Read Online The Zodiac Collector by Laura Diamond - Free Book Online Page B

territory. I want to duct tape all their chipper little beaks shut. A torrent of emotion swirls inside me. I ride the wave, floating on the memories of sitting next to William for hours on end, paying more attention to his breathing, laughing, and yummy clean smell than to the movies we watched. Then I sink into a whirlpool, smacked in the face by the eddies of goofed birthday chants and failed negotiations with Mom. Disappointment lingers over my shoulders like a damp wool cloak.
    I roll out of bed, disturbing Castor. Poor thing stuck out the night with me, despite my kicking him in the head a dozen times. He hops off the bed and sneezes. I chuckle as he wags his tail and yaps at me. Really, I have no other choice than to pick him up and pet him.
    â€œWhere are Mary and Pollux, eh?” I coo into his ear. His tongue laps at my chin. “Let’s go find them.”
    Castor hops around my legs all the way downstairs, through the foyer, and outside to the front porch. Mary’s sitting on the wrought-iron bench Dad built out of scrap metal. White paint flecks off every time someone sits on it because of the years of neglect. Refinishing it is on his to-do list, but everything’s on hold until the faire ends. Pollux hovers at her feet—most likely praying for her bowl of cereal to spontaneously capsize so he can snarf it down.
    It’s a blessedly normal morning, no weirdness in sight. I tell myself a new day means a fresh start.
    â€œHey, what’s up?” I use my hunky-dory, everything-is-great voice and sit next to her. A cool breeze rustles the leaves and rattles the rusted wind chimes hanging from the porch roof. It reminds me of the tornado that took over our room yesterday. I shiver, chilled more by the memory than the temperature.
    Mary swallows a mouthful of frosty flakes and points with her spoon. “The caravans are here.”
    Pollux wags his tail, ever hopeful. Castor joins him and yips a greeting.
    A line of cars, vans, and trucks hauling campers whizzes past in a constant stream. Each vehicle is at least twenty years old. Some have duct tape holding bumpers and windows together. Others are painted in patchwork-quilt patterns. An epic fantasy battle between wizards, dragons, and ogres decorates the side panel of one van. It’s followed by a van with a haunted cemetery scene. Half the cars are burning oil, and the acrid stench turns my stomach and burns my nose. I should’ve grabbed my inhaler.
    â€œMore cars this year,” I say, stealing a sugary corn flake from Mary’s bowl.
    â€œHey, go get your own. It only seems like more because you’re up early enough to watch the whole procession.” She peers at me out of the corner of her eye. “Why are you out of bed, anyway? You tossed and turned all night.”
    I shrug. “I had trouble sleeping.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œDunno.” Staring at the traffic helps me lie. If I look at her, then I’ll have to tell her about my nightmares about pissed-off warrior stars and Mom attacking me with lance-sized sewing needles. Then she’ll have more reason to pick on me about the magick spells.
    â€œUh-huh. Right.”
    â€œAnd I suppose you slept just fine?” I can’t keep the accusation out of my voice. Guilt wags its accusing finger at me, saying I shouldn’t be getting angry at her simple question. I should be mad at myself for making Mom angry, for chanting before Gamma taught me how, and for freaking Mary out.
    Pollux barks. His patience has expired. Castor simply lies on my feet. He’s pretending to be laid back, little faker. Mary surrenders the remains of her breakfast to Pollux. Castor swoops in like a piranha. Pollux doesn’t complain. “Look, what happened yesterday—”
    â€œIs my fault. Just like everything else.” I stand and fold my arms.
    â€œEverything else?”
    â€œYeah, making Mom mad, fighting with you, pretending magick will