by Ashia Monet
“What the fuck?” Blythe shouts.
“That is not a valid indicator of your location, try again,” Jay replies.
“How are you talking?”
“This is an intercom system, but you’re really not helping me here.”
Cordelia’s voice appears. “We’re in the kitchen!”
“Thanks, Cords,” Jay says, and it shuts off.
Caspian glares up at the ceiling. “He’s moody,” he says. “That’s annoying.”
Blythe sighs. If she had the time and energy to get into it, she would. But she needs to save this positive energy for Electric City. Lord knows she’s going to need it. “You just don’t like him,” she says plainly.
Caspian simply stares straight ahead, as if ignoring her statement will make it less true.
They find the kitchen alight with both sunlight and noise. A tray of food sits on the marble island countertop, courtesy of Antonio: fluffy pancakes, golden French toast, an array of sausages and bacon, bowls of fruit.
The Guardians are seated around it, Antonio talking a mile a minute, Storm falling asleep with her chin in her hand, Cordelia cross legged, and Daniel studying them all avidly.
“Morning!” Blythe shouts.
Storm’s eyes pop open. “Damn, girl!” she says. “Look at all that hair!”
Blythe flips her curls, voguing. “Finally got to do a good twist-out last night.”
Caspian’s form fades into the room, gradually, slowly. All of the Guardians’ eyes lock on him. Silence falls.
Caspian instantly disappears.
“Get back here,” Blythe whispers, and Caspian melts back into view.
“Guys,” Blythe announces. “Caspian and I talked this morning and we decided he’s going to be staying with us.”
“Judas is what!?” Storm screams.
Daniel’s eyes pop open, dancing excitedly. “That’s from the Bible! That’s the first reference anyone’s made that I’ve understood!”
Suddenly everyone’s congratulating him as if they’ve completely forgotten the point of the conversation—which, knowing the Guardians, they totally have.
Blythe has to steer them back. “Daniel, that’s amazing and I’m so proud of your Biblical knowledge, but we gotta talk about what happened last night.”
Everyone falls quiet, giving Caspian their attention—most of which is skeptical and reluctant. “Um,” he begins. “I’m sorry. I made a mistake—”
“A damn big one,” Storm interrupts.
“Let him speak!” Blythe snaps.
Caspian waits for them to settle, then starts again. “I made a mistake. I didn’t want to do it, but I take full responsibility for…turning you guys in. And indirectly being the reason you ended up here. It’s my fault things got ruined, and I’d like to help make them right again. And I swear on my life, it won’t happen again.”
“But you’re already dead,” Antonio points out.
“I—well,” Caspian hesitates. “You got me there.”
“Seriously?” Blythe interrupts. “Look, if you guys can forgive me for being an asshole for my family, you can forgive him for being an asshole for his family.”
“Oh, is that what this is about?” Antonio asks. “Sorry, all the words got me confused. I’m cool with you, Casp! That guy seemed mean, I’d be scared of him too.”
Cordelia squints at Antonio with annoyance and confusion. “Do you even know where you are right now? Do you know where we are?”
“Yeah, we’re at Jay’s house. We’re all here eating breakfast and Jay’s taking a shower.”
Storm throws up her hands. “Pause. How do you know exactly where he is?”
“I spent the night in his room!”
Blythe could interrupt them, but she’s more interested in watching this play out. Storm cocks her chin in her hand while Cordelia glares at Antonio, and Daniel just tries, desperately, to keep up with the conversation.
“And what did y’all get up to?” Storm asks.
Antonio takes a swig of orange juice. The poor boy is completely oblivious. “Oh, we didn’t sleep until like three AM. I don’t even think I’ve even seen three AM on a clock before.”
Cordelia clenches her jaw. Storm nearly falls out of her chair. “Antonio! I didn’t know you got down like—”
“I mean once you start watching Vine compilations you can’t stop, y’know?” Antonio continues.
Storm deflates. Cordelia moans in relief, turning her face to the heavens. Daniel whispers, “You were watching foliage for hours…? How did you even find footage like that…?”
