Queens of All the Earth (13 page)

“Everything okay?” Miranda croaked as she wandered into the common room.

“Mugh,” Lenny said.

“Do you need anything?” Miranda asked, putting on a pot of coffee.

“A multivitamin,” Lenny said.

Miranda stopped, holding the water-filled carafe in the air.

“Really?” she asked.

“Best hangover remedy I know,” Lenny said. “To replenish the body
and wash out the bad stuff.”

Miranda wanted to say something like, “Why do you have to show off how smart you are even when you do something stupid?” but it came out as, “Sorry, I don’t have any.”

Miranda did make a point to travel with a broad selection of headache and stomach medicines, but she wasn’t sure how many of anything Lenny had already taken, and she also wasn’t sure whether she wanted to know. She did the best she figured she could, returning to Lenny’s table with a tall glass of water and a piece of toast.

Lenny seemed compelled by Miranda’s slightly disapproving lack of questions to explain what she had been doing the night before.

“Research,” Lenny moaned, bypassing the water Miranda had set down for her sickly water bottle. “This is all in the name of research,” she said, waving her free arm as if the empty common room were a part of her hangover.

“What is that?” Miranda asked, looking at the bottle.

“The second-best remedy for hangovers,” Lenny said. “Leftovers.”

Miranda huffed.

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” she said. “What exactly were you drinking?”

“I was checking out an absinthe bar,” Lenny said, reviving a little and nibbling on the corner of the toast. “It’s a big trend. Legally, they can’t serve the old-fashioned kind with wormwood in it, so it isn’t hallucinatory. But the kids love to pretend.” She chuckled a little, then turned slightly green and stopped.

“That bottle is full of... absinthe?” Miranda asked slowly.

Lenny nodded.

“Wouldn’t it, um, melt the plastic?” Miranda said. “You could get plastic poisoning. Or something.”

That’s when Marc breezed in, humming, already dressed for the day’s
expedition.

“Olivia looks very pretty in the window,” he said. “Like a painting.”

Olivia had quietly slipped by while Miranda had been busy in the kitchen. As Marc had said, she sat in the window at the back of the room, next to fading lilies set against a piercing morning sunlight, reading
A Wrinkle in Time
. Her concentration was intense.

A gray cloud fell over Miranda. Without anything being overtly wrong that morning, nothing felt quite right, either. Everyone at breakfast seemed absorbed in themselves. Lenny was nauseated; Marc, whistling to himself, wandered in and out of the room gathering his things for the day; and Olivia had slipped in without even saying “good morning.”

Miranda sighed and left the room to sit by herself on her bed and reorganize her purse yet again.

The sunlight in the morning had a different quality than during any other part of the day. It was bright but cool and penetrating, and best suited to reveal imperfections. But its direct glare strongly illuminated only one side of Olivia’s face. The other side was sheltered in darkness.

Marc hadn’t overheard the argument in the bathroom yesterday, but because of their perfect coolness, he could tell there was something amiss between the sisters. He was troubled by it. If they were absorbed in their own little spat, Marc would become an awkward third wheel in their sibling drama.

Then again, they didn’t seem like the kind of girls who would bicker in public. Relatively pleasant people, they were almost mature, and interesting enough to make up the difference.

“Hugo said you were going up a mountain,” said Mr. Brown, walking into the room behind Greg. He plugged in the kettle.

“Yes, with Miranda and Olivia,” he said. “We’re going to have a picnic at the castle.”

“I’m coming, too,” Lenny wheezed, to Marc’s surprise. Her face was on the table, pillowed by her arms. Marc had assumed she was unconscious.

“Greg and I want to see the castle,” Mr. Brown said. “I think he wants to sit up there and imagine Don Quixote.” In the kitchen, Greg groaned. Marc laughed. “Mind if we tag along?”

“I don’t have a problem,” Marc said. He was already wondering what the combination would produce.

Olivia had heard the Browns come in, but she’d kept her eyes on her book, succeeding only in pretending to read. But when she heard Marc invite them along, her eyes shot up to the main room, and a wave of heat rippled up to her cheeks. Greg was quiet as usual and slightly pale. As they always did, their eyes met briefly, but this time Greg was the first to break off. Two patches of red stung his cheeks, and he looked quickly at his father, then to the floor.

Mr. Brown appeared completely unaware of his son’s embarrassment. Olivia knew instantly Greg hadn’t told him.

Closing her book, Olivia padded out of the room, keeping her shoulder turned to the group and her head down. Greg hadn’t told his father. She couldn’t imagine not telling
someone
. It probably meant he didn’t care as much as she’d thought.

She thought of the sensitivity she had instantly ascribed to him on hearing his mother was dead. Maybe she was wrong about him. Maybe things just happened to people, but didn’t shape them. Or maybe he was just an insensitive jerk.

