Glass Houses and Stones
A whole catfish stared at me with glassy eyes, its tail giving a final flop. On one side of the fish was a massive plate piled with slabs of fatty,
uncooked bacon. A platter of raw shrimp, translucent and gray, sat on the other side, next to a bowl of dry instant grits. A plate of runny eggs, with
bleeding yolks in thick white sauce, was the best of the worst. It was weird, even for Ravenwood, where I sat across from Lena in the formal dining
room. Half the food looked like it was ready to get up and run or swim its way off the table. And there wasn’t one thing on the table that anyone in
Gatlin would ever eat for breakfast. Especially not me.
I looked back at my empty plate, where chocolate milk had appeared in a tall crystal glass. Sitting next to the runny eggs, the milk wasn’t
appealing.
Lena made a face. “Kitchen? Seriously? Again?” I heard an indignant clanging from the other room. Lena had irritated Ravenwood’s mysterious
cook, who I’d still never seen. Lena shrugged, looking at me. “I told you. Everything is out of whack around here. It gets worse every day.”
“Come on. We can grab a sticky bun at the Stop & Steal.” I’d lost my appetite around the time I saw the uncooked bacon.
“Kitchen’s doing her best. Life is hard enough lately, I’m afraid. Last night Delphine was pounding on my door in the middle of the night, insisting
the British were coming.” A familiar voice, the soft shuffling of slippers, a scraping chair—and there he was. Macon Ravenwood, holding an armful
of rolled newspapers, lifting a teacup that was suddenly full of what probably was supposed to be tea but looked like some kind of soupy green
muck. Boo stalked in after him and curled up at his master’s feet.
Lena sighed. “Ryan’s crying. She won’t admit it, but she’s afraid she’ll never completely come into her powers now. Uncle Barclay can’t Shift
anymore. Aunt Del says he can’t even turn a frown into a smile.”
Macon raised his cup, nodding in my direction. “That can all wait until after breakfast. ‘How do you rate the morning sun,’ Mr. Wate?”
“Excuse me, sir?” It sounded like a trick question.
“Robbie Williams. Quite the songwriter, don’t you think? And quite a relevant question as of late.” He glanced down at his tea before taking a sip,
and put the cup down. “My way of saying good morning, I suppose.”
“Morning, sir.” I tried not to stare. He was wearing a black satin robe. At least I thought it was a robe. I’d never seen a robe with a handkerchief
sticking out of the chest pocket. It didn’t look anything like my dad’s ratty checkered bathrobe.
Macon caught me staring. “I believe the term you’re searching for is smoking jacket. I find, now that I have whole days of sunshine ahead of me,
I’ve discovered there is more to life than formal haberdashery.”
“Huh?”
“Uncle M likes to lounge around in his pajamas. That’s what he means.” Lena gave him a kiss on the cheek. “We have to get going or we’ll miss
out on the sticky buns. Be nice and I’ll bring you one.”
He sighed. “Hunger is such an incredible inconvenience.”
Lena picked up her backpack. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Macon ignored her, smoothing open the first of his newspapers. “Earthquakes in Paraguay.” He snapped open the next, which appeared to be
written in French. “The Seine is drying up.” Another. “The polar ice cap is melting at ten times the predicted rate. If one is to believe the Helsinki
press.” A fourth paper. “And the entire southeastern coast of the United States appears to be afflicted by a curious plague of pestilence.”
Lena closed his newspaper, revealing a plate of white bread sitting directly in front of him. “Eat. The world will still be on the brink of disaster
when you finish your breakfast. Even in your smoking jacket.”
The darkness in Macon’s expression lifted, the green eyes of an Incubus-turned-Light-Caster blazing a bit lighter at her touch. Lena gave him a
smile, the one she saved only for him. The smile that said she had noticed all of it—every minute of their life together. What they had, they knew.
Since Macon had basically come back to her from the dead, Lena hadn’t taken a minute they shared for granted. I never doubted that, though I
envied it.
It was what I’d had with my mom—and now I didn’t. I wondered if I had smiled differently when I looked at her. I wondered if she’d known that I had
noticed it all, too. That I knew she’d read every book I was reading, just so we could talk about it over dinner at our old oak table. That I knew she’d
spent hours at the Blue Bicycle bookstore in Charleston, trying to find the right book for me.
“Come on!” Lena motioned, and I shook loose the memory and picked up my backpack. She gave her uncle a quick hug. “Ridley!” she called up
the stairs. A muffled groan floated down from one of the bedrooms. “Now!”
“Sir.” I folded my napkin and stood up.
Macon’s relaxed expression vanished. “Be careful out there.”
“I’ll keep an eye on her.”
