“No, Gretchen,” I argue. “I don’t want to—”
She stomps out of the room without another word. I don’t want to follow her. I want to stay here, to talk and get to know her and ask more questions. Does she sneeze in threes too? Does she hate cherries and love avocados? What’s her worst subject in school? I can’t just walk away from all of this. I can’t just walk away from her.
If we’re twins, like I have to believe we are, then her heritage is also mine. Her duty to hunt monsters is also mine. Is it fair to let her continue to carry that responsibility all on her own?
But as much as I want to embrace this new part of myself, I’m a little scared. I can see that her lifestyle is dangerous. I mean, she took down three mythological monsters by herself tonight. They probably don’t go down without a serious fight. She got injured on her ankle and her neck, and I bet that’s nothing compared to other injuries she’s had. It’s dangerous and probably potentially deadly.
Maybe Gretchen is right. Maybe I should go back to my safe world, with parents and a brother who love me very much and would be devastated if I got eaten by a chimera. If I stay and try to help, I might even get Gretchen hurt in the process.
My heart sinks at the thought of going back to my ordinary life and pretending this night never happened, but it might be for the best. For both of us.
Quietly, I follow Gretchen down to the car. As I drop into the passenger seat and she revs the engine, I can’t help feeling like a total coward. That somewhere, wherever she is, our birth mother is ashamed. Buildings blur by my window as I wipe a tear from my eye. But I don’t say a word.
Coward it is.
Chapter 8
Grace
After a night of horrible and heartbreaking dreams, I finally drag myself out of bed Saturday morning with only an hour to spare before it turns into afternoon. As I face the mirror in the bathroom Thane and I share, I’m amazed I still look like myself. So many things changed last night, it seems impossible that I haven’t.
I squeeze a dollop of toothpaste onto my brush. While I scrub back and forth across my teeth, memories flash through my mind. The minotaur. The griffin. The feathered snake and the fire-breathing lizard. Gretchen. Her Mustang. Her loft. Her library. The tight feeling in my chest when she told me to get lost. The look I imagine was on my face when I surrendered to my fear.
I spit into the sink.
“It’s not like she wanted me around anyway,” I say, trying to convince myself. “She wanted me gone.”
As much as I might want to know my sister, she obviously doesn’t want to know me. And I’m perfectly happy to pretend that monsters and Medusa are figments of myth.
“Minotaurs don’t exist,” I tell my reflection.
Maybe if I pretend hard enough, I’ll actually believe it.
I stare into my silver-eyed reflection, willing myself to embrace the lie. To forget about Gretchen and minotaurs and my mythological heritage. To never see a monster again.
I sigh. “No such luck.”
“Trying to will yourself bigger boobs?”
“Thane!” I gasp, spinning and throwing a hairbrush at his privacy-invading head. “Get out of here.”
He ducks, avoiding death by hairbrush, and grins. I should be angry, but it’s hard to be mad when he’s in such a good mood. Especially after he was so angry at me for ditching the club.
“About last night,” I say, knowing I need to apologize. “I should have told you before I left.” Although it’s hard to say your good-byes when you’re hanging over someone’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
He bends down to grab my brush, and when he stands back up, his entire demeanor has changed. “You should be.”
“I—” How can I explain this without explaining this? “I was just so . . . excited to see my friend. She’s really the only person I’ve connected with in San Francisco.” True. “I didn’t stop to think.”
His expression doesn’t change, but I can read the silent Obviously as clearly as if he’d shouted.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat. “It won’t happen again.”
He nods, accepting my apology, and I’m relieved. As much as I hate lying to my family, I hate being in fights with them more.
“Family breakfast,” he says, handing me my brush. “Mom made pancakes.”
Mmmm. “I’ll be right there.”
He vanishes as silently as he appeared.
I take a few minutes to wash my face and run a brush through my hair. From the outside, I look like my normal self on a normal day, ready for a normal family breakfast. Well, at least one of the above is true.
