“I’m sorry about that,” I say. “I didn’t ask Liv to do that.”
“I know.”
“What are you doing here, anyhow?” I ask when he opens his passenger door for me.
“Driving you home,” he says in an even tone. “We’re neighbors, and Liv asked me to, in case you don’t remember.”
He waits for me to get in and buckle my seat belt, then he shuts my door and goes around to the driver’s side. Once he’s buckled in and has started the engine, I say, “What I mean is, what are you doing here? At Domion?”
“Listening to music, same as you,” he says. “Why, are you implying I’m following you?”
“No, of course not!” I feel like an idiot.
For a moment, I’m sure he’s about to say something else. But he puts the car in gear, mumbles something to himself, and backs out of his parking space.
It’s not until we’re almost out of the parking lot that I realize I’ve walked out without saying good-bye to Drew.
16
The first few minutes of the drive are silent. I feel nervous and tongue-tied in Caleb’s presence.
“So, Liv and Drew? I didn’t know she liked him until tonight,” I say in an attempt to cut through the awkwardness.
“Yeah,” Caleb says, his eyes glued to the road.
“I mean, Liv seems so tough sometimes, like she doesn’t need anyone,” I add when it’s clear he’s not going to say anything.
“Yeah.”
I take a deep breath. “But when you think about it, they’re kind of perfect for each other.”
“Yeah.”
This is getting ridiculous. “Okay, so the way that conversation works is that I say something, and then you say something back—preferably something other than ‘yeah.’”
This finally elicits a reaction from Caleb. He chuckles. “Yes, I know what a conversation is.” He hesitates and adds, “I’m sorry. I’m not making this very easy, am I?”
“I just don’t understand why you’re avoiding me.”
“I’m not,” he says instantly.
I continue to stare at him until he clears his throat and says, “All right. Maybe I’ve been avoiding you a little.”
The words hit me harder than I expect. “Why? Does it have something to do with zandara?” I ask after a moment of silence.
He hesitates. “It’s hard to explain. I think it’s better if we just don’t talk about this.”
“Look,” I say, “I didn’t even know anything about the Dolls or the sosyete or anything until two days ago. I wasn’t raised with any of this, so you can’t hate me because of it.”
“I don’t hate you,” Caleb says immediately. His voice is husky as he turns and repeats, “I don’t hate you.”
“Well, it sure feels like it,” I reply.
“It’s not that. It’s just . . .” His voice trails off. “It’s just that certain people in town have certain responsibilities. And feelings make those responsibilities that much harder.”
“Feelings?”
“Oh, that’s not what I meant.”
“Right,” I say, feeling foolish. “Me neither.”
“It’s just . . .” He hesitates and starts again. “There are some things in this town that you don’t understand.”
I grit my teeth. “You know, I’m getting pretty tired of everyone talking in mysteries and riddles over my head.”
“Eveny . . .” For a moment, I think he’s going to tell me what he means. But instead, what he says is, “It’s complicated.”
“Seriously, no explanation? Are you trying to drive me crazy?”
“No,” he says quickly. “I’m trying to warn you. This town, it sucks you in. It’s like all your choices start to disappear, and you realize your life’s been planned out for you long before you got here.”
“Well, that makes everything a lot clearer,” I say sarcastically. I realize that he actually looks upset, so I soften my tone and add, “That’s why you disappear to go surfing, isn’t it? You’re just trying to get out of here.”
He looks surprised. “You remembered.” When I nod, he continues, “I love that feeling of anonymity when I’m out there alone in the water.” He pauses. “But now that I’m not going as much anymore, it sometimes feels like this town is closing in on me.”
“Because of the Dolls?”
“I just have this feeling that there’s a storm coming, and they’re the ones bringing it here.” He hesitates. “They told me about the possession at Cristof’s. You should be worried too.”
“Gee, thanks for making me feel better.”
“This is life-and-death stuff, Eveny. I know Peregrine and Chloe think this is all fun and games, but I need to know that you know better. Tell me you know better.”
“Of course I do.”
He’s silent for a moment before changing the subject. “So Drew. Has he said anything to you about Glory?”
“Drew?” I repeat, surprised. “No. Why?”
“I think he was seeing her,” Caleb says. “I was just wondering if Liv knows.”
“Caleb, that’s crazy,” I say. “The Dolls act like Drew’s not even alive. Besides, Drew would have told me if there was something going on.”
He shrugs. “I saw them together. A week before she died.”
“Saw them doing what?”
He clears his throat. “It just seemed like they were together, okay? I thought it was great that something was going on between them, being that she was a Doll and he’s from the Périphérie. About time someone shook things up around here. But then she died, and he kept right on acting like he didn’t know her.”
I shake my head. “Are you sure they were together? Like together together?”
“No. Not one hundred percent.”
“So don’t you think you’re being a little unfair?”
“Then ask him, Eveny,” Caleb says. “I just want to make sure Liv is aware. She’s your friend, and if she’s interested in him, she deserves to know that something might have been going on.”
We’re pulling into my driveway now, and I feel a sense of disappointment. Even if we’re disagreeing, I want to keep talking to Caleb. Forever, if possible.
