The Thief

out of the way and made a break for the door, pushing past Rhys.

“Hold it!” he shouted angrily, but I wasn’t staying for more. I flew down the stairs, and leapt out of the mirror at the base. I slammed the bark hatch shut, catching my breath for the barest moment, leaned against the tree. I patted my jacket, and froze.

I’d dropped my mother’s journal. It must have fallen out somewhere in the Tower. But if I went back inside, Rhys would...

Chest tight, I ran back to the house. It was still raining, and I was soaked by the time I got to the back door. I couldn’t believe I’d lost it.

I took a hot shower, to chase away the chill of the rain, and to hide the puffiness of my eyes. What could I do? How was I supposed to get the journal back? Rhys clearly had control of the Tower, and I saw no way that I could best him. Oh god, I thought, almost dropping my bottle of shampoo. I had to see him at school. On Monday. He was clearly some kind of...magic person...I didn’t know! It was all so weird. Was I supposed to pretend I’d never seen the Tower? Pretend I hadn’t seen him break apart a window with a thought and a gesture? I wasn’t sure if I could. When did life get so thoroughly complicated? All I wanted was a connection to my mother. A way to go home. With every effort I made, it seemed to get further and further away.

When I came downstairs, Bea had already come home and finished dinner. Silently, I sat down at the table, anticipating another awkward meal.

Bea set a plate in front of me that held green beans, carrots, roasted potatoes, and a roll. It was notably absent of the porkchop or cubesteak or fried chicken that usually accompanied every meal, and I looked up at her. The question must have been plain on my face.

“Tell the truth,” she said. “You’re one of those vegetable people, aren’t you.”

I colored. “Well, yes.”

She sighed. “You could have said. I’m not in the habit of wasting food. I won’t get upset if you tell me honestly you don’t like something. I’d rather make food that gets eaten. Alright?”

I blinked. She was...I think she was actually trying to be nice. My heart warmed. “Yes, ma’am,” I said, earnestly, “thank you, this looks really good.”

“It’s just vegetables,” she said, mollified.

“Covered in butter,” I said, smiling.

“That’s called compromise, Juliet,” she said, and I thought I saw a hint of a smirk.

Maybe I had her all wrong. Maybe I had home all wrong. I ate my plate of vegetables covered in butter, and at least for tonight, I was happy.

Chapter 10

Camille

At school Monday morning, Camille found herself the recipient of more than her usual allotment of attention.

She slid into her desk at the front of Tailor’s classroom and was immediately approached by someone who’d never addressed her directly before.

“Where’s Graham?” Rhys Ryan demanded. He stood over her, pale eyes narrowed, arms folded. He could have been handsome, she supposed, if it weren’t for his permanent look of superiority. And his clothes were too clean and pressed, like he’d stepped out of a magazine. Probably hadn’t climbed a tree or a fence in his life.

Camille shrugged. What made him assume she knew Jul’s whereabouts?

“She called in sick,” Sakamoto said, coming in from the hall. He twirled an apple deftly with the fingers of one hand.

“How do you know that?” Ryan asked, then shook his head in annoyance. “Never mind.”

“Oooh, are you worried about her?” Sakamoto asked, following him to their usual seats in the back of the room. “Is it true love? We could double date. People would talk.”

“Is there a soap opera that lives in your brain?” Ryan snapped.

“So that’s a yes. How do you feel about bowling?”

“You are a moron.”

“Mini golf?”

Camille blocked out their continuing argument. Any event that kept Sakamoto away from her was good, as far as she was concerned.

She was disappointed that the other girl was away, though. Gabriel had said to keep an eye on her, and besides that, they needed to figure out when they were going to put together this lame experiment display for the school festival. They only had two weeks to get it in order, and Camille wasn’t exactly an expert on group dynamics. She hoped Jul returned soon so that she wouldn’t have to manage both boys on her own.

By the time chemistry came around, though, Sakamoto’s attention had wandered again.

He sat down next to her in Jul’s empty chair. “I miss Jul. This is boring. Hey, are you ticklish?”

“No,” she said flatly. She would end his life if he tried anything.

“Scary scary,” he said. “So the metal arm thing, I think I’ve got it figured out. You’re actually a cyborg, am I right?”

She tried to ignore him, like Ryan seemed to. Maybe she needed to learn how to hide behind a book like he did. She was already down Jul’s help - all the equations in science class were hard enough without Sakamoto being even more ADD than usual.

“Robots are antisocial, you’re antisocial,” he went on, oblivious. “Plus it would explain how freakishly strong you are.”

What? Her eyes zipped to him, but he just wore that same small, unreadable smile. She thought it genuinely strange that for all his chatter he never seemed to have much of an expression.

“Cyborg, right?” he said.

“Yes,” she said, cautiously. “Cyborg.”

“No, I don’t like that either,” he said, leaning back. “Cyborgs don’t get mad. How about a Hulk? Wait, can there be more than one of those? I could ask the nerds, they’d know...”

Was he toying with her or was he really just an idiot?

“He’s just an idiot,” Ryan said, apparently able to read her expression. That’s when she noticed what he was reading. It looked exactly like the journal Jul had, but hers had been blank. What he was holding was full of sprawling ink sketches. They couldn’t be the same, but the cover was identical. Noticing her attention, he immediately shut it and put it away.

On the way to the cafeteria, she was surprised to spot Jul hovering around her locker, looking indecisive. So she’d come to school after all. Camille considered just walking past. Jul’s business was none of hers, and realistically she didn’t have the vocabulary to carry on a real conversation. And yet...

“You’re sick?” Camille asked her.

Startled, Jul looked down at her. “Oh,” she said, with some relief, “well, yes. Just a cold. I went for um, a walk in the rain, and I guess it got the better of me. I thought I should stay home, but Bea - I mean, my grandmother - she said a little cold wasn’t anything worth skipping school over, so...” she looked over her shoulder anxiously. “Here I am, I guess.”

Something had the girl on edge, but Camille couldn’t think of a good way to inquire. So instead she just said, “Lunch?”

“Oooookay,” Jul said distractedly, glancing around again. “Before the rush. Yeah. Good idea.”

They picked up trays and got in line. The cafeteria generally had two or three choices, different every day. Despite her dislike of the principal, having Japanese leadership was probably the reason they sometimes had