Moonset tlom-1

by Scott Tracey

  “They can’t do that!” Jenna shouted at once. She started to pace, very quickly and without looking where she was going. Cole fluttered in her wake, looking unsure if he was supposed to pace with her or get out of the way. As a result, she nearly barreled into him at least three times.

  “They can do a lot worse than that,” Quinn replied matter-of-factly. “That’s the way the system works. If you abuse your power, you don’t get any more.”

  “And if we get killed because a bunch of old cowards are scared of us?” she demanded.

  “Then they’ll think that the problem worked itself out.” Quinn raised his shoulders in a halfhearted shrug. “The Council may take care of you, giving you all the things you need to be comfortable, like your phones and a healthy allowance, but it’s not a luxury. You’re not the political darlings you seem to think you are. They teach you as little as possible because they’re scared, and you give them every reason to be even more scared. So you can’t be surprised that they’re not looking out for your best interests.”

  “And what,” Jenna scoffed, “you are?”

  “I’m looking out for your survival,” Quinn replied. “I’m a Witcher. That’s part of my job.”

  Part of his job. The unspoken other part hung in the air, and the four of us who weren’t

  Witchers each absorbed it differently. Cole shuffled his feet, Jenna’s expression grew taut, Malcolm rolled his eyes, and me? My heart thudded in my chest.

  Because there were two jobs that any Witcher around us would be expected to perform. To protect us from threats. And to eliminate us in the event that we became the threats.

  Jenna still hadn’t moved on by the next day. She was sulking, barely speaking to any of us unless it was a snide remark. Quinn’s refusal to break the rules and teach us new spells hadn’t sat well with her. For some reason, she was particularly hostile to me, as if I had something to do with it.

  Trying to figure out girls, especially ones I was related to, was definitely not one of my superpowers.

  It was another day of shopping. Jenna and Bailey were both complaining about not having enough clothes. Our wardrobe from Kentucky still hadn’t arrived, if it ever would. After the wraith had showed up, I think we all wrote our stuff off as a lost cause. They wouldn’t want to send anything to us on the off chance that it had been tampered with. So that meant a lot of shopping.

  “Again?” Mal had groused first thing in the morning, when everyone had collected in his kitchen. I didn’t really want to go, either, but the other three were all about it. And I figured it would be better to keep an eye on Jenna rather than let her unleash her temper on an unsuspecting population.

  “Just because everything looks good on you is no reason for the rest of us to suffer,” Jenna said crossly. “Besides, a girl needs options.”

  “Our guardian said it gets cold here, and there’s lots of snow,” Bailey added. “I need a couple different coats if she’s right.”

  “I guess I could use a new pair of cross-trainers,” Mal sighed.

  The whole conversation made me think of what Quinn had been saying the night before. That the Council made sure we had allowances and credit cards just to keep us quiet. If we were taken care of, we were less likely to complain. I listened to Jenna and Bailey discussing things they’d seen in store windows, and Cole jumping in to talk about some video game he wanted, and I realized that he was right.

  I’d never thought about it like that before. Just how far did they go to manipulate us? Were our moves always necessary, or were they trying to accomplish something else?

  Carrow Mill didn’t have a “mall” by the strictest definition, but Malcolm had found the closest alternative. There was a suburb where the trendy rich lived, and they had a little outdoor shopping plaza that screamed Old Time, America. Cobblestone streets lined with park benches gave off the perfect downtown vibe, even though it was all an elaborate ruse. The outdoor mall, Americana style. All the buildings stood at least three stories, the bottom floor filled with chains like Express, Forever 21, and even a Barnes & Noble. The girls were in heaven. The guys were there to carry bags.

  “I missed my morning workout for this? I’d rather be sleeping,” Mal groaned, throwing himself down on one of the benches on the street. The girls were inside with Cole, who’d been surprisingly quick to tag along with them. It made sense when he tried to tag along at Victoria’s

  Secret, but less so when it was just a clothing boutique.