Blythe turns to Caspian, who watches the Guardians with a vacant sort of apathy.
“I’m pretty sure they’re fine with you,” Blythe says.
An echoing voice makes the whole room go still. “Let me tell you, there is nothing like being in your own damn house and changing into your own damn clothes.”
The most beautiful boy in the world, a living portrait of human perfection, descends the staircase with a hypnotizing, effortless grace.
In clothes that actually fit, and with his eyes brighter than ever, Joshua Hoffman is a vision.
“Don’t you guys look cute,” Jay smiles. “Anyway, I feel like we should start over. I mean, I met you guys by, uh, threatening to kill Antonio. That sucks on multiple levels besides the obvious ‘murder’ part—one of which being that Antonio is God’s gift to this earth.”
“Bro!” Antonio yells. “You look great!”
“I can’t brag but—” Jay does a dramatic spin that makes his hair whip. “—I know a little about cleaning up. Anyway, I was saying something, but I forgot what it was. Are those blueberry pancakes?”
He breezes over to the table and rips off a piece before anyone can even answer. “Oh—also, I booked your plane tickets, your flight’s in a couple hours. Cords, does your plan accommodate for that?”
“I-It’s not time based,” Cordelia stammers.
“God, if I hadn’t gotten banned from the jet, we could have used that,” Jay says. “Aw man these are just normal pancakes. Disappointing. I love fruit.”
“You got banned from your jet?” Antonio asks.
“Oh, it’s a great story. Starts on the upper east side of New York City. Anyway, I’m ready to go whenever you are.”
Jay’s eyes land on Blythe—but she is, momentarily, too stunned to reply. This boy has donned three separate personalities within the one day they have known him, and this one is almost too rapid to keep up with.
“We’re…ready now?” Blythe looks to Cordelia, who nods pointedly. “Yes, okay. We’re ready now.”
“Then all we need is a car,” Jay flashes his red-carpet smile. “I’ll pick something with some speed.”
Twenty-Two
Hoffman Manor has no shortage of modern wonders. It shines as marvelously in the day as it gleams in the night. Off to the back, preceded by a long gravel driveway, is a two-story garage with a door that dwarfs Jay as he approaches it.
Jay places his hand on the scanner attached to the wall. But the screen turns red.
“Access restricted,” it chirps. “Please contact administrator.”
“Dude,” Antonio says. “I think you got banned from more than your jet.”
Jay’s back is to them, but judging from the way he snatches out his phone, he is not pleased.
“Do you want to tell me why I can’t get into the garage?” he snaps once the ringing stops.
A pause. “Yes, I’m home.”
Another pause. “That’s not my goddamn problem. I’m busy.”
The Guardians shuffle awkwardly, hands in their pockets or arms folded as they stare at the horizon, at the house, at anything other than Jay.
Blythe can’t relate. She watches Jay like a hawk, listening to the other line. His silence stretches for so long, Blythe almost forgets he was talking.
“I’m not ‘being like’ anything,” he says, but his voice has lost its edge. “I didn’t know what happened that night. I
still don’t. I just sort of passed out and…I don’t know…”
His every emotion looks as if a painter has drawn the curves of his face with the finest brush. Even his frustration is a form of art. “Just get me into the garage,” he whispers. “I don’t—I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
He hangs up. But his energy has already extinguished, leaving behind a quiet boy who clenches his jaw.
“I’m sorry you had to hear that,” Jay apologizes.
“Was that your dad?” Antonio asks.
Jay kicks at the tile with the toe of his red bottoms. “Nah,” he says. “Just a…friend.”
“I knew it,” Storm says. “The Hoffmans look like they whoop ass.”
But Blythe squints. “Your friends have more access to your own house than you do?”
“It’s complicated,” Jay places his hand on the scanner. This time, it lights up green.
“Fucking finally,” he mutters as the garage door glides into the ceiling.
Displayed in front of them is a whole showroom’s worth of sleek cars, lines upon lines or Porches, Teslas, Bugattis, and models Blythe can’t even identify.
