Page 46 of The Rules of Magic

The crow paced on the coffee table and kept an eye on her. Jet paced as well, as Franny did her best to get through to the school. It was a holiday, and Harvard was all but deserted. At last a custodian answered. As Franny wasn’t a relative, he couldn’t give out any information.

“Don’t take no for an answer,” Jet urged. “Stand up for yourself.”

Franny pleaded with the custodian, who at last gave in, telling her that the student in question had been taken to Mass General Hospital.

“Of course you’ll go,” Jet said. “There’s no question about it.”

“But what if I ruin him?” Franny asked her sister. “Maybe I should stay.”

Franny had never before asked for her sister’s advice and Jet was somewhat startled, especially because she had not been forthcoming about her own life. She had intended not to see Rafael again, but that’s not how things turned out. They often met outside the hotel, then walked through the park. Jet read the papers he wrote for class, and later when he wrote a book about teaching kids who had been labeled unteachable he thanked her in his dedication, although no one in his family had ever met her. She had not regretted a moment.

“Go,” Jet told Franny. “What’s meant to happen will.”

Franny stored her toothbrush and an extra T-shirt in her backpack, then had Lewis climb into the cat’s carrying case, for it was too miserable a night to fly such a long distance. She took a cab to Penn Station and bought a ticket on the first train to Boston.

The car was overcrowded, and Franny had to stand until they reached New Haven, when she could finally slide into an available seat. By then she had a deep sense of foreboding. The other passengers must have felt it as well; as crowded as the train was, no one would sit next to her.

When she got to Boston she let Lewis out of his case and he lit into the sky. She stopped at a shop outside South Station and bought a bag of jelly doughnuts, then took a taxi to Mass General. This time she knew she would be questioned about her relationship to the patient. When she said she was his sister, she was told that Hay had suffered from appendicitis. His roommate had found him curled up in a fetal position, teeth chattering, unable to respond, and had frantically called an ambulance. It was touch and go, the nurse divulged as she led Franny along the hall; they had feared septic shock and Haylin was still weak.

He was in a shared room, which meant Franny had to edge past the man in the bed closest the door. He was exceedingly old and she could tell he was dying. There was a dark circle tightening around him like a shroud, instant by instant. Franny paused to take his hand, and the old man clutched at her, grateful. “Are you here to see me?” he asked. “Will you say good-bye to me?”

“Of course,” Franny assured him.

Haylin had been dozing, but he rose up through his half sleep, brought fully awake by the sound of Franny’s voice. He was pale and much thinner. There was the dark stubble of a beard on his face. The old man now soothed, Franny went on to Haylin’s bed. She dumped her backpack on the floor and lay down beside him, careful not to disturb the IV tubing inserted into his vein. She circled her arms around him.

“Franny,” he said. “You came.”

“Of course,” she said.

“It’s always been us,” Haylin said.

Franny told him how Lewis had come to the city to fetch her. “He’s never really liked me,” she said. “He’s always preferred you.”

“You’re wrong,” Haylin told her. “He’s crazy about you. I have a photograph of you on my desk and he sits there and stares at it, lovesick.” Hay chuckled, then clutched at his abdomen, in pain. Franny had brought along a protection spell. She tied a blue string that had been coated with lavender oil around Haylin’s wrist, then kissed his open hand.

“Is this to bring me back to you?” he asked.

“It’s to make you well.”

She delivered the bag of jelly doughnuts, which brought a grin to Haylin’s face. “You remembered.”

“Of course I did.”

Hay then launched into praising Cambridge, how much Franny would appreciate the narrow streets and the riverside. She could take a class or two at Radcliffe. They could get an apartment in Central Square. He had been taking extra courses, and planned to graduate a year early so they would have more time to spend together. She submitted to this dream of happiness, but only briefly, until she gazed out the window. The crow was on the windowsill, watching, his head tilted. He knew what she was thinking. She was too afraid of the curse to ever place Haylin in danger. Franny slipped off the bed. It was too difficult to be near him. She poured Haylin a cup of water.

“Franny,” he said. “We were meant to be together. Your coming here proves it.”

She had no idea what she would do next, if she would stay or go.

“You can’t leave me now,” Hay urged, and she might have said she would never leave him again, but just then a tall blond girl stepped into the room, breaking their intimacy. The girl was perhaps twenty, pretty, with a huge smile, her cheeks flushed from walking along the Charles River, which she complained about as soon as she arrived. Her sleek cap of hair was in place despite the windy day. She wore a plaid skirt and a blue cashmere sweater and a scarf knotted at her throat. She, too, carried a bag of jelly doughnuts.

“I’m freezing!” the girl declared. “And oh, my God, Hay, I was out of my mind with worry last night.” She went to Haylin’s side. “I didn’t even get to call your parents until this morning. They’ll be up tonight.” She pulled off her scarf. “I didn’t leave here until the doctor assured me a hundred percent that you were fine.”

“I am,” he said roughly, his eyes still on Franny.

The girl had been so intent on Hay she hadn’t even noticed Franny lurking by the window, wearing her ill-fitting black coat. “Oh, hello!” the girl said brightly. “I didn’t see you there.”

Lewis tapped on the window glass, but Franny was distracted. Her heart was pounding. She’d gone white as a sheet, her freckles splotchy across her pale face. “Hello,” she said. Her voice cracked with the fever of resentment.