Endlessly

Title Page

Dedication

Pink Goes with Everything

Barking Mad

The Shortest Day of the Year

Glamourous Parties

Winter Soulstice

Old Flames

Found and Lost

Shocking Encounters

New Jewelry

Sparks Fly

Havoc

Rainbows and Butterflies

Holding Hands with Boys

Dance, Dance Revolutions

Bundles of Joy

Happy Pills

What’s in a Name?

Power Nap

Eau De Faerie

I Need a Little Space

Deck the Sterile White Halls

In the Absence of Ruby Slippers

Plan T

Picture Imperfect

Eavesdropping and Reading Notes

Ice, Ice, Baby

Double Dating Disappointments

More Monsters in the Dark

Dream Date

You Can’t Change Me

You’d Think They’d Never Seen an Invisible Boy Before

Sweaty Mess

Kind of a Big Deal

Dude, for Serious

Jack is Clever, Jack is Good

Bread Basket Cases

Possibly Impossible

A Lot Strange

You Can’t Borrow My Clothes, Either

Light and Dark

Daddy Issues

We’re Not Dawn Yet

Miss You Faerie Much

Never Forever

Acknowledgments

Praise

Other Books by Kiersten White

Copyright

About the Publisher

Here’s the thing about dragons: I know absolutely nothing whatsoever about them.

Which made my task to scare raccoons out of the alley behind the diner much more complicated. Instead of the mini masked bandits, I was greeted by a pale, serpentine body with feathers raised like spikes along its spine and shoulders. Its face was almost wolfish, a long snout cut by two thick tusks jutting out and curling up over the lips. Oh, and claws. Sharp claws. “You are not a raccoon,” I whispered.

“Nae, child, I am no wee beast.” The air tasted like charcoal as its voice slid out, high and smooth and ageless, momentarily shocking me even more than the fact that there was a dragon hanging around behind the trash cans. It talked. Well, of course it talked, Evie. Because really, what kind of self-respecting, trash can–scrabbling mythical dragon wouldn’t talk? I was equal parts terrified and annoyed. But at least the dragon didn’t smell as bad as unicorns.

Then again, unicorns were herbivores.

It breathed in deeply, a golden glow growing in its chest. For once I didn’t think that light was related to its soul. Not soul; definitely fire. I didn’t have time to dash back through the door and close it before being roasted—nor did I like the door’s odds against a dragon. I could make a break for it down the alley, but I had no idea how fast this creature was. I decided on honesty. “Are you going to eat me?” I asked.

“Is that your desire?”

“Not really, no. The Winter Formal is coming up, and it’s not going to plan itself, so this is kind of a bad time for me. Can we reschedule?” I took a step back. People used to fight dragons, right? I could do this. All I needed was a full suit of armor. And a sword. Or a mace. Or some Mace.

The door opened behind me, flooding the alley with light from the kitchen, and I yelped in relief.

“There you are,” Nona said. She nodded to the dragon.

“You two know each other?” Why did this surprise me? Of course the resident tree spirit would know the talking dragon hanging out in the alley, just like she knew every other weird paranormal recently lurking about town. And I had no doubt that this meeting, too, would go entirely unexplained.

I so needed to get a new job.

“Evelyn, I have served your friends milk shakes. Please enjoy your evening.” Smiling placidly at me, Nona walked out past the dragon toward the end of the alley where the forest pushed up against the town. The dragon fixed one gleaming, dark pink eye on me, then winked.

Forget a new job. I needed to get a new town.

A breeze blew past me in a massive gust, flinging my hair into my mouth. The dragon took a few graceful hops, then slid like a snake through the air after Nona.

“Fabulous,” I muttered, going into the kitchen and shutting—then locking—the door. “Glad Nona has another new friend.” Taking a deep breath to clear my sinuses of the lingering smell of smoke, I squared my shoulders and walked into the main part of the diner. I just faced off against a dragon and came away char free. I was ready to fight.

“Now,” I said, sitting down at the corner booth and glaring at the five other teenagers there, “who says pink isn’t a good color scheme for this dance?”

I threw my binder of materials down on our apartment’s tired floral couch. “Seriously, pink is a neutral color! And what’s elegant about navy blue? No one ever says, ‘Hey, you know what’s elegant? The Navy!’”

Arianna rolled her dead eyes. “There is nothing neutral about pink. They need a color that looks good as a background to any shade of dress.”

“What color clashes with pink?”

“Orange?”

“Well, if anyone shows up in an orange dress, she deserves to clash. Yuck.”

“Chill out. You can do a lot with navy.”

I sank down into the couch next to her. “I guess. I could do navy with silver accents. Stars?”

“Yawn.”

“Snowflakes?”

“Gee, now you’re getting creative for a winter formal.”

I ignored her tone, as usual. I was just glad she was here. She’d been gone a lot lately. “Hmm … maybe something softer. Like a water and mist theme?” I asked.