Struggling not to lose my balance on the icy sidewalk, I pushed through the front door. At first, I thought I’d made a mistake. Except for the recent addition of some fairy-tale-caliber twinkle lights, the room was mostly dark, and completely empty.

 

"Hello?" I whispered. The door closed behind me with a light jangle of bells. I could hear a quiet, insistent sound. A soft shhhhing.

 

"Surprise!" Cassie jumped out at me from behind a pur­ple velvet armchair.

 

"Come on," I groaned dramatically, finding it difficult to act surprised when I really wasn’t. I should have known she’d ignore my plan in favor of hers.

 

On cue, probably half of the junior class exploded out from behind various other velvet armchairs and over­stuffed couches and from behind the coffee bar. I could see the rest of the girls from the ski team, Cassie’s friends from her band, and Dan’s track buddies. Northwood High School was small enough that most of the different groups got along, and apparently my birthday was enough of a reason for them to converge.

 

“Happy birthday!” everyone yelled.

 

“Cassie!” I hit her with my hat. “You promised!"

 

She held up her hands in surrender. “Sorry. You know I never do what you tell me to do.” She laughed and shook her head. “You never learn.”

 

Cassie grabbed my arm and maneuvered me through the crowd toward a circle of couches in the back. I could see Dan waiting for us with a mischievous smile and a glitter­ing box.

 

“Okay, wait, I know you also said no presents,” Cassie shouted above the music as we worked our way through the throng, “but I have no self-control."

 

“You better not have spent—"

 

“Of course not. Don’t worry, it’s total crap."

 

When we got to the table, I started to say “I hate you,” but Dan interrupted me by nearly toppling me over in a bear hug. “Aw, don’t be mad! Are you mad? Do you still love us? Because if not, my plan to finally have Cassie all to myself worked.” He punched Cassie playfully on her arm. She rubbed the spot, and I could see the muscles in her cheeks twitch as if she was trying not to smile.

 

"Please, do you seethe apocalypse? Because I’d give up on that happening until you do.” She reached down to pick up a steaming mug. “And even then, it’s negotiable.”

 

“I’m holding out for a hot zombie,” I added.

 

“Yeah, or, like, the hot scientist who finds the cure."

 

“Or the hot government agent who’s assigned to protect you from the international terrorist who plans to wipe out the nation with the world’s first zombie virus weapon of mass destruction.”

 

“Because you carry the zombie virus antidote in your blood.”

 

“Exactly.”

 

“It’s a recessive trait.”

 

“What movie are we talking about?” Dan asked.

 

“Anyway, Skye,” Cassie said, ignoring Dan’s question and holding the mug out ceremoniously, “this is for you.” She opened her cardigan, and a flash of metallic flask glinted at me. “Seventeen is a big year.”

 

“It’d be bigger if the apocalypse was coming,” Dan mumbled.

 

“Did you two start drinking before I got here?” I asked teasingly.

 

Cassie was decked out for the occasion in a floral mini­ dress under her favorite yellow vintage cardigan, her red hair piled loosely on top of her head. She wore thick, sweatery tights and snow boots that were ubiquitous in Colorado during the winter. Dan was in his navy blue hoodie, the one he never took off. His straight brown hair flopped in his eyes, and he pushed it back. I just couldn’t stay mad at them. They’d been my best friends since kin­dergarten, and we were still as tight a unit as ever.

 

“Okay, I admit it,” I said. “You guys are amazing. This place looks incredible.”

 

“Aw, she likes it!” Dan nudged Cassie. “Don’t get all mushy on us now, Skye.”

 

“It betterlook effing incredible.” Cassie sighed. “It took me like two hours to finish making the paper icicles and untangle those little twinkle lights.”

 

“You are a craft goddess,” I assured her.

 

“Speaking of crafty,” Dan said, pointing to the present on the couch behind him, “you probably don’t want to hear this”—his voice dropped to a stage whisper—“but we got you something.” He mock-ducked, as if I was going to hit him.

 

“Hilarious,” I said. “Did you practice that?”

 

The present was wrapped in wrinkled silver tinfoil with gold glitter glue looping out the words Happy Birthday, Skye.

 

“The present was totally myidea,” Cassie said.

 

“But I was in charge of wrapping it,” Dan said, jumping in.

 

“As if she couldn’t tell.” Cassie rolled her eyes at me. “But don’t open it now; it might be too much for your surprise-averse heart. Do us all a favor and open it later when we don’t have to painfully wait for your reaction. Okay?”

