She hands me the final Star. The one that had just missed the mark—?that caused the candle to sway but not fall.
“Thank you,” I say, taking it, and then George barrels over and throws an arm around my shoulders.
“Ya did good, kid,” he says. “And so Beas and I would like to cordially invite you to a bonfire at Chez Mackelroy tonight. I can’t guarantee any fancy food, drinks, or entertainment. But”—?he lowers his voice—?“you did only win silver.”
I punch him in the arm. “You don’t have to do this, I’m really fine,” I say.
“Do you need the speech? Because, you know, sterling for Sterling is actually really much better than gold for Sterling—” George says.
“All right,” I snort. “I’ll come.”
“Six o’clock,” he says, and as soon as he’s gone, a hand pulls me deeper into the shadows of the stands. I whirl around, and in the instant I realize it’s Will, he’s kissing me. All my disappointment instantly evaporates, and for one stolen moment I am filled with pure light.
I’m still feeling dazed when he rolls up his sleeve and shows me his arm, where he’s written “Next year.” Then he grins and ducks back out into the sunshine.
I smile and close my eyes, and I can suddenly see Mother again, exactly how she would have appeared if she had really been here, her laughter reaching its too-high octaves, shouting my name, not caring for a moment what anyone else thought.
Don’t let them crush you, her voice whispers in my ear, and the iron grip of Sterling’s approval suddenly loosens.
I tuck the losing Star into my pocket and head back onto the field, thinking that perhaps I’ve won a victory today, after all.
Chapter Fifty
The closer the train draws to Sterling, the harder I begin to sweat.
I shift in my seat, pulling my collar from where it suffocates my neck. “Are you all right?” an elderly woman asks, leaning toward me.
“Fine,” I snap, and she mutters something and returns to her newspaper. I pull my hat down a notch to cover my face.
The train glides right by that horrid lake, the very one that falls just beyond the border of Sterling. I catch sight of the water, gray and sheening, and feel a literal pain in my side. As if Juliet’s ghost has come back to stick a small knifepoint right between my ribs.
Everything, everything changed on the fateful day Juliet saw herself in that lake.
We were seventeen, and it had been years since we’d been close, whispering stories to each other in our shared room. Since the nights I had fallen asleep to the sound of her breathing.
Word swept through Sterling in a frenzy that Juliet Cummings had seen her reflection—?but by the time the news reached me, the crowd at the lake had already begun to dissipate. Two men were shoving each other in a fight that had just started brewing. Juliet was nowhere to be found. There was something heavy in the air. I realized soon enough what it was.
Hope. Freshly soured.
I remember leaning over the water. Holding my breath. The sinking feeling when there was nothing before me but silver water, clear enough to see ink drops of tadpoles against the sand and silt.
I’d trudged back to town, my legs tiring and as heavy as lead. But then I’d seen Matilda, and everything had suddenly felt so much lighter. Brighter. The air, my legs, even the future.
She had been alone. Beautiful, beautiful Matilda, with her hair fluttering like red feathers.
“Have you seen Juliet?” Matilda asked, her eyes wide with panic. “I’m worried about her.”
“No,” I said. My mouth was dry, as it always was when I was near her.
“What’s wrong?” Matilda knew me well enough to notice. She even reached out and touched my arm.
I looked into her eyes, green and speckled with gold. I would have told her anything at all, if she looked at me like that. I licked my dry lips. “I couldn’t see my reflection,” I admitted.
“Don’t feel bad. Neither could anyone else,” she’d said kindly. “No one but Juliet. That’s why we need to find her.”
“But why her?” The question exploded from me with such fierceness that Matilda dropped my arm and took a step back. “It doesn’t make any sense,” I said, softening. Wanting her to close the distance between us again. “If Juliet can, then why can’t I?”
“What do you mean?” she asked. Confusion had crossed her smooth, pretty face.
