Thalia was already waiting for me outside the train station.
I was only two minutes late, but it was kind of ridiculous I was late at all considering what time I'd gotten up. It had taken me longer than I'd thought to settle on an outfit to wear—something that said everything I wanted to say so that I didn't have to say it.
Her expression was of vague impatience, like she was already regretting the whole thing. Her hair was loose, sticking on her shoulders in shining folds, and around her hips she wore a thin belt chain with little burnished flat disc charms hanging off it, making her tinkle faintly when she moved.
"I thought we could start in Summer's favorite shop," she said, as soon as I was close enough to hear her.
I cocked my head, nervous. "Um, hi? Yeah, that sounds good."
She led the way and I skittered alongside her. We cut through the back of the station, down a rough set of steps with an iron handrail that looked as if it had been battered straight into the rock. The steps ended in a cobbled alley, the stones all mismatched sizes, tripping the careless. There was nothing down here but the back of some pokey shop, its doorway crammed with split garbage bags.
Thalia's stride was confident. I tried to match it. Something caught the edge of my gaze, and I looked up at the wall we passed.
There was a carving of a face sticking out of the slabby rock.
"What is that?" I said, stopping in my surprise.
"Hoffy Man," said Thalia.
"What?"
"The Hoffy Man," she repeated, coming to stand beside me. "You don't know about that? Oh, you're new here, aren't you? I forgot. The Hoffy Man. He's just a local nature god."
I stared at the carving. The face was soft and round with big, pursed lips and hollow eyes, its forehead crowned with hair that looked more like bunches of leaves. Was it a real being I could talk to? Did it appear to people if they said the right incantations, or if they knew its real name? What did it think about humans? What did it know?
"What's it doing here?" I said. The face stared across the alleyway, seeing nothing.
"The Mews is the oldest bit of town. Normality doesn't intrude so much around here. The old stuff hangs around, you know?"
She tugged gently on my elbow. "We should go," she said.
I dropped my gaze quickly. I didn't want to alert them so soon to my obsession with things like this. The friends they had were attracted to the implication of magic that hung over them like mist as much as the glamour they talked and breathed. I was different. I wanted to see beyond the glamour to the real them.
Thalia moved us out of the alley and into a more normal high street, though it was cramped and dirty in comparison to the main part of town. This was the kind of place that never got any council-funded Christmas lights.
She didn't say much as we walked. I'd expected her to be more like Summer, who seemed to talk until you gave her what she wanted from you. Thalia didn't seem to want anything.
We came to a door. A painted wooden sign dangling from a bracket fixed into the wall read TROVE. The little bell above the lintel tinkled sweetly. Steps led down to another door, which was pulled shut.
"It looks closed," I said.
"It's not." Thalia pushed the door open and I followed.
Inside we were greeted with a claustrophobic jumble of insanity. If you were tall, you'd bang your head on the odd musical instruments strung across the ceiling, and people of all heights had to navigate around the glass globes hanging almost all the way to the floor. Objects were piled on tables and stools, dark wood cabinets full of trinkets lined every wall and corner. Roiling, buzzing tribal music played faintly in the background. The air smelled musty and old.
"We're bound to find something in here," said Thalia over her shoulder.
She wandered past a tall, ancient-looking desk, and a man suddenly popped up from behind it.
"Oh," he said, looking at Thalia. "You're her sister."
"Hi, Mr. Tulsent," said Thalia. "You mean Summer?"
The man pushed his glasses up his nose with a nervy movement. He was thin, all angles, an oversize cardigan hanging off his frame and graying wispy hair sticking out from his head.
"Well, yes," he said. "Is she not with you?"
Thalia smiled. "Not today."
We rounded a wall and stood together in a pokey corner, hidden from view. Thalia picked up a huge glass marble with a strange, dusky splash caught in its core.
"He's so into Summer," said Thalia in a whisper. "And he's pretty weird, like he doesn't quite know how social rituals work. I've never once heard him say 'hello.' It's almost like he's not from around here, but he's not exactly foreign either, you know? Summer's in here all the time, though, and she says she talks to him sometimes."