“I’m only being cautious, Eveny,” he says as he puts his car in park. His eyes are wide and concerned as he turns to me. “You should be too.”
I open my mouth to respond just as he leans forward to jiggle my door handle. “It sticks sometimes,” he explains. Our eyes meet, and for a moment, as he goes still, I have the weirdest feeling he’s going to kiss me. But then he retreats to his own seat and looks out the windshield with his hands gripping the wheel, like he can’t wait to get out of here.
“Bye,” I say softly as I climb out of the car.
He doesn’t reply. Instead, the moment I shut his car door, he guns the engine and pulls away.
But he lingers at the bottom of my driveway until I’ve unlocked my front door and slipped inside my house. I watch from the window as his taillights disappear.
Aunt Bea is already in bed when I get home, but I’m not even slightly tired. I sit down at the kitchen table and dial Meredith’s number.
When she answers on the third ring, all I can hear at first is club music pumping through the earpiece.
“Mer?” I ask loudly. I repeat myself a few times, until I hear her voice faintly over the music.
“Eveny?” she yells. “Hang on, I’ll go outside!”
A moment later, the music fades and is replaced by New York street sounds: people talking, car horns honking, brakes screeching. I realize with a pang just how much I miss being there.
“Hey, girl!” she says excitedly.
“What are you up to tonight?” I ask.
“Nick and Holly heard about a party in Chinatown,” she says. “So Colton and James and I grabbed a cab and came out here. This place is amaze, Ev! No cover, and the door guy didn’t even look twice at my ID.”
“Sounds cool.”
“Totally wish y
ou were here! What’re you doing tonight?”
“Just got home from seeing a friend’s band play,” I tell her.
“Ooh, you have a friend in a band?” she asks. “Is it a boy?”
“Just the guy I told you about the other night. The one I knew when I was a kid. But the other guy drove me home.”
“Who?”
“Caleb. The one who’s insanely gorgeous.”
She makes a noise. “Girl, the hot ones are the ones you’ve got to look out for.” She pauses. “So are you coming back to visit soon, or what?”
I think about it for a minute. A few days ago, I was dying to return to New York. Now, I feel like there are a thousand answers I need to figure out here in Carrefour first. “Probably not,” I tell her. “Not for a while, at least.”
“Seriously?” she asks. “Why, your aunt won’t give you money for a plane ticket?”
“It’s not that. It’s just that so much of my family’s history is tied in to Carrefour.” I try to stay as vague as possible. “I know it sounds crazy, but I think I belong here for now.”
“In the boonies?” she asks with a laugh.
“It’s not so bad,” I say, actually meaning it.
“Well, in that case,” Meredith says after a moment, “I’ve been meaning to ask you a question.”
There’s something in her voice that makes me pause. “What is it?”
“Do you still like Trevor Montague?” she asks quickly.
“I guess.” I’ve had a crush on Trevor for as long as I can remember, though nothing ever happened between us. “Why?”
“Well, he kinda asked me out,” Meredith says.
“Trevor, who I used to ask you for advice about on a daily basis? Trevor, who I used to draw pictures of in my notebook in middle school? Trevor, whose name we carved into that tree in the park in ninth grade?”
“Yes,” Meredith replies, her voice flat.
“Well, you said no, right?”
“Not exactly.”
The silence is heavy between us. “You didn’t?”
“It’s not like you’re coming back, Eveny. You just said so yourself. And I’ve liked him for a while too.”
“No, you haven’t,” I protest. “You’ve never said anything about liking him.”
“Well, maybe I do!” Her tone is defiant, and it wounds me. I close my eyes and try not to think of them together. After all, she’s right; I might never be coming back. But that doesn’t mean my best friend has to go out with the guy I’ve liked forever.
“Meredith—” I begin, trying to sound calm.
But she cuts me off. “You don’t get to call dibs on someone if you’re not here.”
She hangs up without another word. I try calling her back, but it goes right to voice mail. Finally, I settle for texting Drew. Your band was awesome, I tell him. Did you and Liv have fun? But there’s no reply.
When my phone stays silent, I head up to bed, feeling more alone than ever.
I wake up the next morning to a return text from Drew.
Thanks again for coming, he writes. And yeah, Liv is cool.
I grab my phone and text back, Anything happen with you guys?
Nah. We just talked about music and stuff. There’s a pause, then he writes, So I hear you went home with Caleb Shaw??
My cheeks heat up as I text back, He only gave me a ride cuz I was on his way. But even over text, I can sense Drew’s jealousy. I feel like adding, Caleb acts like the very thought of me is offensive, so you don’t have to worry, but instead, I settle for, Call me later, before I head down to the kitchen.
Aunt Bea is sitting at the table, sipping a cup of coffee, when I round the corner.
“Morning,” she says. Her eyes flick up to meet mine, and I realize they’re bloodshot and underlined in deep blue half-moons.
“You okay?” I ask.
“I didn’t sleep well last night,” she says. “A lot on my mind.” That’s when I notice a small purple jewelry box and a yellowed envelope on the table in front of her. She follows my gaze. “I picked this up yesterday while you were at school,” she says.
