Teardrop

Ander was gone. Eureka didn’t know what was stranger: that he’d been there or that she wished he hadn’t left.

“So how’d it go?” Cat turned down All Things Considered. She was the only teenager Eureka knew who listened to talk instead of music. How was she supposed to flirt with college boys—was Cat’s defense—if she didn’t know what was going on in the world? “Are you the heiress to a fortune, or at least a pied a terre I can crash at in the south of France?”

“Not exactly.” Eureka opened up her backpack to show Cat her inheritance.

“Your mother’s locket.” Cat touched the chain around Eureka’s neck. She was used to seeing it around Diana’s neck. “Nice.”

“There’s more,” Eureka said. “This old book and this rock in a box.”

“Rock in a huh?”

“She wrote a letter, too.”

Cat put the car in park in the middle of the lot. She leaned back in her seat, propping her knees on the steering wheel, and turned her chin toward Eureka. “Feel like sharing?”

So Eureka read the letter once more, this time aloud, trying to keep her soft voice steady, trying not to see the tearstains at the end.

“Amazing,” Cat said when Eureka was finished. She quickly wiped her eyes, then pointed at the back of the page. “Something’s written on the other side.”

Eureka flipped the page over. She hadn’t noticed the postscript.

P.S. About the thunderstone … Beneath the layer of gauze lies a worked-stone artifact shaped like a triangle. Some cultures call them elf-arrows; they are believed to ward off storms. Thunderstones are found among the remains of most ancient civilizations throughout the world. Remember the arrowheads we unearthed in India? Think of them as distant cousins. This particular thunderstone’s origin is unknown, which makes her all the more dear to those who give themselves permission to imagine the possibilities. I did. Will you?

P.P.S. Don’t unwrap the gauze until you need to. You’ll know when the time comes

.

P.P.P.S. Always know I love you

.

“Well, that explains the rock,” Cat said in a way that meant she was totally confused. “What’s the story with the book?”

They studied the fragile pages filled with line after handwritten line of an indecipherable language.

“What is this, medieval Martian?” Cat squinted, turned the book upside down. “It’s like my illiterate great- aunt Dessie finally wrote that romance novel she’s been yapping about.”

A rap on Eureka’s window made both girls jump.

Uncle Beau stood outside with one hand stuffed in his jeans pocket. Eureka had thought he’d already left; he didn’t like to linger in Lafayette. She glanced around for Aunt Maureen. Beau was alone. She rolled down the window.

Her uncle leaned in, elbows resting on the window frame. He pointed at the book.

“Your mom”—his voice was even quieter than normal—“she knew what that book said. She could read it.”

“What?” Eureka took the book from Cat and flipped through its pages.

“Don’t ask me how,” Beau said. “Saw her going through it once, taking notes.”

“Do you know where she learned—”

“Don’t know anything more than that. But what your dad said about no one being able to read it—I wanted to set you straight. It’s possible.”

Eureka leaned forward to kiss her uncle’s weathered cheek. “Thanks, Uncle Beau.”

He nodded. “Gotta get home, let the dogs out. Y’all come by the farm anytime, okay?” He gave the girls a small salute as he walked to his old truck.

Eureka turned to Cat, cradling the book against her chest. “So the question is—”

“How do we get it translated?” Cat rapped silver fingernails on the dash. “I had a date last week with a classicist-veterinarian double major at UL. He’s only a sophomore, but he might know.”

“Where’d you meet this Romeo?” Eureka asked. She couldn’t help but think of Ander, though nothing Ander had done in Eureka’s presence bore the vaguest semblance of romance.

“I have a method.” Cat smiled. “I go through my dad’s student rosters online, pick out the hotties, and then position myself strategically in the student union after class gets out.” Her dark eyes flicked up to Eureka and a rare self-consciousness displayed itself. “You will never tell anyone any of that. Rodney thinks our meeting was pure serendipity.” She grinned. “He’s got dreads down to here. Wanna see a picture?”

As Cat pulled out her phone and scrolled through her photos, Eureka looked back at the spot where Ander’s truck had been. She imagined it was still there, and that Ander had brought Magda back to her, only now the Jeep was painted with snakes and flames and asymmetrical emeralds.

“Cute, huh? Want me to call him? He speaks, like, fifty-seven languages. If your uncle’s telling the truth, we really should get it translated.”

“Maybe.” Eureka was distracted. She slung the book and the thunderstone and her mother’s letter into her backpack. “I don’t know if I’m up for this today.”

“Sure.” Cat nodded. “Your call.”

“Yeah,” Eureka mumbled, fidgeting with her seat belt, not thinking about her mother’s tears. “Would you mind if we don’t talk about it right now?”

“Course not.” Cat put the car in drive and ambled toward the exit of the parking lot. “Dare I suggest we actually study? That Moby-Dick exam and our GPAs’ subsequent plunges might take your mind off things.”

Eureka looked out the window and watched pale golden buttonwood leaves drift over Ander’s empty space. “What do you say we don’t study—”

“Say no more. I’m your gal. Whatcha got in mind, sister?”

“Well …” Was there really any point in lying? With Cat, probably not. Eureka raised her shoulders sheepishly. “A drive-by at Manor’s cross-country practice?”

“Why, Miss Boudreaux.” Cat’s eyes took on their captivating glimmer, usually reserved for older guys. “Whatever took you so long to say so?”

Manor was several times bigger than Evangeline and several times less funded. The only other coed Catholic school in Lafayette, it had long been Evangeline’s chief rival. The student body was more diverse, more religious, more competitive. Manor kids seemed cold and aggressive to Eureka. They won district championships in most sports most years, though last year Evangeline went to State for cross-country. Cat was determined to hold on to the title this year.

So it was like crossing enemy lines when Cat pulled into the Manor Panthers’ jock lot, which opened onto the bayou.

When Eureka opened her door, Cat frowned down at her own knee-length navy uniform skirt. “We can’t go out there dressed like this.”

“Who cares?” Eureka got out of the car. “Are you worried they’ll think Evangelinos are here to sabotage them?”

“No, but there might be some studs out there working up a sweat, and I look like a total frau in this skirt.” She unlocked the trunk, her mobile closet. It was heaped with colorful prints, a lot of Lycra, and more shoes than a department store. “Cover me?”

Eureka shielded Cat and faced the track. She scanned the field for signs of Ander’s frame. But the sun was in her eyes and all the cross-country boys looked similarly tall and lanky from here.

“So. You’ve decided to get yourself a crush.” Cat rummaged through her trunk, muttering to herself about a belt she’d left at home.

“I don’t know if it’s that acute,” Eureka said. Was it? “He came over a couple nights ago—”