  “You’re the driver,” I said, leaning over the back of the chair and watching across the street.

  More and more people were starting to crowd the streets. “Besides, how can you hate shopping? Stop ruining a perfectly good stereotype.”

  “Shopping with them?” Mal shuddered. “And I’m not a magic clothing genie. I don’t care what they buy.”

  “I think you’re just supposed to tell them it looks great,” I said with an absent shrug. “That’s what I always do, at least.”

  “Always playing peacemaker,” he said with a fluid wave, like a conductor controlling the orchestra.

  I followed the movement, reading the intent behind it. “It’s not like that. I’m not manipulating them.”

  “Sure you’re not.”

  “Who cares what you think, anyway?” I snapped. “You’re the one with the Victoria’s Secret bag in your lap.”

  He didn’t need to look up to give me the finger. Then again, by doing so he missed the group of girls crossing the street right in front of him.

  The girl in front knew she was gorgeous. She owned it. Her brunette hair was pinned up with chopsticks, and her dark coat was the kind of fur that probably wasn’t faux. She had what

  Jenna would have called “permanent bitch face”—a smirk that looked like it never left her face.

  She took one look at Mal with his middle finger in the air, turned right to her friend, and started whispering something. Almost the entire flock of girls burst into giggles as they passed us.

  “Great first impression,” I said, and Mal finally lifted his head.

  He saw the girls and rolled his eyes. “I’m heartbroken. If it’s so important, why don’t you go apologize. You could use the practice talking to girls you’re not related to.”

  “Dick.”

  Mal laughed. “Go talk to the girls, coward.”

  I watched them go, half wanting to. They were partway down the street when one of the girls in back turned around. She was the only one with short hair, some sort of reddish auburn that stood out against her white jacket. Despite the snow and ice on the ground, she moved easily, and grinned in my direction.

  “They’re just girls,” Mal said, like that made any sense whatsoever. “They’re not going to hurt you. I mean, unless you want them to.”

  “I’ve had enough things trying to hurt me for one lifetime,” I muttered. “You know this is why I let Cole do bad things to your reputation, right?”

  Mal lifted himself upright like he was doing crunches at the gym. “Better hurry, before Jenna decides which one you like before you do,” he said, nodding to the store the girls were in.

  Jenna and Bailey were at the cash register, and Cole stood mystified staring at a rack of jewelry.

  “I’m going for a walk,” I announced, and started off down the street. I might have hustled a little, but I couldn’t say for sure whether I was trying to catch up to the girls or get away from my siblings.

  It was probably an even stretch of both.

  Half an hour later, I didn’t have a clue where I was. Despite what I’d said to Mal, I wasn’t about to go stalk a bunch of girls that I’d have to spend a few months at school with. Bad first impressions weren’t my thing.

  The downside to small-town Americana was that every street looked the same. I got lost quickly and managed to walk in a circle at least three different times. By a stroke of luck, I finally managed to find my way back to the bookstore, only to open the door just as the girls from earlier were walking o
ut. The brunette leader sailed passed without even a thank you. The rest of the girls followed her lead, a few giggles escaping here or there. And then there was the girl in the back.

  She held the inner door open, just as I held the outer. After a momentary stare down between us, she cocked her shoulders as if to say, “Well?” We stood like two gunslingers in the

  Old West, waiting to see who’d flinch first. Who’d release their door and let the other walk through?

  I glanced down the street, desperately trying to think of something cool to say. This girl didn’t look like she’d fall for one of Malcolm’s stupid lines or be drawn in by Cole’s sometimes adorable nature.

  “Your friends are leaving.” Immediately I wanted to kick myself. That was how I opened a conversation?

  Her smile widened. “Maybe they’re not my friends.” She ran a hand through her hair, and I … forgot what I was going to say. The cold didn’t matter, the people coming in and out around us weren’t important.

  “My name’s Justin,” I finally called out, during a particular rush through the doors.