 

“Okay.” I laughed. “Plus, I don’t want to ruin this gor­geous wrapping job.”

 

“It’s harder than it looks,” Dan insisted.

 

“I’d like to propose a toast. I know I don’t usually like surprises, but . . .” They looked at me expectantly. “This one is pretty cool. Thanks.”

 

Cassie lifted her mug. “We like doing this stuff. It makes us feel all warm and fuzzy. And we know birthdays are hard for you.” I gave her a pointed look, which she pre­tended not to notice.

 

“To always having each other’s backs.” Dan raised his own mug.

 

“To seventeen,” Cassie added. “The year it all falls into place.”

 

Our mugs clinked together, echoing through the noisy coffeehouse as if it were only the three of us.

 

The twinkle lights cast a fuzzy glow over everything, and the music blasted full-volume out of the coffee shop speakers. More than one person had Cassie’s idea to stash a flask on them. Maggie Meltzer, the captain of the girls’ ski team, fed me shots of Jägermeister from her pink alu­minum water bottle as the rest of the team started a dance party around us. Someone else pushed one of Dan’s track friends up against me and then we were dancing, too. From somewhere I couldn’t quite pinpoint, I heard Cassie’s voice float up: “For someone who isn’t crazy about surprises, she’s really taken to this one.”

 

Eventually I started to feel a little dizzy, like when you swim too far from shore and suddenly realize that you can’t touch the bottom anymore. Pausing for breath, I tip­sily made my way back to our couches, using my arms to propel myself off the furniture, swimming against the tide. Cassie was sitting next to Dan, their heads tilted toward each other, their knees almost touching as they talked.

 

“Hey, Skye!” I turned around to see Ian smiling and wielding a tray of multicolored cupcakes. Cassie and I liked to call him Dan’s best “XY” friend. He had clean-cut sandy hair and a treasure map of freckles scattered across his face. Seeing Ian always made me happy. Not as happy as I often felt he wanted me to be, but still.

 

“See, we can stick to at least one part of the original plan.” Ian offered me first choice. “On the house.”

 

“How are you not already fired?” I asked as I picked out a pink-frosted vanilla cupcake with rainbow sprinkles.

 

“This place would fall apart without me. I’m the sexy handyman.”

 

I pushed him lightly. “Shut up.”

 

“Really.” He nudged his shoulder against mine. “Any­way, I’d get fired for you.” He set the tray on the low table in front of the couch where Cassie and Dan sat. Cassie jumped up immediately. “Oooh, sugar,” she crowed, grab­bing a chocolate cupcake with yellow frosting. 

 

Ian dropped down beside me. “I’ve got a fifteen-minute break,” he said. “So, were you surprised?”

 

“You mean even though you all went against my explicit instructions to not surprise me? Just like you did last year?”

 

“And every year?” He picked up a chocolate cupcake and began peeling off the wrapper, sucking some frosting off his thumb.

 

“Yeah. Believe it or not, I was.”

 

Ian nodded to himself, pleased. “So what do you think of the band?” he asked.

 

I glanced back to the small stage in the corner where three guys were playing indie pop. “Not bad.”

“Not as good as The Somnambulists,” Cassie said quickly.

“Is that what we’re calling your band now?” Dan said, amused.

“But your band wasn’t available tonight,” Ian reminded her. “You had a surprise party to make happen.”

“True.” She reached for another cupcake, splitting it in half with a fork. “I have many talents.” She absently passed me the other half. “I sort of outdid myself tonight, didn’t I?”

“You did,” I agreed. “Next year, though, when I say no surprise party, I mean no surprise party.”

“Like that’s going to happen,” Ian said.

“If we don’t throw you a party, who will?” Cassie asked, before turning her attention back to Dan.

I knew she didn’t mean them to, but her words stung. I thought of my parents. I had such fuzzy memories of them because I was so young when they died, but my mom’s best friend—my legal guardian, who I call Aunt Jo—had given me this whole box of photos from my childhood with them. Apparently every year on my birthday, my mom would bake me a woefully lopsided cake from Funfetti mix, and she’d let me decorate it with chocolate and vanilla frosting in a marble pattern. The cakes were all pretty hideous, according to the pictures, but marble-frosted Funfetti cake was still my favorite dessert. Funny the things I could sud­denly miss even though I barely remembered them.

