Текст книги "Rock"

Автор книги: Anyta Sunday

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settles the fluttering in my belly.

Mum is hovering over the fruit bowl that’s on the dining table. Annie isn’t home yet. She got off

the bus a few stops earlier with Mr. Thinks-He’s-Getting-Lucky-But-Hopefully-He-Isn’t.

“Are you still angry with Dad?” I ask quietly.

Mum leans back in her chair and sighs. “Yes. No, not really. I wish things could have been

different, but they weren’t. It might not seem fair to you, but for him and me, it is. We tried to make it

work for you kids, but it wasn’t working.”

“He cheated on you. He made you look like a fool.”

“Well, thanks for that.” Mum hops off the chair and rounds the kitchen island to put on the tea

kettle. She shakes her head. “I thought Dad talked to you about what happened. He didn’t cheat.”

“He had a whole other life, Mum! Five years with them.”

“Lila and your father have been friends forever. But, yes, I suppose five years is when things broke

down and couldn’t be repaired.” Steam curtains her expression, but her words are softly spoken. “Look,

Cooper, we had an arrangement that we thought would work until you and Annie finished school, but

like I said, it wasn’t working. Your father was right to break it up. Right to go and live with the woman

he’s probably always loved. Right to let me have a chance to find someone of my own.”

“Well that’s . . . that’s . . . an arrangement? That’s fucked up.”

“Cooper, watch your tongue!”

I laugh, squeezing my stone as if I might be able to juice it. “They’re not better than us, Mum.

They’re not . . .” I wish Mum would rush over and wrap me into a hug, but hugs have always been

Dad’s thing.

Mum places a cup of tea before me. “Drink up, love,” she says. “He misses you, and I think it’s

time you and Annie went to your dad’s.”

Relief overwhelms me. Someone else making the decision to see Dad for me? Perfect. Because the

truth is I miss him too. So much. But I don’t want anyone to think I’m taking his side over Mum’s.

“I don’t want to,” I say pitifully. But it’s a lie, meant only to comfort her.

And maybe my mum does know me the best, because she smiles and says, “You have to.”

citrine

Halloween.

Mum drops me off. Annie is in the back seat, muttering under her breath. She’s refusing to attend

the party.

I open my visor to check my face paint—zombie face like always—and dip a finger into a thicker

splotch of fake blood to draw it down as if it’s dribbling from my mouth. The rest of my face is pale,

except for my eyes, which Mum thought should be darkened with eyeliner. Disconcertingly, my eyes

look brighter than normal, especially the one on the left. Then again, it’s Halloween so I can get away

with anything.

I angle the visor and look at my sister’s reflection. She’s staring toward the mansion much like I did

the first time. She blinks and lifts a finger to dab her eyes.

I avert my gaze and snap the visor away.

My belly gurgles as I take in the haunted manor. Tens of jack-o’-lanterns with eyes like citrine

gemstones line the path toward the flickering light at the front porch. I gulp.

It looks scarier than our house used to be. Scarier, better.

But their house is big—it has the advantage of looking creepy all on its lonesome. Inside will be the

real test.

I crack open the car door. Faint, eerie music leaks from the manor and the moat glimmers as if

being resurrected by it. We’re better than you.

I hesitate. Do I really need to put myself through this?

The front door opens, and Frankenstein’s monster steps out. Dad calls us over with a friendly,

excited wave, one that hopes we’ll race up and leave the past in the dust.

Wouldn’t it be nice if life were that easy?

I smooth my ripped and dirtied shirt. It hangs out of my tattered jeans that are smeared with blood

and ominous yellow ooze. “Pick me up in a couple of hours.”

I drag my feet the way Dad taught me to zombie walk last year. I cock my head and let my tongue

loll. I’m rewarded with a deep laugh. Maybe forcing myself out of the car was worth it.

“Stay away from me,” Dad jokes, backing into the house. He shrugs and grabs me into a hug,

whispering gruffly, “Thank you for coming. It’s good to see you again.”

My throat is tight. I swallow. “Happy birthday, Dad.”

