by Lanie Bross
“True,” he said.
Corinthe ran her thumb back and forth over his forearm. It was time to get things back on track. This had to work. “How about I bring your jacket back to Ava right now, and then maybe we’ll see each other later?”
“Sure,” he said with a sly smile.
From the corner of her eye, Corinthe saw Kaitlin Nelson coming toward them across the patio. She didn’t look happy at all. Her darkly painted lips were pursed, and she was yanking the hem of her slinky tank top around the waist of her jeans. Kaitlin was everything Ava was not—petite, blond, prone to breaking into loud peals of laughter. Corinthe watched as she stopped at the bar and poured a long shot of vodka into a red plastic cup. She tipped the cup back into her mouth and shook her head in disgust, then poured herself another as she glanced in Corinthe’s direction. When Corinthe made eye contact, Kaitlin frowned and looked away quickly.
Kaitlin looked miserable. Did she care about Nate, or Ava? Corinthe wondered why humans were so emotional, why they acted the way they did. She valued having control over her feelings above all else—control, she had learned, was essential to her existence.
Only when Nate had finally shrugged out of his jacket and handed it to her did she exhale. The jacket was still warm from his body heat and the flannel lining felt soft, but it was heavily doused with cologne. It smelled fake—the musky scent was too overwhelming, too intense. She checked his pockets, hoping to find a string or shoelace, but they were empty. The search would have to wait anyway; the next part of the plan involved Ava, and Corinthe needed to ensure that it went off without any more glitches.
As she moved through the crowd of people dancing, she slipped the ring and photos into one of the jacket pockets. She made her way to Ava, who was sitting on a raised brick step at the edge of the Jacuzzi. Her dress was pulled up to her knees and she was dangling her feet in the water.
“Ava, right?” Corinthe asked after composing herself. When the girl looked up and nodded, Corinthe held out Nate’s jacket. “Your boyfriend wanted me to give this to you. He said you looked cold.”
The girl’s eyebrows rose in surprise, and she smiled. She took the jacket and draped it around her shoulders. “Thanks.”
“Do you mind if I sit down?” Corinthe asked.
“Not at all,” Ava said. She motioned to a spot on the brick edge. Corinthe sat, then removed her flats and dipped her feet in the water. Despite her nerves, the water was calming. Ava gently moved her feet back and forth, and for a second Corinthe shuddered—all she could see was the girl kicking and flailing, gulping in salt water as she desperately gasped for air.
“So, are you feeling okay?” Corinthe asked, shaking the image from her head.
Ava shrugged. “I was feeling nauseous earlier, and the alcohol definitely didn’t help. Plus, I’m just not a big drinker, I guess,” she said with a laugh. “How about you? Are you okay?”
It occurred to Corinthe that she must look out of place, too. There was no drink in her hand and no smile plastered across her face—not like all the other girls in the pool or on the dance floor. Corinthe sized them up, trying to figure out which necklaces could be ripped off more easily than others. This would come together. She would still execute. She’d faced far more difficult challenges.
“Yeah,” Corinthe said. “I guess I’m not much of a drinker, either. It always makes me a little sick. I hate the way it makes me feel different, more …”
“Immature?” Ava said, finishing Corinthe’s thought. Her gaze moved to where Nate stood, surrounded by his buddies at the keg. They were whooping and cheering and gulping down cups full of beer.
Corinthe caught site of Owen again, cutting through the crowd on the patio, just beyond Nate and his crew. She saw him glance up at the sky and quickly checked her phone. It was 11:50. This was when her plan became a delicate dance; it was imperative to make the right moves.
“Ten minutes till your birthday is over,” Corinthe said. “It was really sweet of Jared to throw you a party.”
“Yeah. He and I practically grew up together,” Ava said. “His parents and my parents are friends, so we spent a lot of summers here. When I was younger, my mom and I would stand at the end of the pier right there for hours. We always waited until it got dark enough for the stars to appear.” A blush spread across her cheeks when she saw Corinthe watching her. She untied the long silk ribbon that held her braid and began undoing her dark hair. It fell in waves, and she ran her fingers through it. Corinthe noted how Ava placed the ribbon on the brick between them.
