Grace
Standing in the cafeteria line, waiting to pay for a bottle of kiwi-strawberry juice to go with the hummus-and-spinach wrap and baby carrots already in my reusable lunch bag, I’m not really excited to spend another lunch period in the library. Last week was bad enough, and I could at least claim new-girl status as my excuse.
But by day three, shouldn’t I have someone to sit with?
Maybe not. This whole new-girl thing is totally foreign to me. I try to remember new students at Orangevale, and how long it took them to assimilate. I only remember one who—
“You’re up,” a gruff female voice says from behind me in line.
I twist around. “Oh, Vail. Hi.”
She jerks her head toward the checkout.
I step forward and show my juice to the cashier. After handing over my money, I turn and say, “Thanks.”
She shrugs, sliding her tray of lumpy school food forward.
I turn, ready to head out the side door for the library and another lunch hour alone with the books. It could be worse, I guess. I could have to eat lunch with Miranda.
“You can sit with us,” Vail says as she walks by with her tray.
Did she just say what I think she said?
“What?” I hurry to catch up with her. “Really?”
She gives me a duh-are-you-stupid? look. I just grin and follow her to a table in the center of the cafeteria.
There’s a handful of other kids at her table. The group at the far end looks like vamp-loving goths, dressed all in black, with deep purple lipstick and heavy-duty eyeliner. Two empty seats separate them from Vail’s diverse trio. Next to Vail sits a girl who looks like Marilyn Monroe, with platinum-blond hair, ruby red lipstick, and a low-cut vintage dress. Across the table is a boy with turquoise-blue hair and matching eyeliner. He’s wearing a black HELLO KITTY tee, black skinny jeans, and a wide, white, studded belt. By comparison, Vail is almost tame. Over the weekend, she dyed her hair tips lime green, a shade that perfectly matches her baggy cargo pants and the bleeding smiley face on her tight black tee.
With blah-colored clothes, hair the color I was born with, and nothing but a dab of organic lip balm on my mouth, I definitely feel like the outsider in this group.
“This is Lulu,” Vail says, nodding to the girl at her left. “And that’s Jax.”
Better the outsider in a group than the outsider without a group.
I smile at the boy, Jax, and set my tray down next to him. “Hi,” I say as I slip into the seat. “I’m Grace.”
“Charmed, I’m sure,” Lulu drawls, offering her hand across the table like I might want to kiss her ring. I gingerly take it and give it a quick shake.
“Lay off,” Vail grumbles, swirling her fork around her plate.
“I think we have Computer Science together,” Lulu says, in a completely normal voice.
“Yeah?” I reply, wondering why I didn’t notice the retro bombshell in class on Friday. Right, because I was too busy researching minotaurs.
Jax turns to me. “You’re very eco-chic, aren’t you?”
“Uh . . .” I look down at my yellow TREE HUGGER tee.
“I like it,” he says. “You make a subtle statement.”
“Um, thanks?”
“Oh, making a statement is always a good thing.” He sticks out his tongue, revealing a shiny black piercing. Then he nods to the girls. “We’re not usually subtle about it. It’s refreshing.”
“I—” I smile, a little confused, but I think that was a compliment. “Okay, cool.”
My ears feel a little warm as I open up my lunch and pull out the recycled foil–covered wrap. For several minutes, I eat in silence, listening to the rapid-fire chatter of Jax and Lulu with occasional interjections from Vail. They are all so comfortable with one another, I kind of envy that. I wish I could have that with someone. Maybe with Gretchen.
I shake my head and pop a baby carrot into my mouth. No point wasting time on that daydream. That’s not going to happen. She wants me as far out of her way as I can get.
At least I can sit here and enjoy not being alone at lunchtime for once. Not having to sneak my food into the back corner of the library. I can eat in relative, nonlonely peace.
Maybe things at Alpha won’t be so bad after all.
“Nice to see you’ve found others of your kind,” a snooty voice whines from behind me.
I don’t have to turn around to know who it is.
“Get lost, Miranda,” Vail says, glaring over my right shoulder. “Don’t you have a Botox appointment? Your forehead is looking a little wrinkly.”
“Funny,” she says, without humor. “I wanted to congratulate Grace on finding the loser table. You make a nice quartet, like four best girlfriends.”
Vail’s gaze flicks to Jax half a second before she pushes to her feet. Lulu grabs her by the arm and tugs her back down. “Don’t.”
“Do you think that’s an insult?” Jax laughs. “I’d rather be called a girlfriend than a stereotype any day.”
