Before I can tell him I have to cancel our plans, Greer snatches the phone from my hand, clears her throat, and says, “I’m halfway across town. Can we meet in, say, twenty minutes?”
She sounded just like me.
I reach for my phone, but she jerks it out of reach.
“Greer!” I shout-whisper.
“Uh-huh,” she says, twisting to avoid my efforts at phone retrieval. “Okay, I’ll find it. Sounds perfect.”
She hangs up, hands my phone back, and says, “You’re welcome.”
“I’m welcome?” Is she insane? “I can’t go on a date. I have to keep looking for the oracle.”
“We’re covering the same ground,” she says. “I’ll keep searching while you have lunch with Milo. Consider this my penance for attending my tea committee meeting tomorrow afternoon.”
“I—I can’t.”
“You need to.” She looks me over. “How much sleep did you get last night?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “A few hours.”
“More like a couple of hours,” she guesses. “You look like the walking dead.”
“Great, all the more reason to go on a date.”
Greer walks over to the nearest car and sets her purse on the hood. She pulls out a small silk pouch. “That,” she says, “I can take care of.”
“This is a stupid idea,” I argue. “I’ll never be able to have a coherent conversation. I shouldn’t be able to. Greer, I need to keep searching.”
She holds my face between her palms and looks me straight in the eye. “Listen to me, Grace Whitfield. You are not a machine. You cannot operate on no sleep and, I imagine, no food.”
I feel my cheeks burn at the truth of her accusation. I was too rushed to grab even a granola bar for breakfast.
“If you run yourself into the dirt, you will be no good to Gretchen.” She releases me and grabs a silver tube out of the silk pouch. “Go on this date. Enjoy yourself. Flirt with the cute boy.” She pulls the top off the tube and twists the bottom, pushing a stick of skin-colored makeup out of the end. “When you’re done, you will be reenergized and we will meet back up and resume our searching.”
I sigh. Maybe it’s okay, maybe this is a good thing.
I relax and let Greer work her magic. Ten minutes later she pronounces my face ready for Milo. She unbuttons her lilac-colored cardigan, shrugs her way out of the sleeves, and hands it to me.
“Wear this over your …” She makes a face at my navy-blue SAVE THE OCEANS tee. “That thing.”
“You’re sure?” I ask her. “You don’t think this is selfish?”
“Of course it is,” she says. “But selfish isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It only means you take care of yourself, and you have to do that to be able to take care of others. Now, let’s get you to Crepetude.”
As I follow her to the bus stop, I wonder if I’m letting Gretchen down. Maybe Greer is right. Maybe I need this break to clear my mind, to get a fresh perspective. This could be just the thing to help me figure out what to do.
I only hope I’m not rationalizing so I can hang out with Milo.
Sitting across the table from Milo an hour later, pushing my half-eaten peanut-butter-and-jelly crepe around on the plate, the guilt hits me hard. I should be out hunting for Gretchen. Not that anything useful has come from our hunting, but it feels wrong to be on a date when I could be—should be—trying.
“Earth to Grace,” Milo says, a cautious smile on his adorable face. “You know they don’t give refunds for the part you don’t eat, so you might as well finish.”
I manage a weak smile. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m not very good company today.”
“You’re worried about something,” he says, pushing his empty plate aside and leaning forward over the table. “Want to talk about it?”
Oh how I wish I could. I think I would feel so much better if I could just blurt out, I’m a monster-hunting descendant of Medusa and my sister has gone missing in the abyss! My relief would last only half a second, though. Milo would think I’m insane, that I deserve to be dropped off at the nearest nut-house, never to be seen—or dated—again.
It’s funny how, just a couple of weeks ago, I thought I was going nuts. Some days I wish I was.
“No,” I say, forcing a smile. “I just have a lot on my mind.”
I pick up my fork and lift a bite of crepe to my mouth.
“Are you worried about Thane?” he asks. “He’s been gone almost a week.”