“You look really great,” Ian said quietly, bringing me back to the present.

“Thanks,” I said. “Must be that one-year-older thing.”

“No, you always look great.” He blushed, suddenly fas­cinated by what was left of his cupcake.

He was wearing a green polo shirt with the Bean logo over his heart. Not exactly sexy. I knew he wouldn’t believe me if I told him he looked good, too. It would just be me trying to feel comfortable with his compliment. Trying to make us both feel comfortable with it.

It was getting hot in there, too loud, too crowded. I never did well with small spaces and large gatherings. I wanted to be on the slopes, skiing, with the exhilaration of the bracing wind rushing over my face. That was where I always wanted to be.

“I need air,” I announced to the group.

“You mean frostbite?” Cassie looked up dubiously. “Have fun.”

“Bundle up, dear!” Dan called in his best grandma voice.

I scanned the pile of coats on the couch for a glimpse of mine. All I could see were my hat and scarf peeking out from under someone’s parka.

“You want company?” Ian asked.

“Thanks,” I said, pretending to be engrossed in search­ing for my outerwear, “but I’m just going to catch a few deep breaths. Not worth you getting frostbite, too.”

“That’s cool.” He stood up. “I gotta get back to work anyway.”

“The cupcakes were great.”

“I didn’t bake them.” His voice held a strange, disap­pointed edge to it, and I was left with the feeling that I’d somehow done something wrong.

With a sigh, I watched him walk away. Why didn’t you just say yes, Skye? Would his joining you have been the worst thing ever? No, but I craved the solitude, just a couple of minutes alone. He’d understand. He always did.

After snatching my hat and scarf from the couch and slipping them on, I snuck out the front door.

The cold air swallowed me whole. It felt good, revital­ized me. Out here, it was quiet and peaceful. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, enjoying the alone time. When I opened them, the full moon stared back at me, lighting up the mountains below.

 

“Hey.”

 

I whipped around, embarrassed at being caught having a moment of reflection. Someone was standing against the wall of the building behind me. I could see the outline of a guy’s tall, sinewy frame, but his face was obscured by the shadows cast by the awning.

“Oh,” I gasped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I can—” I turned toward the door.

“No, stay,” he said. “It was getting too quiet.” He stepped into the light. “I’m not used to living so close to the mountains. I think they create a sound buffer, or something.”

Our eyes met, and something in the way he looked at me made me pause. The blackness of his eyes was mag­netic, and something strange flickered through my own in response. I had the weirdest feeling of déjà vu.

It was dark where we stood on the street, but what moon­light there was shone on his face, exaggerating the definition of his cheekbones and illuminating his smooth olive skin. His short hair was so black that it was hard to tell where he ended and the night began. “You’re Skye, right?”

“Yeah,” I admitted, tearing my eyes away to look back out at the mountains. I didn’t want him to catch me staring. Did I know him? He didn’t look familiar, but he seemed to recognize me. Maybe he’d heard someone inside say my

name. “Hiding from my own party. I’m such a winner.”

He sized me up. “You don’t strike me as someone who would avoid a good time. So there must be more to the story. Anything—or anyone—specific that you’re hiding from?”

“Nope,” I said. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” His tone was playful, like we’d known each other all our lives and shared secrets.

“Or everything,” I admitted, trying not to smile.

He laughed, and the low sound echoed across the empty street. My stomach twisted. Calm yourself, Skye. I never reacted this way to guys I’d just met. I was usually the cool and collected one. It was Cassie who was boy crazy.

“So do you make a habit of ducking out of your own par­ties?” he asked.

“Only when they’re thrown for me against my will. Do you make a habit of lurking outside of other people’s par­ties?” I shot back.

“Without question.” He grinned, showing off an ador­able dimple. “You never know who you’ll meet.”

We stood on the silent street for a while, at an impasse, just watching our breath escape in clouds of steam into the night. I wanted to keep talking to him, but my brain felt stuck.

You really need to stop letting Cassie empty her flask into your drink, I thought.

 

“I should go inside,” I said finally. “They’re going to wonder where I disappeared to.”

“What’d you wish for?”

I turned to face him again. “What?”

“Your birthday wish,” he said. “You know. Closing your eyes. Blowing out the candles. What did you wish for?”

For some unknown reason, warmth rushed up my spine, flooding my cheeks. Why did so innocent a question seem so intimate? “I must have forgotten to make one,” I said, realizing as the words left my mouth that they were true.