“Now I go there when I need some peace,” Ava continued. “It’s like this special place where things are totally clear. And I feel … safe.”
Corinthe felt a twinge of regret. Tonight’s outcome would only happen because she’d played on Ava’s weaknesses. She was going to drive Ava so crazy she’d flee to the one place she felt safe—but what was waiting for her there? And why did Corinthe even care how Ava felt? If she realized her true fate, the universe would remain in balance. And what was more important than that?
“You transferred into my chem class,” Ava said. “Are you new?”
“Yeah. I just started at Franklin last week and don’t really know many people yet. Owen Miller invited me tonight.” The lie slid easily from her lips. “Do you know him?”
Something in Ava’s eyes changed and her gaze slipped from Corinthe’s. “He’s my neighbor. We’re friends.… Well, we used to be friends, I guess.”
“What happened?” Corinthe asked before she could stop herself. Did she genuinely care? She should be concerned about the ribbon, now inches away from her hand. When the girl shifted and looked away, Corinthe quickly grabbed it and slipped it into her pocket. “I mean, sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want.”
“It’s okay. We just … we sort of grew up together. Best friends, practically. But then things got weird when we started high school. People grow apart, right? It happens all the time.” Ava’s gaze moved over the crowd and stopped on Owen, who was glancing at his watch.
Corinthe wanted to press Ava further but stopped herself. Her curiosity had always gotten her into trouble. She couldn’t complicate things any more, and she couldn’t afford another slipup. Not after she’d nearly gotten everything in place.
The task at hand was the only thing that mattered.
As if on cue, Owen disappeared around the side of the house—presumably to grab his telescope. Corinthe stood and scooped up her flats.
She had to move now. It was time for the ring to perform its role in the scene. Feel inside your pockets, Corinthe willed. But Ava was staring at her reflection in the pool, apparently lost in her memories.
“It was really good to meet you, but I gotta get going. Hope you feel better,” Corinthe said. “Oh, and I almost forgot! Nate said to check his pocket … I guess there’s a birthday surprise or something?” It sounded a bit forced, but it was the best she could do in a rush.
“Really?” Ava said. As Corinthe walked away, she saw Ava reach into Nate’s jacket pocket at last and pull out the ring and the photo strip. She smiled at the emerald ring, but her expression turned angry when she saw the pictures.
Corinthe walked up the three patio steps and stood in the same spot she had earlier in the night—right by the railing next to the bar. She paused for a few moments to watch as Ava’s eyes widened and her bottom lip trembled. Regret tightened in Corinthe’s chest, foreign and frightening. Ava’s hand shook as she held the ring.
Ava looked around, her eyes wet. She got up and let Nate’s jacket fall to the ground, one sleeve sinking into the pool. She didn’t bother to pick it up as she grabbed her sandals and started toward the keg, where Nate was still standing. Her feet left wet prints on the concrete.
Corinthe’s pulse thumped in her veins. This was it, the moment when everything started to come together. She should be thrilled—but instead she was stuck wondering why Ava cared enough to cry. Did she lov
e Nate? Love was the human emotion Corinthe found more perplexing than all the rest. It made people act crazy, causing immense joy but also horrendous pain—and yet they sought it out over and over again. Corinthe was lucky to remain free from the confusion of love. To her, love seemed impossibly chaotic. There was no control, no balance.
But she couldn’t stop herself from wondering: What does it feel like to love?
Corinthe shook the thought from her head. She was there not to understand but to fulfill a task.
She looked away and locked eyes with a boy in a Giants cap. He was coming toward her, and in that sliver of a moment she couldn’t help noticing his full lips and angular chin. Corinthe had seen many cute boys in her time, but few had had the power to distract her from her goals. This one was different. When she saw his face, something clicked in her gut, like an engine sputtering to life inside her. It was almost as though she knew him. She’d never had this feeling before.
