“You also kiss the toad to turn him into a prince,” says Karen.
“I think Johnny’s already a prince,” says Jasmina. “What if kissing him turns him into a toad?”
“Maybe we shouldn’t do anything that might turn him into a toad,” says Leslie. “I don’t even want to think of the legal ramifications of turning a film star worth millions and millions, with obligations worth millions and millions, into a reptile.”
“An amphibian,” says Clarice. “Toads are amphibians.”
For a long strange moment, a twisted ribbon of a story unfurls in my head - Johnny Depp turns into a toad, his fans scream for my blood. Olivia herself lights the faggots at the foot of my stake. I shake my head, take a deep breath and tell myself to stop being silly.
“It’s worth a shot, though,” says Marnie. “Isn’t it?”
“Can’t you just figure out a way to reverse the spell, Kelly?” asks Karen.
“That’s going to take some time.” I shred a rose petal between my fingers. It’s deep dark red, the same color as fresh blood on the floor.
“Go kiss him,” says Leslie. “It’s worth a shot.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t,” says Karen. “Isn’t that kind of a violation?”
“I don’t think it’s really any less of a violation than bringing him here in the first place,” replies Leslie.
“Naked, even,” adds Jasmina.
“So who gets to kiss him?” Marnie looks as if she’d be glad to volunteer.
“I think it has to be Olivia,” I say. “After all, I brought him here for her.”