by Mary Weber
I freeze.
“Please don’t tell me you want just that.”
I step from the tide and move nearer to him. To his posture that’s leaning toward me, not away.
Those grey eyes are on fire as he sets them on me. “If only friendship is what you want, I’ll respect it, but—” He shakes his head.
“You just said I don’t belong here right now, Lute. And you . . . you belong out there.” I cast a glance at the sea.
In one swift move he rises to his feet, takes my hand, and stares at me for a long minute, his blazing eyes saying a hundred things but I don’t know how to decipher any of them as the waves continue to surge and retreat as if, just like me, they don’t fully know where they’re supposed to be. Belonging everywhere and nowhere all at once in a body that is owned by neither man nor land because the sea is simply her own entity.
The sea is her own entity.
The rhythmic water thrums against my ankles and soon becomes loud in my head. I shut my eyes and let its whispers slip through me, until the next moment it’s reaching right into my soul and reshuffling every assumption I’ve held. The beliefs I’ve misunderstood.
I frown and look up at Lute. What had he called the sea? Untameable.
What if it really is the same with me? What if I don’t fully belong anywhere . . . because I belong to myself? Maybe that’s the sea’s strength, and maybe that’s my strength too. It’s not that I don’t belong. It’s that I belong to me.
It’s why I entered the Labyrinth.
It’s how I will survive if I lose my mother.
It’s how I’ll survive if I end up losing Lute.
I will belong to me.
I let the smile edge my lips and pull Lute’s hand flat to my chest where I can feel the thump thump thump of my blood pulsing through my heart as I stare at him. This man standing in the middle of the ocean spray, so near, he might as well step into me. The water droplets slide down his hopeful face like fingers across bare skin. They catch on his lashes and lips and chin, and he presses my fingers against my chest before he pulls them away and sets them on his.
To feel his lungs and heartbeat too. Because maybe I also belong there.
Finally, he exhales and, leaning in, whispers, “Bloody hulls, please say something. Say you want to conquer the world but that you also might be willing to let me do it with you—even if I’m doing it from here. Because you are the wild sea and unkempt storms and constellations in a world where I am the anchor for everyone I know.” He leans forward, as if his heart is stretched as taut as his tone. “And you remind me that I can do impossible things.”
He looks at me shyly, as if afraid I’ll say no. “I know the university’s a day’s trek away—but I don’t mind the distance if you—”
My fingers on his anatomically perfect lips cut off the rest of his comment. He lifts a brow and waits for my choked-up smile before he slides his hand around the back of my neck and pulls me closer, his thumb tipping my chin up to his. I draw him into me until the atmosphere between us ceases to exist, and it’s just us, the sea, and the sky.
He opens his mouth to speak again, but I’m already crashing in at the seams of my being, as the ocean spray around us is swirling and falling into wind and life and magic. And suddenly his hands are in my hair and his lips are on my cheek, brushing down to my chin, then my mouth, and every single inhale I take declares that I am undone.
Hand on hand. Nerve on nerve. Lip on lip. Breath entwined. Burning to the ground. Everything in me belongs to me, but it also belongs to him. To this boy who is willing me to succeed. Who is willing to take on a world with me, and in the process, perhaps we will create a new world of our own.
I pull back and look at him. “I’m sorry you didn’t win the contest, Lute.”
“It was never mine to win. My Labyrinth was you. Your mind. Your heart. Your trust. In hopes you’d name me your own.”
I stand on my tiptoes and cup his face between my hands. “Mr. Wilkes, have I ever explained the decomposition process of an animal corpse to you?”
28
When the letter arrived on the steps of every Pinsbury Port home in the quiet October morning hours, scarcely two weeks following the Autumnal Equinox Scholarship Competition that had thoroughly shocked at least one half of the tiny kingdom of Caldon—Mrs. Mench was understandably appalled. After all, Mr. Holm had sent it without even the slightest consideration to how such things work. Social changes should be given time, as should people, and there had been far too much of the former lately. Propriety must be honored even when some reckless young bucks thought tradition was for toppling.
Mrs. Mench only hoped it wouldn’t become a habit. She’d had enough excitement—that hadn’t been created by her, at least—for a solid five months. And that was saying something.