I don’t have a gift for him this year. Does he notice? Does he care? Does he remember last year

when I gave him opal cufflinks?

“Opals represent Zeus’s celebratory tears after he defeated the Titans.”

“Really?” he asked, putting them on despite being dressed for Halloween.

“It’s also believed that the owner of this stone has the power of foresight.”

He laughed. “See, it means I’m wise and you have to listen to me.”

But would a wise man have fractured his family?

Despite that, I don’t want him to let go. I want to stand on this cold porch with the light flickering

above us for the rest of the night. Eventually, Dad pulls away. “Go on in. Take the tour. I’m going to

scare this next lot.”

Over my shoulder, a group of teens strut giggling up the path.

I duck inside. It’s dark, the music’s loud, and cobwebs hang over the windows. Signs written in

blood direct the guests.

I follow the bloody signs to the staircase, where giant wetas hang from the ceiling with antennae

that seem to be moving. Mum would have freaked out; she hates cockroaches and spiders, and the weta

is both creatures combined.

A few people at the top of the stairs discuss which path they should take. They decide on slinking to

the right, so I go left. I turn into the first room. Ghosts and werewolves and vampires hide in the

shadows. Most are props but the vampire is real. He lies in an open casket, wedged into the corner of a

room. His eyes spring open when a witch passes him and she jumps, knocking into a pile of fake

chainsaws.

I catch one as it falls. It’s made of rubber, but solid—

Something moves behind me. The hair at the back of my neck prickles. When I turn, though, it’s

gone. So is the vampire.

I shrug it off. I’m pretty sure this is an act to freak us out.

Isn’t this whole thing ten times better than anything you and Annie ever did?

I drop the rubber chainsaw onto the table and leave the room. I wish I didn’t have to wait for Mum

to pick me up. I want to leave.

A door creaks behind me. A narrow slit of green light spills from a partially opened door. Someone

whispers my name over the music. Cooper. Cooper. Cooper.

I slink toward it and pull on the handle—

I gasp. Inside the small closet, my name is glowing in the dark. Cooper. An illuminated arrow

points to one corner. It takes me a moment to recognize the familiar shape—my old magnifying glass,

laying on top of my journal.

I open the door wide and shuffle toward my name. It’s hard to see in here. Coats are heaped in the

corner and a shelf above my head forces me to squat.

Just as I grab for my journal, the door slams shut. I jerk around and feel for the handle.

My breath hitches and I start to feel dizzy. “Open, please, open.”

I bang on the door, again and again. I need to get out of here—

I shut my eyes as the walls start to tilt and implode, ready to crush me. Instead of trying to escape, I

fall onto my knees and frantically search the floor. If I can find a stone, the panic will ebb. The walls

will stop moving. I will be able to breathe.

I find nothing.

I sweep my hand over the carpet until I hit the pile of coats. I graze something hard and grab it.

It moves, and a slow chuckle follows. Coats shift and drop to the floor. Jace. I can tell it’s him by

his laugh. “Gotcha,” he says.

“You dickweed. Get me out of here,” I say through clenched teeth.

Jace laughs again and fiddles around with one of the coats. Click. A small beam of orange light

flickers on and highlights the smug look on Jace’s face. His fake vampire teeth glow.

I snatch the pen torch out of his hand and use it to light the door. “How do we get out of here?” The

panic is detectable in my voice but I don’t care.

“Can’t.”

I swing the torch back on Jace. He blinks and takes out his fake teeth.

“What do you mean you can’t?”

“Can’t open it from this side.”

My breathing quickens again. “Get me out of here, Jace.”

He frowns and leans forward. “Jesus, Cooper. Are you flipping out or something?”

I can barely nod. I rub my sweaty hands together and blink hard to restore my vision, which seems

to be playing tricks on me. Is Jace coming closer? Closer? Bringing the walls with him? I slam my eyes

shut and press my hands against my forehead. It’s going to be fine. This is all in your head.

I hate Jace. I hate him for doing this to me.

“Th—this is payback for the soc—soccer ball thing?” I concentrate on my anger instead of

panicking.

