Rebel

by Rachel Manija Brown

  Ross tried to imagine Paco’s reaction. Paco never mentioned Kerry, but if he saw her, he’d go silent and grim. And if she didn’t leave, he would. “I think Meredith was joking, but I don’t think he’d like it, either. And he definitely won’t be hurt if you don’t give him something.”

  For a disquieting moment, the grimness that tightened Kerry’s sharp features made her look just like Paco. Just like Voske. Tension gripped Ross’s neck.

  Then she lifted a scarlet blouse with embroidered golden starbursts. “Thanks. Would Jennie like this?”

  The tension eased. “Yeah. She’s beautiful in red and gold. And she likes embroidery.” Ross added, “Mia likes pink. And ruffles. Lots of ruffles.”

  Kerry gave him a thin, secretive smile. “I’ve got something else in mind for Mia.”

  * * *

  Ross opened the door to the Rileys’ house. He’d known it would be crowded for Christmas, but the sheer number of people crammed inside drove him back a step. Then he made himself stop. Breathe. Give himself time to calm down.

  As Dr. Lee had suggested to him a while back, he made himself look at the people as individuals rather than as a crowd. If he thought of them as a mob, they’d feel dangerous. So he searched out people he knew, people who were harmless. Yolanda Riley. Jose Riley. Grandma Riley. A toddler with the Riley dark skin and curly hair making a grab for a shiny Christmas tree ornament, her oversized bat-like wings fluttering through the cut-outs in her dress.

  To Ross’s surprise, the little girl rose a few inches above the floor before a man and a woman lunged simultaneously to snatch her away from the fragile glass bell. He’d never before seen a winged person who could actually fly. Usually their wings were too small to lift the weight of their bodies. And the child had the big Riley frame she’d obviously inherited from her mother.

  Jennie approached, beautiful in a crimson dress embroidered around the neckline with holly leaves. Her hair stood out in a black puff around her face the way it had the first time they’d danced together, alone in her backyard. The low cut of her dress, displaying her lavish cleavage, reminded him of another dance, the one where she’d worn Meredith’s too-tight dress. He’d spent the night kind of hoping it would split right down the middle.

  He lifted his eyes—and met her gaze. Her lips quirked with mischief, as if she knew what he was picturing and didn’t mind at all.

  “Come on in, Ross.” She took his hand, her grip warm and strong and reassuring.

  She seated him between herself and Mia, who instantly grabbed his other hand. Mia, too, had dressed up, in her own way. He recognized Dr. Lee’s second-best button-down shirt, well-made but much too big for her, plus her father’s pants, baggy and crammed into shiny boots. She’d confessed earlier that she was afraid that if she wore a dress, some disaster would ruin both it and the evening.

  As the food passed from hand to hand, Ross relaxed incrementally. Everyone was friendly. He was attending a party of friends and relatives, not a gathering of bandits or a subtle battle conducted in words and glances, like those horrific meals at Voske’s palace. It was a family dinner, like normal people had every day. Just . . . bigger.

  By the time the honey-basted ham, roast turkey, and side dishes had been replaced with a dried apple pie, a lemon meringue pie, blackberry turnovers, a cornmeal cake topped with candied orange slices, and a quivering caramel flan, Ross was aware that he was actually enjoying himself.

  “A slice of everything, Ross?” suggested Jennie.

  “We’ll have to roll him home,” Meredith teased.

  “We’ll have to roll you home,” Jennie said with a grin. “You’ve never met a dessert you didn’t want seconds of.”

  The winged toddler fluttered over and made a grab for Ross’s gauntlet. Her father rushed forward, but Ross said, “It’s okay.” The little girl’s curiosity didn’t bother him. His gauntlet was one of Mia’s finest works, beautifully designed and made. He held out his hand so the child could touch the shiny metal. “She can’t damage it. And it doesn’t hurt.”

  “Little mechanic,” Mia said approvingly. She tapped the part the toddler was prodding. “This is called a rivet. Can you say that, April? Rivet.”

  “Rivet,” April repeated clearly. As she traced it, she leaned on Ross’s leg, her solid toddler’s body oddly light.

  “Hollow bones?” Ross asked her father.