“Jesus Christ,” Cordelia gasps.
Jay regards them with the same amount of dull disinterest he’s given to the rest of his house. “My dad collects them.”
“HOLY SHIT!” Storm screams. She bolts into the garage so quickly her skates scream against the ground, dark eyes wide as she drinks up every spoked rim and touch-activated dashboard she can find.
The rest of the Guardians trail after her, buoyed by her excitement, and Blythe watches them with a smile.
It’s nice to see them so happy over something as small as a bunch of nice cars.
Jay lingers beside her, but only physically. His gaze is empty, mind a hundred miles from here.
“…Would you guys care if I joined you?” he asks.
“Joined us how?” Blythe asks. “To Electric City?”
She doesn’t want to reject him—at least, not all of her wants to reject him. But this sudden change of heart is…suspicious.
Her words do little to bring Jay out of his trance. “Yeah.”
“Of course you can!” Cordelia yells.
“Dude, heck yeah,” Antonio says. “You could be our sponsor or something!”
Jay musters up a smile. If Blythe hadn’t seen him laughing earlier, she wouldn’t be able to tell it was fake.
She lowers her voice as Daniel, Storm, Antonio and Cordelia talk amongst themselves, moving toward a Tahoe in the back of the garage.
“You can come,” she says to him. “But only if you tell me what changed your mind.”
Jay’s jawline draws straighter as he clenches his teeth. “Can I talk to you on the plane?” he asks.
“The whole reason why we got into that accident with the Erasers was because one of our friends fucked us over,” Blythe says. “I’d like to keep that from happening again.”
Jay’s silver eyes spear into her. “I’m not going to get you into trouble. I know fuck all about magic,” he pauses. “That’s the whole problem.”
Ah. So, it’s a self-discovery mission. Blythe chews her lip as she watches Cordelia roll her eyes at something Daniel says, Antonio leaning an arm on Storm’s shoulder as she points out something on the truck’s tires.
Jay could end up being a liability—especially in Electric City. But the others will never leave him behind. They’re already too attached to him…and, as much as Blythe hates to admit it, so is she.
“Fine,” she says. “We’ll talk on the plane.”
They pile into the Tahoe that Storm has picked out—but Jay takes the driver’s seat.
“I always drive,” he says when Blythe outstretches her hand for the keys. “And didn’t Cords yell at you about chilling out or something?”
Blythe always drives, that’s how this works. But honestly? It’d be nice to sit and scroll through her phone while someone else does the work.
So she gets in the passenger seat, chin in her hand as she watches Hoffman Manor sink in the rearview mirror.
Antonio pokes his head in from the back seat. “Shouldn’t you be wearing shades?” He asks. Blythe almost answers, but he’s talking to Jay. “Or some other celebrity disguise? You gotta stay safe, dude. I don’t want you getting ambushed or something.”
“Nah, I’m good,” Jay answers. “Nobody even knows what I look like.”
“Is that why you don’t take photos?” Cordelia asks. “That’s genius.”
“No, I…just don’t like them,” Jay says, and then, with the experience of someone who is used to diverting attention, easily changes the subject.
The Guardians fall for it, hook line and sinker. But Blythe doesn’t. As he got in the truck, Jay angled all of the mirrors in an…odd way for a driver. He’d moved them all away from himself, so not a single one could reflect his face.
And from the moment they enter the airport, the shift in the air is palpable. The Guardians have always garnered looks from people; they’re a group of mostly non-white teenagers, often found in places they shouldn’t be. People tend to pay attention. But they’ve never paid attention like they do now.
Tourists lugging huge suitcases freeze, eyes zeroed straight on them like sniper crosshairs. Entire families stare at their every move until they drift out of sight. Or, no, not all of them. Specifically, Jay.
Conversations abruptly halt as he passes, as if his very presence is too overwhelming to be ignored. Eyes stalk him wherever he goes; endless, unblinking, dumbstruck staring.
Jay is not oblivious. His expression is too blank to be anything but forced.
