“Sounds good,” Yuki said, snapping her lock shut and dropping the keys into her skirt pocket. “Oh,” she said, stopping, then taking another step forward, then stopping again.
“What is it?” Tamani asked, bemused. She could be so awkward sometimes.
“It’s stupid, I . . . I forgot my lunch,” she admitted.
As a fellow faerie Tamani knew how important midday nourishment could be to making it through school hours. He nearly laughed thinking of the mental war she must have waged between not embarrassing herself and trying to make it through a whole day with no food.
“Go ahead,” Tamani said brightly, gesturing toward the house. “I’ll wait.”
“You can come in for a sec,” Yuki said, not meeting his eyes. “I’ll just be a minute.”
He hesitated. There was something about entering this unknown faerie’s lair that felt like walking into a trap, but the tiny house was practically a training exercise in harmlessness. Not to mention the fact that they were surrounded by sentries. Still.
Yuki had swung the door wide open and the crisp autumn air wafted pleasantly through the front room. A small television set rested on a coffee table next to a pile of books, and a plush purple couch adorned one wall, but the rest of the room was wall-to-wall greenery. Potted plants lined the floors and windowsills. At least one variety of creeper had found purchase in the drywall and was crawling up around the window, framing it like curtains.
“Nice . . . plants,” Tamani said lamely, every cell in his body springing to attention. With a good-sized mortar, it could be a Mixer’s armory—or simply the natural inclination of a wild faerie who longed for a flowering homeland she’d never heard of, and seen only in her dreams.
“I use them for ikebana,” she said, before disappearing into the back of the house.
She’d mentioned the Japanese art of flower arrangement to him before, though he couldn’t remember the context. He had thought ikebana was more understated, however. This place was practically a jungle. He yanked his phone out of his pocket and hurried to snap a few pictures of the green-laden walls, hoping Laurel could tell him a bit more about the kinds of plants Yuki was growing here. He barely managed to get the phone back in his pocket when she emerged from her room, her backpack in place.
“Sorry; I’m ready now.”
He smiled, forcing himself out of thinking mode and into friendly spy mode. “Great!”
But Yuki didn’t turn to go. He watched her take a few nervous breaths before blurting out, “You’re welcome here anytime.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Tamani said, offering her a crooked grin.
Yuki looked like she might say something else, but lost her nerve and walked past him onto the porch, waiting for him to pass through the doorway before pulling it shut.
“I hope it’s okay that I just stopped by,” Tamani said as they set off at a leisurely pace toward school.
“I’m glad you did,” Yuki said, lowering her eyes.
The silence was building uncomfortably and Tamani was scrambling for something not-too-stupid to say when Yuki’s phone started ringing. She pulled it out of her pocket and rolled her eyes, pressing the button that would send the call to voice mail.
“Do you need to take that?” Tamani asked. “I don’t mind.”
“It’s just Klea; no biggie.”
“She doesn’t care if you don’t pick up?”
“I’ll just say I was in the shower. Or riding my bike—it’s actually tough to ride and talk at the same time. As long as I call her back pretty quickly, she doesn’t care.”
“And you really don’t mind being alone so often?”
Yuki flipped a lock of hair over her shoulder. “Not at all.” She smiled. “I’m not afraid of the dark.” Tamani cringed inwardly at how obvious it was that she was trying to impress him.
“And your parents don’t mind?”
He saw something cross her face. It was wary, then decisive. He leaned closer, trying to look interested instead of eager. “My parents aren’t around anymore,” she said in a rush. “It’s just me and Klea. And mostly, just me. The whole ‘foreign exchange’ thing just . . . eases the transition.” Her eyes kept darting to him, clearly nervous. “I’m sort of here for a fresh start.”
“A fresh start is good. My . . . parents aren’t around either. Sometimes I wish everyone didn’t know. They look at you, all pitying, and it just—”
“I know what you’re saying. Hey, listen,” she said, touching his arm. “Don’t tell anyone? Please?”
He didn’t push for more. Not today—not on this subject. “Of course I won’t,” he said with a smile. Then he leaned over and laid his hand over hers. “You can trust me.”
She beamed at him, but there was something wary around her eyes. “So, how was your suspension?”
Eye of Hecate, now who’s awkward? Tamani shrugged, looking embarrassed. “It was stupid. I’m glad it’s over.”
“Everyone’s still talking about your fight with David,” Yuki said, her tight laugh completely unconvincing. She hesitated for a moment. “Jun said that he heard you guys were fighting over Laurel or something.”