He rests his hand firmly on my shoulder. “Cooper?” Jace’s breath hits my face but surprisingly it

doesn’t bother me. The smirk is gone from his voice and is replaced with concern. “Cooper, it’s only a

closet. I told my mate Darren to let us out in ten minutes.”

“Wh—why?”

Jace shifts on his knees and leans closer. His hand lifts from my shoulder and wraps around my

back. “Just concentrate on my voice, okay?”

“That’s the la—last thing I want to h—hear.”

He rubs my back. “Joking already. Knew it would work.”

The truth is, the calm tone of his voice is soothing me. One point for Jace.

“It was meant to give you a little scare,” he says softly, “not a huge one.”

“Come on. You—you’re going to piss yourself laughing about this later.”

Jace freezes, his body tight at my side. “You don’t think much of me, do you?”

“Wh—what else am I supposed to think if you shut me up in a closet?”

He doesn’t respond with words, but he rubs circles on my back like I might start purring and fall

asleep. “I’ve wanted to return your journal for months. I’ve been waiting for you to ask for it.”

I shrug. “It’s not a big deal.”

“I read it.”

“I thought so,” I say. “I’d have done the same.”

“So you want to be a geologist, huh?”

“Surprised?”

“Not really.” He chuckles. “It’s cool that you know what you want to be.”

It’s quiet for a long time, until Jace asks, “Do you really feel like you have to choose a side? Can’t

you be happy for both of them?”

A whoosh of air pushes Jace’s question away, and I scramble out of the closet. Darren grins at me.

After a few deep breaths, my sight clears and I recognize him as the big Maori fella who thinks he’s

getting lucky with my sister. He better not!

“You treat Annie with respect!” I say to him. I swing to Jace, who cannot look at me for long. I

want to say something about him treating me right, but the memory of blood running down his nose

stops me. “I guess we’re even.”

feldspar crystal

Annie slumps through the door and asks Dad where her room is. She doesn’t look at him, nor come

back when he returns from escorting her to safety. Today begins our first week with Dad, the Sunday

after Dad’s Halloween birthday.

Piano music loops and titters and darkens like grey clouds charging in for a summer storm.

I leave my bag in the entrance and follow Dad through the arched doorway into the dining room,

where the table is set with jams and maple syrup and a stack of thin, flat waffles that resemble the

pancake rocks in South Island.

“Your favorite,” he says, rubbing his hands like he did when I was a kid. I’m not about to yell

Yippee and lunge for the first waffle, but his effort lightens the heaviness in my belly. I sit across from

him and glance toward the patio doors. Outside, darkness swirls like a brewing storm. “Lila will be

down any moment.”

I nod and stuff my hand into my pocket, where I’m stashing a feldspar crystal Mum gifted me this

morning. Could she foresee my future? Why didn’t she give me this crystal sooner?

I rub the stone and stare at the doorway to the side of the kitchen, waiting for Lila to appear. Lila,

the love of my dad’s life. Lila, the one who tore my family apart.

For a second I think of ducking under the table and hiding, but I can’t avoid her forever.

Instead, I count the plates. It looks like Lila won’t be the only one joining us—

Dickweed.

He waltzes into the room with swagger, grinning at my Dad. When he sees me, his step falters but

he quickly regains control. A hurried nod before he focuses on the table. The plates, the jam, the

waffles, the vase of roses, the doilies.

He’s going to play the game like this? Avoid me? Pretend nothing happened at Halloween?

“Looks de-lish,” Jace says, skimming over me to Dad. “But I’m not hungry, so can I—”

Dad narrows his eyes into the familiar stay right where you are look.

The wind crumples Jace’s sails; he sags into his seat and picks at the cushion.

“I want this to be a civilized morning,” Dad says, pouring a carafe of orange juice. He continues

quietly. “Be good to Lila, please.”

As if his words started a countdown, Lila barges through the door not ten seconds later.

Spooky. Not as broad in the shoulders and not as tall, but the dark brown hair is his, and the blue

eyes, and the straight nose that points up slightly at the end. She looks like she could be Jace’s twin.

