Crystal Caves (13 page)

“Yeah,” I say, “I’m turning over a new leaf.”

“Well, just make sure you don’t find something unpleasant underneath it.”

She walks a few steps away, as if she’s going for a better view of Veronica.

“What was that all about?” I ask Agatha.

She’s biting her upper lip. “You gave Melanie an order.”

“What?” I try to remember what I said. “I did not. I just—”

“Interrupted. She was giving us the party line, and you interrupted.” Agatha stares at Melanie. Melanie is watching Veronica finish up. I can’t tell if Melanie’s close enough to hear us or not.

“The party line?” I ask. “I don’t even know what rainbow parties are.”

“Not that kind of party, you moron,” Agatha says. “Melanie tells us what to say and what to do. And here you are, with bows and diamond studs.
She
does that, and you’re in the middle of her turf.”

I frown at Agatha. “I’m not in anyone’s turf.”

Veronica walks back, stuffing money in her book bag. She’s grinning. Melanie steps close to me.

“Yes, you are, little mouse,” she says to me. “Think you’re important because you’re Owen Wright’s stepdaughter? You’re just some dumb foreigner with too much money. Imagine how they’ll—”

“You know what?” Veronica joins us. She’s completely oblivious to what’s going on. “It’s almost Fashion Week and I’ve got money. Maybe we should just blow off the day and go down to the Garment District, see if there are any pop-up stores with great discounts. What do you think?”

What she said is such a non sequitur that it makes all of us pause. We stare at her.

“What?” she says. “What’d I say?”

“The Garment District would be nice,” Melanie says, then she pulls a bow out of my hair, yanking some hair with it. “Some of us need help with our look.”

I put my hand on my scalp. It burns where the hunk of hair came out. “What was that for?”

“Your bows look stupid,” Melanie says.

“So what?” I say, and realize I’m feeling an absence. If I were still magical, I’d feel the power surging. All I’d have to do is decide what to turn her into or how to humiliate her. But I don’t have that kind of power.

Still, I clench my fists.

“So, I don’t want to be seen with someone stupid,” Melanie says.

Agatha steps back. Veronica actually turns around and walks away. They’ve been through this before.

“So don’t be,” I say. “It’s not like you’re anyone important.”

I make sure my voice is really loud. The entire courtyard grows quiet. Everyone—and there have to be a dozen people here—everyone is looking at us.

“What did you say?” Melanie asks me.

“Oh, come on,” I say. “You’re so unimportant it’s funny. I travel all over the world, and no one knows who you or your family is. Yes, you’re important in New York, but New York is a very small place when compared with Athens or London or Paris.”

I’m just pulling city names out of my butt. I have no idea if New York is more or less important than they are.

“In those places,
everyone
knows my family. No one knows yours.”

Melanie has gone pale. Veronica still has her back to us, but Agatha watches with one hand over her mouth. I can’t tell if she’s shocked that I’ve spoken up, or shocked that I’m talking to Melanie like this, or shocked that Melanie is speechless.

Melanie’s eyes narrow and I realize her silence is finally done. “You’re in New York right now.”

“So?” I ask. “Does that mean I’m on your turf and I should be afraid? Because Agatha’s family is a bigger deal than yours here, and so is mine.”

Agatha’s making little
don’t involve me
gestures.

“They only treat you nice here because your family keeps throwing money at this place,” I say, and as I do, I feel stronger. Athena is right: words can have power. I had no idea.

“Your family threw money at this place too,” Melanie says, “or you wouldn’t be here. You’re not smart enough to be here. You don’t even know how the branches of the U.S. government work.”

That’s how she first met me. I was supposed to name the three branches of the federal government in civics class, and I said I didn’t know American government had branches. Everyone laughed it off, because I’m from another country. But clearly, Melanie hasn’t forgotten it.

“You don’t know the Greek myths,” I say, because I had to save her butt with the names of the Greek gods in Literature class one afternoon. “In fact, I don’t think you know much of anything, and you’ve gone to school here your whole life. Oh, wait! You don’t go to school. You show up, boss some of us around, and then go shopping. Because you don’t need an education. You have money.”

Someone gasps behind me. I can’t see who it is. A couple of kids are hiding smiles behind their hands.

“I at least have an excuse for the stuff I don’t know,” I say. “What’s yours?”

“You’re a bitch,” Melanie says.

“Oooo,” I say in the same tone I used with Gordon that morning. “Name-calling. That always works.”

I snatch my bow out of her hand. A whole hank of red hair falls to the ground. I probably have a bald patch on my scalp.

Still, I shove the bow-barrette back in. Then I grab my phone out of my purse and check the time—ostentatiously.

“Well, you just wasted our break,” I say. “I’m going to Advanced Algebra. You three have fun cutting class.”

And then I walk away from them. All three of them.

The only friends I had.

ELEVEN

I FEEL SURPRISINGLY okay as I walk away from M, V, & A. Everyone is watching me, and a few people are whispering. But it doesn’t sound like bad whispers.

I know a lot of people don’t like M, V, & A. Heck, I’m not even sure I like them all the time.

If they were my sisters and I was forced to walk away, then I’d be sobbing. (Heck, I
did
sob when my sisters and I separated—well,
after
we separated, because Tiff and I were taking care of Brit as we separated. Brit sobbed so hard we were afraid she was going to hurt herself.)

But M, V, & A weren’t really friends. They were companions and teachers and someone to kill time with.

I’m almost to the door when I realize that I’ve lied (just a little) to Melanie. Yes, if we were heading out to shop, we’d missed our opportunity and we’d have to cut class.