“Laurel?” Tamani said, hoping he sounded confused. “Laurel Sewell? Why would it be about her?”
“What is it?” Tamani asked, bemused. She could be so awkward sometimes.
“It’s stupid, I . . . I forgot my lunch,” she admitted.
As a fellow faerie Tamani knew how important midday nourishment could be to making it through school hours. He nearly laughed thinking of the mental war she must have waged between not embarrassing herself and trying to make it through a whole day with no food.
“Go ahead,” Tamani said brightly, gesturing toward the house. “I’ll wait.”
“You can come in for a sec,” Yuki said, not meeting his eyes. “I’ll just be a minute.”
He hesitated. There was something about entering this unknown faerie’s lair that felt like walking into a trap, but the tiny house was practically a training exercise in harmlessness. Not to mention the fact that they were surrounded by sentries. Still.
Yuki had swung the door wide open and the crisp autumn air wafted pleasantly through the front room. A small television set rested on a coffee table next to a pile of books, and a plush purple couch adorned one wall, but the rest of the room was wall-to-wall greenery. Potted plants lined the floors and windowsills. At least one variety of creeper had found purchase in the drywall and was crawling up around the window, framing it like curtains.
“Nice . . . plants,” Tamani said lamely, every cell in his body springing to attention. With a good-sized mortar, it could be a Mixer’s armory—or simply the natural inclination of a wild faerie who longed for a flowering homeland she’d never heard of, and seen only in her dreams.
“I use them for ikebana,” she said, before disappearing into the back of the house.
She’d mentioned the Japanese art of flower arrangement to him before, though he couldn’t remember the context. He had thought ikebana was more understated, however. This place was practically a jungle. He yanked his phone out of his pocket and hurried to snap a few pictures of the green-laden walls, hoping Laurel could tell him a bit more about the kinds of plants Yuki was growing here. He barely managed to get the phone back in his pocket when she emerged from her room, her backpack in place.
“Sorry; I’m ready now.”
He smiled, forcing himself out of thinking mode and into friendly spy mode. “Great!”
But Yuki didn’t turn to go. He watched her take a few nervous breaths before blurting out, “You’re welcome here anytime.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Tamani said, offering her a crooked grin.
Yuki looked like she might say something else, but lost her nerve and walked past him onto the porch, waiting for him to pass through the doorway before pulling it shut.
“I hope it’s okay that I just stopped by,” Tamani said as they set off at a leisurely pace toward school.
“I’m glad you did,” Yuki said, lowering her eyes.
The silence was building uncomfortably and Tamani was scrambling for something not-too-stupid to say when Yuki’s phone started ringing. She pulled it out of her pocket and rolled her eyes, pressing the button that would send the call to voice mail.
“Do you need to take that?” Tamani asked. “I don’t mind.”
“It’s just Klea; no biggie.”
“She doesn’t care if you don’t pick up?”
“I’ll just say I was in the shower. Or riding my bike—it’s actually tough to ride and talk at the same time. As long as I call her back pretty quickly, she doesn’t care.”
“And you really don’t mind being alone so often?”
Yuki flipped a lock of hair over her shoulder. “Not at all.” She smiled. “I’m not afraid of the dark.” Tamani cringed inwardly at how obvious it was that she was trying to impress him.
“And your parents don’t mind?”
He saw something cross her face. It was wary, then decisive. He leaned closer, trying to look interested instead of eager. “My parents aren’t around anymore,” she said in a rush. “It’s just me and Klea. And mostly, just me. The whole ‘foreign exchange’ thing just . . . eases the transition.” Her eyes kept darting to him, clearly nervous. “I’m sort of here for a fresh start.”
“A fresh start is good. My . . . parents aren’t around either. Sometimes I wish everyone didn’t know. They look at you, all pitying, and it just—”
“I know what you’re saying. Hey, listen,” she said, touching his arm. “Don’t tell anyone? Please?”
He didn’t push for more. Not today—not on this subject. “Of course I won’t,” he said with a smile. Then he leaned over and laid his hand over hers. “You can trust me.”
She beamed at him, but there was something wary around her eyes. “So, how was your suspension?”
Eye of Hecate, now who’s awkward? Tamani shrugged, looking embarrassed. “It was stupid. I’m glad it’s over.”
“Everyone’s still talking about your fight with David,” Yuki said, her tight laugh completely unconvincing. She hesitated for a moment. “Jun said that he heard you guys were fighting over Laurel or something.”
“Laurel?” Tamani said, hoping he sounded confused. “Laurel Sewell? Why would it be about her?”