She smiles Jace’s smile.

“Cooper,” she says. “I’m so glad you’re here.” She kisses my cheek and ruffles my hair. She smells

like potpourri.

Dad winces and holds his breath. I don’t want to say anything nice or pretend I’m happy with this

situation, but Jace is watching me, and even after what he did to me on Halloween, I can’t simply grunt

and play a moody thirteen year old.

“Yeah,” I say, clearing my throat. “Thanks for the waffles. They’re my fave.”

Dad passes me the pancake rocks replica, a proud smile on his face. For that look, my choice to

swallow my anger was worth the sacrifice.

The rest of breakfast involves Lila firing questions at me and dad sharing embarrassing stories. Jace

listens quietly, frowning at me every few seconds. When we’re all finished eating, Lila begins cleaning

up with Jace. Again, I’m stunned at their resemblance.

Dad clicks his fingers in front of my eyes and I focus on what he’s saying. “Shall I show you your

room?”

He leads me up a white-banister staircase that splits off in two directions. We take the left turn.

“Lila and I are at the other end of the house,” he says. “You kids have a bathroom down at this end, and

a balcony.” He slows as we pass the first room. A shadow falls over his face. “That’s Annie’s room,” he

whispers.

We pass a bathroom opposite my sister’s room and a gaming room with a couch, bean bags, a

stereo, a massive television, a piano, brass instruments, and music stands. A smaller version of the

dining table fills up the corner of the room overlooking the backyard. Dad gestures to it. “That’s where

Jace practices piano and does his homework, but you have a desk in your room if you prefer.”

“It looks completely different than two nights ago.” I look down the hall to the next door. “Let me

guess, the broom closet.” I knock, but it’s not a guess. I know. I also know it doesn’t have a handle from

the inside.

I hurry past it. Three doors are on my left but one of them is the balcony door. The other two face

each other, with a few feet of cream carpet separating them.

“Yours and Jace’s rooms.”

Of course.

Dad braces the handle on the door to the left. “This is your space, Cooper. You can decorate it

however you like.” He pauses, glancing toward Annie’s room. “You’re always welcome here. I hope

you will consider this your home, too.”

I draw in a breath when he opens the door.

A double bed fit with a dark blue bedspread faces me. A desk rests by the windows, and a set of

drawers with a mirror is perched on top of it. The walls are covered in square cubbyholes a couple of

inches deep. They are empty, but for seven.

I recognize the stones inside them. They’re the ones I left behind when I ran away the first time.

“Th—thanks, Dad.”

He clasps my shoulder. “There’s a port for your iPod by the bed.”

I want to hug him. I want to turn around and squee like I’m small again, but I give him a nod

instead.

“Right,” he says. “I’ll let you get settled in.” He leaves, but it’s slow, like he’s reluctant to turn

away in case I shut myself in my room like Annie does.

“I’ll come down soon,” I say, but my volume drops as I spot Jace shuffling down the hall. He

doesn’t see me. Ha! One point for me. He glances at the broom closet and bows his head the rest of the

way to his room. I lean against the doorjamb.

He sighs, opens his door, and faces me. I open my mouth to say something, but I don’t know what

to say.

He rests against his doorframe and folds his arms. “It was a dickweed thing to do.” He lifts his gaze

to mine. “I’m sorry.”

“I said we’re even.”

I close the door and collapse onto my bed. A brilliant flash of orange lightning flashes across the

ceiling, reminding me of citrine and Halloween. The first sounds of thunder crack the sky. Shivering, I

worm underneath my covers and wonder when the storm will end.

moonstone

On my third week living at Dad’s, I return from school early.

Usually I hang out with Ernie and Bert at Schmoos Café or the waterfront—anything to avoid the

awkwardness of going back to Dad’s—but I have a test for science tomorrow and I want a perfect score.

I pull out the key Dad gave me and enter his castle.