I feel like I’m being pulled between two different worlds. On one side, there’s the only family I’ve ever known. The mom and dad and brother I love more than anything and who love me back just as much.
On the other side, there’s the family I never knew I had. The family I always dreamed about finding. A sister who, whether she wants to accept it or not, is as close to me as a person can get genetically. Somewhere, maybe, a biological mother who has answers about who and what we are. And a biological father too.
I don’t even know which side my mythological lineage comes from, but it’s a lineage that dates back thousands of years, to ancient Greece and beyond, to prehistoric myth.
How can I just pretend I don’t know about any of those things?
“Gracie!” Dad calls down the hall. “Hurry your behind out here before your brother eats all the pancakes.”
“Coming!” I shout back.
There isn’t another option. Gretchen wants less than nothing to do with me—she made that a thousand percent clear. And I have a loving, normal family waiting for me out there, expecting me to be the same old Grace I was yesterday. That’s who I have to be right now.
Normal, I tell myself as I drop my brush back into the drawer and slide the whole thing shut. I can do this.
In the dining room, I find Mom, Dad, and Thane sitting around the table. There’s a steaming pile of pancakes, a pitcher of warm maple syrup, and a platter of greasy bacon. I force myself into the routine of an ordinary family breakfast. As I drop into my chair, Mom hands me the pancakes.
“Delicious,” I hum, inhaling the tasty aroma. So much better than eau de monster.
No! I’m not going there.
I fork a short stack of pancakes onto my plate, smear them with butter, and smother them with maple syrup. Thane waves the plate of bacon in my direction.
“Ha ha,” I say, pushing it away.
He dumps half the bacon onto his plate. “Oink, oink.”
“Thane,” Mom chides.
“It’s okay,” I insist. “I’m used to it.”
“That’s my girl,” Dad says. “Now, kiddos, tell me about week one. Any horror stories to share?”
Horror stories? Absolutely. To share? Not on your life. Even if I can accept the fact that I’m not insane, there’s no way I can tell anyone about seeing monsters. Or meeting my sister. As much as I believe it to be true, I don’t think anyone else would.
“Nothing exciting,” I say between bites of pancake. Ignor-ing the topic of my unwelcoming fellow students, I focus on academics. “Alpha has some awesome electives choices. Tae Kwon Do and Operatic Singing.”
“Very impressive,” Dad says with a nod. “And which classes are you electing to take?”
“Computer Science,” I say.
Thane mutters, “Duh.”
I throw a piece of pancake at his forehead. He dodges it, like the hairbrush, and it flies past him and onto the floor.
“And I’m thinking,” I say, as if my brother isn’t acting like an idiot this morning, “maybe . . . Yearbook.”
Even though I’ve already picked my electives, part of me can’t help protecting myself against potential disapproval. Ms. West did say I could still change, and if Mom and Dad think Yearbook is a bad idea, then maybe I should.
Mom fills my glass with orange juice. “That sounds like fun,” she says. “It’ll b
e good for you to have something less academic.”
Dad smiles, and I release a relieved sigh.
“I agree,” he says as he grabs a piece of bacon off Thane’s plate. “And what about you, Thane? How was your first week at Euclid?”
Thane shrugs, his entire body stiffening at the question. He hates talking about school because it inevitably leads to talking about his nonexistent plans for the future. “Met a cool guy. Made the soccer team.”
A cool guy. As if that’s all there is to Milo. As if he’s not beautiful and sweet and fun and— Okay, so maybe Thane wouldn’t say all those things, but they’re true.
Of course, by now Milo probably thinks I’m a flake for disappearing last night. Imagine if he knew I’m a descendant of a mythological monster too. Full-scale freak.
“You know,” Dad says to Thane, “my company has a highly respected internship program.” He takes a sip of coffee. “You should consider applying.”