"Really? Why?" I said, matching Thalia's disdain.
She laughed. "No idea. You know Summer."
I didn't, actually. Superficially, maybe, but not enough to know what Thalia meant. That was another Grace thing, I was starting to notice—when you were in their crowd, they assumed you'd always been there and you knew everything they did. It was somehow isolating and comforting at the same time.
I wandered over to a cabinet and peered through the glass. It was packed full of jewelry—thick bracelets, rings, necklaces with twisting silver chunks, everything studded with polished, colored stones as big as my fingernails. I wanted to touch them all, run my fingers over them, slip them over my skin. You could spend hours in this place, just peering at everything Mr. Tulsent had to offer. We were in there a while, giggling over fertility idols and staring at instruments I couldn't even guess how to play. Eventually, I saw a wooden bowl with one side raised into a carved bird, its wings hugging the rim.
"This is pretty cool," I ventured.
It was too small for a serving dish and too pointless for anything else, but it looked mysterious and elegant.
Thalia took it from me and turned it over in her hands. "Nice. An incense burner. How come you picked that out?"
I shrugged. "Summer likes birds, right?"
"How do you know that?"
"She's mentioned it before. And she carries that orangey brown bird everywhere with her," I said. "What is that?"
"It's amber," said Thalia shortly. "Come on. Let's get the incense burner."
She turned away before I had a chance to say a word and took the bowl to the register. It was twice as much money as I'd scraped together from my box that morning. Before I'd even protested, Thalia paid the other half without so much as a word. I didn't know how to thank her, so I didn't—I just promised to pay her back next week—and I had to watch her shrug and laugh and say I shouldn't ever bother because she had too much money as it was. I'd often wondered what it would be like to have too much money. I'd thought it was an affliction only professional athletes and celebrities suffered from, but apparently you could be rich in a quiet way, too.
After that, we went to a tiny music shop, and Thalia bought an album of some obscure band from the grinning guy behind the register, who clearly thought she was the most delicious thing he'd ever seen. I felt like smacking him. I felt protective. Everyone in this town was in love with a Grace.
I was hoping we'd have coffee together, sit with our gifts nestled on the table between us and sip foamy cappuccinos and talk and laugh and other people would look over and envy us. But Thalia said she had a lot to do, so only a couple of hours later, I found myself standing at the train station again, watching her move away from me, sunshine on her hair. She told me to come down to the beach that evening at around six. I waited until she disappeared from sight and then went home, my mind already full of potential outfits.
By five o'clock I was ready, but there was no way I was turning up that early. The bus to the beach only took ten minutes from my place, so I sat in the living room and watched TV, trying to ignore the nervous curdling in my belly.
At quarter to six, my mom poked her head through the door and glanced at my clothes. "Going out, are we?"
"There's this party down the beach—"
"I'll be back late," she interrupted, and disappeared again.
That was the most I tended to get out of her these days. She had always been the expressive one, equally quick with a joke or a shouting match. But now that Dad wasn't around, she'd all but gone silent, like it was better she never said anything to me again. I missed that. I even missed the shouting.
I suddenly realized Summer's gift and the bottle of vodka I'd taken from the cupboard were on display at my feet, but she hadn't even looked at them.
I arrived about half past six. The party was in a cove secluded from the main beach by a row of tall, slippery rocks. I slid and picked and wobbled my way down there, and I saw a surprisingly small crowd busily setting up. I stood awkwardly for a moment before spotting Thalia and making my way to her.
"Hi," I said. "I'm not late, am I?"
Thalia looked at me in surprise. "No, you're kind of early, actually. No one else is here yet."
"Oh, sure," I said casually. "I came early to help you guys set up."
Thalia paused, like she was assessing me. The risk of seeming uncool was worth it if I got to hang out with the family before anyone else.
"Okay," she said. "There's a big table over there. Dump your alcohol with the rest, and Summer's gift can go on the pile next to it. I've got all this food to unwrap from the cooler. Come find me."
