Lili Crow - Wayfarer

“She wants to set that Fletcher kid up with her sister ? Wow.” Ruby found this hilarious, and her bright rill of laughter startled something in the willow tree. It rustled, and Cami’s head tilted inquiringly. “How old’s Rita, again?”

Almost my age. “Fifteen. Kind of weird. Can you imagine the Strep having a mother ?”

Ruby snorted, still with one arm over her eyes. “Boggles the mind. You’d think the womb that spawned her would have curdled like fey-milk.”

Cami’s shocked giggle set both of them off, and the willow overhead rustled a little more. The leaf shadows were a spray of coolness, adding to the drenched wind full of waking earth and the breath of exhaust from the city surrounding them. There was a hint of iron-tasting mineral water from the bay, trailing a cold finger down Ellie’s back. Her knees, bare under the hem of her tartan skirt, cracked with scabs as she swung her feet, making a companionable jingle to match Ruby’s.

For a few minutes, everything was okay again. Cami always had too much food packed into her black lacquer bento box nowadays, and she had a way of just handing it to Ellie that made it so they were sharing instead of Ellie begging for a crumb or two. It had pretty much always been like that, since the first moment Ruby, fists and feet flying, had taken on all comers looking to tease the new girl from overWaste—and Cami had been there, quiet and shy, to hug Ellie while she tried not to cry like a little kid.

Night and day, the two of them, and where did that leave her ?

The laughter ended on a series of hiccups for Cami, and that made Ruby curl up to sit, bending over and shaking her redgold mane as she struggled for air. Ellie’s stomach hurt, but in a good way.

All too soon, the warning tones of the charmbell tinkled over the lacrosse field and interrupted their hitching gasps of leftover merriment.

Cami, of course, had the last word. “If Fletcher’s smart, maybe he’ll see what the Strep really is,” she said softly, handing Ellie the last carefully cut carrot stick from the tiny charmsealed plastic pouch. “Who knows? It’s Rita I feel s-sad for.”

Not me. But Ellie kept her mouth shut. There was no use in pointing out that they all had to swim on their own.

THE DAY WORE ON—SISTER MARY BREFOIL HAD BEEN In a Mood ever since the inkbottle incident. She loaded them with double homework, ignoring the suppressed groans. Ellie tried to feel bad about that, but the closest she could get was glad nobody had found out exactly who had done the pranking.

Although Ruby had given her more than one long, considering look lately.

High Charm Calc was boring and thankless as usual, and by the time the day ended all Ellie wanted to do was go home and curl up in her hidey-hole. There was no way she was ever going to catch up.

She made noncommittal noises while Ruby chattered on, Cami between them actively participating in the conversation for once. They were going on and on about Tommy Triton’s upcoming concert downtown at the Palisades. None of them would be allowed to go, of course—after dark, downtown was outright dangerous , even if—or especially because—Triton was the anthem writer for the jack population. Ruby’s grandmother wouldn’t even consider letting her go, and Cami just laughed at the thought of going herself. Nico wouldn’t go to a Triton concert, it was kid stuff for him. And of course, the Strep would never let Ell go do anything fun—

“ Sinder! Hey, Sinder! ” A familiar call, except it was a male voice.

Juno’s stairs were wide and sharp-edged, faintly gritty stone polished by countless feet. She found herself at the bottom of them, in a press of plaid-skirted schoolgirls released for the day, her arm caught in Cami’s and her jaw hanging open.

It was Avery Fletcher, the sunshine picking out gold streaks in his hair. He was in faded jeans and a Charm Dolls T-shirt, and his dark eyebrows were lifted. Nice eyes, dark but with golden threads in the iris, and his nose would have been too much of a proud beak if not for his cheekbones, which had really come into their own. He’d been a gawky, bony, sharp-faced kid, but now his shoulders had filled out and he was actually taller than her.

Now he looked downright solid.

“A boy on school grounds,” Ruby said, archly. “Who the hell’s this, Ell?”

“Fletcher.” Her lips were numb. She was suddenly incredibly conscious of the frayed hem of her skirt, the shiny patches worn onto her blazer, the fact that she hadn’t washed her hair for a couple days, the way she must look. Her cheeks were hot, for some reason. “Saw you were back.”

“Fletcher?” Ruby’s expression was a study in pantomimed disbelief. She sized him up, from top to toe. A ripple ran through the crowd of schoolgirls heading for buses and cars, some of them straining to see who the interloper was. “Noseboy? Ave the Rave? Thought you’d end up on a kolkhoz.”

It didn’t faze him in the least. “Go steal a chicken, de Varre. I graduated early once I quit skipping, you should try it. Hi, Sinder.” He shifted his weight, slightly awkward. “I thought I’d come and see if you wanted to hang out. Saw you at the train station the other day.”

“I couldn’t stop,” Ellie mumbled. Cami was utterly still, probably with amazement. “Sorry.”

“Yeah, well, your mom looked in a hurry.”

“She’s not my mom.” It burst out, and she stared at him, chin raised, her free hand curling into a fist.

Again, unfazed. “Does that mean you don’t want to hang out?”

“N-no.” Cami’s arm loosened. “She does.”

For a second everything paused. Even Ruby was speechless, for once. She stared as Cami slid her arm free, grabbed Ellen’s shoulder, and gave her a little push. “Y-you bring her home safe, too.” The Vultusino girl fixed Avery Fletcher with a piercing, blue-eyed glare, spacing each word deliberately. “Or I’ll g-get you.”

What the hell? “Cami—”

“Go.” Now Cami scowled at her, with a softening around her pretty mouth to take the sting out of the look. “Go on. You n-need a break.”

“I have homework.” Ellie couldn’t manage more than a hoarse plea for Cami to take pity. “I don’t think—”

Ruby had caught on. “Please,” she snorted, tossing her coppery mane. “As if we won’t catch you up. I can do your handwriting standing on my head . Ta-ta, lovebirds. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t!” She proceeded to drag Cami away, her laughter a bright fluttering ribbon over the surf-noise.

Leaving Ellie, cheeks afire and mouth hanging open wide enough to catch flies, gawping at Avery Fletcher.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets. The bubble of silence around them drowned out the staring, the giggles, the engines of the small luxurious buses grumbling.

“Hi.” One corner of his mouth hitched up, tentatively, and Ellie realized she was actually dizzy.

She got a breath in, closed her mouth, and shrugged. “Hey.”

“I parked in the visitor’s lot. You, I mean, do you need to call, or check in, or . . .” A little puzzled now, like he couldn’t quite figure out what he was doing here. Of course, neither could she.

He’s asking if I have to call home . “No.” If Dad had been alive . . .

It was as if he’d read her mind. “I heard. About your dad.”

“Everyone did.” As soon as it was out of her mouth, she regretted it.

Now he didn’t look uncomfortable at all. The sun painted streaks in his hair and lit up his eyes. “I guess so. Look . . . I’ll drive you straight home, if you want.”