“That’s the point, isn’t it?”
“What, preventing your girlfriend from seeing your eyes?”
“Not you specifically.” He grinned. “Anyway, I think they’re pretty sweet.”
“I think it would be pretty sweet if I could see your eyes, David.”
Without hesitation, he slipped off the sunglasses and looked at her, his soft blue eyes open and earnest. All of Laurel’s worries dissipated and she turned to let him blindfold her. “I trust you,” she said.
Once the blindfold was in place, Laurel sat back in the passenger seat and tried to pay attention to each turn David was making, determined to keep track of where she was. But after about five minutes it became obvious that he was going in circles, so she gave up. Soon the car bumped against a curb and came to a stop. After a few seconds her door opened and David gently helped her out, one hand at her waist and the other on her shoulder to stabilize her.
“David,” Laurel said tentatively, “I hate to be a spoilsport, but I hope we’re someplace safe. After the other night…well…you know.”
“Don’t worry,” David said, his mouth close to her ear. “I’ve brought you to the safest place in the world.” David removed the blindfold, and for a moment the sunlight was blinding as it filtered down through the leaves, giving everything an ethereal glow. They were standing in a small clearing ringed by the very last of the autumn flowers — orange gloriosa daisies, touches of purple coneflowers, and some blue Russian sage. In the middle, on a patch of thick, green grass, was a blanket with a couple of couch pillows and several bowls of sliced fruit. Strawberries, nectarines, apples, and a bottle of sparkling cider with beads of condensation that glinted in the gentle sunlight. Laurel smiled and turned around to confirm her suspicion — just past the edge of the trees, she could see her own backyard. Safest place in the world, indeed.
“David! This is beautiful!” Laurel said breathlessly, stretching up on her toes to kiss him, glad they were just out of sight of the house, in case either of her parents came home for lunch — which they usually didn’t. “When did you do this?”
“There was a reason you couldn’t find me this morning,” he said sheepishly.
“David Lawson!” Laurel gasped with mock sternness. “What is the world coming to when Del Norte’s star student is skipping his classes?”
He shrugged, then grinned. “Some things are more important than my GPA.”
After a brief hesitation, Laurel asked, “Did I…forget some special occasion?”
David shook his head. “Nope. I just thought that we’ve both been under so much stress lately that we haven’t really had any good together-time.”
Laurel reached her arms around David’s neck and kissed him. “I think this is definitely going to make up for it.”
“That’s the idea,” he replied. “Have a seat.” She sat cross-legged on the blanket and he dropped to the ground behind her. “One more thing,” he said, his hands slipping around her waist, just under her shirt. Laurel smiled as he worked at the knot in her sash, but he eventually managed it and pushed her shirt back so her blossom could splay out behind her. “Much better,” David said. He poured them each a glass of cider and they lay propped up on the pillows, with Laurel snuggled against David’s chest.
“This is awesome,” Laurel said lazily. David held up a slice of nectarine; she laughed as he avoided her hands and held the fruit toward her face. She tilted her head back and opened her mouth. She leaned forward at the last second, her teeth biting lightly at his fingers. Then she let his hand go and pressed her mouth against his lips instead. His fingers trailed over the bare skin, now showing between the top of her jeans and the hem of her shirt, caressing her softly, gently, tentatively. Even after a year he always touched her that way, as if it was a privilege he wasn’t entirely convinced he had earned.
He tasted like apples and nectarines, and the smell from the grass had seeped into his clothes. Laurel often noticed the biological differences between the two of them, but today they seemed the same. With the smell and taste of nature all around him, David could almost have been a faerie.
“How is your blossom?” David asked, stroking it very gently.
“It’s okay now,” Laurel said. “The first couple of days it still ached, but I think it’s going to be fine.” She craned her neck, trying to see the damaged side. “I hate the way it’s healing, though. The ends are dry and brown. It’s really not very pretty.”