Or maybe she was the one who made everything a big deal, and he
did this sort of thing all the time. She didn’t want someone who did this sort of thing all the time. She didn’t do this sort of thing all the time. As much as she hated the idea, which tore at her, she wondered if Miranda had somehow, and for all the wrong reasons, been right.

She wondered if she, herself, had been right back in August, when her natural response to change, to hurt, was to seal herself inside her shell and create a new impervious world inside. Looking back, that time seemed like a half-forgotten dream and, like vertigo, it gave her a brief rush of fear.

She slipped into their bedroom and shut the door.

Miranda, looking up at Olivia, was troubled by the look on her face—her eyes glowed fiercely.

“What’s going on?” Miranda asked, getting more nervous the longer Olivia stood in silence.

“Greg and his dad are coming along,” Olivia fumed.

Miranda blinked. It took a few seconds to sink in.

“Today?” she asked. “With us?”

“Yes. And yes,” Olivia said.

“How did that happen?” Miranda asked, her heart pounding. She felt as if she was three feet tall, holding a broken vase, and the Browns were the grown-ups who had just walked in. Miranda felt a sudden urge to throw her hands up and cry, “I didn’t do it!”

“I don’t know,” Olivia said. “Marc let them. Or they just invited themselves. I don’t know how they do these things.” Having blown off the worst of her frustration, Olivia collapsed onto her bed.

“It’ll be okay,” Miranda said.

“No, it won’t,” Olivia groaned. “I don’t want to see him. I don’t want to talk to him. I want to spend time with
you
. Like we said we would. You made me promise.”

Miranda felt another stab of guilt at the tone with which her sister repeated the word “want,” as if it were a chore, like cleaning the dishes.

“We’ll still be there together,” Miranda said. “You don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to.”

Olivia sat up and flashed a glare at Miranda, as if she were missing an important point.

“We can’t do anything about it now anyway,” Miranda said weakly.

“Yes we can.
You
can,” Olivia said. Barely audible, she murmured, “You’re supposed to.”

“I can’t get rid of them if they’re already coming along,” Miranda said.

“What about your friend Lenny?” Olivia said. “She doesn’t like them.”

“I’m not sure Lenny will make it today,” Miranda said.

“She has to come—and then she’ll get the Browns to leave!” Olivia said.

“No she won’t. They like everyone,” Miranda said.

Olivia stood up with a huff.

“Is this some sort of punishment?” she asked, more to the ceiling than her sister. In silence, she pulled her socks on and finished neatening up and packing her bag. From the hall came sounds of people walking back and forth, to and from the bathroom and the dorm room, as the rest of the hostel awoke and got ready for the day.

After zipping up her bag, Olivia cast her eye around the room, then slapped her leg sharply.

“I left my book in the common room,” she said. “Just let me know when we’re ready to go.”

When Olivia had her hand on the door handle, Miranda stopped her and said, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Olivia replied coldly. “You didn’t do anything.”

“Have you had anything to eat yet?” Miranda asked, forcing a smile.

“I’m not hungry,” Olivia said, leaving Miranda alone in the room.

Before they left, Miranda crept out and stuffed a few muffins in her backpack for her sister. She wasn’t sure when she’d be brave enough to suggest she eat them, but Miranda felt a little better knowing they were there.

Lenny, it turned out, bounced back quickly as soon as she realized the rest of the group was getting ready to leave without her. She was a little less conversational than usual, but a hangover was no fun without an audience.

Marc and the Browns sat on the couches, chatting about the weather while the girls assembled. They were like two teams preparing for a relay marathon, only the girls looked like theirs would be in a desert, for all the stuff Miranda and Olivia planned to lug along. Marc had already gone out to collect food, and the full picnic bag sat at his feet, its contents gradually squishing together and mingling scents.

Just late enough to be certain everyone else was ready, Olivia emerged from her corner to stand slightly behind Miranda. Without much conversation, they shuffled down the hall, and Hugo, who was leaning on the front desk talking to Sophie, waved cheerily as they marched out.

Miranda was struck by the idea that Hugo not only knew all along how things would turn out—that the Browns would find a way into the trip and Greg and Olivia would be thrown together again—but had engineered it that way. Her old resentment of him surged, and she was so intent on shutting the front door on his face that she didn’t realize Sophie was on the other side, trying to pull the door open to get out. With a grunt of frustration, Miranda let go of the knob, and the blonde girl darted out and down the stairs ahead of them. As the door swung shut again, Miranda could have sworn she heard Hugo chuckling.

Lenny led the way down the stairs while Marc waited beside the landing for Miranda to join him. But Miranda, noticing that no one stood between her sister and Greg Brown, ignored Marc and grabbed Olivia’s
arm, creating a wall with their bodies so no one else could walk alongside them.

G
reg Brown wasn’t happy. He hadn’t been for at least three years, give or take a few weeks—not since the silent hospital bed where he had sat beside her before the end. Gradually, the unhappiness became a habit. He put it on with his shirt in the morning, and like his shirt, it was so ordinary he didn’t stop to think about it much once it was there.