nodded, not really trusting myself to say anything else. For a moment I thought about telling him how I’d spent my day—walking dogs, getting a job, seeing the painting, reading what he’d written about me, about us, five years ago. But I couldn’t even make myself picture it. It felt like trying to imagine a world without gravity, or something equally impossible.
I opened the pizza box, then hesitated. My plan to watch bad TV while eating pizza on the couch clearly wasn’t going to happen. I started to turn and get a plate, then stopped and walked back to the island just as my dad opened the fridge again, then closed it. It felt like we were bad actors who’d collectively forgotten our blocking, like what happened to Tom last year during a particular painful performance of The Seagull. I maneuvered around my dad, grabbed a plate, then put two slices of pizza on it. Even though I had a thing about crumbs, I was feeling more sure by the minute that I couldn’t keep standing there, more aware with every forced sentence just how little we had to say to each other. Especially knowing now that this wasn’t something I’d have to endure for only a day or two. This was the whole summer.
“Have some pizza if you want,” I said over my shoulder as I headed for the back stairs with my plate, taking them two at a time.
When I got to the top, I looked down. I could still see my dad, standing alone in the kitchen, looking really small from this vantage point and like he was a little lost in his own house. I walked to my room, then closed the door and leaned back against it, my thoughts all circling back and back again to the same question.
How were we ever going to get through this summer?
Tamsin glared at her brother as he lounged in the chair at the other end of the table from her, helping himself to the candied fruit. It was so typically Jack—he showed up after almost a year gone doing god knew what (though she unfortunately did know, and much more than she wanted to, with minstrels writing songs about his most outrageous exploits. She’d heard the groom in the stables singing one yesterday morning, and it had stayed in her head nearly all day) and just expected that everyone would be thrilled to welcome him back.
“What?” he asked, shooting her a grin, the one she was sure had worked on every barmaid up and down the southern coast, all innocence and rumpled charm. It wasn’t going to work on her, and Jack seemed to realize this as he dropped the smile and tossed a piece of fruit into his mouth, catching it easily.
“Are you planning to stay this time?” she asked, folding her arms. She wasn’t sure, to be honest, which answer she wanted to hear.
“My kingdom needed me,” Jack said, raising an eyebrow. “Also, I may have been asked to leave Riverdell. Rather rudely, I’ll have you know.”
“Because I’ve been the one keeping things going here,” she said, trying not to let any emotion come into her voice. “And—”
“And you’ve done a wonderful job,” Jack said, his voice dripping sarcasm. “But the adults are here now. You can run off and do your needlepoint.”
Tamsin took a breath, about to let him have it—when she realized what she was being offered. Freedom. She smiled as she stood from the table and walked toward the door, faster, until she was almost running.
“Uh—Tam?” she heard Jack call out to her, but she didn’t stop, didn’t even turn and look back.
She was going to the woods, to the last place she’d seen the Elder.
And she was going to get some answers.
—C. B. McCallister, A Murder of Crows. Hightower & Jax, New York.
Chapter FIVE
“How did it go?” Maya called to me from the driveway as I locked the door, then double-checked that it was locked, then checked once more for good measure. It had been four days since I’d gotten the job, and this was my second training day. I was getting more comfortable with the dogs, but I hadn’t had to do it on my own yet, without Maya there for backup.
I was still coming to terms with the fact that this was what my summer was going to look like. It was fine, for the most part—I’d blocked the Young Scholars page on my computer after I’d spent one night