There’s that too.
I haven’t had much time to worry about Thane, what with my immortal ancestor getting kidnapped and my sister disappearing into another realm, but I know he can take care of himself. Gretchen can too, but Thane’s not fighting monsters in the abyss. He’s somewhere he can still text Mom every day so she doesn’t get suspicious. He’ll come back to me whole, and hopefully happy. I’m not even sure how Gretchen will make it back at all.
“Yeah, I am,” I say, because that’s something easy to talk about. “I miss him.”
I could really use my big brother right now, even if I can’t tell him what’s really going on. I could use his strong shoulder to lean on.
“Have you heard from him?”
“He’s texted me a couple of times.” I flip open the crepe with my fork and swirl it through the peanut-butter-and-jelly filling. “He texts Mom every night. She’s starting to get almost worried, but I’m doing what I can to keep her from suspecting anything.”
Milo picks up his paper placemat and folds it in half. “You don’t have any idea where he went? Is it somewhere in the city?”
“I honestly don’t know.” I watch as he folds and refolds the paper. “He might have gone back to our old hometown for all I know.”
The folds start to take shape, and I can tell Milo is making some kind of origami object.
“It’s nice that you worry about Thane,” he says. “Growing up, my sisters would have loved for me to disappear for a few days. They’d have divvied up my bathroom time like jackals.”
I can’t help a laugh. Maybe it’s a pressure release, but I’m picturing three girls—with dark curls like Milo’s—fighting over his precious time in the bathroom, and it just cracks me up. Milo starts laughing too, like it’s contagious. I’m grateful for the light moment.
“One time,” he says between laughs, “Maura snuck into my room and changed my alarm so she could have an extra fifteen minutes before school.”
“They sound ruthless,” I say. “Thane hardly uses the bathroom enough to count. He showers and brushes his teeth. Ten minutes max.” I glance down self-consciously at my jeans and tee and borrowed cardigan, acutely aware that my hair is in a ponytail and that if Greer hadn’t intervened, my face would be totally bare. “Besides, you can probably tell I’m not much of a primper.”
He shrugs, focusing on his origami folds. “You don’t need primping.”
My cheeks burn and I feel the compliment all over.
I mumble a quiet “Thanks” and we fall into a gentle silence, listening to the sounds of paper folding and the other diners chatting. His fingers move fast and light, folding here, tucking there. Then, with a quick pull, the mess of folds pops up into the shape of a unicorn.
“Wow!” I say, truly in awe of his skill. “That’s amazing.”
He pushes the unicorn across the table toward me. “It’s no big deal.”
“Where did you learn to do that?” I ask. I pick up the unicorn and study it, turning it around and over to see where the paper folds go.
“I was in a Japanese immersion kindergarten.”
“You speak Japanese?”
“Uh, no,” he says with a laugh. “The origami stuck. The language didn’t.”
“Well still,” I say, setting the unicorn on the table between us. “It’s pretty awesome.”
“Then I should probably ask you out again,” he says, giving me a quirky grin, “while you’re so impressed.”
I blush again.
&nbs
p; “How about tomorrow after my soccer practice?” he suggests. “We could go for pizza.”
Tomorrow feels a long way away. Who knows what will have gone crazy—crazier—in my life by then.
But if I’ve realized anything in the last hour, it’s that Greer was right. This break was just what I needed to rejuvenate my energy. I feel refreshed and ready to hit the streets to find an oracle again.
Besides, Greer will be in her tea meeting until at least early afternoon. I might as well get a little more refresh time with Milo.
“Tomorrow sounds perfect,” I say. “It’s a date.”
Sitting on the bleachers above Milo’s soccer field, I hope the bright afternoon sunshine can burn away my despair. Three full days since Gretchen dived into the abyss, three days of searching the city with Greer, three nights of running my archives search and scouring the internet for anything—anything—that might help. And what do I have to show for my efforts?
Absolutely nothing.
