I remembered what Dee had said, that first night we ran into each other at the school. Did you see Them? The faeries?
I was tired of trying to see in the dark and tired of having my eyes open, so I closed them and rested my forehead on my fists. 'So she's always going to have Them around her.' I didn't know if Dee was strong enough for that.
'Until there's a stronger cloverhand.' Nuala's voice was closer to me than before, but I didn't open my eyes. I felt her breath on the skin of my arm. 'Why do you have dead written on your hand?'
'I don't remember.'
'I don't believe you. What were you thinking when you wrote it?'
'I don't remember.'
'Do you love her?'
'Nuala, leave me alone. Seriously.'
She was insistent. 'It's a yes-or-no question. And it's not even like I'm a real person. It's like you're just telling yourself.'
The pressure of my knuckles against my closed eyelids was starting to make colorful patterns in the darkness, light violet and green dancing in nonsensical, falling patterns. 'I asked really nicely for you to leave it, Nuala. It's not secret man-code for 'keep asking me until I change my answer.' It means I really don't want to talk about it. With you or anybody. It's not personal.'
Nuala grabbed my fists in her hands, sending chills through my arms. 'Why haven't you played any music since you kissed her?'
Leave me alone. I didn't say anything. Even if I wanted to answer her, what would I say? That stupid things like music and breathing hadn't seemed important since then? That there was so much white noise in my head ever since I'd kissed Dee that I couldn't find a single note to hold onto?
'That's a start,' Nuala said. Reading my thoughts again. Maybe she couldn't stop.
I didn't feel like adding anything more to my thoughts on Dee. I changed the subject. Sort of. 'I think maybe you're lucky.'
'Me?'
'Yeah.' I turned my head on my fists to look at her; it made one of her hands lie against my cheek. The skin of my face tightened with the strangeness of her. 'Immortality would be awful in our screwed-up world if you were the only one who had it. You'd have to remember all those years of everyone else disappearing. At least you don't have to watch everyone you know get old and die while you live forever.'
Nuala frowned at her fingers on my skin. 'Other faeries get to remember.'
'You just said you weren't like other faeries. They don't feel properly. But you have to be more human, right? To be able to catch us.'
She was silent.
'How human are you?' Right after I asked the question, I wasn't sure how I meant it. But I didn't take it back.
She was quiet so long I thought she wasn't going to answer.
Finally, she took her hand from my cheek and said, 'Too much.
I didn't think I was very human at all, but I guess I was wrong.
Or maybe I'm just dying. Maybe this always happens. How would I know? Sixteen years doesn't seem very long when you're at the end of it.'
I sat back. I didn't like how I was feeling, so I said, 'Stop feeling sorry for yourself.'
Her voice was petulant. 'I will when you do.'
I looked down at my hands. In the faint light, I could just pick out some of the words on them: dead, valkyrie, following them down. 'Let's write something, together.'
Nuala looked at me, her face sort of frowning.
I said, 'Don't give me that what the hell do you mean look. I mean, let's write something.'
'You mean, you want me to help you write something.'
'No, I mean we use both our brains and just my hands to write something.'
'Write what?'
'I don't know. Music? A play?'
Nuala looked like she was trying really hard not to look pleased.
'You don't write plays.'
'If we wrote a play, with music, you could direct it. We're supposed to do some creative project for Sullivan's class, something having to do with metaphor. I mean, it's not a movie, but hell, we can only do so much before Halloween, right?'
She was looking at me really intensely then, in the sort of way that I had always wanted Dee to look at me. I kind of thought she was going to kiss me, for some reason, because she was looking at my mouth. I had a horrible idea that she would, and then I would think of Dee while she was, and then she would kill me in a long, slow, painful process that would be hard to explain to insurance people.
Nuala looked from my mouth to my eyes. 'Get your pen out,' she said.
I did. I had no paper, but that didn't matter. 'What should we call it?'
Without hesitation, Nuala climbed into the seat behind me so that she could wrap her arms around my shoulders. The sixth sense in me told me she was cold, but a totally different sense blazed hot when she rested her cheek against mine, the side of her mouth just touching my cheek.
I clicked the end of the pen so the nib came out, rested it against my palm for a second while I listened to her silence, and then wrote: Ballad.
Ive ruined evrything w us be im an idiot. I jst want something so bad but i dont know what it is. I thought it might b u. But u really meant the kiss. I dont know what to do about that.
Because I was not a real music student and because Sullivan sucked at organizational skills, we had to meet for my piano lesson in the old auditorium building. Turns out the practice rooms were filled to capacity at five o'clock on Fridays, by real piano players and real clarinet players and real cellists and all their real teachers and ensemble leaders.
So instead, I picked my way over to ugly Brigid Hall. To prove that Brigid was no longer a useful member of the ThornkingAsh environ, the grounds people had let the lawn between
Brigid and the other academic buildings get autumn crunchy and allowed the boxwoods and ivy to take over the dull, yellowbrick exterior. It was a message to all visiting parents: Do not take pictures of this part of the campus. This building has been deemed too ugly for academic use. Don't think we didn't notice.
On the walk over, my phone beeped in my pocket. Pulling it out, I saw a text message from Dee. When I opened it, the first words of text I saw were
James im so sorry and I felt sick to my stomach and deleted it without reading any further. I shoved the phone back into my pocket and headed around the side of Brigid Hall to the entry.
The door was coated in peeling red paint that seemed somehow significant. I didn't think there were any other red doors on campus. Like me, a loner. I punched my knuckles lightly against the door knob in solidarity. 'You