“Thank you, Mr. Wate. I know you will.” He lowered his cup. “But you be careful yourself. Things are a bit more complicated than they might seem.”
The town was falling apart, and we’d pretty much broken the whole world. I wasn’t sure how things could get any more complicated than that.
“Careful of what, sir?” The table was quiet between us, even though I could hear Lena and Gramma arguing with Ridley in the hallway.
Macon looked down at his pile of newspapers, smoothing open the last one, in a language I’d never seen and yet somehow recognized.
“I wish I knew.”
After breakfast at Ravenwood, if you could call it that, the day only got weirder. We were late for school because when we got to Link’s house to
pick him up, his mom caught him dumping his breakfast in the trash and made him sit through a second one. Then, when we drove by the Stop &
Steal, Fatty, Jackson’s faithful truant officer, wasn’t sitting in his car eating a sticky bun and reading the paper. And there were half a dozen buns left
in the bakery section. That had to be the first sign of the apocalypse. But even more unbelievable, we walked into the administration building twenty
minutes late, and Miss Hester wasn’t at the front desk to give us detention. Her purple nail polish sat in front of her office chair, unopened. Like the
whole world had somehow rotated five degrees in the wrong direction.
“This is our lucky day.” Link put up his fist, and I tapped his knuckles against mine. I would have gone with freaky.
It was confirmed when I caught a glimpse of Ridley wandering toward the bathroom. I could’ve sworn she had changed into a regular girl, wearing
weirdly regular-girl clothes. And finally, when I slid into my seat next to Lena, on what should have been Mrs. English’s Good-Eye Side, I found
myself in the Twilight Zone of classroom seating charts.
I was sitting where I always did. It was the room that had changed, or Mrs. English, who spent the whole period grilling students on the wrong side
of the room.
“ ‘This is a sharp time, now, a precise time—we live no longer in the dusky afternoon when evil mixed itself with good and befuddled the world.’ ”
Mrs. English looked up. “Miss Asher? How dusky a time would Arthur Miller think we live in today?”
Emily stared at her, shocked. “Ma’am? Don’t you mean to be asking—them?” Emily looked over at Abby Porter, Lena, and me, the only people
who ever sat on the Good-Eye Side.
“I mean to be asking anyone who expects to pass my class, Miss Asher. Now answer the question.”
Maybe she put her glass eye in the wrong side this morning.
Lena smiled without looking up from her paper.
Maybe.
“Um, I think Arthur Miller would be majorly psyched that we aren’t all so messed up anymore.”
I peeked over my copy of The Crucible. And as Emily stammered to condemn a witch hunt not much different from the one she had all but led
herself, that glass eye was staring straight at me.
As if it could not only see me but see right through me.
By the time school let out, things were starting to feel more normal. Ethan-Hating Emily hissed when I walked by, trailed by Eden and Charlotte, third
and fourth in command, like the good old days. Ridley figured out that Lena had Cast a Facies Celata on her, Charming her Siren clothes so they
appeared to be regular clothes. Now Ridley was back to her old self, black leather and pink stripes—revenge, vendettas, and all. Worse, as soon
as the bell rang, she dragged both of us to basketball practice to watch Link’s scrimmage.
This time there was no hanging out in the doorway of the gym. Ridley wasn’t happy until we were sitting front and center. It was painful. Link
wasn’t even on the court, and I had to watch my old teammates screwing up plays I used to run. But Lena and Ridley were bickering like sisters, and
there was more going on in the stands than on the court. At least, until I saw Link get up from the bench.
“You Cast a Facies on me? Like I was some kind of Mortal?” Ridley was practically shrieking. “Like I wouldn’t know? So now you think I’m not
only powerless but stupid?”
“It wasn’t my idea. Gramma told me to do it after she saw what you were wearing at the house.” Lena looked embarrassed.
Ridley’s face was as pink as the streaks in her hair. “It’s a free world. At least, it is outside of Gat-Dung. You can’t use your powers to dress
people however you want. Especially not like that.” She shuddered. “I’m not one of Savannah Snow’s Barbie dolls.”
“Rid. You don’t have to be like them. But you don’t have to try so hard to be so different.”
“Same thing,” Ridley snapped.
“It’s not.”
“Look at that herd and tell me why I should care what those people think of me.”
Ridley had a point. As Link moved up and down the court, the eyes of the entire cheer squad were glued to him as if they were one person.
Which, basically, they were. I didn’t even watch the court after a while. I already knew Link could probably hit a jumper from the stands, with his
superstrength.
Ethan, he’s jumping too high.
By about three feet. Lena was stressing, but I knew Link had been fantasizing about this moment his entire life.
Yep.
And running too fast.
Yep.
Aren’t you going to say something?
