Of vain desires and hopes that failed?
By the time George slips through the trees, there are around forty of us on the Sterling side and almost as many gathered for the opposing team. The sky is an abyss without the stars, and my night vision makes the lake look like a dark silver mirror that reflects nothing at all.
“Aila?” George asks in surprise when he spots me. He dips his head to make sure. “Are you running tonight?”
I pat the rough hunk of log next to me. “I hadn’t planned on it.”
“You should,” he said. “I’m not. But everyone should have this experience at least once in their lives.” George sets his bag at his feet and plops down, his freckles glowing like constellations.
“And what experience is that?” I ask, but I’m startled by Beas suddenly leaping to her feet. She throws herself on an approaching figure, laughing her throaty laugh, muffled by the kisses she is planting all over his face and neck.
She leads a tall boy with dark eyes toward us, her face flushed and her eyes shining.
George reaches out a hand to shake, and Eliza offers a wan smile. “Oh, hi, Thom,” she says casually before returning to her nails.
“A, this is Thom,” Beas says. “Thom, this is that girl I was telling you about.” She wrinkles her nose at me. “Good things,” she assures me.
“Any friend of Beas—” he says, grinning.
I dip my head at him. “Nice to meet you.” He is tall and broad, and Beas just fits into him, her dark head barely grazing his chin.
“Here, have some Embers,” she says, and reaches on her tiptoes to sprinkle a handful over him.
“I have to leave by two to get home.” He sits where the sand meets the grass.
“Let’s not talk about it,” she says, nestling into him before she leans forward to start stretching out her calves.
The crowd is filling in, settling onto the logs and driftwood that ring the beach.
“Race seems early this time,” a boy comments behind us, biting into an apple as large as a fist. “The last one was barely a month ago.”
“You know why.” A girl with a handkerchief tied around her head turns to look at him.
“You mean because of Disappearance Day?”
“There are only two weeks left. Everyone could use a distraction.”
“They think if we come out here and run around, we’ll just forget about it all for a while?”
“Fat chance,” George mutters.
A girl I recognize from my history class, Nell, is acting as some sort of official. She has a slight lisp and deep dimples. To draw our attention, she blows into a horn that sounds like a muted owl’s call.
“Welcome, all,” she says, extending her hands. “And a special welcome to our guests from Corrander tonight!” She nods at our muted clapping. “The girls will go first. Racers, line up in the sand and get your armbands.”
Beas and Eliza start removing their shoes. “Are you going to race?” Beas asks, knotting her hair up into a ponytail. She pulls on a pair of trousers under her skirt, which she promptly drops into the sand. Thom gives a low whistle, and she winks at him.
“Do I need Tempests?” I ask.
She laughs as if I’ve asked something hysterical.
I shrug.
“Next time, then,” she says, and she and Eliza grab hands and run to the line drawn in the sand. They are fitted with black bands that snake around their upper arms, and the bands are dusted with Glimmers until they take light. The racers’ left arms glow either crimson for Sterling or gold for Corrander. But the bands on their right arms are lit with individual colors. Eliza’s becomes jade as she leans down to stretch, and Beas’s is lavender.
“Racers, take your places,” Nell instructs. The crowd around me responds by stomping their feet in the sand, which manages to convey enthusiasm without making too much noise. I’m looking around, wondering where the finish line is. There are ten girls lined up to face the lake.
“Ninety seconds to go,” Nell announces, “starting on my count.”