  “Yes.” The man beamed. “But strong. No more danger of breaking than anyone’s. Dr. Lee examined her. Her wings grow in pace with the rest of her body, so he thinks she might still be able to fly as an adult. If so, she’ll be the first in the history of Las Anclas.”

  “The first flying Riley,” said her mother, joining them. “You can’t keep her out of anything. She hardly ever breaks things, though.”

  April smiled proudly. Ross could tell she was repeating a parent’s words as she said, “I’m careful.”

  Mr. and Mrs. Riley passed dessert plates around the table. Everyone in the family turned toward Mrs. Riley when they spoke, so she could read their lips. Even for the most trivial remarks and silly jokes, they made sure to include her. It reminded Ross of . . .

  He grasped at a fleeting memory: a tall man with black hair down to his shoulders: his father. Had his father also been deaf? That felt . . . wrong, but not far wrong. Had he been disabled in some other way, like Ross was now?

  He had been. Ross was suddenly and completely sure of it. But he had no idea how, or why he knew, or why he knew the fact but not the detail. He tried to reach further into the memory. Black hair . . . Brown skin . . . Stone dust, filling his throat, choking him . . .

  “Ross?” Jennie peered at Ross, her dark gaze concerned. “Are you all right?”

  The memory slipped away before he could grasp it, leaving him puzzled and frustrated. Instinctively, he lowered his face to hide his feelings, pretending to inspect his plate. “Sure. Just wondering where to put all this.”

  “That’s never been a problem before,” Mia piped up, then laid her warm hand on his thigh under the table. There were so many people crowded around the table that Mia and Ross and Jennie were pressed close together. Every time Jennie turned, her hair brushed against his cheek, soft as a cloud.

  Paco sat opposite Ross, smiling at a joke Jose made. But the smile didn’t reach his eyes; it was polite rather than happy. Ross had barely known him before his mother, Sera, had been killed, but he had a vague recollection of an easy-going boy who had joked and laughed, and a sharper one of the passion and fluid ease with which he had played his drums. Paco made no music now.

  In the distance, the town bell clanged three times.

  “Watch change!” a little girl yelled.

  “Present time!” the rest of the kids chorused.

  The smallest kids ran to the Christmas tree and began handing out gifts, while the teenagers and adults gathered their chairs into small groups.

  Everyone else was excited and happy, but Ross couldn’t stop himself from watching for suspicious shadows or the glint of steel. He knew he was safe. But he couldn’t make himself feel it. And all that family togetherness, which should have made him more relaxed, inexplicably made him more on edge.

  What’s wrong with me? Ross thought for the millionth time.

  Half the time the Rileys make him feel more safe than he’d felt in his entire life, and half the time they made him want to run and hide. But he had no idea what triggered the difference. Was it memory?

  Why didn’t he remember all the way back to early childhood, the way everyone else did, like a story? Why did his story-memory start a couple years ago, and everything before that was nothing but tiny pieces that popped into his head every now and then, half the time for no reason that he could figure out, and disappeared the moment he tried to remember more?

  Meredith turned cheerfully to Ross, saying, “I gave my gifts at Hanukkah. But I should have gotten you something. I could bake you a pie later.”

  “Next year,” Ross said, feeling awkw
ard again. “I forgot you, too.”

  But Meredith didn’t seem upset. “Next year.”

  “I have a gift for the whole family,” Paco called out.

  Mr. and Mrs. Riley unwrapped a beautiful stained glass window worked into a rising sun.

  “It’s to replace the window that got broken when Mia blew up the pit mouth,“ Paco explained.

  Snickers arose. Dee defensively clutched the fluffy white kitten in her lap. “If I hadn’t smuggled it in, someone else would have, sooner or later. They’re cute in their larval form.”

  Ross tensed as Jennie picked up his present, but her face lit with a lovely smile as she poured the beads into her cupped palm. Blue and white agate shone in the firelight, swirled together like a cloudy sky on a summer day.

  “Oh, if I were wearing my braids, I’d put these in right now. They’re gorgeous, Ross.” Jennie shook her hand, making them click together. “I like the sound, too.” With a wicked smile that hit him in the heart—and headed down south—she added, “They’ll feel smooth as silk against my neck. Stone stays cool for a long time, even on hot days. When you see me wearing them, remind me to have you touch them.”

