Fins Are Forever
Page 50
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Suddenly I don’t care anymore about the fight or my renunciation or Tel in’s proposal or anything except wanting him to realize how exceptional he is.
“You’re wrong,” I shout over Princess’s muffler. “You’re more than worth—”
“Why is Tel in here?”
“What?” I ask, startled by the change of subject.
“He’s not just here for a visit, Lily.” Quince refuses to look at me. “Why is he real y here?”
I take a deep breath and wipe the water off my face.
There’s no way I’m going to lie to him. Not now, not ever again. My lie of omission is already costing me too much.
“He wants to bond with me,” I yel . “In name only, a bond of convenience. So I can become crown princess and eventual y queen. So he and I can rule together.” Quince sits silent, staring down at the gray and white gravel, the thunderous roar of his motorcycle echoing between our houses. I don’t think I’m breathing. Final y, after what feels like a lifetime, he turns to face me.
“Bond with Tel in,” he says, soft but hard, and somehow I hear every word despite the noise. “Stay a princess.
Become a queen.” He starts backing down the driveway, and I have to step back to protect my bare toes. “Forget about me.”
I can only manage to shake my head as he increases his speed, zipping down the driveway, into the street, and then, shifting into gear, speeding out into the night. I race down the gravel path, reaching the sidewalk just as Quince disappears around the corner at the next intersection.
I’m not sure how long I stand there, letting the rain soak me to the core, staring at the spot where he disappeared from view. Eventual y the drizzle fades into a mist and then stops entirely. My skin prickles with eelflesh in the evening chil . The tears streaming down my cheeks dry into sad streaks. I’m not sure I blink at al until I feel a pair of soft hands on my shoulders.
“It’s time to come in, dear,” Aunt Rachel says. “You need your rest for tomorrow.”
I feel myself nod, but everything else is numb. Sometime later I realize I’m in bed, wide-awake and staring at the ceiling. I’m not sure what upsets me more: the fact that Quince left me, or the fact that he thinks so poorly of himself that he felt the need to.
One thing is certain. I can’t possibly fol ow his instructions.
Nothing on earth wil ever make me forget about him.
Chapter 13
or this section of the test you may use a calculator,” the FSAT administrator explains, reading from the script she has to recite before each part of the test.
I reach down into my bag and pul out Shannen’s birthday present. As the administrator drones on, thoughts of Quince and Tel in and Doe and Brody and my future and my past keep trying to push their way into my brain, but I shove them away. I have to. When the test is over, I can soak in my worries. Until then, I need to maintain my focus. Whatever the future brings, I want to have choices. Can’t have choices on land without col ege.
“You may open your test booklet to the math section. You have twenty-five minutes to complete this section. You may begin.”
Forcing al thoughts beyond the world contained in the packet of papers before me to disappear, I tel myself I exist only for math. Groan. But every time I start to read a question, it’s like the words begin to swim around. It takes me a few questions to realize it’s because my eyes are swimming with tears. How am I ever going to do decently on the test if I can’t even read the questions?
When the administrator instructs us to put our pencils down almost half an hour later, I’ve managed to finish almost al of the questions. I have serious doubts that I even read them correctly, let alone answered them with any degree of success. And to be honest, I don’t real y care. In the scale of things, my fight with Quince—one that might not be easily resolved—seems far more important than a single test. There wil be other tests. There can never be another Quince.
After two breaks and another three equal y incomplete test sections, the administrator final y announces that the test is over.
Cheers go up around the room, but al I can do is slump my shoulders—in relief and in anticipation of what I have to face beyond the cafeteria doors.
Shannen is waiting for me in the parking lot when I step out into the bright sun. Yesterday’s rain is gone without a trace. Since I haven’t magical y learned how to drive overnight, she brought me to school early this morning and promised to pick me up after.
“So… ,” she says. “How’d it go?”
“Froggin’ crabtastic,” I answer with a shrug.
“I’m sure you did fine.” She slides into the driver’s seat and starts the car. “Should we go celebrate?” As if I’m in the mood to celebrate anything. I’m not even in the mood to talk. I just want to go home and see if Quince is there so we can work through this. I have to believe that we can. The alternative is unacceptable.
But I have an unavoidable responsibility to take care of first.
I shake my head as I drop into the passenger seat.
“Can’t.”
“Plans?”
I heave a sigh at the thought of what I have to do. It’s not the most important thing to me at the moment, but it’s time sensitive.
“Tonight is the new moon,” I explain. “If I don’t separate Doe and Brody before moonrise, their bond wil become permanent.”