Nope.
Nothing was going to stop him. Word had gotten around that Link had kicked up his game over the summer, and it seemed like half the school
had shown up at practice to see for themselves. I couldn’t decide if it was further proof of how boring life was in Gatlin, or how bad our new Linkubus
was at Mortal camouflage.
Savannah had the cheerleaders up and moving. To be fair, it was their practice, too. But to be fair to the rest of us, we weren’t exactly expecting
Savannah’s new routines. From the looks of it, Emily, Eden, and Charlotte weren’t expecting them either. Emily didn’t even get off the bench.
From the sidelines, Savannah was jumping almost as high as Link. “Give me an L!”
“You’re not serious.” Lena almost spit out her soda.
You could hear Savannah across the gym. “Give me an I!”
I shook my head. “Oh, she’s serious. There’s nothing ironic about Savannah Snow.”
“Give me an N!”
“We are never going to hear the end of this.” Lena looked at Ridley. She was chewing gum like Ronnie Weeks slapping on nicotine patches
when he quit smoking. The more Savannah jumped, the harder Ridley chewed.
“Give me a K!”
“Give me a break.” Ridley spit out her gum and stuck it underneath the bench. Before we could stop her, she was climbing over the aluminum
bleachers, down to the court—superhigh sandals, pink-striped hair, black miniskirt, and all.
“Oh no.” Lena started to get up, but I pulled her back down.
“You can’t stop it from happening, L.”
“What is she doing?” Lena couldn’t bear to look.
Ridley was talking to Savannah, tightening the low-slung belt with the poisonous insect trapped in it, like a gladiator gearing up for battle. At first I
strained to listen, but within seconds they were shouting.
“What’s your problem?” Savannah snapped.
Ridley grinned. “Nothing. Oh, wait… you.”
Savannah dropped her pom-poms on the gym floor. “You’re a skank. If you want to lure some other guy into your skanky trap, be my guest. But
Link is one of us.”
“Here’s the thing, Barbie. I’ve already trapped him, and since I’m trying to play nice, this is me giving you fair warning. Back off before you get
hurt.”
Savannah crossed her arms over her chest. “Make me.”
It looked like they needed a ref.
Lena covered her eyes. “Are they fighting?”
“Uh—more like cheering, I think.” I pulled Lena’s hand from her eyes. “You have to see this for yourself.”
Ridley had one thumb hooked over her belt, the other shaking a lone, borrowed pom-pom like it was a dead skunk. The squad was next to her,
climbing into their standard pyramid formation—Savannah leading the way.
Link stopped running down the court. Everyone did.
L, I don’t know if this is the right time for payback.
Lena didn’t take her eyes off Ridley.
I’m not doing anything. But someone is.
Savannah was smiling from the base. Emily scowled as she climbed to the top. The other girls followed almost mechanically.
Ridley waved a drooping pom-pom over her head.
Link dribbled the ball in place. Waiting, like the rest of us who knew Ridley, for the terrible thing that hadn’t happened yet but would any second
now.
L, you think Ridley—?
It’s impossible. She’s not a Caster anymore. She doesn’t have any powers.
“Give me an”—Ridley shook her pom-pom halfheartedly—“R.”
Emily wobbled at the top of the pyramid.
Ridley called out again. “Um, and an I?”
A shudder went through the team, like they were doing the wave in pyramid formation.
“And then, let’s go with a D.” Ridley dropped the pom-pom. Emily’s eyes widened. Link held the ball in one hand. “What does it spell,
Cheerlosers?” Ridley winked.
Lena—
I started to move before I saw it happen.
“Rid?” Link shouted at her, but she didn’t look back at him.
Lena was halfway over the bench, on her way down to the court.
Ridley, no!
I was right behind her, but there was no way to stop it.
It was too late.
The pyramid collapsed on top of Savannah.
Everything happened really quickly after that, like Gatlin wanted to fast-forward the whole story from breaking news to ancient history. An ambulance
picked up Savannah and took her to the hospital, over in Summerville. People were saying it was a miracle Emily hadn’t been killed, falling all the
way from the top. Half the school kept repeating the words spinal injury, which was only a rumor, because Emily seemed about as full of backbone
as ever. Apparently Savannah cushioned her fall, as if she had selflessly martyred herself for the greater good of the team. That was the story,
anyway.
Link went to the hospital to check on her. I think he felt as guilty as if he’d beaten Savannah up himself. But the official diagnosis, according to
Link’s call from the lobby, was “good an’ banged up,” and by the time Savannah sent her mom home for her makeup, everyone involved was feeling
better. It probably helped that, the way Link told it, the whole cheer squad was there asking him who he thought had been friends with Savannah the
longest.
