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Moffy goes rigid. “Some of us did go to Camp Calloway that year. You weren’t there, but I hosted a Camp-Away for H.M.C. Philanthropies.”
“Did I go to the lake house around that time?”
He nods strongly, then takes out his phone. “You okay with me telling Farrow you’re remembering this?”
“Sure.” I shrug. “But when I was in the hospital, I had glimpses of this time period. My eighteenth birthday…I think we had spaghetti family dinner. Did Xander pierce his ears?”
“So did Kinney. Farrow did it.”
Right. The Farrow part is a bit hazy. “Then Camp Calloway. But everything is totally dark at the lake house. I can tell it was cold, but I think we were there early…”
“It was before Christmas,” he confirms.
“We weren’t there for the holidays?”
He shakes his head.
“Why not?”
Now he really stiffens. He mentions a Big Event that brought everyone there before the holidays. Nothing he’s comfortable retelling for my sake. I could do an internet search. But I’m scared to be drowned in a rabbit hole of Big Bad Events.
“What happened back then has more to do with me and Jane,” he says. “You weren’t really involved in it, but you did join us on the damage control tour.”
Huh. I learn all about the FanCon tour. Okay, not all about it. He gives me a brief synopsis, and it sounds way too fun to miss. Do not mourn the tour.
Too late.
“You remember nothing about the tour?” he asks.
“Uh-uh. I barely remember anything past arriving at the lake house.” My ribs throb against my aching lungs. “I’ve still forgotten three years, haven’t I?”
“About, yeah.” He pockets his phone, his burst of happiness popped. He thought I was getting better. Moffy is good at caging emotions, so I can’t tell if he’s disturbed by Variant Luna (aka me). “You’ll remember when you’re ready to, sis. You know?”
I try to nod.
Moffy bops my head lovingly, and our childhood tries to lift my spirits. He says, “Don’t put too much stress on yourself over it. I’m a knower of things, and I have this super annoying husband who practically drilled in my brain: Stress Bad, Relaxing Good.”
My brother loves Farrow.
It pummels me again. Two of the most important, influential people in my whole life cosmically collided together—and I can’t even reminisce with him.
Because I never saw them fall in love.
I spin around, pretending to examine an old Sagittarius tapestry thumbtacked to the wall. Walking forward, tacked beside the cloth is a black pen drawing of the Leo constellation. My heart leaps.
“Do you know Donnelly’s birthdate?” I ask my brother.
“August…13th, I’m pretty sure, but I can double-check—”
“No, that’s okay.” August 13th. Donnelly would be a Leo. I run my finger over the stars. Another sheet is stuck beneath this one. I lift the paper and a hidden sketch steals my breath. Stars and planets swirl around two figures: a girl, a guy. Is that us?
Why did I hide it?
Then again, would I even be that forthcoming if I got a boyfriend? I could see myself not sharing with so many people. Less voices mean less opinions, and sometimes it’s easier to just keep things to myself. Seeing a romantic sketch concealed beneath another just saddens me though.
“You have any other questions?” Moffy asks.
“Why can’t I remember anything about him?” I turn to face my brother.
He tries to exhale a breath. “No one really knows.”
“You have theories?” Does Maximoff Hale still have a philosopher’s heart? He’s had to have thought about this! I perk up, but he’s making a cringey face. “Please, Moffy.”
Scraping a hand along his tight neck, he says, “I think your brain is probably protecting you from…trauma, or it’s safeguarding memories with him that you don’t want corrupted. Maybe both.”
Trauma. “He was with me part of the night,” I remember what Donnelly said. “When it happened…” What happened?
“Yeah,” Maximoff says, just as Arkham barks and scratches at the door. “I have to take that one out for a walk. You need anything?”
Orion springs off his doggie bed, whining at my feet. “Does he…?” I trail off with insecurities.
“I’ll take Orion too.” Moffy whistles, and Orion follows him to the door. Guilt heavies my lungs for not taking care of my dog. Am I a bad pet owner? Orion looked happy to see me, so I can’t be too neglectful, right?
Moffy stops at the door, hesitating. Glancing back, he says, “I’m not bothered at all if you need anything. I’m seriously one phone call and Bat signal away.” He’s earnest. “I’m still your big brother who’d fuck up anyone if they fucked with you.”
I want to believe that’s true.
Still, I say, “This kinda feels like Bizzaro World where everything is backwards and the sun is square.” He’d know the DC comics. He was the one who lent them to me to read when I was nine.