She floated off.
I kept my head down as I moved, fixing my neck firmly in place so I didn't look around for Fenrin. I put my gift and vodka bottle on the table and went to join Thalia in arranging the amazing array of food she'd brought.
"Are those your parents?" I said, even though I knew they were. A man and a woman were standing next to a half-built bonfire in the center of the cove. The woman, Esther Grace, was throwing handfuls of something into the heart of it, and her lips were moving.
"Yeah. Don't worry. They'll leave soon after people start arriving."
I watched their mother stretch her slender arm out again, and I couldn't help myself.
"What's she doing?" I said, turning back to Thalia—and then freezing. Fenrin had suddenly appeared in front of us. He was helping himself to a thick hunk of walnut bread.
"She's 'witching' it so that it burns all night for us," he said, making sarcastic air quotes, his mouth full.
"Shut up, Fen. Don't start. And don't hog all the food already. Go away." Thalia flapped at him. "And please wait until after she's gone to start drinking."
Fenrin gave her a bulging grin, still chewing. Even with his mouth stuffed, he was flawless. Like all of them. He swallowed and shifted his gaze to me.
"So we finally get to see you out of your natural habitat," he said.
"You mean school? That's not my natural habitat."
"Oh, I think it is. You love the library, all that brooding quiet and rustling paper. You hear the call of the books, like the far-off howling of wolves." His voice was teasing.
"Books are knowledge. Knowledge is power," I said archly.
"And power is your goal? Curiouser and curiouser, Alice."
"Power is everyone's goal, isn't it? It's just not something most people are brave enough to admit to."
"I'll admit to it." He spread his hands grandly. "I love power."
I laughed. I liked watching him peacock. He did it knowingly, which helped him get away with it.
"We're the brave ones," he said, leaning toward me with a soft smile.
Flirting.
I was sure we were flirting.
I searched for a quippy reply, and then saw that Thalia had glazed over. I suddenly realized why—Fenrin flirted with every female he came across. It was probably as natural as breathing to him.
I was nothing special. Not yet.
"Sure," I said. Then I turned back to Thalia. "There's more food to sort, right?" Her eyebrows rose.
"Um … yeah. Salads. They just need to be emptied into those bowls."
"Cool." I busied myself at the food table. I wondered what they were thinking.
It got pretty busy after that.
Half the school was there, and I was sure most of them hadn't been invited—they were tagalongs, attracted like moths to candlelight. Word about the party had gotten around. When I asked Summer about it, she just laughed and said she didn't care who came as long as the most interesting people were there. I dared to think that just maybe she'd directed that at me.
Thalia had been right—Summer loved her gift and gave a very un-Summer squeal when she unwrapped it.
"Where did you find this?" she said, her eyes round.
"Trove."
"Oh my god, I love that place. Oh my god, it's perfect. Thank you."
Her eyes sparkled. I felt a warm glow I'd been missing start to spread its wings inside my chest. I'd made her happy. It was worth owing money to Thalia to feel that, even though Thalia had waved away my promises to pay her back.
"I'm glad you like it," I said. My face was a glowing beacon of pleasure, but for once I didn't care about showing what I felt.
Summer carefully wrapped the bowl back up and put it with her other gifts. She leaned back on her hands as we sat together on a blanket, looking up at the swirling black sky. The bonfire roared steadily nearby.
"So how come you're into birds?" I asked.
"I like hawks the most," she said. "But anything that flies, really."
"Why?"
"Because they're free. They can go anywhere they like. No one controls them."
She looked at me for a moment, and the moment stretched out, growing a little too long, and then longer, and I couldn't look away.
"Did you have fun with Thalia?" she said, with a knowing little smile.
"She's great. Kind of scary at first, but it's a front, right?"
Summer said nothing.
I backed up quickly, feeling the misstep. "I mean," I said. "Well, everyone has their reasons."
"We all hide our true selves," Summer agreed, and my heart gave an excited, frightened lurch.