“It’s not too late,” he said. “You’ve still got half an hour to change your life.”

I looked at him, confused. What a strange thing to say to someone you’d just met. “Maybe I don’t want to change my life.”

“You wouldn’t change anything at all?”

My mind flashed to my parents, of course, but wishing for a way to feel closer to them was impossible. “No,” I said. “Not really.”

“Well, I hope that works out for you.”

I turned back toward the door, feeling like I’d missed the point of the conversation somehow.

“I’ll see you around, Skye,” he said as I walked back inside. “Happy birthday.”

Chapter 2

 

In the privacy of the fluorescent-lit bathroom, I stared at my reflection. My eyes were flash­ing silver in the light—true silver, not the silvery gray they appeared to be on most days. I blinked, but nothing changed. They only flashed brighter, more vibrantly. They reminded me of a movie we watched in chemistry earlier in the year. When the scientist broke an old thermometer into a petri dish, the mercury slipped from the cracks in the glass, quick and light, not nearly as thick and goopy as I’d expected it would be.

 

I couldn’t quiet my heartbeat. What had caused my eyes to look this way? Had the effect started before I went out­side? Or did it have something to do with the unexpected attraction I’d felt to the guy leaning against the wall? I realized now that I didn’t even know his name.

When I heard the door to the bathroom open followed by the sound of laughter, I fled into the nearest stall and pressed my back against the cool metal door. I fought to calm my erratic heart and wild thoughts, to focus on the problem at hand. I couldn’t face my friends until my eyes were normal gray again. What had I done to make it stop the last time this happened?

I’d been skiing in a race about two weeks before. It had been neck and neck for a while—this girl from Holy Cross Academy and I. I’d leaned into the wind, feeling for the turns, blocking out the noise, the sound, everything but the feel of the snow beneath me. At the bottom, when she congratulated me on my win, I took off my goggles. “Whoa,” she’d said. “Are you wearing contacts?” And moments later, in a bathroom so much like this one, I saw it for the first time. My eyes like liquid silver coins staring back at me in shock.

I detached myself from the stall door and waited until the two girls who had interrupted me left, the door squeaking open and then shut. The bathroom was quiet. I emerged, lifting my face once again to stare into the mirror, bracing myself for what I was about to see.

But my eyes were back to the same old nickel gray.

 

Something my dad used to say needled its way into my thoughts. Little silver bells. When they ring, we’ll know.It came out of nowhere. I hadn’t thought about it since he’d died.

Pushing the memory aside, I took a deep breath and stood straighter, appraising the rest of me. My skin looked even paler than usual. My jeans and periwinkle sweater, which before had felt just right for a cozy night with friends, now felt frumpy. I took my sweater off. The tight T-shirt underneath was marginally better. My black waves were plastered to my neck from the dancing, and I scooped them up into a ponytail.

I glanced down at my watch. It was almost midnight. I wondered if everyone would give me a hard time for going home this early. Cassie would be disappointed. She’d been gloating all week that she’d convinced Aunt Jo to forfeit my curfew just this one night. I hated to waste it, but I’d suddenly lost all enthusiasm for partying. Why did this keep happening? Was I sick?

The bathroom door squeaked on its hinges again as I pushed my way back into the hall, reminding myself to tell Ian that he should probably get that fixed.

The light in the hall was dim, and it took my eyes a little while to adjust to the difference.

But then I saw them.

Two guys were standing with their backs to me. I could barely make out that one was blond, while the other’s close-cropped hair blended into the dark background. They spoke in hushed tones. Every now and then their voices rose and then fell again, as if the conversation was heated but they were afraid of being overheard. I couldn’t see their faces from where I stood, but I definitely didn’t recognize them.

I could hear only a snippet of the conversation: “Not . . . yet!” The blond guy stood straight, his arms stiff by his sides and his hands balled into fists. “You are not supposed to interfere.”

“Do you think I care?” the dark-haired guy whispered loudly. “Your rules mean nothing to me, Devin.”

In a blur, he pushed the blond guy, sending him toppling back into a stack of wooden chairs that went crashing to the ground. At least, he must have pushed him—he moved too fast for me to see exactly what had happened. Everyone turned around to look. Someone cut the music. Devin looked stunned as he lay tangled on the floor amid a nest of chairs.

“I can see that, Asher.”

