Infinityglass (11 page)

“I don’t think you know how to play either-or. There aren’t supposed to be explanations, just one-word answers.”

“My house,” she said. “My rules. Tell me why you’re avoiding.”

I straightened my shoulders. “It has to do with my special brand of magical powers.”

“Which are?” When I didn’t respond, she said, “You don’t have to tell me, Dune. But I’d like to know.”

I sensed we’d reached the tipping point of our tentative alliance.

I answered because she gave me the opportunity not to, and because her authenticity peeked out from behind her curiosity. “Tides. I can control the tides. Water in its many forms. We think that I can affect moon phases as well, but it’s not the kind of thing you can test.”

“That’s … wow. That’s pretty serious.”

“It’s okay on a small scale, because I understand how to control it, even though I rarely let other people see me do it. Tiny things like plumbing leaks or condensation, not a problem at all. Ponds, contained bodies of water that I can see end to end—wide open and easy to handle, as long as they’re people free. Streams, creeks—those are doable, but aren’t ideal. Lakes and rivers. Possible, but also possibly catastrophic. I avoid them altogether. And oceans … well. I haven’t been to the ocean since I was eleven.”

“Why? Same offer stands. You don’t have to tell me.”

Growing up in American Samoa had its advantages. For me, it was the Pacific Ocean. I used to race over the dunes to get to the water when I was a kid—hence my nickname. The moon’s gravitational force drew the tide, and the tide drew me, pulling me to the ocean over and over again.

When I was eleven, I pulled back.

“I was at the beach, on a picnic with my family. Understand, in Samoa, everyone is family. That’s just the way villages work.

Warm sun, cool breeze, good food. We laughed a lot. Anytime we were all together, there was music.”

Such a simple thing, my hands in the water. The rush that ran through my extremities, the way my pulse tuned itself to the crashing of the waves. The water became an extension of my fingers; when I waved them to the left, the fish swam that direction. When I moved them to the right, they followed.

“I’d been able to manipulate the current ever since I was little. I always wanted to see fish up close. Not the tiny minnows that were always by the shoreline, but the big kind fishermen would bring back from excursions and hold up to have their pictures taken.” I knew most of those were eventually stuffed, and probably left to gather dust while hanging on a wall somewhere in Middle America. “I didn’t want to turn the fish into trophies. I just wanted to see them.”

Hallie crossed her arms over her chest. “Any kid with an ability like that would.”

“So, that day, I concentrated a little harder than usual, curling my fingers in toward my body.

“The waves came at me in a rush, so big, filling my mouth, eyes, nose, throat. I remember the way the salt burned. I couldn’t breathe. Everything went black. When I woke up, my mom was on her knees in the sand, holding me. A trail of dead marine life stretched as far as I could see. Fish, with their scales drying up. Bloated jellyfish. A couple of dolphins, a shark. Giants, just … abandoned on the sand.”

Hallie covered her mouth with her hands.

“There were also people. Lifeless bodies, covered with beach towels. I’d created a tidal wave. Even the strongest swimmers hadn’t been able to fight it. Eleven members of my extended family died that day, one to represent each year of my life.” I took a deep breath. Then another. “One of them was my father.”

She stepped out of her room and took my arm. “Sit.”

We sat down with our backs against the wall, shoulders almost touching.

“I haven’t told anyone that story since I first came to the Hourglass.” Liam first, and eventually, Nate. That had been over five years ago. I hadn’t given either one of them details, and I wasn’t sure why I had given them to Hallie now. “I know it was an accident, but sometimes the guilt can sneak up on me. My dad was a great guy. It was a rough loss for everyone.”

“Tell me about him.” She slid her legs out and crossed them at the ankles.

“He worked at Mauna Kea, at one of the big observatories. He was gone a lot. Fascinated by space and its relation to time. He knew about my ability, but never talked to me about it.”

Instead, he wound the truth into fairy tales, as parents do when they believe reality is too frightening or too hard to comprehend. When we’d buried him, I knew the fairy tales he’d spent his life chasing were true. And over.