The boy in the cap said nothing as he passed, but he left a faint smell of cloves in his wake. Corinthe made herself look away. Her heart had picked up speed, like she had just run the length of the city.
“I’m telling you, I don’t know whose that is.” Nate’s voice cut into Corinthe’s thoughts and she turned just in time to see Ava throwing the emerald ring at him—the one she’d found in his coat pocket, where Corinthe had carefully placed it—and holding the pictures up under his nose.
“And these?” she cried.
“I’ve never seen that before.” Nate glanced at the crowd gathering around them on the patio. Corinthe watched from her spot near the bar.
“Are you kidding me? That’s not you and Kaitlin making out in a photo booth?”
“I can explain,” Nate said.
“Really?” Ava asked, her voice rising. “Then explain. Explain why there are pictures of you kissing Kaitlin, and why the date on the back says last week. Explain it to me, Nate, because I must be understanding it all wrong.” She wiped away her tears, smearing mascara across her olive skin. People around them began whispering, stealing glances at the fighting couple and at Kaitlin, who stood frozen at the edge of the crowd.
Nate’s mouth opened and closed, and Corinthe recognized the look of panic that morphed quickly to defeat. “I’m sorry.”
“So am I,” Ava said, so quietly that Corinthe strained to hear her. The strip of pictures fell from her fingers, and a small sob escaped her lips. Nate grabbed her arm as she turned to leave.
“Babe, please. Can’t we talk about this?”
Ava turned back toward Nate and looked like she might say something—but in one swift movement she grabbed the drink out of his hand and threw it in his face. “Leave me alone, Nate.”
He let go of her to wipe the beer from his eyes. Several chuckles erupted from the crowd, and a female voice shouted, “You tell him!”
But Ava was already running down the path to the beach, the bottom of her dress gathered in her hands. Nate didn’t follow her.
Corinthe slipped through the gawking crowd. She followed Ava, warming up her hands, stretching them wide and balling them back up again. Gravel crunched below her flats as she made her way down the path to the rocky beach. The rocks were the size of fists, smooth and slippery. Corinthe heard the girl’s soft crying, even over the surf pounding the shore. Ava stood alone at the end of the old pier. The moon glistened off the rippling waves, sending the light dancing across the surface of the ocean. Corinthe wondered if Ava was thinking of her mother.
It was just like the image in the marble: Ava, backlit against the moon, her wavy hair caught by an odd gust of wind. She looked almost ethereal, like a goddess in the night, unaware that the life she knew was about to end.
There was no remorse in Corinthe’s heart, no hesitation in her movements.
This was her task.
This was her life.
Corinthe found her way to the small motorboat again. Waves pushed at its sides, rocking it left, then right. She undid the knot that tethered the boat to the shore. There was no time to undress. She quickly climbed in and turned the steering wheel to the left, wedging a piece of driftwood in it to secure it in place. She jumped back out and waded waist-deep into the water, the bottom of her silk romper becoming soaking wet. Corinthe looped Ava’s silver ribbon through the two circles in the metal. It slid in neatly, almost as though it was meant to connect the two sides of the motor. The final thread was in place at last. Fate had been spun.
She gave the ribbon a firm tug and the propeller sputtered to life. She jumped up and down and stifled a scream of sheer happiness. Relief coursed through her when she swung the motor down and heard it click into place. The propeller hit the water and cut through it quickly … but her feeling of joy was short-lived, because just then the front of the boat bucked up out of the water and shot toward Ava. Corinthe had always known the stakes; she should have been thrilled the plan had come together thus far. She swallowed the brief taste of regret.
With the waves crashing against the pier, Ava didn’t hear the boat coming until the last second. She spun around just as it slammed into the dock. Covering her head, she stumbled backward and slipped off the end of the pier. Her arms windmilled and she fell into the water with a startled cry.
The boat sputtered and stalled. Corinthe ran back down the pier, away from the accident and the girl who was struggling to keep her head above the surface. Ava thrashed in the water, just as she had in the images Corinthe had seen in her marble.
