” he called as loud as he dared.

Nothing.

He spun onto his stomach, pushing off the floor and jumping to his feet.

The attic door was half open. He crept towards it, straining to hear voices. He thought he heard the faint sound of laughter.

Laughter.

Joy…in spite of the crazy.

She was only doing what she thought was right. Hadn’t he done the same by choosing his father? Pressing his forehead against the door, he closed his eyes and muttered a soft curse.

He’d been such a dick about the whole thing.

He wished he could go down and see her, apologize on the spot, but her mother would flip out. Helena had to know he’d come though.

Rushing to her desk, he shuffled some papers around until he found a writing pad. Tearing a fresh sheet from the back, he grabbed a pen and scribbled her a note.

Your decision scares me. I worry that you’re throwing your life away.

I’m worried I won’t get to see you again.

Sorry for being faint-hearted.

Help me find a new name, Helena. Please.

He scribbled down his email address, which consisted of his first name, middle initial, and last name. Very boring. Hers was probably princesshelena or shiningstar—if her mother even let her have an email address! He cringed, hoping she did. He hated the thought of leaving things unresolved for a second more than they had to be.

Folding the note in half, he wrote her name on it and slipped it inside the book on the coffee table. All he could hope was that the dragon lady didn’t find it before her daughter did. He needed Helena to know he wasn’t giving up on her. As petrified as he was of seeing her—connecting with her again—he was more scared of never looking into those green eyes or smelling that hint of jasmine in her hair.