  Ross could only manage a nod, then Mia thrust a sheet-wrapped cylinder into Jennie’s lap. Ross saw that Jennie guessed what it was as soon as her hand closed over it. A spasm of pain tightened her features for a heartbeat, and he knew she still missed her old sword.

  “Everyone knew it was Jennie’s sword,” Mia had told Ross indignantly. “It only technically belonged to the Rangers. None of them will use it. Frances said it would feel like stealing. Mr. Preston could’ve given it to Jennie for her service, when he kicked her out of the Rangers. I think he kept it because she loved it.”

  Jennie’s smile at Mia was wistful but pleased. She brandished her new sword so firelight ran down the watered steel. It was perfectly balanced, Ross knew.

  “I didn’t make the blade, of course,” Mia said, as apologetically as if that might ruin the gift. “It’s from Dad and me. We split the cost of the steel and the swordsmith’s fee. But I made the grip myself. It has your initials inlayed in bronze. And that’s sort of partly from Ross, too, because I used his hand to model it. Did you know that your hands are exactly the same size?”

  “Yes, I’ve noticed.” Jennie’s smile at Mia was sister-sweet, but it turned wicked again when she glanced at Ross. “Thank you so much, Mia. It’s exactly—”

  Mia beamed. “I’m so glad you like it! It was so unfair when Mr. Preston booted you—um, I mean, I’m so glad you like it!”

  Jennie’s hand tightened on the hilt, her big knuckles paling. Ross knew that tension all too well. And he knew how to break it, too.

  “Hey, Mia. Time for your present.” He pointed to her package, which was almost as big as she was.

  Jennie cast him a grateful look, and he felt her body relax against his. They both had memories they’d never get out of their heads, of things done that could never be undone. But they didn’t have to think about them every single second.

  Mia’s gasp of delighted surprise when she opened her gift was everything Ross had hoped for. “How clever! Mr. Rodriguez designed it, didn’t he? It’s got his style written all over it.”

  She threw her arms around him, her silky hair brushing his cheek and her warm body pressed tight against his. He felt her lips move against his throat as she said, “It’s exactly what I always wanted, only I didn’t know I always wanted it until now. So it’s a perfect surprise. And now I’ll never stub my foot on my wrench again. It’s the best present ever.”

  Mia released him, then peered earnestly into his face. As if she wasn’t sure he’d understood exactly how much she liked it, she added, “Ever! EVER!”

  Ross grinned. “I believe you.”

  Jennie made a rueful face as she handed Mia her present. “I wish I’d given you this first. Now it’s got a lot to live up to.”

  Mia shook out a peach-colored dress decorated with rows and rows of blue ruffles, with blue forget-me-nots embroidered around the neckline. Her body would be hidden beneath the ruffles, much as her father’s baggy shirt concealed it now. Ross liked how comfortable she looked in her old overalls, and he really liked her shirts with those tempting little rips she never remembered to repair, so bits of her skin showed unexpectedly when she moved. But that dress was exactly the sort of thing Mia adored.

  Sure enough, she let out a delighted squeak. “It’s beautiful. And the ruffles! I love ruffles! And you did it all yourself, Jennie, didn’t you?”

  “Meredith helped embroider the forget-me-nots,” Jennie said, as Meredith grinned proudly.

  “I love them.” Mia’s happiness lit her from within, making her prettier than ever. “It’s beautiful work, and I needed a new dress. I could never wear my mother’s pink dress again, after it turned out to be see-through—I mean, after Ross saw through—only because it was wet, but still—”

  Everyone else seemed confused, but Ross vividly remembered how on the night Voske attacked Las Anclas, he and Mia had stumbled into her cottage, drenched in rain. She’d turned on the lights, and he’d seen her with that pink silk plastered to her body, translucent and paper-thin. He’d seen everything—and had wished . . .

  Mia’s face was fiery red. “Well, anyway, the silk was ruined. It’s just a keepsake now. But this one, I’ll wear.”

