Orion’s face suddenly flashes in the windowpane, mouth opening into a scream, eyes pleading.
The alarm on her nightstand blares, startling her out of the inexplicably realistic nightmare. Her eyelids shoot open, and she stares at the white ceiling, heart still pounding. Rachel’s hair clings to her skin, while her body is tangled in the bedsheets. She brushes the hair out of her eyes, focusing on getting her breathing under control.
“Rachel, you’re going to be late for school,” her mother shouts from the other side of the bedroom door. “Get up, get ready. This is not a drill.”
“I’m up.” Rachel reaches over to hit the OFF switch on her alarm. When the clock stops its incessant noise, Ziggy rolls up from her feet and comes to rest on her pillow. “You should’ve woken me when you realized I was having a nightmare.”
She pets the golden sphere, which glows brighter.
“It’s too late to suck up to me now.”
She shifts one leg off the edge of the bed and places a bare foot onto the purple-and-black geometric carpet. Rachel groans as she remembers her abysmal performance with the SATs, wondering if she’ll be able to broach the subject with her mother before she travels to Bangor. She pulls herself up and throws her other leg off the bed. It’s probably best to rip the Band-Aid off quickly, as painful as it may be.
She rubs her temples and shifts her gaze toward the window. The curtains are drawn, unmoving. The image of Orion in peril is still fresh in her mind, renewing her fear of what might have befallen the missing Fae prince.
“It was only a nightmare,” she whispers. “He’s probably living it up in the palace. Right, Ziggy?”
Ziggy rolls onto her lap, before dimming ever so slightly.
Her heart sinks. “One flash for yes, two flashes for no. Is he in trouble?”
Ziggy doesn’t answer her—maybe because he doesn’t know either.
Her fingers move to the umbrella pendant. She turns the pendant around between her fingers, and says, “Will you be able to find him if we cross into the Fae Realm?”
This time there is no warm golden light to answer her question.
“Rachel,” her mother cries out again.
“I’m up, Mom,” Rachel barks back. She returns her attention to the sphere on her lap, whispering, “I need to get ready for school—”
Two flashes signals the no. Ziggy floats up and weaves through the air, still flashing gold in timed intervals.
Rachel gets out of bed and walks to her wardrobe. “I’m not going into the forest without a plan, Zigs. Besides, Orion made me promise not to follow him and you can’t take me to him even if I did.”
The Fae light zips through the air like an aggravated wasp, weaving in and out of her line of vision. It flashes once, dims. Flashes once more.
“Settle down.”
Rachel pulls out a tank top, a cute sweater, and a pair of jeans to wear for the day. She inadvertently scans the interior of her wardrobe, taking inventory of what lies on the shelves and hangs from the railing. She has no idea what Orthega’s fashions are like. Surely nothing she has lying around in her closet will be suitable. Maybe last year’s Halloween costume can be repurposed for a journey into the Fae Realm? She touches the red cloak with the silky black lining. She could wear her Little Red Riding Hood costume inside-out if need be, and hide whatever clothes she wears underneath. Aside from the cloak, though, she’s at a loss.
When Rachel’s done dressing, she grabs her sling bag and opens her bedroom door.
Dougal comes down the hallway, but he doesn’t look like he’s in the mood for school. The bags under his eyes are pronounced, his hair is tousled, and he keeps yawning.
“Ye look like ye’ve seen better days,” Dougal says as they meet at the staircase landing.
“Ditto,” she says. Together, they descend the stairs. “Are you sure you should go to school today?”
“I’m not goin’ to sit around here and count my toes the whole day,” he says.
“It’s better than listening to lectures on things we’ll probably never use in the future, though.”
“Aye, but I don’t like being alone all the time, either.”
When they reach the bottom of the staircase, Rachel notices her mother rushing for the front door, holding her eyeliner pencil and lipstick in one hand and grabbing her coat with the other. She looks up to see them standing near the staircase and sighs in relief.
“There’s lunch money on the kitchen counter, pizza money is on the microwave, and I’ll pay some extra cash into your account so you can buy groceries for the week.” Her mother sounds out of breath. It’s like she can’t get out of Shadow Grove fast enough. “Don’t let me hear about you two holding parties while I’m gone.”
“Yer leavin’, Mrs. Cleary?” Dougal asks with a hint of surprise.
“Yes, dear.” She looks at her wristwatch. “My sister called me last night—”
“I’ll fill Dougal in on the way to school,” Rachel cuts her off. “Bye, Mom. Love you.”
“Remember to get Mrs. Crenshaw’s room ready tomorrow.” She rushes out of the front door, leaving an annoyed Rachel and dumbfounded Dougal behind.
“I hope nothin’s wrong with yer aunt.” Dougal finally breaks his silence as they walk to the kitchen to find something to eat.
“Nothing’s wrong. My mom just looks for reasons to bail when things get inconvenient at home.” Rachel grabs a couple of bananas from the fruit bowl on the kitchen counter and finds some travel-sized yogurt tubs in the fridge. She hands the breakfast-to-go to Dougal, who stares at the banana and yogurt. “It’s the breakfast of champions in this house.”
“Ye sure we shouldn’t go through the drive-thru on the way to school?”
“And risk being tardy?”
Dougal scoffs at
