Sterling isn’t invited.
We have things to discuss. Important developments.None of which we can talk about in his presence.
“Surely you don’t want to stay here listening to the same mind-numbing conversations we’ve been having since before you were born.” She gives him another sharp jab. “Go on. Join your friends.”
We aren’t friends.
But he is every bit as trapped as the rest of us, pinned beneath the razor-sharp stare of his great grandmother. He’s not willing to challenge her, and we’re not willing to exclude a classmate in front of a room full of adults.
My excitement curdles.
With no real choice in the matter, he comes with us, Rafe watching our exit with keen interest.
Jude makes a quick stop in the music room to retrieve some paper and a fountain pen from one of the side tables. Then we head to the conservatory, not at all interested in the plants, even if the glass-walled room is filled with them.
Lantern light reflects off the mosaic tiles and terracotta benches, and along the far wall, a black iron staircase curls upward. Our footsteps clank as we climb it in a single file line to the viewing balcony above—an intimate space with ornate chairs that match the ironwork and a couple low-lying tables near the railing.
We arrange ourselves unevenly, chairs scraping,feet shifting, an uncomfortable silence settling while Sterling takes the seat farthest away and crosses his arms. “What is this plant you were so eager to see?”
I grapple for a workaround—a way to share what I need to share, even with an outsider present. “Did I say plant?” I laugh like a space cadet. “I meant puzzle.”
Twig and Naomi glance at one another sideways.
“That connect thedotpuzzle we were all working on the other day, at school?”
They look absolutely bewildered.
“The one with the pictures ofglowing dots, and we, er, had to figure out what it was?” I catch Jude’s eye and I’m almost certain he has the makings of a smile tucked inside his cheek. His dimple is flashing, anyway.
But it’s working.
Twig and Naomi have definitely caught on.
“You know,” I say, encouraging Kate. “Your friend,Lainey, was joking about how cool they looked and maybe she should get one tattooed on theinside of her wrist.”
This is very on the nose.
And also effective.
Sterling is completely lost.
But Kate’s face brightens with comprehension.
“Jude and I figured out part of the puzzle when we were on the terrace, looking at the constellations.” I take the paper he confiscated from the music room. The pen, too. I bend over a table and draw the pattern of dots on Griffin’s wrist. Then I hold it up for my audience to see. “You can’t really tell because it’s all the same color, but these two dots at the top are extra bright. One is bluish silver. The other a warm gold. That’s Castor and Pollux. And this one over here hovering above them—it was a paler yellow, but super bright—just ignore that one. Because we’re not exactly sure how it fits, but if you take that one out, this is definitely Gemini.”
I shuffle to a fresh sheet of paper and draw the pattern of dots from Lainey’s wrist, exactly and precisely how I remember it. “This one—the oneLaineyreally wanted as a tattoo—makes the shape of a V. This dot right here in the middle was sort of reddish. But if you ignore that one, this is definitely Taurus.”
Everyone has come out of their seats to gather around the table. Even Sterling, who stares down at the papers with his head tilted. “So these two are planets?”
I look up at him.
He points to the dot in between the V of Taurus’s horns and the other above the heads ofGemini. “They’re not part of either constellations because they’re planets? The red one is probably Mars.”
Jude picks up Gemini. “And Jupiter. Or Saturn. I don’t think it can be Venus.”
“You said this is a puzzle?” Sterling asks, sounding highly unimpressed.
I nod.