Even so, she and everyone else in Pinsbury tore open the sealed parchment the moment the missives hit the cobblestone steps, because for the first time in fifty-five years, no one had any idea what the contents said. Two letters from Mr. Holm within the same year had never been heard of before.
The brief, purple-inked note was hand printed on a parchment made of forty-pound vellum.
* * *
All gentlepersons of all ages are cordially invited to attend the celebration of one Miss Rhen Tellur and her full acceptance into Stemwick University for the commencing winter quarter. Festivities will be held exactly one week from today, on 13 October, year of our King Francis (long may he reign), at Holm estate. Guests will appear at six o’clock in the evening in front of Holm Manor’s entrance and are welcome to stay until one o’clock the following morning.
For Attendees: Party refreshments will be provided at all times. Sleeping accommodations not provided (hence, please leave by one o’clock). Gratitude and congratulatory excitement toward Miss Tellur are expected. (Those who fail to comply will be tossed out at our congratulatory excitement.)
For Dissenters: No one likes a sore pouter—so stay home.
For All: Mr. Holm and Holm Manor bear only slight responsibility, liability, and legal obligation for the future societal changes that may result from your female children believing it is within their power and right to become whomever and whatever they desire—and in doing so, to change the course of history.
Sincerely,
Holm
* * *
Dear Reader,
You’ll notice a variety of individuals, families, and situations represented in To Best the Boys, particularly some reflecting learning struggles and different needs. These are based on specific loved ones within my own family and close friends, and it was their desire and mine to represent them accurately and with honor in this novel. For this reason, they were given absolute control over their word choices, scenarios, and representation within To Best the Boys (and in this note). However, we are aware that not everyone agrees on language, word preferences, or portrayal. With that in mind, if anything rings as inaccurate or insensitive to you, please accept our deepest apologies. Rhen is based on my mom (and two brothers) who have dyslexia. Ben is based on my family member who has Down syndrome and autism, as well as a dear friend with Down syndrome. Lute and his mom are based on our families. Our hope is to honor the beautiful people and stories in this world. And in doing so, we hope we’ve honored you.
Humbly,
~m
DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
1.Even though the book is a light fantasy, what aspects of To Best the Boys mimic our own world today? Specifically consider the political, social, and educational challenges.
2.In To Best the Boys, Rhen dreams of being a female scientist in a kingdom that won’t allow it. And yet, she believes in herself enough to buck tradition and rewrite society’s rules. What dreams do you desire to see fulfilled, and what challenges do you face? If you could accomplish anything, what would it be? And what are you waiting for?
3.Vincent and Rhen used to be friends until his choices surrounding a mistake he made changed aspect
s of his character. Do you think that happens in real life? Do you think he could’ve become a better person in spite of the mistake? How?
4.There are multiple men in Rhen’s story who are good men. They speak, act, and support others in ways that are opposite of Vincent, his friends, and some of the adults. What’s the difference between the “good” ones and the others? What specific behaviors made them honorable people? What was the difference between the way Lute and Vincent each treated Rhen?
5.The families in Rhen’s story are a reflection of my own community. They all have different needs (some financial, some physical, some logistical)—all of which influence their daily lives and decisions. What needs can you relate to?
6.The politicians in Rhen’s world made a decision they believed was good for the environment and the community. Was it a good one? How could they have handled it to make it better?
7.Multiple times throughout Rhen’s story, she encounters specific boys talking to her, or about her, in ways that make her uncomfortable. In one instance, Vincent not only defends Germaine and Rubin to Rhen, he gets her to question the legitimacy of her own personal boundaries and beliefs. In another instance, the three boys talk about Rhen, Seleni, and other girls as if all they’re good for is to get something from. And in repeated instances, various boys and men (and some women) use words, embarrassment, authority, or condescension to try to make Rhen submissive to their opinions. How did this make you feel? Has this ever happened to you? What was the situation? For some women, such instances haven’t been common. For others, those situations occur far too often. And for still others, those types of incidents are just the tip of something far more painful. So allow me to say this: Wherever you are, whatever has been done to you . . . It. Was. Not. Your. Fault. And it was not okay. Your opinions and feelings and body and mind are yours. They are precious because you are precious. And I’m so very sorry. If you have someone safe you can talk to, please do so. And if you need someone, please reach out to the many resources available. A good place to start might be www.womenshealth.gov.
