“I forgot something!” Cole yelled from the living room, without ever looking away from the TV screen.
She and Dad exchanged looks. Nadia said, “Oh, yeah? What?”
“I’m in the Thanksgiving play!”
“That’s great!” she said, with as much enthusiasm as she could muster on a day as horrible as this.
Dad seemed to be trying just as hard. “So, are you a pilgrim or a Native American?”
“I’m mashed potatoes.”
Had they heard that wrong? Nadia went into the living room. “What do you mean, mashed potatoes?”
“We’re all different Thanksgiving food, and I’m mashed potatoes. Levi is the gravy, so we get to be onstage together. I need a costume.”
“A costume?” Nadia turned to her father in disbelief. “How are we supposed to make a mashed-potato costume? What would that even look like?”
Dad actually grinned. “At least we don’t have to make a gravy costume.”
That made her laugh—too hard, like the joke was a lot funnier than it really was. But her feelings were all over the place, like her heart had been shattered and the fragments lay anywhere and everywhere.
Mateo was wrong about her not loving him. Her entire heart ached for him every second, like it couldn’t beat without reminding her that he should be here with her, now and always. How could he think otherwise, even for a moment?
“Nadia?”
“Sorry, Dad. I guess I’m zoning out.” She needed a minute. “Listen, I’m going to check on Verlaine. Dinner won’t be ready for about another half hour.”
He waved her off. “Do that. Give her my best. I’ll just be here trying to figure out why kids are dressing up as food.”
Nadia retreated to her room. In a minute she’d text Verlaine. Right now she needed a moment to get herself together. She pulled her fluffy, white duvet over her, like it could shelter her from any of the crap that had happened today.
Instead she could pretend it was Halloween night.
That night, after the carnival and the fire and the terror of nearly losing each other, she and Mateo had come back here. Her dad and Cole had been in New York City, and he’d been able to call his own father and let him know he was okay, so there had been no one in the way, nobody to stop them from spending the night in each other’s arms.
They hadn’t made love. Mateo never had before, they didn’t have any protection, and besides, they were both so exhausted they were shaking. Even after she showered, grime from the fire stained her skin; his cuts and bruises had needed even more bandaging than hers. So it wasn’t exactly the ideal moment for wild, unrestrained passion. He’d stripped down to his underwear because he had nothing else, but she’d worn an oversize T-shirt that wasn’t going to show up in a Victoria’s Secret catalog anytime soon.
But they’d huddled together in this same bed, beneath this same blanket, and kissed each other until her lips were swollen, and raw from the little cuts of his teeth and hers. Their kisses tasted like smoke. She’d bent down over him, her hair falling around their faces like a curtain, and they’d smiled at each other as though they were keeping the most perfect secret in the world. His hands had woven through her hair, caressed every inch of her body, left her panting and yearning and yet completely, utterly content. When they fell asleep, arms and legs tangled and close enough to feel each other’s breath against their skin, Nadia had reveled in the knowledge that this was only the beginning.
How could everything have changed so fast?
A terrifying figure rose from the ground—as though it were part of the ground come to life, some demon hatching from the earth itself. Mateo didn’t run, didn’t cower, but as he stood there, he felt only helplessness and fear.
Rain pounded down all around him; he and Nadia stood ankle-deep in mud. But they weren’t in the forest or at the shore; instead they stood in the middle of the school complex, which was flooded inches deep. Water had plastered Nadia’s hair to her forehead and cheeks, but he thought those were tears in her eyes. “Go,” she begged. “Go now while you can.”
“Not without you.”
“I can’t leave. He owns me. He owns me forever.” Nadia pushed Mateo back. “Save yourself.”
“Nadia—Nadia, no!”
Mateo awoke with a start. In the first instant he could only think of that horrible shape rising out of the mud, and the fact that Nadia couldn’t get away—but then he thought, Vision.
Immediately after that he thought, Where the hell am I?
Cold bit into his skin as he drew up into a ball. Clad in only boxers and a T-shirt, he seemed to be . . . at school. On one of the picnic tables outside. Great.
“Oh, man, check this out!” somebody called. Mateo turned his head to see a couple of jocks staring at him from the gymnasium entrance; apparently the basketball team had an early-morning practice. Double great. “This freak’s half-naked at school!”
Derisive laughter stopped short as Mateo rose to his feet; the jocks got weird expressions on their faces as they ducked inside. Okay, being laughed at was a lot less horrible than being feared. Mateo winced—the courtyard was paved with gravel, which cut icily into his bare feet, and he didn’t know how to even begin dealing with this. Call Dad? He hadn’t grabbed his phone as he sleepwalked out the door. Walk home through town? The rumors would spread like wildfire—not like they wouldn’t already, because the whole basketball team was probably texting up a storm—
She and Dad exchanged looks. Nadia said, “Oh, yeah? What?”