Piano music sounds from upstairs; I’m heading there anyway so I move toward it. It’s full and loud

with tinkling interruptions. It’s complicated, as if proving a point. The music stops and starts. At the

fiddly-sounding part, a curse replaces the chord, and someone bashes the keys in annoyance.

I jog upstairs and stand outside the gaming room where the music is coming from. The door is ajar.

I peep through the crack and stare at Jace, who’s bent over the piano and knocking his head against the

keys. I allow myself to watch.

Jace straightens, glances at his sheet music, and plays the piece again. Every now and then, his

hands stray into my field of vision as he works the higher notes. His nimble fingers make quick, precise

work of the notes and he easily dominates the tricky part.

It’d be too easy to slink off and pretend I didn’t hear, so I push open the door and clap loudly,

whistle even louder. Whether I like Jace or not, I appreciate his skills.

Jace practically flies off his piano stool. “Wh—what? You’re home early.”

“Test to study for.” I drop my bag against the door. “You sound good.”

Jace glances over his shoulder at the piano and the sheet music that fell as he leaped up.

“You like the piano?”

He shifts from foot to foot. “Yeah. So what?”

Why is he so defensive? “I meant it’s cool. I like music.”

He studies me, then sits back on the piano stool. “Yeah. I want to study music but Mum says the

music business doesn’t offer many jobs. Especially for a pianist.” He shrugs. “But as they say, even if

you can’t do, you can at least teach.”

I grin. “Keep practicing. I’m in my room.”

“Won’t be too annoying?”

I shake my head. “I always listen to music when I work.”

“I start and stop a lot. Especially with this bitch of a piece.” His smile tells me he loves the

challenge of wooing the music until he owns it.

Is that how I look when I hold my rocks?

“Later, Jace.” I drag my bag to my room, followed closely by Jace’s “later” and the tinkling of

keys.

* * *

Later comes sooner than I predicted. That night, Jace charges into my room and drags me out of

bed. “Shhh,” he says, jamming a finger to his lips. When I ask what the heck is going on, he presses his

warm finger to my mouth. “Just be quiet, would you? Put your shoes on.”

The light of the full moon slithers into my room through a gap in the curtains. Jace is dressed in

jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt that’s inside out.

I pull on a pair of pants over my boxers, shove my bare feet into my Puma shoes, and shrug on a

light jacket. I’m too curious to put up a fight or demand to know details. I follow him downstairs and

out the backdoor. He closes it quietly. Usually a sensor light comes on but apparently Jace has

disengaged it.

When we head into the thick of trees, my pace begins to lag. Pines loom above me, basking in a

silver glow as they stretch toward the sky. “Jace, where are we going?” And why are we out here

together?

Twigs snap and leaves crunch as he continues walking. “It’s been bugging me,” he says.

A breeze on the cusp of summer blows his words back to me. I quicken my step until I’m next to

him. “What has?”

His lips part but he closes them and shrugs. I hate his shrug. I want to know what he’s hiding.

“Come on.” I shake my head. “You can’t expect me to follow you out into the bush in the middle of

the night!”

He smirks. “And yet here you are.”

“Wipe the grin off your face.” But I’m feeling one twitch at my lips too.

We walk around a bend of a hill where water from a creek tinkles nearby. At the bottom of a steep

bank covered in tree roots, Jace stops. “I want to make up for shutting you in the closet.”

I frown. Dragging me into the woods with a sinister smile is the way to do it?

He chuckles nervously and holds out his hand, which strikes me as strange. “Do you trust me?”

I shake my head. “Not really.” But I grab his hand, which is rougher and warmer than mine. He

leads me to a parting in the bank. “A cave?”

He squeezes my hand. “I discovered it last year. It’s small, a bit bigger than the two of us, but it’s

cool. Keep to whispers inside, okay?”

He ducks into the cave and pulls me in with him. He’s standing incredibly close so I can’t see much

else. For a second, I fluster, panic rising like it did in the broom closet. Why did he take me here! Why?

Why? Why?

Jace whispers, “Wait. No. Turn around. Look outside. You’re not trapped.”

I gradually relax as I take in the vines and the curve of the stream.

