cinder || dnf

chapter four

Drista slugged Dream in the shoulder, nearly pushing him into a pile of android treads. "How could you wait so long to tell me? You've only been home for, what, four hours?"

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," said Dream, rubbing his shoulder. "There wasn't a good time, and I didn't want Adri to know. I don't want her taking advantage of it."

"Who cares what Mom thinks? I want to take advantage of this. Good stars, the prince. In your booth. I cant believe I wasn't there. Why wasn't I there?"

"You were busy being fitted in silk and brocade."

"Ugh." Drista kicked a broken headlight out of her path. "You should have commed me. I would have been there in two seconds, unfinished ball gown and all. Ugh. I hate you. It's official, I hate you. Are you going to see him again? I mean, you'll have to, right? I might be able to stop hating you if you promise to bring me with you, all right, deal?"

"Found one!" Patches called from ten yards ahead. Her floodlight targeted the body of a rusted hover, entrenching the piles of debris behind it in shadows.

"So? What was he like?" Drista said, keeping pace as Dream hurried toward the earthbound vehicle, as if being near him was now on par with being near His Imperial Highness himself.

"I don't know," said Dream, unlatching the vehicle's hood and lifting it up on the prop-rod. "Ah, good, it hasn't been scavenged."

Patches scooted out of Dream's way. "He was polite enough not to point out the giant grease stain on his forehead."

Drista gasped. "Oh, you didn't!"

"What? I'm a mechanic. I get dirty. If he wanted me to get all dressed up, he should have commed ahead. Patches, I could use some light in here."

Patches lifted her head forward, illuminating the engine compartment. On Dream's other side, Drista clicked her tongue. "Maybe he didn't notice."

"I don't think so." Dream pulled a pair of pliers from his bag. The night sky was clear, and though the lights from the city blocked out any stars, the sharp crescent moon lurked near the horizon, a sleepy eye squinting through the haze.

"Is he as handsome in real life as he looks on the netscreens?"

"Yes," said Patches. "Even more handsome. And awful tall."

"Everyone's tall to you." Drista leaned against the front bumper, arms folded. "And I want to hear Dream's opinion."

Dream stopped poking the pliers around the engine as the memory of George's easy smile rushed into him. Though Prince George had long been one of Drista's favorite topics- she was probably in every one of his net fangroups- Dream had never imagined that he might share the admiration. In fact, he always thought Drista's celebrity crush was a little silly, a little preadolescent. Prince George this, Prince George that. An impossible fantasy.

But now...

Something in Dream's face must have said enough, because Drista suddenly shrieked and lunged at him, wrapping her arms around Dream's waist and hopping up and down. "I knew it! I knew you liked him too! I can't believe you actually met him! It's not fair. Did I mention how much I hate you?"

"Yes, yes, I know," said Dream, prying Drista's arms off him. "Now go be giddy somewhere else. I'm trying to work."

Drista made a face and skipped away, twirling amid the piles of junk. "What else? Tell me everything. What did he say? What did he do?"

"Nothing," said Dream. "He just asked me to fix his android." He peeled away the spiderwebs from what had once been the hover's solar generator but was now little more than a plastic shell. A cloud of dust kicked up into his face and he pulled away, coughing. "Ratchet?"