Devin shoved himself to his feet. Asher came back at him, and the two locked together, head to head. Some people in the crowd shouted. I tried to suppress the panic rising in my throat.

“You would have done the same thing.” Asher’s voice was a growl, deep and menacing.

“You know I wouldn’t have.”

As the crowd gathered in closer, I found myself right at the front, inside the circle. People jostled against me, striving to get a better view. I was trapped.

“Well, whose fault is that?”

Devin twisted around in Asher’s grip, and Asher went flying backward—toward me. I couldn’t move; the crowd was packed in too tight. Closing my eyes, I held my arms out to catch him as he hurtled into me, sending us both to the hardwood floor. Pain jolted through me as the impact knocked the wind out of my lungs, and I gasped.

“Skye!” I heard Cassie’s voice rise above the ringing in my ears.

I couldn’t call out to her; I could barely move. Asher weighed a ton, and I was pinned beneath him. He turned around to right himself, pressing his arms into the floor on either side of my head for balance. His face was right above mine. His eyes widened.

It was the guy I’d met on the street just a few minutes ago. The one who’d asked me what I’d wished for on my birthday. His eyes, even in all this chaos, were deep and dizzying. Looking into them was like trying to follow a penny as it falls down a well.

I caught my breath, and feeling slowly returned to my limbs.

“Get off of me!” I shoved as hard as I could, catching Asher off guard. He tumbled to the side, and I scrambled up. “Jerk.”

I noticed the other guy, Devin, staring at me, too.

Then a loud popping noise startled me, and something began hissing loudly. I fought to push my way through the crowd toward where Cassie’s voice had last emerged. Suddenly, the ground rumbled; I lost my balance and fell to my knees. Shouts grew louder, panicked screams echoed around me, and someone’s hands gripped my arms from behind.

“Skye!”

I turned around to face Cassie and clutched her arm in relief. “What’s going on?”

Cassie shook her head, her eyes huge. “I don’t have an effing clue.”

“Earthquake!” someone yelled.

Chaos erupted as though a switch had been thrown. I heard glass shattering, mugs and plates falling off shelves.

Cassie tightened her grip on my arm. “Let’s get out of here!” She pulled me toward the door. “Hurry!”

The ground was quaking beneath us. As I turned toward the door, I noticed Dan and Ian running up alongside us. Dan took hold of Cassie’s free arm. As Ian grabbed my other arm, he gave me a strange look.

Then he and Dan were propelling us through the door.

“Get to your cars!” Dan yelled. “Ian’s on duty. I’ll stay with him while he calls the police.”

The two of them raced back toward the building.

Outside, people were scurrying down the street in both directions. I could feel the tremors diminishing as Cassie and I sprinted through the freezing air to where our cars were parked on the other end of the street. We stopped at her old hunter green Volvo wagon. I couldn’t draw in air. It was like my lungs had locked up.

“Well, for better or for worse, everyone will be talking about your birthday on Monday,” Cassie muttered as she fumbled for her keys.

I tried to stay upright, but my knees were shaking too hard. They buckled under me, and I slid to the ground. I gasped for breath again and again.

“Skye?” Cassie crouched next to me, snow seeping into her tights. “Are you okay?”

She pushed back my hair as I leaned my head against the passenger door and closed my eyes, battling to keep breathing.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” I said, my chest tightening. The street was spinning, even though the rumbling had stopped. “I feel weird. I probably had too much to drink.”

“You can’t drive home like this. You’re shaking.” She took my mittened hands in hers and squeezed.

“Just . . .” I didn’t know how to explain what was wrong with me. I didn’t understand what was going on. It wasn’t panic. It wasn’t even fear. It was like total and complete exhaustion. Like I’d pushed myself to the limit and was crashing.

“Come on, get in.” She helped me up and into the pas­senger seat. Leaning over, she buckled me in. “I’ll drive you home. We’ll get your car in the morning.”

As she climbed in and revved the engine, her radio played the single that had been popular all winter. Cassie began to sing along softly, automatically. She turned the wheel and glided out from the curb, down the street.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my hands. As the music and Cassie’s voice washed over me, I happened to glance in the side-view mirror. On the street, a lone figure stood in the shadows, getting smaller and smaller as the car pulled away.