Corinthe leapt onto the rocks and headed toward a stand of bent eucalyptus trees. She crouched and hid behind them. She didn’t want to watch, but she had to. She had to be sure it all went down the way it was supposed to.
She glanced again toward the party, where the muffled noise of the crowd blended with the crashing surf below her.
She couldn’t hear Ava now, only the waves crashing against each other. She imagined the details: Ava’s hair pooling around her face, legs and arms thrashing desperately, salt water filling her lungs and stomach.
Corinthe checked her phone for the time. It had been too long.
Something was wrong.
She couldn’t think clearly, and a heavy feeling formed in the pit of her stomach—as if she were being weighed down, turned into stone. Was this feeling … uncertainty? Had she somehow misread the marble? She glanced furtively at the pathway, then back toward the ocean. She felt desperate and out of control, unsure whether she should intervene. Corinthe was an executor—she could only set things in motion and help fate along its path. She never knew the exact outcome of her tasks.
If this continued, she was certain the girl would die.
Corinthe hadn’t expected to feel this way. She closed her eyes, ignoring the frantic pounding in her heart. A twisted knot formed in her stomach and she realized how wrong, how human, this sensation of fear was. She thought of her guardian, who had assured her that all outcomes—all of life and death—were part of the larger fabric of fate.
Just then, a dark figure appeared on the pathway, carrying something metal that caught the moonlight. Owen and his telescope.
Finally.
Ava’s cry for help floated across the beach and relief swelled up inside Corinthe. Owen paused and then ran toward the shoreline, throwing the telescope to the ground and wading into the water. The cry for help came again, fainter this time, and Owen dove in.
She could just make him out, swimming strong and steady toward the form bobbing in the water and flailing against the dangerous waves. Corinthe stood and watched from the tree line, standing on her tiptoes. Beads of sweat gathered on her forehead and every muscle in her body tensed, until finally Owen reached Ava and wrapped an arm around her. Ava let out a breath.
Owen fought against the riptide as he swam back, slowly pulling Ava closer to shore. Corinthe was shocked at how strong he was. The power of his muscles, the power of fate, pulling both of them back to safety.
She couldn’t bring herself to leave until she knew h
ow it ended. Corinthe paced back and forth, hidden by the shadows of the trees lining the beach. Her silk romper clung to her legs, cold and heavy.
Owen stumbled onshore, carrying Ava in his arms. He laid her down gently and wiped the sand from her face and hair. Corinthe crept closer from behind the trees and strained to hear.
“Ava!” Owen took her face in his hands. “Ava, look at me.”
“Owen?” she replied feebly.
He helped her to sit and cradled her body as she coughed up the water in her lungs.
“It’s okay,” he kept murmuring. “It’s okay.”
“You saved me,” she said, looking up at him. Her sweater was soaked and hung off her shoulders with the weight of the water. Her maxidress was tangled around her knees. Owen’s hair was darker now, slicked back with salt water, and Corinthe saw his angular face in the moonlight. He was just as handsome as ever, but he looked older. More mature. In the long silence that followed, Ava leaned into him, so close her lips were just inches away from his. Corinthe felt a tug at her heart as she watched them stare into each other’s eyes. Then it was as though something clicked inside Ava. Two pieces long separate suddenly fit together. Shocked by the realization, Ava widened her eyes briefly … then she kissed him. Slowly at first. Tentatively.
Owen kissed Ava back. His fingers moved up her cheeks and tangled themselves in her wet hair. Their kiss was slow and passionate, and finally Ava pulled away to look at him.
“I thought you hated me,” she said, shaking her head. Bits of sand were matted in her hair. “You never wanted to be around me anymore.”
“I couldn’t be around you. You were with Nate. I—”
“That’s over.” She buried her head in Owen’s chest and they sat quietly, their arms around each other.
Corinthe melted deeper into the shadows, a strange fluttering feeling in her stomach. Neither Owen nor Ava had noticed the tiny light flickering above their heads. It shimmered and darted this way and that, as if looking for something, then headed straight for Corinthe. She held out her hand. When the firefly landed in her palm, she closed her fingers around it carefully.