“But it was some major damage,” David said. He kissed her forehead. “It will grow back next year and will be as beautiful as ever.”
“Wow, next year,” Laurel said. “I can hardly even imagine next year. Sometimes it feels like this year will never end.”
“And last year — doesn’t it seem like ages ago? So much has happened.” David laughed. “Would you have imagined a year ago that we’d be lying here today?”
Laurel just smiled and shook her head. “I thought I was on death’s door last year.”
“What do you think we’ll be doing next year?”
“This same thing, I hope,” Laurel said, snuggling against him.
“Well, other than that.” He lay back, lacing his fingers together to support his head. Laurel rolled onto her side, her stomach pressed against his ribs. “I mean, senior year next year. We’ll be picking colleges and stuff.”
Laurel’s heart sank and she looked away from him. Ever since Chelsea had brought up the SAT tests the thought of her educational future had been a little hard to think about. “I don’t think college is in my future.”
“What? Why not?”
“I imagine they’ll want me at the Academy full-time,” she said, a little despondently.
David propped his head up on his elbow so he could look at her. “I always figured you would study at the Academy off and on — maybe full-time eventually — but that doesn’t mean you can’t go to college.”
“What would be the point?” Laurel shrugged. “It’s not like I’m going to have a career someday. I’m a faerie.”
“So?”
“They’ll want me to do…faerie stuff.” She gestured vaguely with her hands.
David pursed his lips. “What does it matter what they want? What do you want?”
“I…don’t really know, I guess. What else would I do?”
“You’re way more than just a faerie, Laurel. You have this opportunity to do something most faeries never get to do. To live like a human. To make that choice.”
“But they’ll never see any of that as important. The only thing that matters to anyone in Avalon is that I learn how to be a Fall faerie — and that I inherit the land.”
“It doesn’t matter what they think is important. You’re the one who decides what’s important. Same with anything in life. The value you give it is the only value it has.” He paused. “Don’t let them convince you that humans aren’t important,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “If you think we’re important, then we are.”
“But what would I do?”
“What did you want to do before you found out you were a faerie?”
Laurel shrugged. “I hadn’t decided on just one thing. I thought about being an English teacher or a college professor.” She grinned. “For a while I thought about being a nurse. I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone that.”
“How come?”
She rolled her eyes. “My mom would just die if I ended up working in a hospital.” She looked up at David. “I’ve always kind of wanted to be in a position where I could help people, you know?”
“What about being a doctor?”
She shook her head. “That’s the thing — I don’t think I’m really that interested in medicine…or teaching, either. But teachers and nurses help people, so I thought maybe that’s what I’d do. But I really don’t know.”
“Well, whatever you decide to do, you should do it. But it should be what you want.”
“Sometimes…sometimes I don’t think I have control o
ver my life anymore. I mean, do I have the option of not attending the Academy? It’s the role I’ve always been intended for.”
“What are they going to do? Drag you kicking and screaming back to Avalon? I kinda doubt it.”
Laurel nodded slowly. He was right. Maybe she could stay.
But will I want to stay?
For now, all she wanted was to enjoy David. He looked like he was about to say something else, but she cut him off with a kiss, her arms wrapping around his neck. “Thank you for this,” she murmured against his mouth. “It’s just what I needed. You always seem to know exactly what I need.”
“My pleasure,” David said, smiling softly. The air around them was full of the scent of pine and fruit, damp earth and the soft aroma of Laurel’s blossom. Everything was perfect as he kissed her again, his lips always so soft, so gentle. Now his hands were in her hair as Laurel raised one knee up to rest against his thigh, their bodies snug together like well-fitting puzzle pieces. She never wanted this to end.
David pulled his face back and studied her, staring until Laurel giggled self-consciously. “What?”
David’s mouth, usually so quick to smile, stayed serious. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. “And not just because of what you look like. Everything about you is beautiful. Sometimes I’m afraid this is the most awesome dream ever, and I’m going to wake up someday.” He chuckled. “And quite frankly, you being a faerie isn’t exactly helping.”