Chapter 3

The next morning was gray and heavy with the promise of more snow. When I opened my eyes, the weak light filtered into my room through the bay window. As it washed over my pale blue walls, I felt almost like I was outside, just floating in the sky. I buried myself deeper under my cream-colored jersey comforter, let­ting the soft cotton surround me. I pulled it tight to me like a cocoon, blocking out the world. I had a slamming headache. I didn’t feel any older on the day after my birthday than I had on the day before it. I wanted to stay under the covers all morning, but my cell phone rang, forcing me to get out of bed and walk all the way across my room to where it was charging on my dresser.

“Hey, Ian,” I said after I saw who was calling. Shiver­ing in my boxers and T-shirt, I ran to get into bed with the phone. I closed the window on my way back. I didn’t remember leaving it open, and now the room was freezing. I glanced outside before pulling the curtain closed. The sky looked dark, like the storm headed our way was about to blow down some serious power lines.

“Hey,” he said. “How are you feeling this morning?”

I laughed. “I’m fine. I got up, answered the phone, and now I’m back in bed.”

“Don’t tempt a guy, Skye; I’m only human. Are you wearing pajamas?”

 

“Ian!”

“Kidding! Kidding.” Only I had a feeling he wasn’t. He made jokes like that a lot, but he was a good friend and I’d never thought of him as more. “I really did call to see how you’re doing. It was kind of scary there toward the end.”

Absently, I pulled the covers over my head, watching for cracks where the light shone through. “Yeah, you guys really put the ‘surprise’ in surprise party.” I yawned. “I’ve never heard of an earthquake hitting this area before.”

“Is that what you heard?”

“What do you mean?”

“It wasn’t an earthquake. The boiler in the basement exploded.”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek. “Wasn’t that thing brand-new?” I remembered last year when Ian was going on and on about how the installation was messing up his whole shift schedule. Ian’s job at the Bean included all kinds of odd fix-it jobs, and he’d been there before school some mornings to help oversee the installation.

“Yup. Apparently it just overheated. It got so hot it even melted in places—that’s what caused the explosion.”

“Whoa,” I said, bringing the blanket down from over my head. The cool air hit my face. “Weird.”

“I know.”

“Was anyone hurt?”

“Not that I’ve heard. We were really lucky.”

“Skye?” Aunt Jo knocked on my open bedroom door. “Babe, if I’m gonna drive you into town to get your car, we’d better do it now. It looks like snow; I don’t want it to get stuck.”

I nodded at her. “Ian?” I said into the phone.

“Yeah,” he said. “I heard her. Stop by the Bean if you get a sec when you’re in town. I’m here cleaning up the mess.”

“That sucks.”

“Tell me about it.”

“They couldn’t get anyone else to help?”

“Rub it in, please?”

I laughed. “See you in a bit.” I heard the sound of shat­tered glass being kicked, then Ian sighed into the phone.

“I’ll be here.”

I hung up, but the phone immediately started ringing again. Cassie.

“We’re going to get a blizzard!” she sang. “How are you feeling?”

“Head. Car. Snow. Town,” I moaned.

“Got it. Call me when you get back and are feeling better.”

The line clicked dead.

We drove in silence for most of the way there. I just didn’t feel much like talking. When I’d gotten home the night before, Aunt Jo had been waiting up for me, so Cassie and I had to tell her all about the un-surprise party and what I’d thought was an earthquake. Cassie had explained that I’d been so shaken up that she’d had to drive me home. I didn’t want Aunt Jo to worry, but how could I explain what had really happened to me when even I wasn’t sure?

Aunt Jo’s eyes kept shifting nervously from the road to look at me. I had filled her in on what Ian had just told me about the boiler exploding. It was scary to think that the night before could have been a way bigger mess than just a bunch of shattered glass.

I let my head fall against the headrest and watched the trees flash by.

Aunt Jo stopped in front of my black Subaru. I hopped out of the passenger side of her car, my boots crunching loudly in the snow. She got out, too, and came around to the curb. She slapped her left hand uneasily against the side of the SUV, and some grayish blond wisps swung loose from her ponytail. Her cheeks were just shy of burned, the result of last week’s mountaineering trek with Into the Woods Outdoor Company, the outdoor sporting goods and adventure company she owned and managed.

