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When I pull into the school parking lot, the space next to Auden’s is free. But I know better than to park there. Keeping my distance starts here. Now. So I start to drive on, making for the other side, when I notice only two people climb out of Auden’s wagon, and Daire isn’t one of them.
“Where is she?” I punch the brake hard. Search the area for some sign of her.
Eyeballing Auden, who turns to Xotichl, who turns in my direction and says, “She never made it this far—she had us drop her in town.”
“In town—why?” I rub a hand over my chin, trying to make sense of why she’d do such a thing. Watching as Xotichl chews her lip, deciding just how much she should tell me.
Her shoulders rising and falling, she says, “Honestly, she’s up to something—I just don’t know what. All I can say for sure is that her energy was very determined. And, Dace, just so we’re on the same page—I know what happened yesterday. Which just makes me even more worried.”
The car behind me honks. It’s Lita, lowering her window and greeting me with a sarcastic smile. “Hey—Dace. You taking that space or what? ’Cause if not, I’d really like to have it. Sometime today would be good!”
My eyes meet Auden’s, seeing him shake his head and laugh as I wave Lita in. If Xotichl’s worried, I’m worried. And that’s all it takes for me to exit the lot as quickly as I entered.
Telling myself I just need to see her. Make sure she’s okay. Once that’s done, I’ll head back to school, do what’s expected, and I won’t think about her again.
But no matter how many times I repeat it, I know it’s not true.
twelve
Daire
The bell on the door clangs loudly behind me, causing a handful of customers to stop what they’re doing long enough to give me a quick, appraising look.
Gifford peers up from his register, eyes widening in recognition. He calls to me in a cheerful voice, saying, “Hey there—miss your bus? Fresh batch of postcards just arrived—they’re right over there.” He points toward the rack bearing depressing pictures of this miserable three-block town. Completely unaware that he’s just reminded me of one of the very worst times in my life. The day I nearly died just a few steps from here.
Still, bad as that was, yesterday was worse. Much worse. With Paloma’s help, that broken leg I suffered outside the Rabbit Hole took only a few weeks to heal. If today doesn’t go as planned, my broken heart may never recover.
I smile faintly. Reminding myself he means well—not everyone in this place is a Richter. Then I make for the space in back where the coffee is served. Hoping to grab one of those round tables with the bright pink tablecloths, use it as a temporary hideaway until it’s time to make good on my plan.
Though the second I see Chay hunched over a coffee and sweet roll while reading the paper, I start to head back the same way I came. Not getting very far before he’s rising from the table and calling after me, leaving me with no choice but to own up and greet him.
“Hey,” I say, hooking my bag on the seat opposite his.
He pushes his plate toward me, offering to share his danish. But tempting as it looks with the melted sweet cheese, the sugared fruit, and the overall promise of yum, I swore to Paloma I’d lay off the junk, and it’s a vow I intend to keep.
“No thanks. I’m still on the wagon.” I slide it back toward him. “Permanently on the wagon if Paloma has her way. But don’t worry, I won’t tell her how you spend your mornings.”
He laughs when I say it, eyes crinkling and fanning in a riot of wrinkles. His good humor so infectious I can’t help but laugh too, amazed by the way it instantly brightens my mood.
“How ’bout we make a deal,” he says. “You don’t tell Paloma I’m still indulging my sweet tooth despite all her warnings about the evils of sugar, and I won’t tell her you’re ditching school.” When his gaze levels on mine, there’s not one trace of mirth left in his eyes. “That is what’s going on here, right?”
I lift my brow and shrug. No longer in a sharing mood. I push away from the table and help myself to the dregs of scorched coffee from a pot that’s nearly empty. A good example of false advertising if I’ve ever seen one. So much for freshly brewed.
Taking a first, tentative sip, when Chay says, “And if that’s the case, why’d you come here?”
“Not a whole lot of options this time of day. Or any other time, for that matter. After all, this is Enchantment we’re talking about. Not exactly the excitement capital of the world.” I add two creamers to my cup, hoping it’ll take the edge off. It’s dry creamer instead of liquid, the kind that would definitely not meet with Paloma’s approval. But it’s all I have to work with, and sometimes allowances must be made.
“I don’t know,” Chay says, “I can think of a hundred other things you could be doing.”
“Name one.” I dip one of those slim plastic sticks into my coffee and go to town with the stirring.
“Kachina loves an early morning ride.” Chay studies me as I return to my seat.
“As do I.” I take another sip that’s better than the first, but only slightly so. “Guess I felt the need to be surrounded by people instead of nature. And what better place than right here?”
Chay pauses, a forkful of danish hovering between his plate and his mouth. “How about school? Lots of people there. People your own age, even.” His eyes meet mine. He is not a man one can easily fool. “Daire, what’s really going on here?” His voice turns sober and serious, having reached the end of the joke.
I stare into the clouds of clumpy coffee and sigh, saying, “Where to begin?”
