“Do you really keep crying because of me?”
I scowl at him. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
He flies up to the top shelf when he sees me scooting the stool over. “I’ll push it down. Can you catch?”
I extend my arms and nod.
He nudges the tin, and it falls right into my hands.
“Chai?” he asks.
“It’s comforting. Maybe if I drink it, it will stopraining.”
“What upset you last night?”
“Nothing,” I answer immediately.
“The rain was stopping, and then suddenly it was coming down in torrential sheets. Next thing I know, it’s slowing down again, and you showed up at the house.Somethinghappened.”
“There are other pixies in town, you know.”
“But you are the only one the clouds adore. They sob every time you sniffle.”
It’s so preposterous, I laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”
“What happened, Kit?”
I open the tin and stare at the tea, focusing on the smell of cloves, cardamon, and cinnamon. “I saw a picture of you.”
“At Ash’s?” he asks, startled.
I swallow, nodding. “He has one of those digital picture frames. Do you know what those are?”
“I’m onlyfouryears older than you, Kit.Four.”
“Okay, so you do. Well, anyway. Ash has one. It has lots of pictures on it. Some with your family. Some landscapes…”
“He fancies himself a photographer,” Rowan scoffs.
“They were pretty good,” I admit.
He grunts.
“And then one of his high school graduation.” I spoon the tea into a small saucepan. “Yourhigh school graduation.”
“How’d you know it was me in the picture?” he asks carefully.
“You looked owlish.”
“I swear?—”
“I just knew, okay? And the boy fit your description.”
“What did he look like?”
“Tall, reddish-brown hair. Good-looking.”
He preens a little. “I told you I was.”