I whip around to see Miranda’s reaction, but before she can say a word, Ms. West walks up, looking all elegance again in a lavender blouse and khaki slacks.
“Everything all right here?” she asks, running her gaze over the whole table.
Her eyes settle on me, and I feel compelled to answer. Flicking a nervous glance at Miranda, I say, “Yeah. Fine.”
“Excellent.” Ms. West turns to Miranda and asks, “Would you mind helping me prepare some handouts I need to distribute in seventh period?”
“Of course,” Miranda replies, turning instantly into a perfect ray of sunshine. I hadn’t realized she was such a kiss-up.
As she follows Ms. West away, she turns back and gives our table—our table—a sneer. As if they’ve preplanned it, my three lunch mates simultaneously flip her the bird. A little more extreme—and detention earning—than I am. But since Miranda huffs and storms away, it’s obviously effective.
Lulu gives Jax a high five over the table.
“Such a waste of perfect hair care.” Jax sighs. “Lowlights that beautiful should only go to the most deserving.”
“You might not have noticed,” Lulu says to me, “but Miranda is Vail’s archnemesis.”
Yeah, I’ve noticed. “She’s been pretty awful to me too,” I say, glad to have found something in common with Vail and her friends.
“She was born bad,” Jax add.
“You give her too much credit,” Vail grumbles. “She’s insecure. She makes herself feel better by belittling anyone with confidence and picking on those without.”
“Isn’t that what I said?” Jax asks with fake seriousness.
Lulu laughs.
Vail rolls her eyes and goes back to her mush.
My mind processes what Vail said. Is that why Miranda picks on me? Because I don’t have any confidence? I definitely don’t have the courage Vail has to stand up to her, but I didn’t think of myself as such a total weakling. Maybe I can absorb some confidence from the group around me.
I look around at the three friends with wonder, amazed at their ability to confront Miranda as a unified team and bounce right back from her attack. Strength in numbers.
For some reason, that makes me think about Gretchen again. I keep picturing the three monsters in the nightclub and how she’s out there fighting them all alone. I keep thinking about how she pushed me away, and I let her.
My wrap becomes a little hard to swallow, and I take a big swig of juice to wash it down. If a unified front can take down Miranda, it can’t hurt when fighting mythological monsters.
Have Gretchen and I made a big mistake? And will I get a chance to fix it?
Thane and Milo are already at the dining table doing homework when I get home. I try to act all nonchalant, dropping my backpack casually by the door and heading for the kitchen, as if I’m not dying to sit down at the table with Milo.
Playing it cool is so much harder than it looks.
I pull open the refrigerator and let out the breath I’ve been holding since I first saw Milo’s dark curls at the table. I take my time choosing from the array of pop on the second shelf, when I already know I want pineapple Fanta. What if Milo thinks I’m a freak for disappearing from the club on Friday night? Which is nothing compared to what he might think if he ever knew my mythological truth, but it’s bad enough. Besides, Thane is still kind of mad at me, so there’s no telling what he said to Milo today.
No, no way. I delete that thought as soon it clears my brain. No matter how mad Thane is at me, he would never badmouth me or anyone else in the family. He’s loyal, first and foremost. He could want to strangle me one second, but would still lay down his life for me the next.
Maybe he’s so devoted because he was adopted at a late age, long past the time most kids are unceremoniously dumped into the vicious foster-care cycle. When I was seven, Mom and Dad decided they wanted another child. They might have started out looking for a baby, as most adoptive parents do. Then we met Thane.
Everything changed.
He had been picked up off the street, found sleeping in an alley with a mangy mutt curled up against his belly for warmth. We went to see him at the adoption agent’s house where they were keeping him until a foster home could be found. He was sitting in the chair next to the fireplace, feet pulled up in front of him and chin resting on his knees. He didn’t say a word, just looked up as Mom and Dad approached, not betraying an ounce of the joy I knew had to be bursting inside. I’m sure he didn’t want to get his hopes up, only to have his heart broken again.
I think it was those big gray eyes, a few shades darker than my own, that drew them in.
The agent said a lot of couples weren’t interested because he was so quiet. They worried he might be brain damaged or mentally deficient. Their loss, because we are so lucky to have him.
Besides getting adopted myself, he’s the best thing that ever happened in my life.
Even when he’s mad at me.
“Hey, stranger.”
“Ack!” I jump at the sound of Milo’s voice, knocking my head against the underside of the freezer door. “Ow.”