Blythe casually drifts to his side. “Does this…always happen?”
Jay does not even blink. “Yeah.”
Jay failed to mention that he brought first class tickets—apparently, to him, it wasn’t worth mentioning. Antonio is overexcited and Cordelia is relieved, but Jay simply slouches into his window seat, chin in his hand.
Blythe takes the seat beside him. Behind them, Storm’s earbuds blast music while Cordelia and Antonio softly argue over whether or not first class has a better movie selection.
“So,” Blythe begins. “…Can we talk about what happened back at your house, or…?”
Jay stares out of the window as if the clouds could steal his attention away at any second. “Yeah. But if you don’t want to listen, I get it. It’s a long story. I just…I think it might have something to do with everything. And I just…it might…” He stops himself, shutting his eyes. “Sorry, sorry. I’ll just…I’ll start at the beginning.”
“Take your time,” Blythe says. “We’ve got a whole flight ahead of us.”
Jay lets out a long, slow breath. “It’s about the night you guys found me.”
Blythe sits up straighter at those words. She’d always wondered what, exactly, happened to him.
“I was at a house party in Florida. And I was drinking. A lot, as in, probably-went-overboard ‘a lot’. And I was being a dick, I guess, so one of my friends called…okay, remember the person I called before we went into the garage? He called a group of them to take me home. They’re kind of…my friends, I guess, but also kind of in charge of me—”
“Babysitters,” Blythe interrupts, blunt.
“Kind of,” Jay agrees. “Anyway, I was pissed about the whole thing, but the guys came and dragged me out. We were on the way back home and we took this shortcut through the woods—” His eyes fly open. “Mother of fuck.”
Blythe leans toward him. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s the Tempore. The shortcut through the woods we always took. It’s been the Tempore this whole time. I’ve been using the Tempore for three years and I didn’t even know.”
Jay sinks in his seat, staring at the seat in front of him as if all of his truths are written there.
“You’ve used the Tempore?” Blythe asks, reclaiming his attention.
“Yes. No, I-I’m sorry,” he stammers, running a ha
nd through his hair. “They’d always take me through this shortcut in the woods whenever I got…trashed.”
Blythe’s nose wrinkles before she can stop herself. “You get drunk that often?”
“Not that often,” Jay says. He gets banned from his family jet and dragged home from parties for being too drunk.
It’s probably pretty often.
“Anyway,” Jay powers through. “We got into the Tempore, and this is where things get blurry. I remember my friends talking like something was wrong, but I wasn’t really paying attention. Then we heard explosions. To clarify, my friends…they get into some shit. They’re basically in a gang. Stop making that face, let me talk. So, at the time, I assumed the noise was gunshots. I don’t really remember anything else until I got knocked to the ground. People were yelling for me, but as I got up, I remember seeing, through the trees and shit, there were these…these weird lights? And…okay, you’ve seen Star Wars, right?”
Blythe nods. “I love Star Wars.”
“Same,” Jay agrees. “Imma be real with you, I was crossfaded. So, I might be remembering this wrong, but I swear there were orange lights, and this man…he was in this long like…coat? A black coat? And he was holding two lightsabers.”
“I think that was definitely whatever laced weed you smoked,” Blythe says.
Jay thinks about it for a moment. “Probably. Anyway, so, I’m looking at this Emperor Palpatine hallucination, and it looks like it’s coming closer, lightsabers drawn. And I’m thinking, shit, I don’t know how to use a lightsaber. I don’t even have one.”
“Jay.”
“Listen, I’m tryna tell you! So my friend screams at me to run, right? So I do, and I’m not running into Palpatine, but I can’t go backward, because my friends are doing God knows what back there. But as I’m running something…grabs me. Purposefully. Not like how somebody grabs you when they’re just trying to fuck up anybody and everybody. Like this person—or this thing—specifically wanted me. And it was…it was dragging me? And I remember seeing fire, but not feeling it, and then I was falling. I don’t know how I fell. But everything got dark, like the whole world shut its lights off. And then I woke up in the hotel with you guys.”