blurted out the moment Kite finished her terse introduction. The older woman turned up her nose and looked vaguely royal.
“The Isles of Light,” Kite replied, “and that’s all you need to know. Sato tells me you have no formal fighting experience.”
“Yes. But I’m fast, and I learn quickly.”
The longer Kite inspected her, the more Amity felt as if Kite didn’t like her. It didn’t come as a surprise. Most people didn’t like her upon meeting her, put off by her orange eyes and white hair and the knowledge that the Watcher lived inside her—but it didn’t make the idea of spending months training with Kite any easier.
“Are you ready?” Kite asked.
Amity couldn’t tell if Kite meant for the sparring, or for hunting Faust.
Though, then again, she really only had one answer.
“Yes.”
CHAPTER 29
When spring break hits at the beginning of March, my parents decide I’ve had enough of my bedroom and decline my request to be omitted from this year’s family camping trip. Sully and Church find this hilarious. Lazy hermit Eliza trekking through the wilderness with a pack of supplies, reeking of bug repellent.
It’s not that I don’t like the outdoors. It’s that I don’t see the point of the outdoors when there’s so much I could be doing indoors.
My parents also deny me my sketchbook for this venture, an act that would have had me boiling over in a fit of apoplectic rage had I any less self-control. They’ve never taken my sketchbook away before, and I don’t think Dad felt the shock wave of pure surprise and anger that came off me when he told me to turn around and take the thing back to my room.
Mom and Dad don’t say anything about my phone, though. Either they don’t think I’ll get service, or they didn’t realize I had it. I keep it tucked in my pocket.
It burns a hole there the whole way to the Happy Friends Dog Day Care to drop off Davy, then as we drive down a long dirt road between two thick swaths of forest. The camping gear rattles around in the back of the SUV. Sully and Church, on either side of me, sing along with the pop music vibrating from the radio. Mom and Dad politely ignore them. Sully screams all the lyrics correctly but slightly off-key. Church is actually kind of good.
“You should try out for choir,” I say when the song ends.
Church’s entire head-neck region flares red. “No,” he snaps. “Choir is stupid.”
I shut my mouth. So much for trying.
“Aw, little Churchy in choir.” Sully laughs. “You could hang out with Macy Garrison all day if you were in choir.”
“I thought you were going to ask Macy Garrison out before Christmas?” Dad looks at us in the rearview mirror with a twinkle in his eye. “What happened with that?”
“I never said I would,” Church grumbles. Then he shoots me a dirty look. “Thanks a lot. Why didn’t you stay home with your boyfriend?”
“Mom and Dad wouldn’t let her,” Sully says, still laughing. “They think she’s going to invite him over for sex.”
I am a volcano.
“Oh, Eliza, that’s not why we did this,” Mom takes her eyes off the road for a second to look back at me. “If you and Wallace decide you want to take that step, it’s completely up to you—that’s why we had that doctor’s appointment.”
“Mom, stop.” My voice drops.
“It’s completely healthy for kids your age to be, you know, getting together.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t yet,” Dad chimes in. “Junior year of high school was the first time your mother and I—”
“STOP!” Sully, Church, and I yell it at the same time, clapping our hands over our ears. Mom and Dad look nonplussed and stop speaking.
We drive in silence for three more minutes before Mom pipes up again.
“Just saying. It’s how we made all three of you.”
“Jesus,” Sully groans.
We park at the campgrounds and have to hike like two miles uphill to get to where we’re setting up the tents. I knew before coming out here that this would be no walk in the park. My parents and brothers load themselves up with gear and start out with a spring in their steps. I’m carrying my own stuff—two days’ worth of clothes, snacks, bug spray, and sunblock—and wearing my old baggy clothes and the hiking shoes Mom got me because she didn’t want me twisting my ankles.
Almost as soon as we begin up the path, sweat starts running between my shoulder blades. The sun beats down