“Sorry,” he says, reaching out to gently rub the place where I hit my head. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I whisper. I lift my hand to the spot, careful not to touch his but hyperaware that our fingers are only millimeters apart. “Just fine.”
I might have a massive knot there in the morning, but for right now I am absolutely fabulous. He’s standing oh so close, with his hand on my hair, his pale eyes gazing into mine with worry. I could melt into the floor.
“Didn’t mean to startle you.” He pulls his hand away, and my head suddenly feels cold.
“No problem.” I drop my hand too, even though my skull is throbbing as if the blood is going to burst out at any second. I don’t want to look dumb, standing there holding my head.
“Wanted to grab another soda.” He reaches around me into the fridge and pulls out a can of Coke.
I’m grinning and nodding like a fool as he turns away.
Then he suddenly turns back. “Hey, I saw you in school today.”
“What?” I shake my head. “You were at Alpha?”
“No, at Euclid.” He looks adorably confused. “I got a library pass in third period and I saw you in the hall. You didn’t even say hi. Why’d you take off like that?”
“That’s im—”
Holy goalie. Gretchen! He must have seen Gretchen.
I knew this was going to be complicated.
As soon as I saw her walking into Thane’s school, I should have known this would happen. But no, I was too caught up in my hurt feelings over her dismissal and my guilt over slinking away like a coward. Sometimes I’m such an idiot.
I’m probably lucky they haven’t run into each other before. If Milo weren’t a year older or their school weren’t so big, I’m sure they would have already met.
“It must have been someone who looked kinda like me,” I finally say. “I was at Alpha all day.”
Both statements are true. I just leave out the part where I know exactly who he saw, and that she looks more than kinda like me.
“Must have been.” He shakes his head, like he knew it couldn’t have been me but he was sure it was. “Weird.”
“Yeah,” I say with a forced laugh. “Weird.”
He heads back into the dining room and I close the refrigerator door. This can only get worse. If Milo can run into her in the hall that easily, then Thane can too. Eventually he is going to see her, and he won’t be as easy to convince as Milo. We’ve sat across the dinner table for almost ten years. If he and Gretchen wind up face-to-face, he’ll know.
I need to talk to her about this.
Plus this is the perfect excuse to go see her again. Because if there is anything I’ve realized in the days since she dumped me back home on Friday night—especially after seeing that scorpion thing out in the daylight today—it’s that I’m not content to walk away and pretend that she doesn’t exist.
It might be complicated and dangerous and completely out of my comfort zone, but I have a sister and I’m not losing her right after finding her. I’m tired of being the gutless doormat. It’s time I found a spine and figured out how to use it.
“Mom,” I call out as I walk into the master bedroom. “Are you in here?”
“In the bathroom, honey.”
I follow the sound of her voice and find her squeezing caulk around the edge of the bathtub. The painting is done, and now she’s doing finishing touches in the bathroom. I’m not sure what’s left on her to-do list, but it can’t be much.
“It’s looking great,” I say.
“Thanks.” She beams, with a smear of caulk across her cheek.
I motion for her to wipe it off, and as she grabs for a rag I ask, “Is it okay if I go over to a friend’s house to do homework?”
“What’s her name?” Mom’s efforts only make the caulk smear worse. “Where does she live?”
“Gretchen. And not far,” I fib. Nothing’s far in San Francisco if you catch a bus. “We’re in a lot of the same classes, so it will really help as the school year goes on.”
I’m a little surprised at how easily the lies fall out of my mouth.
“Okay,” she relents after a moment of hesitation. “Be home for dinner.”
“Mom,” I whine. “We won’t have time to get anything done.”
She heaves a sarcastic sigh and drops her rag. “Fine, be home by ten. And call when you’re on your way.”
“Thanks.”
I’m gone before she can change her mind. As I dart through the dining room, I throw a glance at the boys. Milo’s dark head is bent over a book. Thane catches my eye and lifts his brows in question.
“Going to a friend’s,” I explain quickly. “See you later.”
“Grace,” Thane says, and I spin back to face the table. “Be careful.”
His dark-gray eyes are guarded and intense.
“I—” For some reason, I can’t just give him a glib reassurance that I’ll be fine. “I will.”
He nods, apparently satisfied with my answer, and turns his attention back to his book. I grab my backpack to make it look good, even though I have no intention of studying with Gretchen, and hurry to the closest bus stop. I’ve been putting this off for three days, but now that the decision is made, I’m anxious to talk to her—just to be with her again, and to feel like I belong to something, even if she doesn’t want me there.
