Figment by Elizabeth Woods Read Free Book Online Page A

minute catch, and the compact sprang open to reveal a mirror and a silk powder puff.
    “To remember me by.” He grinned at me.
    “Stop—don’t talk like that.” His words sent a shiver through me.
    “We’ll take this.” I handed the compact to the proprietor, who wrapped it in white tissue paper. Davis moved to pull out his wallet, but I beat him to it by taking out my credit card—the only thing my parents hadn’t taken away. Davis had spent enough just getting here; it felt like the least I could do.
    “Enjoy,” the old man rasped.
    The sunshine seemed brighter after the dim shop. On the sidewalk, I paused and unwrapped the compact. I held it up, admiring the rich gold, then pretended to powder my nose. “What do you think?” I lifted my face up for him to admire.
    “As pretty as the first moment I saw you.” He leaned forward and kissed me.
    “Do you remember when that was, even?” I teased as we started strolling again along the sidewalk.
    “Of course I do. It was the first day of freshman year.”
    “Really? I don’t remember that.” I squeezed his hand.
    “I remember it perfectly. Patrick and I were coming out of the cafeteria, and you were coming in. Do you not remember this at all?” We passed under some scaffolding. Overhead, workmen were hammering busily. The old-fashioned buildings were disappearing, and the street was widening out. I could see a crowded traffic circle ahead of us.
    “No.” I shook my head. “We met at that New Year’s party at Mark’s house.”
    We stopped to wait for the light at the traffic circle. Ahead of us, across a wide green lawn, Buckingham Palace loomed.
    “That was the first time we talked.” Davis helped me down the curb. He broke off from his story suddenly. “Here, let’s go see the Beefeaters. They crack me up.” He steered me toward the palace gates. “But the first time I saw you was when I was going into the cafeteria, and you were coming out. And I thought something like, Hey, cute girl. You had your hair in a bun. I said hi, and you just looked right through me like I wasn’t even there. Total rejection.” His eyes twinkled.
    “How can it be a rejection when I don’t even remember it?” I rolled my eyes at him. We crossed the brilliantly green grass and the wide pavilion in front of the palace. The massive black and gold gates were closed. “I was probably worried about failing my algebra test and didn’t even notice.”
    “See? Great impression I made.” Davis wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me in close. We pressed our faces to the cold iron bars of the gates and stared at the soldiers marching slowly up and down in their perfect red and black uniforms.
    “Their hats always make me think of something you’d take to bed with you,” I said.
    “Hey, what’s up?” Davis called through the gates to the Beefeaters. They didn’t respond, of course.
    “Davis!” I giggled and dragged him away. “The queen’s probably watching from inside right now.”
    The rest of the day was like a happy fantasy. We wandered the streets, getting lost, finding ourselves again. We stared, open-mouthed, at the massive spires of Parliament and the towering grace of Westminster Abbey. We asked a pair of Italian tourists to take a picture of us under Big Ben. We tried a slice of steak-and-kidney pie from a shop with a window that opened onto the street. We both agreed that the kidneys tasted unsettlingly like urine.
    At the end of the day, we found ourselves wandering down a labyrinth of narrow alleyways near the site of the original Globe Theatre. The gray stone around us was tinted pink from the sunset streaking the sky overhead. I was holding Davis’s hand, gazing at the crumbling stone archways that led into even more tiny alleys, thinking incredulously that Shakespeare himself might have walked right here on these very stones, just like we were. Suddenly, in front of us, a woman in an old-fashioned beaded dress darted from one of