But there’s still twenty minutes before the next class, and I have nothing to do and nowhere to go.

I lift my chin as I push open the doors into the school. I don’t want to seem like I’m at loose ends. As far as the kids in the courtyard are concerned, I know where I’m going and what I’m doing next.

Aphrodite once told me that half of being decisive was
looking
decisive. So, for the people who are still watching me, I’m going to look beyond decisive. I’m going to look positively rock-solid.

I pull open the glass door and step inside the school. It smells faintly of vanilla. They actually perfume the air here to get rid of the teenage funk, as one counselor told Mother on the day she had to sign all my paperwork.

A girl I haven’t seen before sidles in behind me. She’s scrawny and her uniform is even more wrinkled than Agatha’s.

“Is it true you’re Owen Wright’s daughter?” she asks, and I recognize the tone. It’s sycophancy. We got that a lot when we were Interim Fates.

“I’m his stepdaughter,” I say, my voice cool. I’m-not-interested
cool.

But she doesn’t bug off. Of course, she doesn’t. She’s one of the oblivious people, the kind who never catch a hint.

Oh, lucky me.

“You need a new posse,” she says, “and I’m willing to join up. I mean, you’re really tough and—”

Blunt time.

“I’m not staying long enough to make a posse,” I say. “I’m moving back home over Winter Break.”

The girl’s gray eyes open wide. “You’re moving home? I thought this was home.”

“This?” I laugh once and then I make myself stop. Because if I keep laughing, it’ll go completely out of control and sound hysterical. I don’t want to sound hysterical. “This is Hicksville. It’s a nightmare of cliques and posturing. I’m going where people really have power instead of using fake stuff like money to make themselves seem important.”

“Fake stuff?” she asks.

I shrug and smile at her. “Don’t you know what money is? It just something everyone agrees has value. Your dollars, they’re just paper. You guys all pretend together that it’s worth something. So really, money is a mass hallucination. And a dumb one at that.”

“My, my, my, aren’t we philosophical today.” This voice doesn’t belong to the girl. This voice is male.

I turn toward the voice. A tall, dark-skinned boy leans against the wall, arms crossed. His uniform is crisply pressed, and he wears a watch that matches the one Owen won’t let the boys touch. So, this kid comes from money.

Even I’m getting infected with this preoccupation with wealth.

I recognize this kid, though. He’s in my civics class. So he saw me make an ass of myself that first week. He’s come into my math class more than once, because he’s doing special work with the teacher. Advanced Study, they call it. You can do that here, when you test out of some offered classes, but not all of them. You’re not ready for university, according to the guidelines, but you’re too good at some subjects to be here.

“I’ve never seen anyone stand up to Melanie before,” he says to me. “You bested her back there.”

“I wasn’t trying to best anyone,” I say, but that was a lie. I wanted to hurt her, and I couldn’t use magic to do it.

I feel a little woozy suddenly. What had Megan said to the three of us girls? If we had remained on Mount Olympus with Daddy and with our powers, we would have ended up as evil as Eris?

I wanted to
hurt
Melanie. I thought I liked Melanie.

Oh, I wish Megan would get out of my head.

I wish she wasn’t right. Because if I had magic, I would’ve done something truly awful. (And fun.)

The kid frowns at me. He takes a step toward me, then stops. Standing upright, he’s about a foot taller than me, broad-shoulders, narrow hips, and smells faintly of some expensive cologne.

“You okay?” he asks as if I’m going to fall over at any minute.

“I want to sit down,” I say.

He half guides me to one of the “comfort groupings” the school has in the middle of the corridors. There’s floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the courtyard, a large rug, and five chairs, usually filled with slouching students, at least on rainy days. Today, the comfort grouping serves just me, that weird girl who followed me, and this kid whose name I can’t remember.

The girl hesitates near the chairs. He looks at her and says, “If you’re here because her family has money, get the hell out.”

Her gaze darts toward me, then back to him, then to the courtyard. She slips away as if she wanted us to forget she was there.

I almost complain, I mean, he didn’t give her a chance to defend herself, but at the same time, I’d thought she was pretty annoying before he spoke up.

“I’m Kit,” he says as he flops into a chair beside me.

I’d never heard of a boy with a name like that before. “Kit?” I ask, trying to make sure there’s no sarcasm in my voice.

“Thomas Kittredge the Fourth,” he says, his voice going so low that he sounds like a TV announcer. “My father’s Trey, my grandfather is Deuce, and my great-grandfather is Tom. They needed something for me, and they somehow ended up with Kit.”

I get the sense he’s told that story so many times he hardly thinks about it.

“Crystal,” I say.

“Crystal Wright?” he asks.

“Chandler,” I say. “I get my mother’s name. Lucky me.”

He smiles, just a little, then the smile fades. “Seriously, are you all right?”

No
, I want to say.
It’s been a terrible last couple of days. Everyone I know has told me they don’t want me around or they won’t let me be with them, and I have to stay here and—

“Yeah,” I say, when I realize he’s just staring at me. “I think I need to eat or something.”

“Let’s go to the caff,” he says. “I’ll walk with you just in case.”

“Do I look that bad?” I ask.

His smile makes his masculine features look model-handsome. Breathtaking. How come I never noticed that before?

“You know there’s no good answer to that, right?” he asks.

He extends a hand. I look at it for a minute, then think,
What the hell,
and take it. His skin is warm and his palm (surprisingly) has callouses. I figured he’d be the do-not-do-anything-with-your-hands type.

My face suddenly feels flushed, and my heart rate goes up. He’s handsome
and
nice. When was the last time a boy paid attention just to me?