“My mom brought me mainland, and then I met Liam. Samoans have a word,
fa’a Samoa
. It means the ‘Samoan way.’

Families extend beyond blood. I have that with the Hourglass.”

Hallie took my hand in hers, and held it without saying a word. The line between business and friendship blurred. The neck of my T-shirt felt too tight.

“So that’s why I’d choose the mountains.” I cleared my throat. “Because I don’t think I can ever go back to the ocean.”

Hallie

Controlling tides. Moon phases. The loss of so many people who were important to him. He’d bared his soul, and the way his big shoulders curled over his chest made my heart hurt. I had to take his hand.

And I had to tell him my secret.

“It’s nothing like losing a parent, but my best friend died a few years ago.” The words came out before I could think about them, but they felt right instead of impulsive. “I don’t usually talk about that, either.”

He waited, holding my hand, and keeping those sweet eyes focused on my face.

“His dad was a bodyguard for us. I was still in public school at that point, but Dad had started to rein in nonschool activities. He had a new sense of paranoia that started spilling over into my life. His name was Benny. We’d been arguing, about something stupid like jelly bean flavors, or manga versus anime.”

“That’s what friends do,” Dune said.

Fifteen and sneaky, thinking we could hide in the crowd lining Jackson Square, pretending my father’s reputation didn’t walk in front of me, or that his square jaw didn’t hang all ridiculous on my baby-fat face. Pretending I wasn’t a shiny red target with a wide-open bull’s-eye.

The spires of Saint Louis Cathedral had stretched up toward the clouds like those on Cinderella’s castle. No magic below, though, just busy crowds. Tourists held chicory coffee from Café du Monde in to-go cups; heat met crisp winter air and formed steam. At least there’d been no heat to exacerbate the leftover smells from a Saturday night in the Quarter. I’d tugged at the ends of my much-regretted pixie cut that were sticking out from underneath my skull cap. It had only made my ruler-straight body look more androgynous. Delayed puberty, my nemesis.

“Benny and I met when he came to work with his dad one day. I told him his belly looked like Santa’s, he told me my lips were too big for my head, and I kicked him. We wrestled each other to the ground before the fight was broken up, but my father had seen me laugh. And Benny got to come back. Immediate besties.”

Except for right before the accident, when he’d started doing things like offering up his jacket, letting me go first, opening doors. I thought maybe he was trying to make the move from five years of comfortable friendship into something unknown and scary.

“The shots were so loud. I thought they were fireworks at
first. I didn’t understand why anyone would be setting fireworks off in the middle of the day. But it was gunfire.”

Bullets had peppered the wrought iron and the sidewalk, scattered the crowd like jacks. Screams would serve as background noise for every waking moment of my next two years. Benny’s blood would be the backdrop. His blue eyes were open and empty as I lay beside his wasted body, splattered by his blood. It was in that second, before reality and grief rolled in, I decided I’d spend the rest of my life living enough for both of us.

I met Dune’s eyes. “He died right there on Jackson Square.”

“Were you hurt?”

“Took a hit on my shoulder. I didn’t know a bodyguard was tailing us, but he tackled me to get me to the ground, and broke my left leg in three places.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Fifteen.” I shrugged. “That’s when I decided life was short—at least I’m pretty sure mine will be—and that there’s no point in living if you don’t go balls to the wall with it. Hard to do when you’re protected the way I am, but it doesn’t mean I’ll stop. I turn eighteen soon.”

“Will you leave home?” He understood. I could hear it.

“I want to go to school at Tulane, for dance. I understand why Dad wants me here, protected all the time. It was hard on everyone when we lost Benny. If he could just give me a little more lead on my leash … but he won’t.” I met his eyes. “I haven’t decided what to do yet. If one day I’ll change my appearance and run,
or if I’ll stay. But honestly, I can’t see the latter as an option.”

“I don’t think anyone would blame you.”

“No running today.” I faced him, trying to lighten things up. If I kept talking, I’d turn my hallway into a confessional and Dune into my priest. “We still have a game to play.”

“Agreed. But I’ll only answer if you promise to keep undergarment preferences out of it.”