My head drops and I keep my eyes glued to my plate. Dad and Thane have this continuing battle about Thane’s future. My brother has no plans to go to college, and for environmental-engineer Dad and retired-lawyer Mom, that’s a little hard to swallow. Thane doesn’t like to talk about his future at all. He’s more a live-in-the-moment guy. I know Dad has the best intentions, but whenever he goes down this path, it never ends well.
“No thanks,” Thane says.
Even without looking, I can feel his tension. Dad should really let this go.
“I wish you would consider it,” Dad says. “It’s an excellent opportunity to—”
Thane shoves back from the table and stands, sending his chair crashing to the floor. “I said I’m not interested.”
He’s out the front door before anyone can say a word. I give Dad a sympathetic look, even though I wish he would leave Thane alone about the future planning. Thane will figure things out eventually. None of us can make that happen any faster.
Mom takes Dad’s hand across the table. “It doesn’t help to push him, Sam,” she says.
Dad shakes his head. “I know, but I wish . . .”
We sit in silence for a few minutes, letting our breakfast get cold. When I can’t stand it anymore, I say, “He’ll come around, Dad. You know he has stuff to figure out.”
“I know.” Dad gives me a sad smile. “But I’m his father. I feel responsible for helping him do that.”
I get up and give Dad a hug.
“You are helping him,” I say, squeezing extra tight. “He just isn’t ready yet.”
“Thanks, Gracie.” Dad pats me on the back.
We go back to eating our breakfast in silence. Unfortunately, the lack of conversation gives my mind the freedom to dwell on everything that happened last night. I don’t know why I do this to myself—go over and over stuff I can’t do anything about—but it’s like a compulsion. When Mom and Dad get up, I leap at the chance to busy myself with clearing the table.
I’m helping Mom with the dishes when Thane returns.
He nods at us and then goes to find Dad. Thane may have a temper, but he also has an acute sense of integrity. He’ll apologize, and everything will be back to normal.
Everything except me, of course.
Nothing can fix that.
Thane and I ride the same city bus to school, even though I stay on for several stops after he gets off. It’s packed in the morning, and I’m penned in by people on all sides. The bus takes the corner on the street that runs by Thane’s school, and I swing hard toward the window, over the lap of a man in a business suit who is busy checking email on his phone.
The businessman scowls at me, and before he can say something nasty, I look away, glancing out at the sidewalk to see how many people will try to cram on at the next stop.
That’s when I see the woman.
She could almost pass for fully human, except for the dark-red exoskeleton and the scorpion tail trailing behind her.
I squeeze my eyes shut. This is not happening. I mean, I know it’s happening—after everything that happened Friday night, I’d have to be completely delusional to pretend that monsters don’t exist, and Gretchen assured me I’m not insane—but it shouldn’t be happening. It’s against the rules or something. Gretchen said monsters don’t come out during the day. They’re supposed to be nocturnal, according to her and her missing mentor. So why is scorpion lady strolling down the street in the early-morning sun?
Well, you know what? Not my problem. Gretchen didn’t want me involved—and I walked away willingly—so I won’t be involved. It’s not like I can fight the monster, anyway. I wouldn’t even know how to try. I’m going to turn away from the window, open my eyes, and act as if the lady I saw was heading to an early-morning costume party.
Hey, it could happen.
The bus jostles down the street, slamming to a sudden stop and knocking me forward into a woman with a baby stroller, then back against Thane’s shoulder. He stares blankly out the window at the row of pastel buildings.
What’s wrong with him? I know he’s still a little upset about my nightclub disappearing act, but he said he was over it.
“Hey, are you okay?” I ask, not wanting to start the week with things weird between us. “I’ll apologize again if—”
“It’s nothing,” he snaps.
“Thane, seriously.” I lean around so I can look him in the eye. “I’m sorry I left without telling you. If I could go back and do it differently, I would.” Then, just in case humor will fix things faster, I add, “Hurry up and invent that time machine already.”
He cracks a grin and I release my breath. He says, “Working on it.”
We both laugh.
