Page 54 of Fang Fiction

Octavia looked at Joni for a moment, her face pained. “I didn’t know you had brothers.”

“Hey,” Joni said quietly. “We’re gonna find Callum, okay?”

“Maybe.” Octavia nodded. But she didn’t seem to want to talk anymore.

As they neared the end of the bridge and it became clear that no portal was going to appear, Joni stole a few sideways glances at Octavia. She looked cool and detached as always, but Joni noticed her breathing was shallow, not quite even.

“I’m sorry,” Joni said when they stepped off the bridge and onto Frankfort Street. “It was a stupid idea.”

“At least you’re trying,” Octavia muttered. “I researched ways to get off the Isle for years, and I only managed it by sheer coincidence. And now that I’m back here, I can’t make myself spend any time thinking about that damn portal—all I want to do is go to bars and buy clothes and forget that any of this ever happened.”

“First of all, that makes total sense,” Joni reassured her. “You went through something horrible, of course you want to put it out of your mind! And second…you know. They’re really, really good clothes.”

Octavia smiled sadly, then nodded toward Joni’s dress. “You’ve made a bit of a sartorial upgrade yourself tonight.”

“Oh.” Joni flushed with pleasure. “Yeah, well, you were making me feel like a fucking schlub. Had to prove I own some actual nice clothing.”

Octavia stepped behind Joni and pulled the label out of the dress’s neckline.

“Oh, Joni. Poly-rayon blend?” Octavia wrinkled her nose.

“Is that bad? Why is that bad?!” Joni gesticulated broadly, and they both laughed.

Octavia held Joni’s gaze for a moment. “Do you want to walk a little more? There’s a park I used to like a bit north of here, by the river.”

“Sure.” Joni nodded. “That sounds good.”

—

The East River Greenway was mostly empty as they headed north. Joni asked Octavia about her favorite designers, and Octavia told wild stories about the time she spent as a muse to Cristóbal Balenciaga in the ’50s and Mary Quant in the ’60s, her friendships with iconic Korean designers like Park Youn Soo and Lee Young-hee in the ’90s.

“The fuss they made over Mary’s miniskirts, my god.” Octavia laughed as they walked into a big green meadow. “As if a woman showing her thighs could bring the world to a grinding halt.”

“That’s still a thing!” Joni blustered. “School dress codes, making girls cover their legs and shoulders so boys can learn, never mind what the fucking girls want. It’s all a bullshit way of policing women’s bodies, and I for one—”

But before Joni could finish her sentence, there was a loud cracking sound and a blinding flash of icy blue light. Octavia looked at Joni in shock, then sprinted toward the light.

“Octavia, wait!” Joni called, but it didn’t matter, Octavia was flying through the meadow, she was almost at the light—

And then it was gone. It had only lasted a couple of seconds. Octavia was spinning wildly, heaving for breath.

“What happened?” She was flailing in panic. “Where did it go?!”

“I don’t know!” Joni rushed over. “Did you see anything?”

“Callum.” Octavia was shaking now, and tears were rolling down her face. She sank to her knees in the soft grass, and Joni crouched beside her.

“Callum!” she screamed, her voice raspy with emotion. “Callum, can you hear me?!”

But nothing happened—they were still alone in the empty meadow.

“Could you see Callum in the light?” Joni asked.

“No.” Octavia covered her face with her hands. “I could feel him. He was right there.”

“What did it feel like?” Joni asked quietly.

“Like I was whole again.” Octavia shook with tears. “And then I wasn’t.”