He knew exactly how raw I felt, and how telling him so much so fast had surprised me. Instead of taking advantage of it, he helped me steer my emotions back to safe waters.

“Bikinis,” I said, smiling. “Just so you know.”

Chapter 9
Dune, Early December

H
allie said, “So yes or no?”

It had been just over a week since I’d blown my cover, and Hallie and I had spent it playing an extended game of either/or in the hall outside her room. We’d talked about everything.

Except the Infinityglass.

Today we’d hit on all the major religions before she asked me to eat a late breakfast with her.

“How could I refuse? No, I mean, I really can’t. Not you. You’re the boss.”

She popped up off the ground and held out her hands like she was going to help me up.

“Are you serious? I outweigh you by at least a hundred pounds.”

She rolled her eyes and held out her hands in a more exaggerated way instead of answering, so I gave in. She pulled me up
so easily we had an accidental chest bump. The grin she gave me when we made contact was full of suggestion.

Talk about conflict.

The Infinityglass started as a thing, then a person, and then morphed into a vibrant personality, but the past two weeks had humanized Hallie in a way I hadn’t been prepared for. I still didn’t know enough about her, but now it was on a hundred different levels, and they didn’t even include the scientific angle. This was probably not good.

“How do you feel about bacon?” She pulled a strand of dark hair around her finger, twisting and untwisting.

“Passionate.” I followed her down the stairs.

“I knew you had good taste. Speaking of passions, you never told me how you got interested in the Infinityglass in the first place.”

I followed her into the kitchen.

“My dad. In the bedtime stories he told me, the Infinityglass was shaped like an hourglass, and the sands inside were powerful. They could reverse time, stop it, speed it up. It could transfer abilities between people who had a time-related gift. It had unknown magic that could be used to cure all the world’s ills.”

She turned away from me and opened the bread box. “The perfect fantasy story.”

“I know how goofy that sounds, especially now that I’ve met you. Unless you’re full of sand.”

“I’m full of something, but it ain’t sand.”

She was joking, but the set of her shoulders told me that something I’d said bothered her. “The stories are a good memory of my dad. I always imagined going on an adventure with him to find the Infinityglass, kind of the way people chased the Holy Grail.”

She popped four pieces of bread in the toaster and said, “I fart in your general direction.”

“What?”

“
Monty Python. Holy Grail.
‘I fart in your general direction.’ You need an education, big boy.”

“I know
Monty Python and the Holy Grail
.” The girl continued to impress while simultaneously throwing me off my game. “I just can’t believe
you
know it.”

“I never leave my house, remember? Movies—good movies—are my friends.” She took jelly out of the fridge and honey from the cupboard, put the jars on the table, and leaned against the edge. “I have to apologize. We’re out of bacon.”

“You don’t have to make me breakfast,” I said.

“Sure I do. My humanity stole your quest potential. I feel like I owe you.”

“The quest just looks different than I thought it would.” A lot different. “It’s more complicated than I expected it to be.”

“It sure is.” She stared at me for a long time.

I stared back.

The toast popped up and we both jumped.

“I’m sorry I’ve put it off for so long. So you’ll understand my
head space: loyalty is an issue.” Hallie buttered the toast before offering me two pieces.

I took the bread. “I don’t blame you, and I’d feel the same in your situation. But if we approach this logically, you have to tell me what you
do
know, or I can’t help you discover the things you
don’t
know.”

“And vice versa.” Hallie sat down with her toast and got busy tearing off the crusts, focusing on them instead of me. “Let’s start with basics. Do you know what Chronos does?”

“What the world thinks it does, or what it really does?” I asked.

“The world doesn’t know about Chronos.”

“Mine does.”

“The Hourglass?”

I nodded. “For a long time, we just referred to Chronos as
The Powers That Be
. We thought you were like … an absentee-landlord governing body. According to Liam, that’s what Chronos used to be. Protectors of time. He left when your mom took over, and I guess things changed a lot after that.”

“They changed even more when Dad got involved. He didn’t think she was making the most of her resources. I can promise governing was the last thing on his mind. Even less so now.”