“Late show,” Caleb said. “But late nights are our thing. Let’s do it.”
Chelsea’s smile widened, and she squeezed his fingers tightly. “Thank you,” she said.
They started walking again, leaving the alley behind and wandering through the streets of Grimoire. Up and down stairs and ramps they went, turning here and there, passing tiny shops, out-of-the-way budget apartment buildings, hole-in-the-wall restaurants and cafés. Chelsea occasionally leaned in, bumping her shoulder against Caleb’s. But even in that cute, playful motion, there was an earnest hopefulness. Chelsea was nervous. Caleb laughed softly, loosed his hand from Chelsea’s grip, and then wrapped that arm around her shoulder, pulling her close as they walked. Leaning in, Chelsea wrapped her arm around Caleb’s waist.
Together they walked, with no destination in mind, no words passing between them. Only desperate hopes and love on both sides, doing their very best to reach out to each other without the words they knew would only fail. And in their hearts, they were clinging to the belief that some feelings and truths were best conveyed with no words at all.
Chapter 9: Falling Stars
— G —
Fae tapped her foot nervously, checking her phone every ten seconds.
It wasn’t the location that had her emotionally frayed. She came to Grim Night’s all the time. The music-oriented café and bar was nestled at a major intersection near the Crater District. Well, a major intersection in Grimoire’s terms — lots of foot traffic and bicycles. It was a favorite spot for students from Grimoire University. Grim Night’s put on lots of live shows with local bands, so the type of music and sound was constantly different, running the gamut from acoustic to pop-rock, punk, grunge, and even classical — Grim Night’s owner was very proud of his baby grand piano. There were even a few amateur J-pop and K-pop groups made up of University students studying in Grimoire from abroad.
Fae wasn’t emotionally frayed due to the time — 10:50 PM. She’d always been a night owl.
No, she was nervous because she’d stepped out on a limb into an uncomfortable position.
She’d invited her sister to hang out with her.
How many times had she eyed her phone while hanging out alone or with friends, or while “taking notes” in class, thinking of reaching out to Shana and Delilah?
Why had the thought of such a seemingly simple act filled her with such dread?
Tonight, she hadn’t invited Delilah. Delilah had just started high school, tomorrow was Monday and the return from Fall Break, and she was still only fourteen. Staying out until midnight probably wouldn’t fly with Delilah or her parents.
If she was honest with herself, Fae hadn’t expected Shana to accept. She knew Shana was a fan of Falling Stars, the band that was playing at Grim Night’s tonight, but still. Fae’s younger sisters were both quite fond of school. Shana wasn’t just involved in the literature club — she was the club president. So Fae had sent out tonight’s invitation mostly as a symbolic gesture:
“Hey. Falling Stars playing tonight at Grim’s.
11:00. I know it’s a school night, so it’s fine to say no.
Just seeing if you want to join me.”
Simple and to the point. Not earnest, not in any way providing Shana with any guilt should she say no. It was the perfect “invitation.” She’d never expected the response:
“OHMYGOSH LET’S DO IT LOVE THEM THANK YOU
I’M THERE SEE YOU TONIGHT <3 <3 <3”
Shana’s overflowing, never-ending enthusiasm was alive and well. Fae couldn’t exactly turn away from that, now could she?
Why do I want to?
She checked her phone again. 10:53.
Why am I hoping Shana doesn’t show up?
It wasn’t that Fae disliked her sister. She loved Shana. She’d always been absurdly adorable, even now at seventeen years old. She had this childish energy that Fae had envied when she was younger. It was often annoying now, but in a sort of endearing way that made it impossible for Fae to react negatively to her.
And Shana was full of love. She radiated it, and Fae had nearly forgotten until her siblings had ambushed her the night before. Talking with Shana for hours had reminded Fae just how amazing her sister was.
So why was she so afraid?
Why was she so sure that the generosity, enthusiasm, and love would run out?
Get a grip, Fae.
She silently chided herself, unclenching her fists. She took a deep breath in through her nose, let it out through her mouth, and did it again.
Grim Night’s was filling up fast. Falling Stars was the hottest local band in Grimoire, so it was no surprise. Made up of three sisters — triplets, if you could believe it — they adopted a pop-rock style that was all their own. One sister on drums, one on bass or keyboard depending on the song, and the third on guitar; all three sang. Their songs overflowed with amazing three-part harmonies. Those triplets were amazing at inventing melodies and harmonies and intertwining them, playing off of each other vocally in a vast variety of creative ways.
Fae had a sort of love-hate relationship with Falling Stars. On the one hand, their sound was amazing. It was a wonder they hadn’t gone pro. If it was just their sound, Fae would have sworn it was magic.
On the other hand, their lyrics were… sweet. Like eating all your Halloween candy in one sitting, listening to their songs sometimes made Fae feel sick to her stomach. One of their songs was titled “Sisters Are Forever.” What kind of saccharine waste of lyrical space was that? Did they really believe all the stuff about love and forgiveness and sisterhood that they sang every night?