  She touched a little old lady in a tan coat on the shoulder and laughed. Then she looked back at me, shaking her head. “I didn’t ask.”

  Right about now, Malcolm would be sliding in with some completely inappropriate line. Or

  Cole would be too busy staring at her butt to really pay attention. I just … kept holding the door. I’d used up all my know-how with girls right off the bat. My brain couldn’t form words.

  Make talky hard.

  “You’re gawking.” She had a tinkling kind of laugh, like someone running fingers down the piano.

  I shook myself, and shifted so I was holding the door with my foot. “Am not.” Great. I’d regressed to kindergarten, thirty seconds away from kicking her in the shins and running away.

  The last of the line finally dissipated. She gestured again, this time a flourishing move with her arm. My feet remained rooted in place. She smiled again, her eyes searching mine. Then she finally let go of her door and started walking towards mine. After a second’s hesitation, she opened the other half of the double doors and exited through that one.

  “Come on, puppy,” she said with a backwards glance at me. “I’m going to let you buy my coffee.”

  I remained where I was. “Puppy?”

  “Could’ve called you kitten,” she said over her shoulder. “Keep it up, and maybe we’ll work our way up to ducky.”

  “I have a name,” I replied. But before I knew it, I was following her.

  I could practically hear the amusement dripping from her words. “Still didn’t ask.”

  “You know I’m a stranger, right? You always go around asking strangers to coffee?”

  She walked into the street and nearly into a car as it drove past. A moment later, as I started to lunge forward, I realized she was in no danger. The car passed, and she moved behind it easily, her movements timed perfectly.

  “This is Carrow Mill, porcupine,” she said, and then grimaced. “No, definitely not porcupine.”

  I shouldn’t have been surprised when our trip for “coffee” led us instead to a smoothie shop.

  “Do they even have coffee?” I asked skeptically.

  “You know that was just an expression, right?” Her eyes said I should have. Small children in

  Botswana probably knew it was just a euphemism. “If I’d said ‘Hey, let’s go have a couple of

  Green Giant smoothies with extra ginseng and wheat grass,’ you’d have looked at me like I was some sort of crazy person.”

  “That’s still on the table.” It was honest, but probably the stupidest thing I’d said so far. I tried to open the door for her, but she opened her own for the second time.

  “Lucky for you, your opinion is invalid.” She sauntered over to the counter, smiling at the guy dressed head to toe in orange. He couldn’t have been much older than either of us, but he was a little taller and rounder than I was.

  “Hey, Cal.”

  Cal looked at the girl, then glanced over at me. “Hey,” he said tersely. “Who’s this?”

  “Stray I picked up.” She leaned on the counter, whispering conspiratorially, “Would you believe he was selling his body for concert tickets.”

  Cal didn’t look fazed. “What kind of concert?”

  “Something boring. European clog dancers?” she replied. “I’m saving the boy from a life less tragic.”

  I snorted. Did I look like someone who needed to be saved?

  Finally Cal started to smile. “So you want the usual?” She nodded. “And him?”

  She turned to me. “What are you in the mood for? Lunch smoothie? Vitamin blaster? Post-

  Workout Indulgence?” She recited smoothies off the menu board faster than I could read the ingredients. “Or maybe the Just For Boys smoothie with a little extra gingko?”

  “Uhm,” I said, drawing it out and trying to read the board. Didn’t they just have like … strawberry smoothies? Or how about coffee? I would have settled for actual coffee.

  “He’ll have the Lunch smoothie with a shot of whey and a double of gingko,” she said, ending my hesitation. And then she stage whispered, “I think he needs the brain fuel.”

  Cal pulled two cups off the stack and grabbed a magic marker. “Name?”

  I looked to her first, but Cal sighed. “I already know her. What’s your name?”

  “Justin.” I waited, wondering if he wanted a last name too. But the first name seemed to cover it, and after he’d scrawled a totally illegible version of my name on the cup, he set them both down and started to press buttons on the register.