But it was too soon to play that hand.
Music shuddered against the rocks and mingled with the cracks of the bonfire. We watched as Thalia laughed and twirled underneath a boy's arm, flamelight licking up the side of her.
"She's more fragile than she looks," said Summer, unexpectedly. The offer of an opening sanctioning my next question.
"Marcus isn't going to show up here, right?" I said.
"Nah, he wouldn't."
"He's not dangerous, though, is he? I mean, he's just a bit obsessed."
Summer sighed, upending her drink into her mouth.
I spoke as she drank, my voice dismissive. "Let's not talk about it. It's her business."
"Marcus …" Summer paused. "It's more complicated than that."
She glanced around, but the low roar of the fire and the rolling of the sea and the noise of the crowd kept our conversation private.
"They were kind of together, briefly," she said to me.
My eyebrows crawled up into my hairline.
"It wasn't public knowledge. And now, people … they think what they want about the whole thing." She shrugged, as if to say "what are you going to do?" Then she tossed me a glance as sharp as knives. "Don't go telling anyone about this. It's her business, like you said."
"No way." I shook my head. I meant it, too. Another test of loyalty. I could be trusted with secrets.
"But then they broke up, and he wouldn't leave her alone," Summer was saying. "He's everywhere she is. He follows her around constantly, trying to get back with her. She hides it, but it's making her miserable."
I glanced at Thalia, dancing, giggling. You never knew what went on underneath the surface of things. You wouldn't look at that gorgeous girl and think she had anything bad in her life.
"Well, maybe someone should do something about it," I offered.
Summer shrugged. "Like what?"
But her face said she knew what I meant.
Lou and Gemma came bouncing up just then, shoving their gifts into Summer's hands and talking over each other. They'd both bought her music. The three of them shrieked about bands I didn't know for a while, and my cup was empty, so I got up to refill it.
I'd managed to get one vodka mixed with orange juice out of my bottle, but now it was empty, so instead I had some of the fruity punch Thalia had made. It tasted the way spring flowers smell, and before I knew it, I'd had two cups and suddenly realized I was drunk floating, that strange dislocation of feeling half outside of myself. Like my soul had detached its head from mine and I was watching everything with two sets of eyes, one of them under a time lag, as if someone kept accidentally pressing the pause button.
The adults were long gone, and I was talking to someone whose name I couldn't even remember, and it was later but who knew by how much. The bonfire drew everyone to it, and there was music, and girls screaming and dancing. I kept losing jumps of time, floating back down into the present every so often. Drunk. I remembered I was drunk. There was a call for skinny-dipping. Girls shrieking like gulls. Running.
"You gonna come?" said the girl I'd apparently been talking to.
"It's freezing."
"So?" She laughed. "We're young and fucked up." And she was off, skating across the sand, pulling off her sweater to the sound of whoops at the surf's edge.
"Christ," I muttered, but I must have said it louder than I thought. I heard a laugh across from me, and there was Fenrin, glowing through the haze in my eyes. We were almost alone; most of the party had gone to watch the stripping, shrieking girls or to join them.
"You don't care about impressing people, do you?" he said to me.
"Oh, if only that were true. Then I could be all cool, like you," I said wryly and grinned, then I worried that the drink had slurred my words.
He made his way over to my blanket and sat next to me, leaning back on his hands with a sigh. Our fingers rested close alongside each other.
"I'm not cool," he said to the stars.
"Ah," I replied, wagging a finger. "Now it comes out. I've been waiting for this."
"I like you drunk." He smiled.
"I'm not that drunk."
"You are. I can tell."
"How?"
"You're more relaxed. Not so walled up."
"Huh. Should I be offended or flattered?"
"Oh," he said through a wide smile. "It's a compliment."
There might have been a pause then, but I couldn't tell; I kept losing those leaps of time. Fenrin. Fenrin was talking to me. My body hadn't yet caught up with the situation, and I felt no sickly flutterings. I felt funny and in control.
"Summer's been telling me all about you," he said.