“What is it?”
Aunt Bea just shakes her head. “Sit down,” she says, sliding the envelope and box over to me. “They were left in a safe-deposit box for you many years ago. Your mom wrote the letter the year you were born, in case anything ever happened and she wasn’t here when you turned seventeen.”
She pauses and looks down at the table. “I should have given them to you on your birthday, but I was hoping to prolong the sense that our lives are normal. Now that zandara has found you, though . . .” Her voice trails off, and there are tears in her eyes when she looks up again.
“You knew it would when you brought me back here, didn’t you?” I ask, turning the box over in my hands.
“I was doing what I had to do.” She nods at the envelope, and with shaky hands I open it carefully. A dried rose flutters out first, and I recognize it as one of my mother’s gold-tipped Rose of Life blooms. There’s also a single piece of thick paper, yellowed at the edges. I unfold it shakily and begin to read.
My dearest Eveny, my mother writes.
Happy seventeenth birthday. If you’re reading this, it means I am no longer with you, and for that, I am sorrier than I can ever say.
As I’m sure you’ve realized by now, Carrefour is full of secrets, and only you can make the decision about what’s right for your future—although I suspect others around you will have opinions of their own. Remember that zandara can be used for good or evil, selfishly or selflessly. But one thing remains true: it exists always in balance with the universe.
Dark times are coming, and in order to survive, you’ll have to tap into everything inside of you. You have the chance to become the greatest queen the world has ever known.
I have always loved you, Eveny, and I always will. I hope that one day, you’ll understand everything.
Then, in verse form, she has printed the poem from the front hallway:
For each ray of light, there’s a stroke of dark.
For each possibility, one has gone.
For each action, a reaction.
Ever in balance, the world spins on.
But there’s a second verse too.
Blood of my blood, in dreams I will come
To show you the way, soul to soul.
The pieces are shattered, a puzzle undone.
You must piece them together to make it whole.
Beneath the second verse, the letter is signed simply, Love forever, Mom.
When I finish reading, tears cloud my vision. I slide the letter over to Aunt Bea. “I don’t understand. Why would she write all this if she was going to kill herself?”
Aunt Bea doesn’t reply. Instead, she looks up from the letter a moment later with tear-filled eyes and pushes the box toward me. “Open it,” she says.
I take the top off gently. Inside, a smooth black stone with one jagged edge hangs from a long, thin gold chain. I pick it up, and as my fingers touch the stone, a jolt of electricity shoots through me. “It’s just like the necklaces Chloe and Peregrine have,” I say.
Aunt Bea is watching me closely. “It’s a third of the Stone of Carrefour. When the town was founded, Eléonore and the other two queens channeled a huge amount of magical energy into a piece of obsidian. And when they cast the protective charm, the stone itself was so laden with power that it split into three. The reigning zandara queens in Carrefour each have one, passed down to them on their seventeenth birthdays.
“Only a zandara queen can harness its strength,” she continues. “Once you put it on, it will hang from your neck until you die, or until you pass it on to your own daughter on her seventeenth birthday. If someone tries to take it from you, the magic within the stone burns them. And as long as you’re wearing it, it’s all you’ll need for minor charms.”
“You’ve lost me,” I say, confused.
“As long as you’re touching the stone with your left ring fi
nger,” Aunt Bea explains solemnly, “you can channel any herb or flower, without actually having it in your grasp. The queens designed it that way so that they didn’t always need access to their gardens. Actually holding the plants in your hand always makes a charm stronger, but the stone is sort of like a backup plan.”
I touch the stone, and it throbs with possibility and foreboding.
“If you channel a specific herb while you’re using it, somewhere in the world, one of those herbs dies,” Aunt Bea continues. “Zandara always requires balance, which means power always comes from somewhere.
“Now,” she adds, looking up at me, “about your mother’s letter—”
“It sounded like she knew what might happen with Main de Lumière,” I cut in, “and like she thought I should do all I could to learn about zandara.”
“But that’s an easy thing to say in the abstract, Eveny. You were just a baby when she wrote this. She never had the chance to know you as a young woman, and she didn’t have a chance to see you blossom outside of this town. She assumed that your choices were already made for you, like hers were for her.”
“But my choices are made, aren’t they?” I ask. “If I walk away, the town will get weaker, until Main de Lumière figures out a way to destroy us.”
“On the other hand, perhaps if zandara wilts here, we’ll fall off Main de Lumière’s radar,” Aunt Bea says. “Maybe losing its magic is the one thing that will allow Carrefour and zandara to survive.”
17
That evening, I wander out to the garden, the place I feel closest to my mom.
I have no doubt that Aunt Bea has my best interests at heart, but in the last fourteen years she has watched her sister take her own life, assumed custody of a child she never expected to raise, and left behind everything she ever knew. All because of zandara. It’s no wonder that her feelings about magic would be less than glowing.
But if my mom wrote me a letter telling me that the only way through the storm is to stay strong and tap into everything inside of me, there must be a reason. Suddenly, it occurs to me that there might be a way to ask her directly.
The Dolls Page 13