Their amazing sound deserved thought-provoking and complex lyrics, not Saturday morning family fun-time fluff.
The sound was picking up. It looked like nearly two hundred people had piled themselves into Grim Night’s. The popularity brought on by Falling Stars was what made it possible to accommodate so many — the owner of Grim Night’s had bought up the buildings surrounding his hole-in-the-wall bar and expanded, turning his place into a nicely sized café and bar with a stage, state-of-the-art sound system, fantastic lighting for dramatic effect, and even a dance floor.
Maybe Shana isn’t coming?
Fae wished she didn’t feel so hopeful about the idea. She checked her phone again. 10:57. She shoved the device in her pocket, leaned back, stretched her arms overhead.
“Sorry I’m late!” came the voice of Fae’s sister. Fae felt her heart race, but she did her best to act nonchalant.
Of course she showed up. It was dumb to think she wouldn’t. Shana never fails to show up when she says she will. And why were you hoping she wouldn’t?
It wasn’t that simple, though. Fae wanted to see Shana. But at the same time, she didn’t.
Why do I feel like I have the emotional stability of an adolescent?
“You’re not late,” Fae said. Shana was grinning and out of breath, clearly having run to make it. It was a chilly night, and Shana had dressed for it — long pants and high boots, with a loose white dress under a blue pea coat. And on her head…
Fae stared, her emotions growing more turbulent. It was the hat that Fae had gotten Shana for Christmas… how long ago? Shana was still in middle school then, so it must have been five or six years.
She still has it? And she wears it so proudly…
“What’s the matter?” Shana asked. Her head cocked to the side as she stared at Fae with those big, round, earnest eyes.
Fae shook her head. “Nothing. Wanna go in? Looks like there are still some good tables open.”
“Let’s do it!” Shana said. “Thanks for inviting me. I was so happy when I got your text. I love Falling Stars! I didn’t know you did, too! They’re great, right? They released a new song last week, too. Did you listen to it yet? It’s —”
She can talk so fast. Such a chatterbox. But…
Fae looked at her sister, who was still smiling, talking really fast and changing subjects with astonishing mental agility.
Fae couldn’t help but crack a smile at Shana’s enthusiasm.
I don’t hate it.
“They’re starting!” Shana said excitedly, picking up her Pad to order.
Grim Night’s was set up as a place to enjoy music and have something good to eat and drink. To facilitate that, rather than have waiters and waitresses wandering around to try and take orders over the sound, and possibly disrupt the musical atmosphere, there were tablets called “Grim Pads” at each table for ordering food and drinks. Shana quickly tapped in her order and then put down the Pad, staring ahead at the stage.
Falling Stars launched into their first song, an upbeat, energetic rhythmic piece titled “Shine For You.” Fae couldn’t help tapping her foot to the guitar-and-drum focused opening. It was absurdly catchy, and she caught herself singing the chorus all the time during her day.
But as she finished entering her own order and looked up, she saw a pair that she recognized: Caleb and Chelsea.
“What are they doing here?” Fae asked, pointing towards the couple.
She didn’t have to raise her voice much if she leaned towards Shana. Despite the music, Grim Night’s was smart about their atmosphere. Knowing people would want to socialize and converse, they didn’t crank up the speakers to absurd, ear-bleeding levels like concert halls across the world. They knew that was dumb. The music was completely noticeable and definitely couldn’t be ignored, but if Fae and Shana wanted, they could carry on a comfortable conversation even as the show hit its loudest and most energetic songs.
“I didn’t invite them, I swear!” Shana replied frantically, waving her hands innocently as she watched Caleb and Chelsea navigate through the crowd. “Look at them. They’re not looking for anyone. They came here on their own.”
Fae watched, and realized Shana was right. Caleb and Chelsea were completely focused on each other, making lovey-dovey eyes as they picked a table. Fae felt herself wanting to gag, so she looked away.
“Why don’t you like Caleb, anyway?” Shana asked. There was that nervous tone Fae had noticed the other night. It was like Shana was afraid of her sometimes. Whenever the topic turned to their family, Shana had that look in her eyes.
It looked like how Fae often felt about her sister.
When is she going to snap? When is she going to turn on me? How far can I push my luck before it runs out?
The anxious questions that frequently filled Fae’s mind were reflected in her sister’s eyes. She sighed, scooting her chair closer so she could talk at a volume that was less likely to be overheard.
“I don’t understand him,” Fae said. “He’s so laid-back and carefree, it’s annoying. You’d think a Hunter in his twenties would be more serious.”
“But I’m laid-back and carefree,” Shana said, looking even more nervous.
“That’s not —” Fae gathered her thoughts. “It’s different. You’re energetic and bubbly and enthusiastic. Caleb is… chill. Like some beach bum. He doesn’t take anything seriously. And he always seems to be trying to crack a joke, to make himself look like the wittiest and funniest person in the room. You’re not like that. You seem honest, and you don’t try to make yourself look cool. He seems… like a façade.”
