I always have my family to call when I need them. What must it be like to have no one but me?
And did she get the same offer we did-- reform school or jail? Or was it a special offer just for those of us with parents who care? My hands tighten on the steering wheel. If she’s out here, that must mean she got the same deal.
She’s going to be okay.
I get out of the driver’s side and hustle around the car to her, my feelings growing more complicated with each step. “Are you okay?”
She stands up, frowning. “Yeah. Thanks for coming.”
“I would’ve waited for you. They told me your mom was coming.”
Her lips twist. “No problem. You don’t owe me anything, Noah.”
What’s with her attitude? Somehow I expected her to be sad, not angry, but then she’s been so prickly lately. Not that I blame her.
I don’t want to deal with it right now, though, so I nod at the radio. “You can pick the music if you want.”
She’s still frowning as she leans forward and flicks the radio on. Music fills the car as a country singer wails, “When you said I love you, I believed you…everyone’s stupid sometimes.”
The song makes me think of her argument with Aiden. I don’t want to revisit the past, because what happened between us a few years ago sucks. “You know the rules. No country music.”
She rolls her eyes. “You didn’t mind it when we were kids.” She twists the dial.
This time, it’s a bouncy pop song. Not really my style, but I’m fine with it until I really hear the refrain. “I thought you were my ride-or-die, turns out you were just a lie…”
She glances at me with those big brown eyes. I reach over and twist the dial.
This time, it’s one of my favorite bands. Singing a song that I used to like about...being abandoned.
“Izzy,” I say, then give up. I can’t shake the feeling that somehow she’s controlling the music, that she’s pissed at me and she’s letting me know, but that makes no sense.
“What?” she demands.
I shake my head. It’s too stupid to say out loud.
She’s smoothing a college brochure in her lap absently. Good, something safe to talk about. Everything between us feels like a minefield lately. “Thinking about that reform school?”
“Do we have much of a choice?” she asks.
The idea that we’re all choosing it over jail leaves a bad taste in my mouth, but I try to keep my voice light. “It doesn’t sound so bad.”
She holds up the brochure as we pause at a red light, and I glance at it. “God Fire College?”
She turns it in her hand, frowning. “That’s what I thought I read at first. Weird font, I guess. It’s Godfrey College.”
“Never heard of it.”
“Me either, but it’s supposed to be a really good school…according to its own brochure.” She grins. “But I doubt it’s this fancy. These are probably from some other place, and this Godfrey reform school is more like a step up from a prison.”
I kind of hate that she’s voiced my fears aloud. From the second I got into the car earlier with my parents, my mom had been crying. She said I was going some place with a bunch of dangerous criminals, a place that will destroy the rest of my life. I spent the entire ride with a fake excited voice, saying that it was actually a blessing, that this reform school looks nicer than where I planned to go.
But given that my dad barely glanced at me before locking him and my mom in their bedroom, I don’t think they buy my fake cheery attitude. They probably have the same sense that I have, that it’s like this one day has changed my life forever.
Not that I’m going to freak Izzy out more by telling her that.
“I thought you’d stay local for college,” I say, keeping my voice casual.
She shrugs.
So I keep talking. “Aiden had submitted a few applications at the universities and community colleges around us, although he hasn’t said if he’s made any kind of decision yet. Reid is going out of state, same as me. We all knew Van was abandoning us for the Ivy Leagues. But, I guess, I never really asked what you were doing.”
“Are you going to play ball in college?” she asks, avoiding my question.
Does she not want to tell me? Or did she not have a plan?
“I don’t know if I’m that good.” I shrug. Lots of guys that rule their school don’t have the kind of skills to go pro. Being a big deal at eighteen is not actually being a big deal. “But yeah, I’ve got a scholarship for Clark.”
She nods. I can’t believe we haven’t talked about this before. I’ve known I was going to Clark since January. I don’t know why I’ve stayed so far away from her.
Well, I mean...it began with four boys, who loved the same girl, making a stupid, stupid promise they never should have.
But I’m not a boy anymore. I don’t know why I stuck with it.
“We would’ve seen each other on holidays and stuff,” I say.
Disbelief flashes across her face. “Yeah, maybe.”
I pull up in front of her house just as my phone dings with a text message. Mom.
“Noah,” she says, turning slowly to me. “Are you guys really planning to just accept the reform school thing?”
I study her. “Do we have another choice?”
She shrugs, looking away from me. “I don’t have another choice, but maybe your parents will fight it…”
My gut turns. The thing is, Van’s dad definitely will. My parents and the twins’ parents might, even though I never really thought about it. This jail or reform school seemed like our only choice, but maybe I’m wrong.
Which means there’s a chance that things haven’t changed forever. Which should be a relief, but somehow it’s not. Because if we all went to this school, we’d be together. And if we don’t, we’ll go our separate ways.
Maybe never coming together again.
Is that why she’s acting so weird? I just wished I could tell her honestly that we would all definitely be together.
“I can pick you up tomorrow,” I tell her, because I don’t want to say goodbye.
