knew what it was to be the odd Gale out.
The power grid flashed gold when she knocked. Charlie leaned in as close as she could without getting singed and said quietly, “Open the door, or I tell Allie about . . .”
The grid vanished, the door swung open, and a voice muttered out of the smoke, “I never thought you were a snitch.”
“Dude, empty threat. If it happened in Calgary, Allie knows about it.” She slipped in as the door closed again, waving a hand in front of her face. The temperature was in the high thirties, making the sulfur smell stronger than usual—could be dragon, could be teenage boy. Impossible to tell for certain. “What do you have against open windows?”
“Stupid neighbors keep calling the fire department.”
“All right, one last freebie before I go.” Right hand on the outside wall, Charlie came farther into the room, only tripping twice over the debris on the floor before she found the window. “Back in the day,” she grunted, forcing the casement up, “there was a time or two I didn’t want my parents to know what I had going on.” Pressing only enough to lightly etch the weave, she dragged the edge of her thumbnail over the exposed screen. “This will filter everything coming out of your room. No visible smoke. No . . . uh, nosable smell.”
“Nosable?”
“Shut up, I’m doing you a favor.”
“You’re leaving.”
The smoke had already started to clear. When Charlie turned, she could see Jack sprawled on his bed, wearing a pair of shorts and an award-winning sulky expression. “Yeah, I’m leaving. So?”
“So, nothing.” He scratched at the gold scales scattered over his chest and stomach. “Go ahead. Leave.”
“They have these things called phones in this world.” Jack wouldn’t get his family phone until fifteen, but even considering Canada’s crappy cell coverage, there were other options. “You want me, call me.”
“Why would I want you?”
She kicked a pair of enormous, glossy, red board shoes to one side and leaned against his dresser. “Maybe because you can’t stand how uncool it is around here without me.”
“You’re in a country band.” He balled up a dirty sock and threw it at the poster of Inner Surge taped to the back of his door. “That’s not cool. And cool’s not cool, it’s sick.”
“Okay, point one, not in a country band anymore; I’m in an alt Celtic band.”
“Wow. So much better.” Teenagers did sarcasm almost as well as the aunties.
“And two, what’s really up with you?”
Jack threw another sock. After a long moment he sighed, a gust of smoke wafting toward the open window. “I’m trying really hard to be what they want me to be.”
“Allie and Graham?”
“Them, too.” Another sock. “There’s too many stupid choices here. You’re the only one who gets that.”
“Thanks. I think. For what it’s worth, being fourteen is all about making stupid choices.”
“Not for me.”
“Are you lying on your dirty laundry?” Charlie asked as another sock hit the poster.
He turned to glare at her. “What if I am?”
“Then you’re doing better at being a fourteen-year-old boy than you think. Look . . .” She crossed the room, shoved his leg out of the way, and sat on the edge of the bed. “. . . Allie’s not going to send you back if you don’t want to go, no matter what you do.” The bed quivered as he stiffened. Bingo. “She fought the aunties for you. She sends you back, she’s lost the fight.”
Those were the kind of power dynamics Jack understood. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully, showing a glimmer of gold.
“Don’t waste energy worrying about Allie, just concentrate on finding who you are here. And that advice was so tree-of-life tote bag, I think I’m going to hurl.”
He snorted. “Yeah, I didn’t want to say.”
“I promise I’ll keep trying to come up with something more interesting for you to do than working Graham’s skeezy newspaper.”
A pair of underwear hit the
The power grid flashed gold when she knocked. Charlie leaned in as close as she could without getting singed and said quietly, “Open the door, or I tell Allie about . . .”
The grid vanished, the door swung open, and a voice muttered out of the smoke, “I never thought you were a snitch.”
“Dude, empty threat. If it happened in Calgary, Allie knows about it.” She slipped in as the door closed again, waving a hand in front of her face. The temperature was in the high thirties, making the sulfur smell stronger than usual—could be dragon, could be teenage boy. Impossible to tell for certain. “What do you have against open windows?”
“Stupid neighbors keep calling the fire department.”
“All right, one last freebie before I go.” Right hand on the outside wall, Charlie came farther into the room, only tripping twice over the debris on the floor before she found the window. “Back in the day,” she grunted, forcing the casement up, “there was a time or two I didn’t want my parents to know what I had going on.” Pressing only enough to lightly etch the weave, she dragged the edge of her thumbnail over the exposed screen. “This will filter everything coming out of your room. No visible smoke. No . . . uh, nosable smell.”
“Nosable?”
“Shut up, I’m doing you a favor.”
“You’re leaving.”
The smoke had already started to clear. When Charlie turned, she could see Jack sprawled on his bed, wearing a pair of shorts and an award-winning sulky expression. “Yeah, I’m leaving. So?”
“So, nothing.” He scratched at the gold scales scattered over his chest and stomach. “Go ahead. Leave.”
“They have these things called phones in this world.” Jack wouldn’t get his family phone until fifteen, but even considering Canada’s crappy cell coverage, there were other options. “You want me, call me.”
“Why would I want you?”
She kicked a pair of enormous, glossy, red board shoes to one side and leaned against his dresser. “Maybe because you can’t stand how uncool it is around here without me.”
“You’re in a country band.” He balled up a dirty sock and threw it at the poster of Inner Surge taped to the back of his door. “That’s not cool. And cool’s not cool, it’s sick.”
“Okay, point one, not in a country band anymore; I’m in an alt Celtic band.”
“Wow. So much better.” Teenagers did sarcasm almost as well as the aunties.
“And two, what’s really up with you?”
Jack threw another sock. After a long moment he sighed, a gust of smoke wafting toward the open window. “I’m trying really hard to be what they want me to be.”
“Allie and Graham?”
“Them, too.” Another sock. “There’s too many stupid choices here. You’re the only one who gets that.”
“Thanks. I think. For what it’s worth, being fourteen is all about making stupid choices.”
“Not for me.”
“Are you lying on your dirty laundry?” Charlie asked as another sock hit the poster.
He turned to glare at her. “What if I am?”
“Then you’re doing better at being a fourteen-year-old boy than you think. Look . . .” She crossed the room, shoved his leg out of the way, and sat on the edge of the bed. “. . . Allie’s not going to send you back if you don’t want to go, no matter what you do.” The bed quivered as he stiffened. Bingo. “She fought the aunties for you. She sends you back, she’s lost the fight.”
Those were the kind of power dynamics Jack understood. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully, showing a glimmer of gold.
“Don’t waste energy worrying about Allie, just concentrate on finding who you are here. And that advice was so tree-of-life tote bag, I think I’m going to hurl.”
He snorted. “Yeah, I didn’t want to say.”
“I promise I’ll keep trying to come up with something more interesting for you to do than working Graham’s skeezy newspaper.”
A pair of underwear hit the
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