I’m not sure which buses to take to get to her pier, but I’ll ask the driver. They should know, right?
My heart starts pounding at the thought of seeing Gretchen again. I’m not big on confrontation, and I have a feeling she’s not going to be too thrilled to see me again. But for once in my life, I’m going to stand up for something. For myself. I hope she doesn’t slam the door in my face.
“It’ll be fine,” I tell myself. “I mean, we’re obviously sisters. She can’t dismiss that. She can’t shut me out forever.” A wave of doubts washes over me. “Right?”
I sense another person stepping up beside me at the bus stop, but I keep my eyes straight ahead. After only a few days in the city I’ve learned that making eye contact can be dangerous. When Thane and I went to the grocery store the day after moving in, we ran into a woman on the street who shouted at us and shot an imaginary pistol in my face. I was terrified. Thankfully, Thane grabbed my wrist and dragged me down the block.
Since then, I keep my eyes averted as much as possible.
“Which bus goes to the Presidio?” the person asks.
“Um, I’m not sure,” I say, unable to ignore a direct question. “I’m new in town and I haven’t really—”
I freeze when look up at the person next to me and see that it’s not a person at all, but a woman with the shiny head of a cobra. A pair of yellow beady eyes peer at me from opposite sides of the triangle-shaped head, and wide, scaly flaps spread out beneath each ear. Maybe if I’d played it cool she wouldn’t have noticed, wouldn’t have realized that I saw her true form. But I’m not cool and I can’t stop the scream that bursts from my throat.
A sickly sly smile spreads across her dark-green lips. “Must be my lucky night.”
Before her forked tongue can slither out between her lips, I turn and run. I make it only a few steps before I feel her human hands clamp over my shoulders. Our momentum thrusts me face-first into the pavement, and her weight crushes against my back, knocking the wind out of me.
As soon as I recover my breath, I struggle to pull myself away, out from under her, my fingertips scraping raw on the rough concrete. There is nothing for me to grab, no traction to drag myself out of her grasp. Still, I reach, desperate to find purchase.
Her weight lifts, but before I can scramble away, she flips me onto my back and pins my arms and legs with her own.
A thin line of serpent drool dangles from her scale-covered chin.
“Ew!” I struggle to shake off her grip, but she’s too strong for me.
The ridiculous thought floats through my mind that, if I survive the night, I should totally change one of my electives to Tae Kwon Do. Ms. West will be so happy. If I’m not dead.
Her snake head slowly lowers toward my face. “I’ve never tasted a huntress before.” The tongue darts out, flicking my nose. “You don’t need to be whole to earn me my freedom.”
What?
As her fangs descend toward my neck, I squeeze my eyes shut against the sight of her yellow eyes. Bleak, empty eyes. Hungry eyes. I can’t believe I’m going to die like this. Move to the big city and the fears are rapists and murderers and even doomsday cults, but death by giant-snake bite?
Mom is going to be very upset.
The weight suddenly lifts away.
“Ugh,” I grunt as I lift my free arms to my head.
“Grace?”
I blink my eyes open to find Gretchen standing over me, looking like I’m the burning bag of dog poo left on her porch Halloween night. Why would she look at me like that when she obviously just saved my butt from snake-head lady?
“Thank you, I—” But as I sit up and look around, I see that I’m not on the sidewalk around the corner from the bus stop. I’m on the metal steps above Gretchen’s garage. Halfway across town, without a snake-headed lady in sight. “How did I—?”
Did I . . . teleport here?
That’s ridiculous. It’s not only physically impossible, it’s also . . . well . . . I don’t know, impossible! I must have hit my head too hard against the concrete. And then maybe a bus driver found me and—
Oh, who am I kidding? The only reasonable no-matter-how-crazy-it-sounds explanation is that I somehow beamed across town to Gretchen’s loft.
“What are you doing here?” she demands, clearly unhappy to see me. “I thought I made it clear that you needed to stay in your safe little life.”
Now that makes me angry. Who is she to tell me what to do? She has no right to give me orders. And she doesn’t know anything about my life.
My emotions are running a little high from my snake attack. I need to get this under control before I make Gretchen even angrier. We need to talk about this—about my popping to her doorstep and her seeing Milo at school—and we need to do it calmly and rationally so we can figure out what to do.
Deep breath, Grace.
Besides, my “little life” isn’t exactly safe, is it?
“Tell me something, Gretchen,” I say climbing to my feet and holding out my hands so she can see my raw fingertips. “Have you ever teleported out of a fight?”