  Jennie handed Ross a bag decorated with embroidered poppies. He pulled out a shirt of blue cotton, tailored exactly to his size. Three tiny stars were embroidered over the pockets, in silver, red, and blue.

  “Red for my favorite color,” Jennie said. “Blue for Mia’s. And silver for your night sky.”

  My night sky.

  Jennie and Mia had given him the sky before. When he’d thought he was dying in Voske’s hell cell, he’d remembered holding hands with the girls beneath the skylight they’d installed in his room. Ross held the shirt tight to his chest, wishing he could hold Jennie instead. Mia, too. But though Mia had already grabbed him and the whole town knew he was dating them both, he couldn’t bring himself to embrace either of them in front of onlookers.

  “Thank you.” The words came out in a choked whisper. They felt totally inadequate, and he couldn’t get out any more. But when he looked up at Jennie, he could see that she understood.

  “My turn!” Mia handed him an oddly shaped bundle wrapped in drop cloths and tied with a bow.

  Ross tugged at the knot, but it was too secure for one hand. He reached with his left, but he couldn’t undo a knot with the gauntlet. And if he took it off, his fingers wouldn’t close tightly enough. He began to turn aside to hide his difficulty, bracing himself against a familiar rush of self-consciousness and shame, but it didn’t come. Everyone watching him already knew about his hand. And none of them cared.

  Why should he care? He handed the package to Mia. “Can you undo this knot?”

  “Sorry. Sorry. I just wanted it to look nice. And not fall out.” Blushing furiously, Mia unwrapped her gift and shoved it into his hands.

  It was a weapon resembling a long horse pistol. Ross turned it over, fascinated. The barrel was solid except for an indented cradle with an odd crosspiece. It was beautifully made, with the elegant simplicity and precision that was the hallmark of Mia’s work, but what was it?

  “Wait! Wait! Here’s the rest of it!” Mia handed him a quiver of cut-down crossbow bolts.

  Then Ross saw what it was: a one-handed crossbow, specially designed for his right hand.

  He had the same problem with ordinary crossbows that he’d had with the knot: his gauntlet was strong but lacked dexterity, while his bare left hand was weak and had a limited range of motion. He couldn’t pull hard enough with his left hand to crank a crossbow; his right was strong enough, but his left couldn’t grasp the weapon.

  But this crossbow had a piece on top that he could jerk back with his left palm to crank the bow. He picked up a bolt with his left hand and slid it into the cradle along the barrel. He didn’t
put his finger on the trigger, of course, but he could see that the crossbow could be shot exactly like a gun.

  Both girls’ presents said, I thought hard about what’s important to you and what would make you happy. He hoped his gifts had said the same thing.

  “It’s amazing, Mia,” he said. “I wish I could try it out right now.”

  “I’ll go with you,” she offered. “I might want to improve something!”

  “Here you go.” Paco passed him a small package.

  The paper was easy to unwrap, revealing a fine leather sheath. Ross took his belt knife out of its much-repaired sheath and slid it into the new one. He thanked Paco, then handed him his gift. Ross was glad Kerry had asked his advice at the market, because otherwise it would have never occurred to him to get anything for Paco.

  As Paco slowly held up the fine shirt embroidered with folklorico patterns, Ross said, “I wanted to make up for ruining your shirt in the battle.”

  Paco’s expression was calm, but Ross’s stomach clenched with the unspoken tension that silenced the entire room. Giving Paco a dancing shirt was obviously the worst thing he could have done.

  And apparently everyone knew why. Except Ross.

  “Thanks,” Paco said. His Adam’s apple bobbed as if it cost him an effort to speak.

  Ross was relieved when Mr. Riley cleared his throat. He was an imposing figure, broad-shouldered and immensely tall, his dreadlocks tied into a long ponytail and his immaculate white suit a startling contrast to the near-black skin Jennie had inherited from him.

  “All right, everyone,” Mr. Riley announced in his rumbling voice. “Time for church. Put your gifts away.”

  The party broke up as some said their good-byes, while others started tidying up.

  “Are you a Christian, Ross?” Mrs. Riley’s voice was slightly over-enunciated, as she couldn’t hear her own words, but he had no trouble understanding her—or her kindness. “You’re welcome to attend Christmas Eve service with us.”