To say I’m frustrated would be an overwhelming understatement.
So rather than scream like a crazy person in front of the Euclid High soccer team, I close my eyes and point my nose toward the sun. When a shadow blocks my light a few minutes later, I have a momentary panic attack that it might be another harpy.
Until Milo says, “Hey there.”
I open my eyes and smile. “Hi.”
“Ready to eat?” he asks. “I’m starved.”
“Me too.”
I grab my backpack and fall in step beside him as we head for the pizza place around the corner from the soccer field. I smile as I realize we’re both wearing Chuck Taylors. I knew we were a good match.
“What did you do this weekend?” he asks. “Other than have the most amazing crepe lunch ever.”
I laugh. “Oh, I kept myself busy.” Scouring the city for a mythological fortune-teller. The frustration is about to burst from me, so I decide to let it out in a manageable amount. “I’m working on this really impossible project. It’s taking up all my time and I feel like I’m not making any progress.”
Whew. It feels good to share even a little bit of what’s going on.
“That’s tough,” he says. “What class is it for?”
Ooops. I didn’t think that far ahead. I try to think of a subject that he’s probably not taking. “Oh, um, computer science.”
He whistles. “Can’t help you with that one.”
“Darn,” I say. “And I was so hoping you were up on your JavaScript coding skills.”
“I may not know about computer stuff,” he says, kicking a pebble up the sidewalk as we walk. “But I am brilliant at motivation. Want some?”
“Definitely.”
I smile as he stops and turns me to face him. His mint-green eyes look steadily into my silver ones. He’s taking this very seriously.
“If you really want something,” he says, “you go after it. Even if you think it’s impossible. Even if it scares you. Even if you think it might kill you. You go after it.”
I know a thing or two about scary. Especially the kind that might actually kill me. In fact, scary has been a big part of my life lately. If it’s not one of the factions in the brewing war plotting my death, it’s a monster pouring out of the abyss or disappearing into—
“Omigosh!”
Milo jerks back, startled.
I have an idea how to find out how to get Gretchen back.
“I’m sorry.” I can’t keep the huge grin off my face. “I have to go.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m great,” I say. “You helped me figure out the next step of my project,” I explain, hoping he doesn’t ask any specific questions. “And now that I know what to do, I want to go attack it right away.”
Attack being the key word.
He nods. “I understand.”
He sounds resigned.
I can’t leave like this. I don’t want him thinking I’m ditching him, or that I don’t want to be here. I do want to spend time with him, so badly. But I want to rescue my sister from the monster abyss more. And now I have an idea of how I can do that.
I’m so excited by my idea, it’s like happy-filled bubbles are popping in my chest, and I act without thinking. I step forward, lean up, and plant a quick kiss on his adorable mouth.
As I pull back, my cheeks flaming with embarrassment, I see Milo’s eyes widen.
“I promise,” I say with as much conviction as possible. “I want to spend time with you. I want to go out every night and eat weird food I’ve never even heard of and make fun of bad movies and just … be together.”
“Me too,” he says quietly.
“But right now,” I say, backing slowly away from him, “I have to go.”
This time, when he says, “I understand,” I think he really does.
With one last, beaming grin, I turn and run to the nearest bus stop. I want to call Greer immediately and tell her my plan, but she is in her tea meeting right now. Her phone will be off, so there’s no point in calling. I’ll be waiting when she gets out.
CHAPTER 19
GREER
Greer.... Greer? … Greer!”
“What?” I glare at the source of the shouting, my alumnae tea cochair nemesis, Veronica. I am seriously over the sound of her voice.
“There is a motion to have the sugar cubes formed in the shape of a fleur-de-lis.” Veronica gives me an annoyed look. “We need your vote.”
“Oh,” I say. “I vote yes. Fine.”
She marks down the vote and starts counting them up.
I know I’m distracted. I’ve barely paid attention to anything that has happened during this meeting. For all I know, Veronica has resurrected her horrid ice sculpture idea and there will now be a frozen dragon at Saturday’s event.