Link was still relaying the details. “The girls’ll be all right. They’ve sorta been takin’ turns sittin’ on my lap.”
“Yeah?”
“Well, everyone’s pretty upset. So I’m doin’ my part to comfort the squad.”
“How’s that going?”
I had a feeling both Link and Savannah were enjoying the afternoon, in their own ways. Ridley was nowhere to be found, but when she figured out
where Link had gone, things would probably get even worse. Maybe it was a good thing Link was familiarizing himself with the county hospital.
By the time Link hung up, Lena and I were back in her room, and Ridley was moping around downstairs. Lena’s bedroom was about as far as
you could get from Jackson High, and being there made everything that happened in town seem about a million miles away. Her room had changed
since she came back from the Great Barrier. Lena said it was because she needed to see the world through her gold and green eyes. And
Ravenwood had changed to mirror her feelings, the way it had always changed for her and Macon.
Her room was now entirely transparent, like some kind of weird tree house made of glass. From the outside it still looked exactly the same, with
its weather-beaten shutters covered in vines. I could see remnants of her old room. There were still windows where there had been windows, doors
where there had been doors. But the ceiling was open, with sliding panels of glass shoved to one side to let in the night air. In the afternoon, the
wind scattered leaves across her bed. Her floor was a mirror that reflected the changing sky. When the sun beat down on us—as it always did now
—the light refracted and broke and scattered over so many different surfaces, it was impossible to tell which sun was the real one. They all burned
equally, with a blinding glare.
I lay back on her bed, closing my eyes and letting the breeze roll over me. I knew it wasn’t real, just another version of Lena’s Casting Breeze, but
I didn’t care. My body felt like it was breathing for the first time today. I pulled my damp shirt off and tossed it onto the floor. Better.
I opened an eye. Lena was writing on the glass wall closest to her bed, and the words hung in the air like spoken sentences. Inked in Sharpie.
no light no dark no you no me know light know dark know you know me
It made me feel better, seeing the handwriting I remembered from before the Sixteenth Moon.
so goes the hard way—the (fall a)part way—the (break a)heart day
I rolled onto my side. “Hey. What does that mean, ‘the break a heart day’?” I didn’t like the sound of that one.
She looked over at me and smiled. “It’s not today.”
I pulled her down on the bed next to me, my hand on the back of her neck. My fingers tangled in her long hair, and I ran my thumb down her
collarbone. I loved the way her skin felt, even if it burned. I pressed my lips against hers, and I heard Lena’s breath catch. I was losing mine, but I
didn’t care.
Lena ran her hand down my back, her fingers trailing along my bare skin.
“I love you,” I whispered into her ear.
She held my face in her hands and leaned back so she could look at me. “I don’t think I could ever love anything the way I love you.”
“I know I couldn’t.”
Lena’s hand rested on my chest. I knew she could feel my heartbeat thudding beneath it. She sat up, grabbing my shirt off the floor. “You’d better
put this back on, or you’re going to get me grounded for the rest of my life. It’s not like Uncle M sleeps all day. He’s probably down in the Tunnels
with—” She caught herself, which is how I knew who she was talking about. “He’s in his study, and he’ll expect to see me any minute now.”
I sat up, holding my shirt in my hands.
“Anyway, I don’t know why I write the things I do. They sort of come into my head.”
“Like my father and his new bestseller, The Eighteenth Moon?” I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it, and Amma was avoiding me. Maybe
Macon would have the answer.
“Like Savannah and her supercool new Link cheer.” Lena leaned against me. “It’s a mess.”
“Give me an M. Give me an E-S-S.”
“Shut up,” Lena said, kissing my cheek. “Shirt on.”
I pulled my shirt back over my shoulders, pausing midway. “You sure about that?” She bent to kiss my stomach, yanking my shirt back down over
it. I felt the stabbing pain disappear as quickly as it came—but I reached for her anyway.
She ducked out of my arms. “We should tell Uncle Macon about what happened today.”
“Tell him what? That Ridley’s starting fights? And even though she’s completely powerless, bad things happen to cheerleaders when she’s
around?”
“Just in case. She could be up to something. Maybe you should tell him about your dad’s new book.” Lena held out her hand, and I took it, the
energy draining out of me slowly.
“You mean, because the last book turned out so well? We don’t even know if there is a book.” I didn’t want to think about my dad and his books
any more than I wanted to think about Ridley and Savannah Snow.
We were halfway down the hall before I realized we had stopped talking. The closer we got, the more I sensed Lena’s pace slowing. She didn’t
mind going back down into the Tunnels. She just didn’t want me going down there.
Which had nothing to do with the actual Tunnels and everything to do with Macon’s favorite exchange student.
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