A permanently bonded Doe and Brody couldn’t be good for anyone.
“You’re wrong,” I shout over Princess’s muffler. “You’re more than worth—”
“Why is Tel in here?”
“What?” I ask, startled by the change of subject.
“He’s not just here for a visit, Lily.” Quince refuses to look at me. “Why is he real y here?”
I take a deep breath and wipe the water off my face.
There’s no way I’m going to lie to him. Not now, not ever again. My lie of omission is already costing me too much.
“He wants to bond with me,” I yel . “In name only, a bond of convenience. So I can become crown princess and eventual y queen. So he and I can rule together.” Quince sits silent, staring down at the gray and white gravel, the thunderous roar of his motorcycle echoing between our houses. I don’t think I’m breathing. Final y, after what feels like a lifetime, he turns to face me.
“Bond with Tel in,” he says, soft but hard, and somehow I hear every word despite the noise. “Stay a princess.
Become a queen.” He starts backing down the driveway, and I have to step back to protect my bare toes. “Forget about me.”
I can only manage to shake my head as he increases his speed, zipping down the driveway, into the street, and then, shifting into gear, speeding out into the night. I race down the gravel path, reaching the sidewalk just as Quince disappears around the corner at the next intersection.
I’m not sure how long I stand there, letting the rain soak me to the core, staring at the spot where he disappeared from view. Eventual y the drizzle fades into a mist and then stops entirely. My skin prickles with eelflesh in the evening chil . The tears streaming down my cheeks dry into sad streaks. I’m not sure I blink at al until I feel a pair of soft hands on my shoulders.
“It’s time to come in, dear,” Aunt Rachel says. “You need your rest for tomorrow.”
I feel myself nod, but everything else is numb. Sometime later I realize I’m in bed, wide-awake and staring at the ceiling. I’m not sure what upsets me more: the fact that Quince left me, or the fact that he thinks so poorly of himself that he felt the need to.
One thing is certain. I can’t possibly fol ow his instructions.
Nothing on earth wil ever make me forget about him.
Chapter 13
or this section of the test you may use a calculator,” the FSAT administrator explains, reading from the script she has to recite before each part of the test.
I reach down into my bag and pul out Shannen’s birthday present. As the administrator drones on, thoughts of Quince and Tel in and Doe and Brody and my future and my past keep trying to push their way into my brain, but I shove them away. I have to. When the test is over, I can soak in my worries. Until then, I need to maintain my focus. Whatever the future brings, I want to have choices. Can’t have choices on land without col ege.
“You may open your test booklet to the math section. You have twenty-five minutes to complete this section. You may begin.”
Forcing al thoughts beyond the world contained in the packet of papers before me to disappear, I tel myself I exist only for math. Groan. But every time I start to read a question, it’s like the words begin to swim around. It takes me a few questions to realize it’s because my eyes are swimming with tears. How am I ever going to do decently on the test if I can’t even read the questions?
When the administrator instructs us to put our pencils down almost half an hour later, I’ve managed to finish almost al of the questions. I have serious doubts that I even read them correctly, let alone answered them with any degree of success. And to be honest, I don’t real y care. In the scale of things, my fight with Quince—one that might not be easily resolved—seems far more important than a single test. There wil be other tests. There can never be another Quince.
After two breaks and another three equal y incomplete test sections, the administrator final y announces that the test is over.
Cheers go up around the room, but al I can do is slump my shoulders—in relief and in anticipation of what I have to face beyond the cafeteria doors.
Shannen is waiting for me in the parking lot when I step out into the bright sun. Yesterday’s rain is gone without a trace. Since I haven’t magical y learned how to drive overnight, she brought me to school early this morning and promised to pick me up after.
“So… ,” she says. “How’d it go?”
“Froggin’ crabtastic,” I answer with a shrug.
“I’m sure you did fine.” She slides into the driver’s seat and starts the car. “Should we go celebrate?” As if I’m in the mood to celebrate anything. I’m not even in the mood to talk. I just want to go home and see if Quince is there so we can work through this. I have to believe that we can. The alternative is unacceptable.
But I have an unavoidable responsibility to take care of first.
I shake my head as I drop into the passenger seat.
“Can’t.”
“Plans?”
I heave a sigh at the thought of what I have to do. It’s not the most important thing to me at the moment, but it’s time sensitive.
“Tonight is the new moon,” I explain. “If I don’t separate Doe and Brody before moonrise, their bond wil become permanent.”
A permanently bonded Doe and Brody couldn’t be good for anyone.
