"I don't know what to do, Edie!" Lacey pouted, her head in her hands and a model-esque look of concern sculpted across her face. "I can't decide between Dexter and Levi. I love them both so much, and I just don’t want anyone to get hurt!"

I put my arm around Lacey in a supportive gesture, and recited the predetermined dialogue that I knew by heart. "Don't worry about it! When the time comes, I'm sure you'll know who the right guy is."

Lacey looked up at me, tears pooled in her bright blue eyes. "How do you know?"

"Your heart will tell you." I had to hold back a gag; the cliche quote was painful the first time I said it; now it was just unbearable.

Lacey threw an arm around me and embraced me in one of the sentimental best-friend hugs that we had performed a million times before. "Oh, thank you Edie! Did you know that you’re an amazing best friend?" And with that, the sky grew dark, like a blanket had suddenly been thrown over the sun, and the clock tower that stood above the park’s trees paused mid stroke. Lacey released me, and I began to search for the glasses that hid in my jacket pocket.

"Nice job," I told her, sliding the thick framed glasses on. Although almost everyone denies it, I don’t wear the glasses to be ironic. I just have really bad vision. The novel’s Edie doesn’t wear glasses, but for some reason the author had still created me practically blind.

Lacey shook her head, “No, I did much better last chapter. I think I just lived the emotions out a little more, ya know?” She slumped back against the park bench that we were seated at and covered her eyes with one arm, falling out of character instantly. The novel’s Lacey always had the posture of a Disney princess. “God, this girl is reading so slow! She’s not even at chapter five yet and it’s been, what, a week? Two?”

I nodded my head in agreement, then paused. “Do you ever get tired of it?” I asked her, staring at the opaque sun.

“Of what? The reader?”

I shook my head, “No, this,” I said, spreading my arms. “This novel. Playing the same role over and over again. And for what? For some reader that will most likely forget about us after she reads her next teen romance? Don’t you get sick of it?”

Lacey shook her head and straightened her posture. “No way. I love my life, and the fact that I get to relive it over and over makes it even better.” She tilted her head, “You don’t agree?”

I stared off into the park’s lush forest, contemplating the honesty of my answer. Finally, I sighed, “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” even though I knew that the only reason that she loved it was because she was the lead role, the star player; the protagonist.

And I was just another supporting character.

I walked through the empty streets later that day, eyeing the clock that stood above the other buildings in the town as I strolled across the rugged brick streets. The novel was once again in the process of being read, and I had five minutes until I had to meet Lacey at her house. It was the big birthday party scene where Dexter and Levi have a fistfight over her at noon, and I couldn’t miss my one line of dialogue.

I stopped in my tracks, though, when I noticed a poster peeking through a window in one of the town square’s shops. One that I had never seen before. An unwritten change in the scenery was unheard of, and this poster instantly drew my attention. I glanced once more at the ticking clock, convinced myself that I had plenty of time to spare, and headed towards the small building.

The poster besides the doorway read SAGE’S SHOPPE, and the smell of scented candles and foreign spices hit me as soon as I opened the doorway, ringing a small bell above its frame. The inside was dark and exotic, laced with fabrics, small sculptures, and decrepit, leather-bound books. It was also empty, save for one lone woman standing behind the cash register. Her hair was hidden behind a tribal printed scarf, and the rest of her outfit consisted of mixed patterns, colors, and bright jewelry. She leaned against the desk, reading a magazine and looking utterly bored.

I cleared my throat, and the wrinkled woman looked up in alarm, surprised to see a customer at this time of day. Or, more likely, at all.

“Welcome!” she greeted excitedly, spreading her arms wide. “My name’s Sage, and you, my dear, have made a wise decision upon entering this one-of-a-kind shoppe. Look around, and tell me if you need help finding anything.”

I glanced at the clock one last time through the window, and approached the front desk. “How did you do that?” I asked, pointing to the sign that was propped up against the window.

Sage blinked, “You mean the poster?”

I nodded, filled with the curiosity of a thousand toddlers.

The aberrant woman gave a strange smile, one that convinced me that she knew all of the secrets of the world. She leaned across the desk and I leaned in, filled with a deep desire to learn her ways.“You can do it too, you know,” she whispered, and then leaned back with a look on content.

I stared at her, stunned. “But, you can’t change the scenery. The author didn’t write it that way.” I pointed again to the sign, as if that would prove that it’s existence shouldn’t be.

Sage shrugged, and glanced behind me. “Try it.”

I readjusted my glasses, and slowly walked to the back of the store, walking through the aisles at a slow pace. I ultimately decided to pick up one of the thick books, and looked back at Sage. She nodded her approval, that smile still drawn on her face, and I exited the store. The streets were still empty when I set the heavy, dust-covered book in the middle of the street. I didn’t know what to expect- a giant explosion, or our earth imploding in on itself- but I was surprised when nothing happened. The streets remained silent, the sun remained bright, and the clock tower bells commenced their hourly song, declaring it noon.

I knew that I had missed my line in the novel, but since neither the world nor the reader had stopped, I assumed all was well and entered the store once more to return the book.

“So?” Sage was once again reading her magazine, and she spoke without looking up. “How’d it go?”

“Can I be a protagonist?” I asked with urgency, slamming my hands on the desk. Sage lurched, taken by surprise. She stared at me, waiting for more of an explanation.

I sighed, “I’ve been a supporting character all of my life, and it wouldn’t have been that bad if I could just get it over with. But every day I repeat the same lines and do the same things just so that Lacey can end up with her prince charming. And then, just when I think it’s finally over, it starts all over again, with me being the best friend with cheesy lines who helps her friend find her true love. So I’m asking- is it possible to be my own protagonist? To make my own choices?”
Sage gave me her all-knowing smile, and once again leaned in to share with me one of her infinite secrets. “Edie, my dear, you walked in here all by yourself. You’re already your own protagonist.”