archaeological digs with Diana that this room would have set her mother’s mind spinning.
They walked deeper into the cave, Cat’s stiletto heels clicking on the stone. The torch lit the space only a few feet ahead of Eureka and a few feet behind, so the others had to stay close. Stalactites dripped from the ceiling, like giant frozen fingers thawing. Cat pressed on Eureka’s head to signal her to duck under a spear-shaped one.
Eureka tipped the torch in Cat’s direction. The light made her friend’s freckles stand out against her skin. She looked young and innocent—Cat’s two least favorite qualities—which made Eureka think of Cat’s parents, who would always see their daughter that way, even when Cat was sixty. She hoped Cat’s family was safe.
“Be-fri.” Eureka spoke her half of the heart-shaped best-friends puzzle-piece necklace she and Cat had won during a Cajun line-dancing contest at the Sugarcane Festival in ninth grade.
Cat automatically recited her half of the charm. “St-ends.” She swung her hip out like they were still there, dancing in New Iberia, past Main Street’s decorated storefronts,the fall night promising a new school year and football and cute boys with thick warm cardigans you could slide inside.
They didn’t wear the necklaces anymore, but every once in a while, Eureka and Cat performed the familiar call-and-response. It was a way of checking in, of saying
I will always love you
and
You’re the only one who gets me
and
Thanks.
The cave smelled musty and ripe, the way Eureka’s garage had smelled after Hurricane Rita. Its floor was surprisingly smooth, as if it had been sanded down. It was quiet except for the sound of water dripping from the stalactites into root-beer-colored pools. Pale tadpoles darted to and fro.
The most remarkable thing about the cave was the absence of rain. Eureka had grown accustomed to the constant sensation of storm on her skin. Under the cave’s cover, her body felt numb and charged at the same time, unsure what to make of the lull.
The torch illuminated a dark space in the center of a small wall of swirling skulls at the far end of the passage. Eureka approached and saw that it was the entrance to a narrower passage. She pushed the witches’ torch into the gloom.
More skulls lined this smaller path, which narrowed into dark endlessness. Eureka’s claustrophobia awakened and her hand tightened around the torch.
Dad lifted his head from the mystical moth bower. He had talked his daughter down from panic attacks in elevators andattics since she’d been a child. She saw recognition on his face and was relieved he was still cognizant enough to understand why she was frozen at the door.
Dad nodded toward the daunting darkness. “Gotta go through it to get through it.” That had been his line in those bleary days after Diana died. Back then he was referring to grief. Eureka wondered if he knew what he was referring to now. No one knew what lay on the other side of darkness.
Dad’s bayou drawl was more pronounced away from home. Eureka remembered that the only other time he’d left the country was when he and Diana went to Belize for their honeymoon. The sun-soaked photographs were imprinted on her brain. Her parents were young and golden and gorgeous, never smiling at the same time.
“Okay, Dad.” Eureka let the walls embrace her.
The temperature dropped. The ceiling did, too. Lit candles flickered sporadically along the way. Their shallow light faded into long stretches of darkness before the next candle appeared. Eureka sensed her loved ones at her back. She had no idea what she was leading them toward.
Distant sounds echoed off the walls. Eureka stopped to listen. She could only hear them in her good ear, which she realized meant the voices were of her world, not Atlantis. They grew louder, closer.
Eureka widened her stance to shield the twins. She heldthe torch with both hands like a bludgeon. She would strike whatever came.
She
They walked deeper into the cave, Cat’s stiletto heels clicking on the stone. The torch lit the space only a few feet ahead of Eureka and a few feet behind, so the others had to stay close. Stalactites dripped from the ceiling, like giant frozen fingers thawing. Cat pressed on Eureka’s head to signal her to duck under a spear-shaped one.
Eureka tipped the torch in Cat’s direction. The light made her friend’s freckles stand out against her skin. She looked young and innocent—Cat’s two least favorite qualities—which made Eureka think of Cat’s parents, who would always see their daughter that way, even when Cat was sixty. She hoped Cat’s family was safe.
“Be-fri.” Eureka spoke her half of the heart-shaped best-friends puzzle-piece necklace she and Cat had won during a Cajun line-dancing contest at the Sugarcane Festival in ninth grade.
Cat automatically recited her half of the charm. “St-ends.” She swung her hip out like they were still there, dancing in New Iberia, past Main Street’s decorated storefronts,the fall night promising a new school year and football and cute boys with thick warm cardigans you could slide inside.
They didn’t wear the necklaces anymore, but every once in a while, Eureka and Cat performed the familiar call-and-response. It was a way of checking in, of saying
I will always love you
and
You’re the only one who gets me
and
Thanks.
The cave smelled musty and ripe, the way Eureka’s garage had smelled after Hurricane Rita. Its floor was surprisingly smooth, as if it had been sanded down. It was quiet except for the sound of water dripping from the stalactites into root-beer-colored pools. Pale tadpoles darted to and fro.
The most remarkable thing about the cave was the absence of rain. Eureka had grown accustomed to the constant sensation of storm on her skin. Under the cave’s cover, her body felt numb and charged at the same time, unsure what to make of the lull.
The torch illuminated a dark space in the center of a small wall of swirling skulls at the far end of the passage. Eureka approached and saw that it was the entrance to a narrower passage. She pushed the witches’ torch into the gloom.
More skulls lined this smaller path, which narrowed into dark endlessness. Eureka’s claustrophobia awakened and her hand tightened around the torch.
Dad lifted his head from the mystical moth bower. He had talked his daughter down from panic attacks in elevators andattics since she’d been a child. She saw recognition on his face and was relieved he was still cognizant enough to understand why she was frozen at the door.
Dad nodded toward the daunting darkness. “Gotta go through it to get through it.” That had been his line in those bleary days after Diana died. Back then he was referring to grief. Eureka wondered if he knew what he was referring to now. No one knew what lay on the other side of darkness.
Dad’s bayou drawl was more pronounced away from home. Eureka remembered that the only other time he’d left the country was when he and Diana went to Belize for their honeymoon. The sun-soaked photographs were imprinted on her brain. Her parents were young and golden and gorgeous, never smiling at the same time.
“Okay, Dad.” Eureka let the walls embrace her.
The temperature dropped. The ceiling did, too. Lit candles flickered sporadically along the way. Their shallow light faded into long stretches of darkness before the next candle appeared. Eureka sensed her loved ones at her back. She had no idea what she was leading them toward.
Distant sounds echoed off the walls. Eureka stopped to listen. She could only hear them in her good ear, which she realized meant the voices were of her world, not Atlantis. They grew louder, closer.
Eureka widened her stance to shield the twins. She heldthe torch with both hands like a bludgeon. She would strike whatever came.
She
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