  “Eleven ninety.”

  I pulled out a twenty, which Cal nearly snatched out of my hand.

  “Don’t worry, it’s worth it,” she said.

  “Oh, thank god. For a minute I thought I was wasting all my money on a bunch of fruit and milk tossed in a blender.”

  She tilted her head to the side and looked up at me thoughtfully. “Yeah, no. Sarcasm’s not a good look on you. You’re definitely more of a winter. Smolder in silence.”

  “Are you always this bizarre?”

  She ruffled her hair and smiled slowly, offering no re-sponse.

  “So when do I get to know your name?”

  “Patience is a virtue, my little mango.”

  “Mango?”

  She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Couldn’t think of another animal,” she admitted. Her eyes strayed over the counter to the piles of fruit on display. They’d been selected for their coloring and possibility their alliteration: kumquats and kiwi were arranged together, along with sliced cantaloupes and carrots.

  “How about Pissed-off Panda Bear?”

  She didn’t laugh. In fact, that got no reaction at all. She looked me over. “You’d think the new boy would be a little more genial. Not quite so … ” she mused over it for a minute.

  “Cantankerous.” Her smile brightened. “SAT word.”

  “I’m not … ” I hesitated. “How’d you know I’m new?”

  “You think you’re living in the big city? Everyone knows everyone around here. Besides, Maddy said you were. And she knows all.”

  “Maddy?”

  “The brunette with the Mean Girl complex?”

  Cal finally came back with the drinks, setting the pair of medium-sized smoothies down in front of us and moving on to the next person in line. The girl called out a cheerful, “Thanks, Cal,” before walking off. I followed. I wasn’t sure what else to do. This girl clearly lacked sanity. But there was something fun about her, drama free and exciting. I was fascinated.

  We stepped out onto the street, and I strained to decipher the scrawl of her name on the cup. My concentration was broken by a very loud, very angry scream. “Where the fuck have you been?”

  Jenna. Of course. Her “Justin was having a good time without me” senses must have been tingling. I turned back, followed the sound of her voice and found her st
anding at the corner across the street with a hand on her hip. She didn’t move, just stood there and waited.

  Expected me to run right over. I almost wanted to turn around and walk away with my mystery girl, just to see how Jenna would react.

  “I’ve gotta … ” I wasn’t sure how to make the excuse. Deal with my potentially psychotic sister? Fix whatever problem she’d managed to get into in the last half hour? Talk her down off a ledge that would lead to another move? Stave off the inevitable explosion? Waiting would only serve to piss Jenna off more than she already was.

  “Wow, your girlfriend is pissed.”

  That caught me off guard. Jenna? My girlfriend? “Now who’s digging for information?” I said, trying to sound teasing but a little afraid it just came across as desperate.

  The girl snickered, shaking her head and looking away. “So far off, cowboy. Besides, most sisters I know don’t yell at their brothers like that.”

  “You haven’t met my sister,” I muttered.

  “Love to,” she announced as if that had been an invitation. Then she hopped off the sidewalk and made a beeline for Jenna.

  Seven

  “Everyone knew Sherrod was the leader. But Cy Denton and I grew up together. He controlled the school. Everyone wanted to know him. He was the star of every play, the one who threw the best parties, and the funniest guy I’ve ever met.”

  Sara Bexington (S)

  Personal Interview

  “Who is this?” Jenna demanded, once I caught up. The girl just stood there while Jenna’s glare homed in on me. Jenna would rip out her spine and dangle it out of reach like a cat toy if I didn’t interject.

  “What happened?” I countered.

  “I asked you—”

  I cut her off. “What. Happened?”

  “Bailey’s … upset,” was all she said. Her eyes flicked to my mystery girl (when did she become my mystery girl?), and I realized that there was a whole undercurrent to the situation that she wasn’t going to reveal in front of a stranger. That’s what you get for thinking you could have an afternoon free, I thought, actually able to feel my blood pressure rising.