They both laughed, the sound filling the glade. “Well,” she said coyly, “I guess I’ll have to prove to you just how real I am.” She pressed herself close against his chest and lifted her head to kiss him again.
TWENTY
LAUREL SPRAWLED DOWN ON HER BED WITH A smile. It had been such a great day — and a break she really needed. With a contented sigh she spread her arms out and something sharp hit her elbow. She glanced over at a familiar-looking square of ribbon-bedecked parchment. A nervous jolt shot through her and she hoped this wasn’t an early summons to come back to the Academy for the winter break in December. Much as she had enjoyed her summer in Avalon, she didn’t want to spend the rest of high school being summoned to the Academy every time she had a break from school. She had a life!
Hesitantly, she pulled the ends of the ribbon and opened the folded square. A thrill of excitement replaced her dread.
You are cordially invited to attend the festival of Samhain to usher in the New Year. Should you choose to attend, please present yourself at the gate on the morning of November 1st.
Formal dress is requested.
Then, scribbled in boyish script at the lower right hand corner of the invitation, was a note.
I’ll escort you. Tam
Nothing else.
She touched the signature at the bottom. It said so much and yet so little. There was no closing; not “Love, Tam” or “Your Tam.” Or even “Sincerely, Tam.” But he had signed it Tam, not Tamani. Maybe it was in case someone else opened the invitation. Or maybe he had noticed that she only called him Tam when they were having a particularly close moment.
And maybe it meant nothing at all.
Besides, that was the least of her concerns. How was she going to make this work? She couldn’t tell David. Not after the way he had reacted last time she’d gone to see Tamani. Suddenly she wondered how much today was inspired by the long Saturday she’d just spent at the land. Telling David she wanted to go spend another entire day in Avalon — escorted by Tamani — probably wouldn’t sit well with David right now.
But a festival in Avalon! It was a chance she couldn’t pass up. She’d want to go even if Tamani couldn’t be there.
She didn’t like lying to David, but in this case, maybe it was for the best. There were some things it was just better if your boyfriend didn’t know. Besides, David was fascinated with Avalon. It seemed almost selfish to tell him where she was going when he couldn’t come. The faeries would never let a human enter Avalon. Maybe it really was better all around if he just didn’t know.
The more Laurel thought about it, the more anxious she felt about the whole thing. She pushed the invitation under her pillow and, in an effort to distract herself, sat down at her desk, pulling out her sugar-glass components. When the first vial shattered — as if on cue — Laurel sighed. She started again.
November first was a Saturday; David would probably be working. That was helpful, at least a little. But her social life was fairly limited. If she wasn’t at home, in school, or at work, she was always with David. Well, and sometimes Chelsea.
Chelsea! She could say she was doing something with Chelsea. Her brilliant idea fizzled almost as soon as it came into being. Chelsea didn’t even lie for herself; she certainly wouldn’t lie for Laurel.
Still, Laurel couldn’t bear the thought of missing the festival. She didn’t have any clue what it might be like, but she knew exactly what she would wear. It was the perfect opportunity to wear the dark blue gown she’d picked up near the end of her stay in Avalon. Though she had felt a little guilty taking it at the time, now it seemed like kismet.
Smiling in anticipation, Laurel put down her diamond tube and surveyed her work. She hadn’t given a conscious thought to the mindlessly repetitive task since the first vial shattered in her hand.
There, lined neatly at the top of her desk, sat four perfectly formed sugar vials.
That Friday, Laurel sat at the kitchen counter, toiling over her Spanish homework. There were only about six weeks until finals, and conjugating verbs in the past imperfect remained a complete mystery. Her petals hung limply behind her; two had already fallen out, and Laurel’s relief managed to crowd out her disappointment. It felt dangerous to be in bloom while trolls were stalking her. There hadn’t been any more scares in the last few weeks, but then, she and David had been extremely careful. They rarely hung out anywhere except at Laurel’s house, and even at school Laurel kept her full kit in the bottom of her backpack and carried it around at all times.
