Lili Crow - Wayfarer

That dry rattling squeak would have been enough to drive her insane . If she hadn’t been so goddamn busy.

If Dad was still alive, Ellie would be out in the middle of the party, sneaking a honeywine cooler or two and staying out of the Strep’s way. Maybe Cami would be here, and the two of them could play tipbobble or charm-tennis.

Her eyes filled, but she scrubbed even more viciously. Even a loosening-charm could only help get some of the stuck-on gunk off; this stuff was almost bonded to the bottom. If Dad hadn’t left for those inter-province negotiations—

He had to keep working, you idiot, you know a place like this doesn’t pay for itself. Hadn’t the Strep reminded her over and over again just how much it cost to feed Ellie even scraps? You should be grateful , she would sneer. Look at you. What are you good for?

What indeed. She was elbow-deep in soapsuds, scrubbing caked-on remnants of whatever sauce the asparagus had been drenched with, her pale hair scraped back into a ponytail and her T-shirt splattered with dishwater. Her school skirt—she’d grabbed it this morning to wear without thinking, and heartily regretted it—was soaked near the waistband where she leaned against the counter. Barefoot, her lips moving as she muttered a loosening-charm to get the worst of the gunk off the bottom of the pan, she supposed she probably looked like one of the catering staff.

Maybe I could work as a dishwasher. A stupid thought. She couldn’t get licensed until she turned eighteen, and good luck charm-bonding if the Strep badmouthed her after she left. It was another no-win situation, and as she banged the pot down in the rinse sink and flipped the hot water dial, she cursed under her breath and thought about how the world was a trap just waiting for someone, anyone, to plunge through the ice.

“Ma’am?” The head caterer, a short pluglike man with a smooth, domed, utterly bald head, looked a little nervous. “They’re, well, there’s a lot of alcohol out there.”

She glanced over her shoulder, gauging what he really meant. Charmers and loosened inhibitions were enough to make anyone nervous. “Do you have any more suppressors?”

“We do, but . . .” His eyes, protruding like poached eggs behind his thick spectacles, blinked moistly. “We don’t really have the authority . . .”

“The release is on file, and I’m resident at this address.” Ellie took a deep breath and a much firmer hold on her temper. “Take out another five suppressors. Turn ’em on. No reason for your staff to have to worry about that , too.”

“Yes ma’am.” Relieved, he scuttled away. Black turtleneck, black jeans, he looked just like a hideously pretentious Southking busker, one that did pre-Reeve spoken-word instead of music. And who didn’t understand why the pickings were so meager.

Ellie bit back a laugh and returned to scrubbing. A flick of a drying-charm, water shedding from metal, a kid’s trick, she set the copper pot on the counter and it was whisked away immediately to be pressed into service for some other hapless chunk of food to be choked down by Laurissa’s guests. She grabbed another one from the pile to her left and plunged it into the sink, sighing the single word that would make the loosening-charm come alive and help peel off whatever was stuck to it. Looked like lemon sauce and little bits of the too-dry chicken, smothered to make it more palatable. If Antonia would’ve been here everything would have gone like clockwork.

Still, the entire house was throbbing with merriment and Potential. The Strep would be overjoyed. If she wasn’t busily looking for tiny little things to give Ellie hell for later.

Rita hadn’t been much in evidence the last couple days. When she did show up, she was dead pale, her new haircut—a layered affair that meshed uneasily with her round cheeks—stuck up anyhow, and she reeked of a colorless fume that Ellie knew all too well.

Desperation. Plus a healthy dose of terror.

Better her than me , she told herself. We’ve all got to swim on our own.

It was no use. Her brain just wouldn’t leave it alone. And that was only the first thing it wouldn’t stop pawing lightly at.

Avery.

She’d come to her senses, she supposed. Ruby complained loudly about heading out the side door instead of the front when the school day was over, but Cami had quietly supported Ellie’s desire not to see the guy again. If she s-says it’s what she wants, Ruby, then that’s what we’ll do.

She’d told him day after tomorrow and hadn’t shown up in front of the school. Maybe he’d been there, maybe he hadn’t. Ellie didn’t see any point in finding out. She’d done all she could for him; it was stupid to keep hanging around when he was part of the Strep’s plans. The risk was just too high.

Who knew? Maybe he would even find Rita dateable. Stranger things had happened. At least he wouldn’t get a gift with a blacklove charm on it. It was all she could do for him.

It wasn’t enough.

She told the funny feeling in her chest to go away, rinsing the now-gleaming pot and snapping the drying-charm like a wet sheet in the hands of an enthusiastic laundress. Her other hand shot out, and someone gave her the next pan, a wide, flat affair with burnt bits of rice fused to the metal. Great . “Thanks. I’ll have this done in—”

“What are you doing back here?” Avery Fletcher stood next to her, the sleeves of his navy-blue button-down rolled up to expose his forearms, his hair an artistic mess and a vertical line between his eyebrows. Freshly pressed chinos and polished loafers. The edge of his Potential sparked against Ellie’s, a brief scintillation. He was obviously a guest, and some of the catering staff were giving him nervous looks.

He was older than her, from a charm-clan, and going to take the summer off before he apprenticed or went to charm-college. With his clan connections and Potential, he could do what he wanted. What was he doing sniffing around her ? He was going to be a star in the charming community, and Ell . . . well, she was a sinking ship.

“Working.” She dumped the pan in the sink. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for the girl who’s been ignoring me.”

“What, there’s only one?” It’s safest for both of us that way . “Learn to take a hint, Fletcher.”

“It’s a charmer’s party. Why aren’t you out there?”

Why do you think? For a second, she couldn’t remember the charm to loosen stuck-on food, and a chill ran down her back. “You get your present?” Because now, she knew it had been for him, and the knowledge turned her cold all over.

“Yeah. It’s . . . tacky. My mom took it.” His nose wrinkled briefly. “Look, Ellie . . .”

It’s better than it was, kid. Waaaay better than it was. That charm would have turned you upside down and she would have had a field day with you. “If I get caught talking to you there’s going to be trouble. I don’t want you here.”

“I’ll take care of whatever—”

A real knight in shining, this guy. “You can’t. Just go out and enjoy yourself at the goddamn party. It’s in your honor. Congratulations.”

“Is that really your . . . is that really Laurissa’s sister? I never heard she had one.”

“So she says. She’s from overWaste; both of them are. Not my business.” Ellie took a deep breath. The water was getting cloudy again. Her hands were going to be raisin-wrinkled for a good while. Outside in the rose garden, someone started laughing hysterically, a high young voice. “She was on your train. Didn’t you see her?”