Jace releases my hand. “Since you want to be a geologist, I thought you’d get a dig out of this.” He

smirks and steps back, opening up the view.

Hundreds of green lights speckle in bunches over the entire cave. “Glowworms!”

“Shhh.”

“Sorry,” I whisper. My stomach spins as though I’m standing on a cliff with my toes dangling in

thin air. A wonderfully daunting rush.

“It makes me think I’m looking at the stars,” Jace says, standing close enough that our sleeves are

touching.

“Yeah. Stars.”

I try counting the beads but I give up after fifty-seven. I’d rather watch Jace. “Have you ever

counted them all?”

“No. Think it might be impossible.”

“Like Stonehenge. No one knows exactly how many stones exist.”

“Really?”

“One guy tallied them once. He recounted to make sure and he came up with a new number. Every

time he counted, he came up with a different number.”

The coolness of the stagnant air sends creeps over me. I rub my hands together and peer at Jace

over my fingertips.

Jace beckons me outside. “You know a lot about rocks and stones, don’t you?”

“As much as you know about music.”

He slows his steps, staring toward the creek. “What is the difference between a rock and a stone,

anyway?”

I move to the creek and stand on a large flat boulder. “They have different feelings.” Jace joins me,

his weight shifting the rock underneath us like a seesaw. We move instinctively to balance. “To me, a

rock is massive—something that portrays strength. Rocks are complicated clusters of minerals that have

baked for a long time.”

I jump off the boulder to the stones edging the creek. Jace gracefully leaps off too. I pick up a small

white stone that shines in the moonlight. “A stone is a fragment of a rock. Like a snapshot of a bigger

picture.”

“Is that why you collect them? A stone for every memory?”

I hand him the stone, forcing myself to ignore the heat that rises in me when my sensitive fingertips

brush over his soft palm. “If you collect enough stones and minerals and heap them together, does it

become a rock?”

Jace rolls the stone and lifts it midair. “I don’t know. Is this a moonstone?

“No. River stone.”

“Oh.”

“You sound disappointed.”

He shrugs. “Nah. Moonstones are pretty cool, don’t you think?”

“They’ve been revered for thousands of years,” I say as we re-enter the path. “Hindus believe that

moonbeams form stones that can reveal your future if you hold it in your mouth on a full moon.”

Other than a shared smile, we’re quiet until we approach the trees that fringe Jace’s backyard.

“I don’t know if that would be a blessing or a curse. Knowing your future, I mean.”

“True, I guess.” Pine needles brush against my cheek. “It’d frustrate me to know all my future

mistakes but not be able to stop them from happening.” He laughs.

We don’t exchange words until climbing up the stairs to our rooms. Jace stops me at the top. “I

want to say something else.” I raise an eyebrow. He looks fleetingly at me and whispers, “We’re not

better than you. I wish you wouldn’t think that.”

I pause. “What? How do you know—”

“You’re defensive.” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “I can read it.” He hesitates, then glances

back at me. “That’s what I used to think of you and Annie. Before Dad moved here, I always wondered

why. I thought it was because you were better than me and Mum somehow. But it’s not like that.”

My belly thickens like stodgy old porridge. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I just—” Jace starts, and I shake my head.

“No.” I move past him and charge down the hall. He tries to catch up behind me but I shake my

head vigorously and he backs off.

pegmatite

Dad and Lila pile out of the rental van, and Annie, Jace and I spill out of the back in desperate need

of stretching our legs. One side of my leg still hurts from Annie pinching me sixty miles ago. Too

cramped, she kept muttering. The other side of my leg tingles from the friction of Jace’s shorts rubbing

against my knee.

Our first “family” trip—a day at Rainbow’s End theme park—is happening today, the end of

summer, a week before my second year at Newtown High.

“Sunscreen, guys,” Dad says, framed by a distant Rainbow’s End sign.

Lila smiles and passes Annie the sunscreen. Annie fishes into her day pack and pulls out her own.

Lila shrugs and lowers the bottle.