"Oh, really?" I replied, nervous and pleased.
"Really."
"What terrible lies has she told you?"
He laughed. "Summer never lies. She makes a point of it."
"What about you?" I asked, with what I hoped was just the right amount of tease.
"Oh, I lie all the time. Doesn't everyone?"
"Yes."
"You do, too, don't you?"
I didn't reply. I watched his fingers creep up and touch the winding turret shell dangling from his throat.
"Why do you always wear that?" I said.
He ran his fingertips over it, the kind of gesture that looked like he'd done it a thousand times. "It's just a thing. Like a family thing. Each of us has an object. We chose them when we were kids."
"Like Summer's amber bird," I said.
"She told you about that?"
"I guessed."
"Aren't you the observant one."
"Is it like a magical thing, then? She was talking about channeling energy through objects, once. Is that your magical object?"
But my eyes finally caught up with my brain and I saw his expression. I'd gone wrong, somewhere.
"You don't actually believe all that stuff, do you?" he said, with what was, I think, meant to be an easy smile. "You know magic isn't real, right? Like unicorns and Father Christmas."
I remembered what Summer had said about the rest of her family wanting to hide the truth about what they really were.
"Oh, I know," I joined in, offhand. "Except fairies. They're still real, right? Don't go ruining my childhood, now."
He laughed.
"Fairies are real," said a girl called Clementine on the next blanket over, who had been making her way through a giant joint and looked almost asleep. "You just have to look hard enough. They don't show themselves to impatient people."
"You're both delusional," said Fenrin affably, and gulped his drink.
"If it were real, though," I continued. "Magic. What would you do with it? I mean, say you could make anything happen. What would you make happen?"
He shrugged. "God, I don't know. I'd make myself King of the Universe."
"It has to be realistic."
He looked amused. "Oh, realistic magic. Well, why didn't you say? I'd probably wish to be a shape changer, or something stupid like that. So I could spend as much time as I wanted being a dolphin or a whale or something, out in the sea. Leave all this behind."
I glanced sidelong at him. He was the second Grace to talk about freedom to me tonight. Curiouser and curiouser.
"How about you?" he said to me.
Well, if we were going for truths between us …
"I think I'd use it for vengeance," I said.
His eyebrows rose, and he laughed. "Christ, that's dark."
"To help people who'd been wronged," I insisted.
"I don't know if you're aware of this, but there's a whole legal system for that."
"I'm not talking about, like, major crimes. I'm talking about the things people do to others on a daily basis, just because they can. The things they get away with. If you could use magic to stop people being hurt, turn it back on the bad guys …"
"You're talking about vigilantism. An eye for an eye."
I shrugged. "Wouldn't you ever be tempted?"
"To go down the dark path? Black magic?" he teased. "Nah. It would have to be a pretty bad situation for me to think that was a good idea. Those kinds of things always have consequences, and they're almost never worth it." He paused. "But I can see why Summer likes you now."
He grinned at me, and I shoved him.
Soon after that, Summer found us. She stood over us in nothing but soaking black jeans and a velveteen crop top that clung to her in heavy wet wrinkles, dripping onto the blanket, hands on her hips and her shoulders jerking with the cold. I was cracking up at something Fenrin had said when she spoke.
"Don't sleep with her," she said to Fenrin suspiciously. "She's my friend."
My laugh turned into a choking noise.
"Try not to be crass, Summer," Fenrin said airily. "That's more like something you'd do, not me."
"Jase was a mistake," she snapped. "I really don't get why you hang out with him."
"Well, it doesn't matter now," Fenrin replied. "He's ignoring me."
Summer deflated. "Sorry," she managed.
Fenrin shrugged, kicked her shin. She yowled and threw herself on him, her long hair showering us with freezing droplets. Jase didn't matter, not really. Nothing came between the Graces, and you'd be stupid to try. Would I succeed where Jase had screwed up? Could I?
Maybe I could, because even Summer now thought Fenrin was into me.
Fenrin. Into me.
The spell was working.
