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“Insist on somewhere nice,” Mom yells from the family room.
Once the door closes, I smile. “Let’s go to my favorite place.”
Mirdza cringes.
“What?” I can’t help staring right at Alexei when I say, “Mr. Burger’s the best. You can get a burger and fries for five euros. And they make all their own buns.”
“That sounds great,” Aleks says.
“It is,” I say. “Did I mention it’s my favorite?” I shrug. “I like things that are cheap and quick.” I skip over to my janky, broke-down car that might not even turn over. Usually it doesn’t. “I’ll drive.”
“We can’t all fit in that.” Kris eyes my twenty-year-old Toyota Corolla with the same disgust as always.
“Great. Then I’ll meet you there.” I wave as I open the door with a stiff yank. It creaks loudly and then makes a clicking sound. My car has its own soundtrack, basically.
Mirdza’s struggling toward me, probably as a show of family solidarity, instead of heading for the shiny, new car her boyfriend bought her. If I knew she’d insist on following me all the way over, I wouldn’t have been so irritating.
“What happened to her leg?” Alexei took advantage of how distracted I was watching Mirdza and snuck over by me. He’s now standing by the passenger side door.
“Mirdza’s leg?”
He nods.
“My stepfather, that’s what.” I can’t help gripping the doorframe tightly and scowling.
“He hurt her?”
“Sure did, and then you know, subsequent injuries haven’t helped.”
“Would she want it repaired properly?” He’s asking so matter-of-factly that I almost can’t believe what he’s saying.
“What?”
“I never want to presume that I know what people want in their lives. She’s a very strong woman, and she may—”
“She wants it fixed.” I lean closer, bracing my elbows on the top of the car. “Can you do that?”
He shrugs. “I mean, I can’t be one hundred percent certain, but probably.”
“You heal people? Really?”
“Each of us has that ability to a certain extent, but when combined with my water powers, yes, I can heal most things.”
“That’s—Mirdza!” I should wait and talk to him on the way. I should approach things in a measured way so that I don’t get her hopes up unreasonably, but I’m not that kind of person. I’m a storm-the-castle-and-deal-with-the-fallout-later kind of person.
She’s almost reached us now, but she was clearly talking to Grigoriy about something and not listening. She turns. “Yeah?” She looks at the car window. “Is your car too messy for me to fit?” Is that hope in her tone? Rude.
“No. It’s just that—”
“Oh, no.” She sighs. “It won’t start again?”
“No,” I say. “It’s not that either.” Though to be honest, I’m not sure. Sitting for a few weeks while I was gone—Mom almost never uses it—probably did it no favors. “Listen.”
“Why didn’t you ask me to heal her?” Alexei’s looking at Grigoriy now.
“Heal who?” Mirdza asks.
“It’s only been a few days,” Grigoriy says. “They’ve been chaotic.”