The bus jerks back into motion. I tighten my grip on the bar to keep from swinging into someone’s lap.
“So,” I ask tentatively, “we’re okay?”
“Yeah,” he says as bus pulls up in front of his school. “We’re fine.”
I guess that’s as good as I’m going to get from Thane this early in the morning. By the time we get home after school, things will be back to normal. Considering everything else going on right now, I need as much normal as I can get.
The bus stops in front of the main gate with a squeal of brakes, and everyone on board lurches forward a step. As the doors open, Thane nods at me and says, “See you later.”
I smile and give him a small wave as he heads toward the door.
Half the bus empties out and I drop into the nearest available seat. I’m glad it’s one with a view of the school, because if Thane is arriving at school, then maybe Milo is too. There is a whole ocean of students funneling into the central courtyard. If Milo were there, though, I know I’d be able to find him. I’d see his head of dark curly hair above the crowd.
I haven’t seen him since Friday night and I’m having Milo withdrawals. Okay, that’s an exaggeration—I realize I’ve barely met the boy—but I am worried that he might be mad at me too. One minute we were dancing, the next I was gone. Even though I’m nothing but a new buddy’s sister to him, he has every right to be annoyed about being abandoned.
I scan the mass, searching for a mop of dark messy curls.
Instead, I spot a long, dark-blond braid.
Gretchen?
She goes to Thane’s school? Well that’s one of my questions about her answered. As the bus pulls back into motion, I wonder what will happen if Thane sees her—or, considering my life lately, when Thane sees her. Instant mess. Great, another thing to worry about. Exactly what I need on a Monday morning.
“Good morning, Mrs. Deckler,” a woman’s voice says about fifteen minutes into homeroom.
I look up and see Ms. West standing in the doorway.
“I need to see Grace Whitfield.”
“Certainly.” Mrs. Deckler scans the room for me and says, “Your presence is requested.”
I push up from my desk and make my way down the aisle. As I pass Miranda’s desk, she slides her leg into my path. Luckily, I see it in time and manage to
leap over it, saving myself from a face-plant. Miranda laughs, but I ignore her. I stiffen my spine and follow Ms. West into the hallway.
She has a very serious look on her face. “Are you having a problem with Miranda?”
“No. No, it’s fine,” I insist. The last thing I want is to make a bigger deal of it than it already is. If I ignore Miranda’s taunts and jabs, then maybe she’ll eventually give up. She’ll decide I’m no fun to mess with, because I don’t fight back.
Hopefully.
“Are you certain?” Ms. West’s eyes narrow. “We do not tolerate disrespectful behavior here at Alpha. If another student is—”
“Really.” I appreciate her concern, but I want to handle this problem myself. “It’s fine.”
I force a cheery smile.
“All right then,” she says, shifting her focus. “I wanted to check in and give you one last opportunity to change your elective choices.”
“Change them?” I ask. “Why?”
“The drop deadline is tomorrow,” she says. “I thought I should give you one last chance to trade Yearbook for something else, something more . . . challenging.”
My schedule is full of challenging. Yearbook seems like it’s going to be fun, and it will give me a chance to meet lots of other students in the process.
“Actually,” I say, “I think I’ll stick it out with Yearbook.”
“Very well.” She clasps her hands behind her back. “As long as you’re happy with your choices.”
“Oh, I absolutely am.”
“Wonderful,” she says in a less-than-thrilled tone. She glances past me, into the classroom. Maybe at Miranda. For a moment I’m afraid she’s going to make a bigger deal out of that situation after all, but in the end she just says, “You should get back to your class.”
Then, without waiting for me to respond, she turns and walks away.
As I make my way back to my desk, wondering at Ms. West’s disapproval, I avoid Miranda’s leg again and swing into my seat.
“Ms. West is pretty harsh,” I say, kind of to Vail, but kind of to myself in case she ignores me.
She doesn’t.
“Guess so.” She shrugs. “Never really talked to her much myself.”
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