She’d been working extra hard on her Avalon studies as well. This week’s success with the sugar-glass vials had renewed her confidence; unfortunately, it had been dwindling again as her attempts at potion brewing continued to fail. She hadn’t even managed to make another vial since Monday. And now she’d run out of ingredients for the monastuolo serum, which left her mixing fertilizers or insect repellents — not exactly the kind of thing that would come in handy against a troll. But she couldn’t stop practicing, not when so many people were depending on her to get things right.
With tonight being Halloween, Laurel’s stress level was ratcheted up a notch. She didn’t like the idea of a bunch of people running around in masks. What was to keep trolls from terrorizing the town? On top of that, her mom and dad had volunteered for a Halloween program where the kids went trick-or-treating at local businesses. Laurel would have felt much more comfortable with them being home, where she — and, more importantly, her faerie sentries — could keep an eye on them. But that would require telling them about the trolls, which was unlikely to go over well. Particularly seeing as how Laurel’s mom was already in perpetual shock over the existence of faeries. No, it was better that they were blissfully ignorant. Besides, the trolls weren’t after her parents; they were after her.
As if sensing her thoughts, Laurel’s mom came downstairs and grabbed the coffeepot, filling her travel mug with dark, hours-old coffee. “I gotta head back to the store,” she said, her eyes studiously avoiding Laurel’s blossom — or what was left of it. “I won’t be back till late. You’re having friends over tonight to help hand out candy, right?”
“In about half an hour,” Laurel said. That had been her brainchild. She couldn’t protect everyone, but at least she could keep Ryan and Chelsea safe. Not that Laurel really felt the trolls represented much of a danger to them, but something had Laurel feeling universally paranoid tonight.
“Have fun,” her mom replied, popping the lid onto her mug. She took a sip and made a face. “Ugh, this is te
rrible. Well, the candy’s in the top cupboard.” She gestured vaguely.
“Great! Thanks for picking that up.” Laurel smiled, probably trying a little too hard, but it was better than not trying at all.
“No problem. And there should be plenty, so you can eat some too.” She hesitated, and her eyes met Laurel’s. “I mean, not you specifically. Obviously you don’t eat it. But, you know, David and Chelsea and — I gotta go.” She breezed past Laurel, fleeing the awkwardness. It was always like that; things would be good for a while, then something would remind Laurel’s mom just how strange life had truly become. Laurel sighed. Moments like these always depressed her. The disappointment was just starting to wash over her when her mom cleared her throat from behind Laurel’s right shoulder.
“Um,” she said tentatively, “you seem to be falling apart.” She was looking down rather strangely at three more petals that had fallen out while Laurel was doing her homework. Her mom paused for a second and looked like she would turn and head out the door, but then she changed her mind and leaned down and picked up a petal. Laurel sat still and held her breath, trying to figure out if this was a good thing or not. Her mom held the long petal — bigger than any other she’d ever seen on a regular plant, Laurel was sure — and then lifted it toward the window, watching the sun shine through it. Another pause and then her mom looked over at her. “Can I…do you mind if I take this with me to the store?” she asked, her voice quiet, almost timid.
“Sure!” Laurel said, cringing as her voice filled the room — too bright, too cheery.
But her mom didn’t seem to notice. She nodded and tucked the petal carefully into her tote. She glanced down at her watch and sucked in a loud breath. “Now I really am late,” she said, whirling toward the door. She took two steps, then stopped and turned. As if breaking through an unseen barrier, she rushed back and hugged Laurel. Really hugged her.
It was too short — only a few brief seconds — but it was real. Without another word, her mom strode out, her heels clicking on the wood floor as she opened the door and shut it hard behind her.
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