dawn, when the wolf will be sleeping,” her mother promised. “And when you come home your grandmother will light you a torch. All wolves fear fire. He won’t come near you.”
And so Red went at dawn, carrying a fresh bowl of soup. And, sure enough, the path was clear and the wolf nowhere to be seen. Red reached her grandmother’s cottage safely and they spent a pleasant day together. But when dusk fell, Red begged her grandmother to let her pass the night in the cottage.
“No,” her grandmother said. “If you hide you will be hiding for the rest of your life. You’re stronger than you think. You don’t need a cloak to protect you.”
Full of fear and doubt, Red went into the woods brandishing the torch, taking comfort from the heat of the flames and finding her way by their light.
When the wolf appeared, Red froze.
“Where are you going, little girl?” he said, baring his teeth and licking his lips.
Before Red could speak, the wolf pounced. This time Red remembered her grandmother’s words and stood firm, wielding the flaming torch and letting out a terrible scream.
The wolf leapt back, tail between his legs. Red screamed again, baring her own teeth, releasing all her rage in another bloodcurdling howl. Seeing the wolf about to flee, Red threw the torch. It fell to the grass at the wolf’s paws; a spark caught his fur and set him instantly alight.
The wolf howled as he burned.
Red warmed her hands on the fire.
She was never scared to go into the woods again.
Scarlet reads the story twice. And then, as she begins it a third time, realizes that she’s read it before. Or heard it. Years ago. She only wishes she knew who’d written it. She wishes too that she was even half as brave as its heroine.
11:24 p.m.—Liyana
“I’m sorry,” Kumiko says.
Liyana, lying on her stomach on the bed, looks up from her drawing of BlackBird about to meet a long-lost Peacock sister she’d never known. “For what?”
Kumiko, lying on her back, sits up.
At the look on her girlfriend’s face, Liyana feels a flash of panic. “What is it?”
Under the duvet, Kumiko shifts slightly, almost imperceptibly inching away, then pulls her knees up to her chest.
“What?”
Kumiko traces the embroidered lilies splashed across the duvet with her fingertip.
“Koko, please. Tell me.”
Kumiko presses her chin to her knees so a curtain of silky black hair slips over her face, shutting Liyana out. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“Do what?”
“Be with you, but not be with you.”
“Wait.” Liyana puts down her pen. “I don’t—”
“Look, I understand what you’re doing with this Mazimoto bloke, with this ridiculous arranged marriage nonsense. I get it, I know it’s the easiest way for you to get what you want, but—”
“Hold on,” Liyana says. “That’s not fair. And, you know, he’s not as bad as I thought. Maybe if you met him, maybe we—”
Kumiko throws the duvet aside, anger flaring. “And why the hell would I want to do that? You’re a fool, Ana, if you think you can marry him and still have me.”
“But you said . . .”
Kumiko slides to the edge of the bed. “I said that because I thought you’d come to your senses and, when you did, you’d pick me.”
“But I do pick you.” Liyana’s voice pitches. “Of course I pick you. I love you. I don’t—I barely even like him, I’m just doing it for my aunt—”
“You say that, but who I think you’re really doing it for is you.”
“No, I—” Liyana reaches to Kumiko, who pulls away. “Please, don’t go.”
“You’re a coward, Ana.” Kumiko stands and walks across the room. “You’re taking the easy way out. And, frankly, I can’t be with someone I don’t respect.”
“Wait, Koko,” Liyana says. “Please, don’t leave.”
Kumiko turns. “You took the Tesco job, did you? You told that posh boy you won’t marry him?”
“I did a trial shift,” Liyana objects. “I, I’m supposed to call the manager this week to—”
“And the posh boy?”
“Well, um, I”—Liyana falters as Kumiko glowers at her—“But n-no, not yet. But I—I . . .” Liyana bites her lip. “I . . .”
“No,” Kumiko says, slipping her T-shirt over her head. “I didn’t think so.”
11:59 p.m.—Bea
“Are you ready, niña?”
“Yes,” Bea says, realizing in the wake of her mamá’s silence that this is the first time she’s spoken with such certainty, without a trace of doubt.
“Bueno,” Cleo says. “Because it’s nearly here.”
“I know. Nine days. It’s fine.”
“Don’t get complacent. Your sisters are far stronger than mine were. And you’ll