I take Lila’s offer, snap open the lid, and squeeze some onto my palm. Coconut—somewhat

refreshing against the harsh heat of the mid-morning sun.

Jace’s guttural sounds snatch my attention. He is standing a few steps away, yawning, arms clasped

and stretched overhead. His T-shirt rides up past his hips, the print of a grand piano and illegible

writing.

Neither of us slept well crammed in the double bed at the hotel last night. I kept tossing and

turning, and Jace tried pushing me out.

He finishes his stretch and we exchange scowls—our routine, but usually when we’re racing out of

our rooms to stuff our school bags so we’re not late.

“All right,” Lila says, slipping between her son and me, herding us toward the entrance of the park.

“Let’s have a day of adrenalin and adventure!”

Annie slumps along behind us with Dad, who’s telling her how much she used to love coming here.

“Do you remember?”

“Yeah,” Annie says loudly. “We went with Mum.”

It’s awkwardly quiet after that. We stand in line for ten minutes before Lila hands us our unlimited

day passes. “Okay, so,” she begins, but Jace and Annie skip off in two different directions.

I slip on my pass over my wrist. “Meet back here at four?”

Lila smiles. “We thought for lunch . . . never mind. You’ve all got money, I suppose.” She shrugs.

“Whatever.”

Dad kisses her, my cue to leave. I thread through the crowd in Jace’s direction. I’m not searching

for him per se, but increasing my chances of running into him.

What for? I’m not sure. At Dad’s house before the holidays, we were studying across from each

other in the gaming room. He frowned at his papers and dropped his pen. “Why does brass discolor in

air?”

I answered without looking up from my books. “Hydrogen sulphide.”

After scribbling with his pen he whispered, “Thanks.”

“Also, you know brass is an alloy of copper and zinc, right?”

Jace shook his head, and his lips quirked into a smile . . .

Screams from the roller coaster hit my ears, yanking me back to the reality of fresh popcorn and

candied nuts, people lining up for rides, spilled Coke and discarded gum on the sticky ground—

Jace. There he is. Sitting at an octagonal table, straddling the bench, sunglasses perched on his

head, texting on his phone. Lila allowed us to take them in case we needed something. Mine is vibrating

in my pocket. Wait, vibrating?

A text.

I glance over the heads of a group of girls heading toward the roller coaster.

I open the text. Bumper cars have no line.

A vague invitation? I accept. I’m not surprised the bumper cars have no line, considering they’re

not exactly the most adrenalin-pumping ride here. Jace startles when I straddle the bench in front of

him.

I jerk my head toward the bumper car arena across from the cafeteria. “Let’s go. I’ll totally bump

your ass.” I meant kick your ass but it came out decidedly wrong and . . . weird.

I laugh.

Jace blinks rapidly and draws his sunglasses down over his eyes. “We’ll see who bumps who.”

Three minutes later, we’re climbing into bumper cars and swiveling around on the smooth surface.

Jace rocks to one end, me the other. He’s taken his sunglasses off and his engine is brrrring. Other cars

zoom around, bumping everything in sight. I narrow my gaze onto Jace and his car.

We move too slowly—it almost feels comical—but then we collide with a thunk and bounce off

each other. Let the battles begin.

I slam into Jace repeatedly, and his car jerks back and slides. He doesn’t laugh, but his eyes spark

every time we hit.

I bump him into the wall he started from, and then I ram him into his corner right before the cars

stop for the round.

We climb out of our cars laughing uncontrollably. “Told you I’d totally bump—”

“Never again!” Jace shakes his head but he’s grinning. We exit the canopied ride and blink in the

sun. Jace slips on his sunglasses like a Calvin Klein model.

We stop in the middle of the path. I feel awkward shifting from foot to foot in silence. What now?

Do we part ways with a shrug?

Maybe I should leave before he does. That way, I’m in control. “Right. See you around.”

Jace grabs me by the arm. “You’re not going anywhere until I find a way to punish you for stealing

my sleep!”

“So that’s what this was?”

“What else would it be?”

He smirks and jerks a thumb toward the giant swinging ship. “How do you feel about rocky seas?”