“I’m in the Thanksgiving play!”
“That’s great!” she said, with as much enthusiasm as she could muster on a day as horrible as this.
Dad seemed to be trying just as hard. “So, are you a pilgrim or a Native American?”
“I’m mashed potatoes.”
Had they heard that wrong? Nadia went into the living room. “What do you mean, mashed potatoes?”
“We’re all different Thanksgiving food, and I’m mashed potatoes. Levi is the gravy, so we get to be onstage together. I need a costume.”
“A costume?” Nadia turned to her father in disbelief. “How are we supposed to make a mashed-potato costume? What would that even look like?”
Dad actually grinned. “At least we don’t have to make a gravy costume.”
That made her laugh—too hard, like the joke was a lot funnier than it really was. But her feelings were all over the place, like her heart had been shattered and the fragments lay anywhere and everywhere.
Mateo was wrong about her not loving him. Her entire heart ached for him every second, like it couldn’t beat without reminding her that he should be here with her, now and always. How could he think otherwise, even for a moment?
“Nadia?”
“Sorry, Dad. I guess I’m zoning out.” She needed a minute. “Listen, I’m going to check on Verlaine. Dinner won’t be ready for about another half hour.”
He waved her off. “Do that. Give her my best. I’ll just be here trying to figure out why kids are dressing up as food.”
Nadia retreated to her room. In a minute she’d text Verlaine. Right now she needed a moment to get herself together. She pulled her fluffy, white duvet over her, like it could shelter her from any of the crap that had happened today.
Instead she could pretend it was Halloween night.
That night, after the carnival and the fire and the terror of nearly losing each other, she and Mateo had come back here. Her dad and Cole had been in New York City, and he’d been able to call his own father and let him know he was okay, so there had been no one in the way, nobody to stop them from spending the night in each other’s arms.
They hadn’t made love. Mateo never had before, they didn’t have any protection, and besides, they were both so exhausted they were shaking. Even after she showered, grime from the fire stained her skin; his cuts and bruises had needed even more bandaging than hers. So it wasn’t exactly the ideal moment for wild, unrestrained passion. He’d stripped down to his underwear because he had nothing else, but she’d worn an oversize T-shirt that wasn’t going to show up in a Victoria’s Secret catalog anytime soon.
But they’d huddled together in this same bed, beneath this same blanket, and kissed each other until her lips were swollen, and raw from the little cuts of his teeth and hers. Their kisses tasted like smoke. She’d bent down over him, her hair falling around their faces like a curtain, and they’d smiled at each other as though they were keeping the most perfect secret in the world. His hands had woven through her hair, caressed every inch of her body, left her panting and yearning and yet completely, utterly content. When they fell asleep, arms and legs tangled and close enough to feel each other’s breath against their skin, Nadia had reveled in the knowledge that this was only the beginning.
How could everything have changed so fast?
A terrifying figure rose from the ground—as though it were part of the ground come to life, some demon hatching from the earth itself. Mateo didn’t run, didn’t cower, but as he stood there, he felt only helplessness and fear.
Rain pounded down all around him; he and Nadia stood ankle-deep in mud. But they weren’t in the forest or at the shore; instead they stood in the middle of the school complex, which was flooded inches deep. Water had plastered Nadia’s hair to her forehead and cheeks, but he thought those were tears in her eyes. “Go,” she begged. “Go now while you can.”
“Not without you.”
“I can’t leave. He owns me. He owns me forever.” Nadia pushed Mateo back. “Save yourself.”
“Nadia—Nadia, no!”
Mateo awoke with a start. In the first instant he could only think of that horrible shape rising out of the mud, and the fact that Nadia couldn’t get away—but then he thought, Vision.
Immediately after that he thought, Where the hell am I?
Cold bit into his skin as he drew up into a ball. Clad in only boxers and a T-shirt, he seemed to be . . . at school. On one of the picnic tables outside. Great.
“Oh, man, check this out!” somebody called. Mateo turned his head to see a couple of jocks staring at him from the gymnasium entrance; apparently the basketball team had an early-morning practice. Double great. “This freak’s half-naked at school!”
Derisive laughter stopped short as Mateo rose to his feet; the jocks got weird expressions on their faces as they ducked inside. Okay, being laughed at was a lot less horrible than being feared. Mateo winced—the courtyard was paved with gravel, which cut icily into his bare feet, and he didn’t know how to even begin dealing with this. Call Dad? He hadn’t grabbed his phone as he sleepwalked out the door. Walk home through town? The rumors would spread like wildfire—not like they wouldn’t already, because the whole basketball team was probably texting up a storm—
