Alan had his turned off as well.
Mae scrambled out of bed and ran to her wardrobe so she could get dressed and get to Nick’s house. The mirrored door covered in her stickers presented her with a wild-eyed girl whose pink hair looked like a rosebush gone rogue.
Well, she could brush her hair after the battle. She found jeans and a Dorothy Parker T-shirt that said MIGHT AS WELL LIVE and went down the stairs, hopping on first one foot and then the other as she tied her laces.
She stopped mid-hop when she heard her mother’s voice coming from the parlor.
“James, I don’t have all day,” Annabel said irritably. “In fact, I didn’t even have this lunch hour. I had to put off a round of golf with Elizabeth, and who knows when she’ll be able to fit me into her schedule next?”
“Okay, Mum,” Jamie said. “But—but I had to tell you this now. I have a schedule too.”
“Elizabeth is a judge. They tend to have less time on their hands than the average teenage boy. You aren’t even in summer school, despite the fact that I left several excellent brochures in your room. And on the hall table. And beside the fridge.”
“Maybe I’m not the average teenage boy,” said Jamie, very quiet, and Mae turned and ran back up the stairs into the parlor.
Annabel looked up from her seat. She was sitting with a glass of ice water in her hand, and she gave Mae a glance that took in her hair, her T-shirt, and the obvious fact that she’d just rolled out of bed, and then gave her a small smile that was probably against her better judgment.
“Good morning, Mavis.”
“Jamie, don’t do it,” said Mae.
“Did anything weird ever happen around me when I was a baby?” Jamie asked. “Stuff breaking. Things flying through the air.”
“There was that one nanny who had episodes,” Annabel admitted. “But after two months we let her go, James, and you were only three. I doubt you were traumatized by the experience.”
Jamie took a deep breath and said, “I wasn’t traumatized. I was responsible.”
“Jamie, don’t
“Mae, you don’t get to choose,” said Jamie, not even looking at her. “I need to know that Gerald’s wrong. I need to know that she—that she won’t—”
He was standing against the mantelpiece, back straight and thin against it, like a soldier who expected to be shot. Mae couldn’t argue with him anymore. She could only go to the mantelpiece so she was standing with him, because somebody had to be standing with him. He had to know she was with him, always.
“I love you,” Jamie told Annabel. “I’ll always love you. No matter what.”
Annabel went suddenly vivid red in both cheeks, as if she had been slapped, but she said nothing.
“Didn’t you ever wonder if—if there was something different about me?”
“Didn’t we already have this talk when you were thirteen?” Annabel asked, sounding a little helpless. “I told you not to worry about it. Sometimes I do wish you would use less hair product.”
“Mum, please,” Jamie said desperately.
“James, I do not know what you want!”
Jamie looked across the room at his mother, his face white and strained. He looked like a gambler betting money he did not have.
“I want you not to hate me because I can do this,” he said, and lifted a hand.
Annabel’s water glass went flying out of her hand. The sunlight streaming through their gauze-curtained windows hit the glass and made the ice sparkle. Jamie gestured and the glass spun around in midair, glinting and lovely for a moment, such a simple thing, and Mae saw Jamie’s face lighten, saw him glow with the belief that magic could be beautiful.
“Is this some kind of trick?” Annabel asked, her voice very cold, each word distinct, as if she was cutting her sentences apart with ruthlessly wielded silverware.
“No,” Jamie said. “It’s magic. I can do magic.”
“James, is this a joke? I find it tasteless in the extreme.”
Annabel’s voice wavered as she looked at the glass and registered the extremely obvious lack of wires or pulleys. The hand she had been using to hold the glass finally seemed to accept that it was gone, and tightened into a fist.
“What else do you want me to do?” Jamie asked, and the glass fell to the carpet, not breaking but spilling ice. He raised a hand to the mirror over the mantel and it broke in half, a fault line fracturing the reflected room and putting Jamie and his mother on two different sides.
That was what made Annabel jump to her feet. She was unsteady for a moment, as if the heels she was always comfortable in had suddenly failed her.
“Stop it!”
“Tell me, Mum,” Jamie demanded, his voice going uneven. “How do you feel about me now?”
The curtains were moving, twitching back and forth on the curtain rod like live snakes. The mirror was fracturing into glittering crazy-paving, about to fall to pieces.
“I said stop it!” Annabel ordered. “Stop behaving like a circus freak!”