“To go where?” She smiles at me, patting my knee. Her touch is electric, and she pauses, as if she feels it too. “No school.”
“We’ll go somewhere, then,” I say.
She smiles but doesn’t answer before getting out of the car. It bothers me, but she trudges slowly across the yard to the little ramshackle house.
I glance at Reid and Aiden’s house next door. I remember when we all first met, she lived a few blocks from me. She used to come down to our cul de sac to play every afternoon. She always wore long-sleeved shirts, no matter how hot it was.
When they took her away, I thought I’d never see her again. When she was placed in the foster home right next door to Aiden and Reid, I’d hugged her so tight that I’d felt her chest hitch as she held back tears.
I fucked up all of that so badly, and I don’t know how to fix it now.
I’m replying to my mom, who wants to know if I ever heard of Godfrey College, when shouting draws my attention.
A trash bag comes sailing out of Izzy’s front door, then another one.
Izzy storms down the stairs, her arms crossed over her chest. Her posture is stiff, perfect, the way it is when she’s hurt.
She turns to face her foster mom, who is still shouting at her from the doorway.
I unroll my window, wanting to tell her to come back into my car. Whatever’s going on, she doesn’t need to deal with it alone, but then their words hit me.
“You were always the worst,” Izzy says, her voice low and cool and cutting, and her foster mother actually pauses. “What kind of monster doesn’t love a child? I did everything I could to earn your love. But I shouldn’t have had to. You shouldn’t have made me feel like I did.”
She throws one bag over her shoulder and grabs the other, staggering with them toward the road.
Her foster mom calls after her. “Some kids are
easy to love. You aren’t one of them.”
My gut clenches as I see the words hit Izzy, her face freezing. I jump out of the car, just as another car pulls up across the road, an expensive black car with darkened windows.
A tall man in a gray suit gets out of the car and crosses to Izzy.
Mr. Time. The same guy who greeted us at the police station. Who smiled at my parents and handed us the brochure.
“Your foster mother told me that you might be looking for a new place to live. Godfrey is offering you a full scholarship, including room and board. Starting today.”
My gut clenches. If Izzy goes, that’s it. No way out for her. She’s accepting she has no other choice.
And then we have to decide what to do.
She eyes him warily. “Sounds too good to be true.”
“There might be another way,” I tell her, feeling strangely like I’m losing her all over again.
She doesn’t look at me, just stares at Mr. Time. Waiting.
His lips purse, his expression relaxed, but something flickers in his eyes. “Just because life can be dark doesn't mean it’s always going to be dark, Izzy. This is an opportunity.”
“I’ll take her home with me,” I tell him. Then, I look to her. “We can talk to lawyers. We can look for another solution.”
Izzy gapes up at me like she isn’t sure about that at all.
He nods, steepling his fingers together. “Well, Mr. Wilder, the police are still very interested in the five of you,” he says. “Your parents agree with me that it would be wise for you to start fresh, so you’d only be putting off the inevitable. One way or another, all of you will join me at my school.”
I stare at him, trying to make sense of what’s going on. The sense of being trapped creeps up my spine.
Izzy tugs absently on the end of her ponytail. “Thanks, Noah, but I’ve got to go somewhere. Not just run away.”
“My house is somewhere,” I argue, even though I’m not sure about anything anymore.
She offers me a thin smile. “I’m going to the reform school.”
Her words hit me like a slap. I picture her in some sketchy school with a bunch of dangerous criminals. My Izzy.
“If you’re going, I’m going,” I tell her, suddenly absolutely certain that I’d do anything to keep her in my life. “At least...for now.”
“For now,” Mr. Time agrees.
But there’s a glint of triumph in his eyes that sets me on edge. And that sense-- that my life is being changed forever-- it deepens.
Chapter Nine
Izzy
I stare at the man across from me, analyzing him. His hair is a steel grey color, but almost too perfectly grey. Like a man who dyed his hair to look older. His hands rest lightly on the knees of his perfectly tailored suit, and he radiates relaxation. Like a man lying on a beach versus sitting in a car driven by a chauffeur, with a strange eighteen year old.
At last, his pale eyes lock onto mine. “Thanks for trusting me enough to come with me.”
“It wasn’t about trust,” I tell him honestly. “It’s that I have nowhere else to go.”
“And perhaps that you were intrigued by the brochure?”
I don’t want to admit it, but he’s right. From the moment I opened the brochure, I’d felt that I was looking at a place completely untouchable. The buildings, made of a perfectly pristine white material that looks like marble, were surrounded by lush gardens and well-tended grass. It looked like a private college out of fantasy book.
Definitely not the kind of place I ever imagined going.
And definitely not like any reform school. I wonder why he even said that.
“I planned to go to a community college in the fall. I was going to get an apartment with some roommates, if my foster parents weren’t willing to let me stay longer. And a job. I knew I’d need one.”
“But all of that was before,” he says. “Before you learned that you weren’t human anymore.”