8.At the end of the book, Rhen has a realization that changes the way she views herself and how she fits into the world. She’s struggled her whole life with feeling like she doesn’t belong fully anywhere, when the truth is—she belongs to herself. What do you think of that concept? How might the way we interact with society and others change if we choose to belong to (love, be true to, own) ourselves first?
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I hit a spot in every book I write, always around page 90, when I think, Well, this is it. I’m officially a fraud at this author thing. Rudely, without fail, not one person in my life so far has had the gall to believe me. In fact, they tend to go about their business as if I’m legitimately capable of finishing the book. And somehow they’ve been right six times now. I owe them more than I can say.
These are my page 90 people. I couldn’t have written this book without them.
My husband (aka hottest best friend I’ve ever had). My three muggles, Rilian, Avalon, and Korbin. My biochemist sister, Kati, who brainstormed this story with me and then checked the science of things. Dad, Mom, my siblings, and their families—thanks for all the meals at home and in Croatia.
My sensitivity readers—Susan, Amanda, Mindy, Diane, and others, for guiding this story with your wisdom, words, and heart. And to the Meades and Ulibarris—this story is for you.
Marissa Meyer, C. J. Redwine, Nadine Brandes, Sara Ella, Allen Arnold, Jeanette Morris, and Courtney Stevens.
My #FantasyOnFriday ladies—Jodi Meadows, C. J. Redwine, Beth Revis, Kristen Ciccarelli, Tricia Levenseller, Danielle Paige, Erin Summerill, and Amy Bartol.
Father’s House, The Rise, and my lovely Sarah Kathleen Photography.
Lee Hough. Amanda, Bex, Jodi, Paul, Allison, Kristen, Julee, and the rest of the Thomas Nelson team.
My Mad Hatter street team. Let’s be wild together. ☺
Every bookstagrammer, blogger, interviewer, reviewer, and book clubber who has read, photographed, or shouted up my books. (Even if you threw them across the room first due to #cliffhangers. Sorry about those. Kind of.)
My readers. You are my people. And you are more than I deserve.
Jesus. Because you are all this heart exists for.
~m
A RECIPE FOR LABYRINTH CAKES
INGREDIENTS:
Cakes:
½ cup butter
4 ounces white baking chocolate
1 cup powdered sugar
2 eggs plus 2 egg yolks
6 tablespoons flour
1 teaspoon grated orange peel
½ teaspoon cardamom
¼ teaspoon cinnamon
Easy caramel sauce:
1 cup brown sugar
½ cup butter
½ cup heavy cream
1 teaspoon vanilla
DIRECTIONS:
Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Lightly butter 6 muffin cups and set aside. In a small saucepan (or in the microwave), melt the butter and white chocolate over low heat, stirring regularly until smooth. Remove from heat and stir in the powdered sugar, then add in the eggs and egg yolks and whisk. Blend in the flour, orange peel, cardamom, and cinnamon. Ladle the mixture evenly into the greased cups and bake for 10 to 13 minutes, until puffy and lightly browned.
While the cakes bake, prepare the caramel sauce by combining the sugar, butter, and heavy cream in a small saucepan over medium heat and stirring continuously. Once the sauce is melted and begins to bubble around the edges, stir for 4 minutes more, then remove from the heat and blend in the vanilla. Set aside.
Remove the cakes from the oven and allow to cool 3 minutes before inverting them onto parchment. While still hot, flip the cakes right side up and generously spoon the caramel over them. Sprinkle the tops with orange peel if desired. Allow the cakes to cool, then grab one, your copy of To Best the Boys, and a friend to share them with—and enjoy!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo by Sarah Kathleen Photography
Mary Weber is the award-winning HarperCollins author of the bestselling young adult Storm Siren Trilogy and The Sofi Snow duology. An avid school and conference speaker, Mary’s passion is helping others find their voice amid a world that often feels too loud. When she’s not plotting adventures involving tough girls who frequently take over the world, Mary sings ’80s hairband songs to her three muggle children and ogles her husband, who looks strikingly like Wolverine. They live in California, which is perfect for stalking LA bands and the ocean.