Shana pursed her lips. Clearly she was honestly considering Fae’s assessment of them. “I don’t think he seems quite like that,” she said finally. “I mean, he is always trying to crack a joke, and that can be really stupid sometimes. But I don’t think he seems dishonest or like he’s trying to look cool. He seems perfectly confident in who he is. He’s just a little dumb.”
Fae couldn’t help laughing at that simple reply, and her laughter spread to Shana. “Just a little dumb.” Fae couldn’t handle it. Coming from her totally honest and sunshiny sister, it was just hilarious. She didn’t disagree, but was surprised to hear Shana say it. She’d thought Shana idolized Caleb too much to say something like that.
“I invited Delilah to come along,” Shana said after she’d stopped laughing. “I wasn’t going to without asking you, but when I was getting ready to leave, she was getting dressed to go somewhere. I thought she might want to join us, but she didn’t.”
“She was leaving?” Fae asked. That was puzzling. Wasn’t Delilah the goody-goody who studied in the evenings and went to bed early?
“Yeah,” Shana said, looking as puzzled as Fae felt. “I asked her what she was up to, but she just said ‘private lessons.’ If she’s getting tutored somewhere, that’s news to me. She usually brags about being able to get top grades without any extra help.”
Fae nodded. That sounded like Delilah. But running off late at night without saying where she was going? That didn't.
Whatever. I’m not in charge. Everyone grows up.
“Sorry for inviting her without asking,” Shana said. She seemed to have taken Fae’s silence as anger.
Fae shook her head. “No, it’s fine,” she said. “I would have liked it if she’d said yes.”
Would I really, though?
Their orders arrived. Shana and Fae had both just ordered drinks — a cappuccino for Fae, and hot chocolate in a ridiculously gigantic mug for Shana. Fae hadn’t even known there was a size that big.
She’s such a little kid.
As they sipped their drinks and took in the music, Fae found her gaze drifting over to Caleb and his girlfriend. She realized her initial assessment hadn’t been entirely correct. Well, they were making lovey-dovey eyes at each other, but only as much as any other couple hopelessly in love would.
Fae was surprised to see tension. Chelsea looked as conflicted and anxious as Fae frequently felt. Caleb seemed to be doting on Chelsea, giving her extra attention in a manner that suggested he was desperately trying to make her happy.
So Chelsea’s worried about something. And Caleb, naturally, is trying to make it out to be nothing. I can imagine what he’s saying. “Oh, don’t worry about it, I love you no matter what!” Yeah, as if that helps. He doesn’t realize that love doesn’t just make problems go away. Whatever’s bothering Chelsea can’t be fixed with love. Love’s just happy feelings. Sentiment to try and make people feel better without changing anything. Chelsea’s worried. She’s scared. About what? Who knows? But Caleb doesn’t get what that means. He doesn’t get what she needs.
She needs…
Fae stopped.
What does she need?
She was about to think something like “she needs to deal with it herself,” or “she needs to handle it on her own time.”
What did Chelsea actually need?
What did Fae actually need?
I’m fine. Whatever. It’s their problem. Let them deal with it.
Why was she so on edge tonight? She sighed, returning her attention to the music.
She instantly regretted it.
“Sisters Are Forever,” was playing. Shana was animatedly clapping and singing along, her smile as big as a cartoon character’s, her eyes wide and sparkling.
Fae hated this song. And not just because of the stupid lyrics. It was obnoxiously catchy. Fae was already tapping her foot in time with the rhythm, and she instinctively hummed the tune softly. She couldn’t bear the sickly sweet lyrics about love and forgiveness and all that — as if love could fix everything and heal all wounds and bring about world peace — and yet this dumb song was the one she most often found herself singing when she thought no one was around.
Why are stupid songs always so catchy?
As the concert continued, Fae and Shana occasionally talked, but mostly just sat close to each other and took in the music. Shana ended up ordering a second hot chocolate — how had she finished the first one so fast? And how did she have room for a second? — while Fae found herself in a frustrating mental back-and-forth. Music and conversation would pull her in, try to wash her worries and cares away. And it would work, for a moment. But then she would snap back to a state of anxiety and nervousness and worry. And back and forth she went, angry at herself for not being able to just stay in one pla
ce and enjoy something.
Why couldn’t she be just a little bit more like Shana? Not too much. Looking at her sister, Fae did not want that goofy grin on her face. But maybe, like, one percent more like Shana? She could use a tiny sliver of that emotional stability.
“Ohhhhhh, I love this song!” Shana said excitedly. “It’s their newest one!”
The three sisters on stage had rotated their formation. Where their guitarist and lead singer was usually at the front of the stage, she’d stepped aside, playing an acoustic guitar. Her golden hair was long, all the way down to her waist, and she let it hang loose. As she stood, leaning over her guitar while she picked a melancholy tune, her hair largely obscured her face and her instrument.
Greysons of Grimoire Page 9