My stomach twists. “Look, buddy, I’m grateful you got me out of trouble. And if this school actually ends up being real, I’ll be even more grateful, but the more you talk like that, the crazier you sound.”
“Says the girl with the trickster god within her.”
I stare. “Pull over.”
He laughs. “Are you telling me nothing happened when you turned eighteen? Nothing strange? Nothing that doesn’t make sense in this world of black and white?”
I open my mouth to refute his implication.
“What about the god’s messenger? Hermod, with his eight-legged horse?”
The air rushes out of me. “That was a dream.”
“Was it? I guess the crown in your bag was too then? And the awakening of your powers? Did they come in a flash of light or a swirl of magic? I always wondered what would happen when the gods were reborn.”
I think of that night, of the brilliant stars falling around me. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
He smirks. “No, you’re not. You just have to let your mind open up to what your heart has already told you is true.”
I’m surprised when he turns away then, studying the world outside our window as if he’s dismissed me entirely from his mind.
“Aren’t you even going to convince me?”
He doesn’t look in my direction. He doesn’t even react.
I look out my own window. We’re at the edge of the city. The buildings are becoming more and more sparse, and soon we’ll have left my hometown entirely.
Normally, I’d say getting into a car with a strange man and driving toward a place that seems too good to be true was moronic. Something completely out of character for me. But then, I’ve never felt this lost before. I always understood myself and my world, even from a young age. I can remember bits and pieces of my time with my mom and my sister.
I knew when to stay quiet. I knew when my mother wasn’t doing well.
There’s a part of me that wonders if I was ever a child at all. Not short and helpless, but just so naïve. Did I ever see the world as a safe place I didn’t have to fight to survive in?
“Do you believe in fate, Izzy?”
I glance at the man, but he’s still staring out the window. “No.”
He doesn’t react. “Most people do, even when they say they don’t. They feel it in moments they call déjà vu. Moments they realize that they’re exactly where the world wanted them to be. Have you ever felt that way?”
I felt that way when I met Noah, Van, Aiden, and Reid. But I don’t tell that to anyone, including this strange man.
“No.”
He smiles, but still doesn’t look at me. “Do you believe in ghosts, goblins, monsters, and miracles?”
“No. To all of that. I only believe what I see.”
Finally, those blue eyes of his lock onto mine once more. He lifts a hand, and in his palm blossoms a flower that glows like a thousand stars. I lean forward, mouth hanging open, and watch as the tiny flickers of light change. The petals of the flower pull back, and in the center sprouts our earth. The tiny planet spins and changes, as if moving through years in the blink of an eye.
“I am a time warden,” he says, his voice soft. “I can go into the future and into the past. But every jump I make comes with a cost. To myself, without a doubt, but possibly to the world. In my younger days, I was more reckless. But now, I’ve learned. I’ve seen an infinite number of futures. I’ve seen an infinite number of pasts.”
The world in his palm fades away.
“How?” I whisper.
“Because that world of darkness and light. That world of magic. It exists just as you and I do. And now, Izzy, you and your friends are a part of that world. And there’s no going back.”
My heart races. “I had a plan…”
His eyes are kind. “I know. I’m sorry.”
For some reason, I feel tears gathering in the corners of my eyes. “What does this mean? What am I?”
If anything, sadness seems to drape around
him like a cloak. “You, Izzy, are a god. Within you is the power of Loki, and the echo of him.”
I stare in shock. “I’m a god?”
He nods. “In a world where gods are hated above all else.”
My stomach turns. “What does that mean?”
“That you and your friends are going to face some very dangerous things. And the only place I have any hope of protecting you is Godfire.”
I curl back and draw my knees up to my chest. Not knowing what else to say.
“But you’ll have the protection of the other gods. You won’t do this alone.”
Somehow, his words don’t bring me comfort.
“And you’ll find the answers you’ve sought for so long.”
I remember. Lifting my tear-filled eyes to him, I remember. “You said you knew something about my sister.”
“Yes,” he says, “but you’ll have to trust me for now. You’re not yet ready to know the truth.”
As silence stretches between us, I look back out the window. We’re headed to a whole new world. A world of wealth and privilege, but also, apparently, a world of magic and danger.
I can’t imagine that me, plain old Izzy, will be successful. But I do know I’ll survive.
I always do.
Chapter Ten
Van
My father regards me in the rearview mirror. His blue eyes are the same shade as my own, and yet, they contain so much anger. And so much disappointment.
Ahead of us, the gates of Godfrey loom. We’ve been told my father must drop me here by the guard. And if it’s one thing my father doesn’t like, it’s being told what to do.
“You were our fucking future,” my father says, his voice so low that a shiver runs down my spine.
“I know I screwed up,” I say.
His mouth curls into an enraged line. “Screwed up doesn’t begin to cover it. But, the deal has been made. You will attend this school for as long as the dean sees fit, and then we will pretend your time here never happened. You will go to the college that I went to, that your grandfather and his father before him went to. And you will take over the company, if you’re worthy.”
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