This is so unlike me. I can usually shake off anything, focus on the task at hand, and get things done. When I put my foot down with Grace about having to be present at this meeting, I fully expected to leave my other worries at the door. I’m failing miserably.
My mind keeps drifting, trying to find a solution to the current problem. And that is not whether to have the string quartet begin with the school anthem or Ravel’s Bolero, as the ladies around me are debating. For once, the minute details of planning an elaborate event seem trivial to me. I have more pressing, more important life-or-death matters to worry about.
I feel that the answer I’m looking for is somewhere close by. That if I just reach out—with my mind, with my fingertips, with something—I’ll grab it. I close my eyes and try to focus my thoughts entirely on the problem. Using meditation techniques my personal trainer taught me, I visualize the problem—Gretchen in the abyss—and then a solution appearing in a sealed envelope. Mentally, I reach out and take the envelope. I break the seal, lift the flap, and pull out the paper inside. It says—
“Greer!” Veronica screeches, her whiny voice shattering my visualization into a million tiny pieces.
Enough. As much as I want to tell them to leave me alone with my thoughts, for the time being I need to focus. I need to get through this meeting, get everything on track for Saturday’s big day, and then I can work on the Gretchen problem. I put the mythology half of my life into a mental box and lock it tight. I will reopen it when the meeting is over.
“Sorry,” I say, still tossing a glare at Veronica for good measure. “What’s the vote?”
An hour later, I declare the meeting over and I can’t get out of the conference room fast enough. I’ve had enough color choices and garnish preferences and last-minute seating arrangement quandaries to last me a lifetime. I stuff everything into my satchel and rush out, trying to get away before anyone can stop to ask me questions—about the tea, fashion, homework, whatever.
As soon as I step into the street, I sense Grace. It’s like the mythology box in my brain bursts open. I don’t know how I know she’s here, but I’m getting used to just knowing some things. Head whipping around, I spot her standing across the
street.
“Greer!” she calls out, waving from a spot next to a streetlamp.
I look over my shoulder, relieved to see no one behind me. Yet. I wave her out of sight as I hurry across the street.
“Are you crazy?” I demand, irritation flaring. How would I explain to the tea committee about my previously unknown twin sister showing up at my school? “What if someone saw you? What if—”
“I know what to do,” she interrupts. “I mean, I think I do. I have an idea how to get some answers.”
“You what?”
Across the street, the front doors swing open and the rest of the committee emerges from the building. I duck down, pulling Grace with me.
“Stay low,” I instruct. “Meet me at my car around the corner. Go.”
I give her a gentle shove. She stays low, below the roofline of the cars lining the street. I stand and pretend to check my lipstick, giving her time to get around the corner before following.
When we’re both safely in my car, I say, “You didn’t have to come here. I was going to call you.”
“I know,” she says, sounding contrite. “But I couldn’t wait.”
“Okay.” I nod. “Tell me about your big idea.” She fidgets with the hem of her tee, not taking her eyes off her lap. “Grace,” I say as I turn onto my street. “What do we have to do?”
“We need to capture a monster.”
I pace the carpet in the basement rec room. Grace has spent the last twenty minutes trying to convince me this is a good idea, but I’m not so sure. Monsters are, for the most part, dangerous and deadly creatures. Especially for a pair of newbie huntresses whose dead bodies could win a couple of bounty-hunting beasts their freedom. We’re a temptation for even the not-so-dangerous ones.
The idea is certifiably insane.
The problem is, it’s our only idea.
“This is crazy,” I say for the twentieth time.
“I know.” She sits on her hands on the couch. “What other choice do we have?”
I drop onto the couch next to her. I run through the scenarios in my mind, trying to come up with any other plan. Nothing. This is the first viable idea we’ve had since Gretchen left. Grace is right, I know she’s right. I just don’t want her to be right.