She’d always been happy running the show from behind the scenes, until two weeks ago when her head trip leader, Jenn Spratt, had taken a terrible fall. Her carabiner hadn’t been secured during an ice-climbing trip. Jenn had bro­ken her left leg and dislocated a shoulder. Aunt Jo had her office staff working on finding a temporary replacement, but until then, she was the only one qualified enough to take groups out into the backcountry. Lucky for me, growing up with Aunt Jo had taught me to be pretty self-sufficient. The past couple of weeks, she’d been away for long stretches of time, coming home sunburned, wind­ burned, scratched, and bruised. But all of it just made her look pretty—outdoorsy and alive and younger than she was. It was weird to think that my mother’s best friend was the same age my mom would have been if she were still alive. I couldn’t imagine my mom doing the active and strenuous things Aunt Jo did. I imagined her as fragile, ethereal. Perfect.

“Listen, before I head home, I’m going to pop into the Bean to see Ian,” I told her.

“Don’t stay out too long.” She frowned upward at the heavy clouds. “We’re in for some major weather.”

“I’ll be fine,” I said. “Seriously. See?” I knocked on one of the tires. “Snow tires. It’s all good.”

She looked at me a moment longer. “Okay,” she said, entirely unconvinced. You’d think for someone who spent 99.9 percent of her time trekking through the mountains avoiding bears and rattlesnakes, she’d put more faith in things like snow tires. “Be careful.” She mussed her hand through my dark, wavy hair.

“It’s just a little snow,” I insisted. “We get it, oh, twice a week?”

She gave me a warning look. “I’m serious, Skye.”

“I’ll be fine. What’s with the gloom and doom?”

“Oh, this whole explosion thing just has me shaken up, that’s all. Thank god I was home and not out on a trip. I hate my new schedule; I wish I didn’t have to be away from you for so long. What if you’d been hurt and I wasn’t here?”

I didn’t want to admit that, secretly, I was kind of think­ing the same thing. She had enough to worry over with all the extra work she’d taken on after Jenn’s fall. I gave her a reassuring smile. “But I wasn’t hurt and you were here.”

“Promise me you’ll be home soon, and I’ll make you din­ner tonight or something.”

“A real home-cooked meal—from scratch?” I widened my eyes in mock surprise and batted my eyelashes. Aunt Jo had become the queen of stocking our freezer with fro­zen dinners. The “healthy” kind that had ingredients like wild brown rice, organic kale, and quinoa—this totally bizarre little grain that Aunt Jo had instructed me was pronounced “keen-wha.” The meals couldn’t possibly be as healthy as the manufacturers claimed. Anything that came in a little plastic dish you had to heat in the microwave couldn’t be that good for you. When Aunt Jo was home, though, she cooked real meals good enough to dream about the whole time she was away. “I want lasagna!”

“Don’t push your luck,” she said dryly. “But if you hurry home, I’ll bake you some cookies.”

“I’m glad to see you’re not above bribery.”

“You can’t be above anything when raising a teenager.”

I stuck my tongue out at her. “Love you!”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, shooing me away. “Love you, too. Say hey to Ian from me.”

I pulled away, watching as she got back into her car and drove off. Something wet stuck to my forehead, and I looked up to find it was already snowing—thick, heavy white flakes. Perfect.After the point I’d made about overreacting, Aunt Jo would kill me if I got stuck in the snow. I pulled my hood up to cover my neck and started walking down the street. The sidewalk outside the Bean was charred and black. Standing in front of the empty wooden frames that had once held windows, I stared at the destruction.

Glass had shattered all over the floor along the walls where the picture frames had fallen. Chairs were over­turned; couches were torn and bleeding upholstery. The glass in the pastry display case under the cash register had blown out.

Every single sheet of glass in the entire place had been splintered into tiny shards; a fine, prismatic dust covered everything. The afternoon light glinting off the shattered glass was almost blinding. I shielded my eyes.

“Ian?” I called.

I heard a clatter in the back.

“Who’s there?” he shouted.

“It’s Skye.” The clattering stopped. Silence.

Ian emerged from the back looking completely harassed. His short sandy hair was sticking up as if he hadn’t even brushed it, and his eyes were bloodshot.

“Do you see?” he asked, shrugging and dropping his arms to his sides. “Do you see what I have to do? This may be too big a job for even the Sexy Handyman.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said. “This is unreal.” I didn’t bother with the door—just stepped through where one of the huge storefront windows had been. I forged a path through the debris to the counter. “Are you okay?”

He picked up the broom leaning against the wall behind him and began to sweep the floor with it. “I’m fine. But are you?”

“I’m okay. I’m a little shaken up, but—”

“No,” he pressed. “I mean, are you okay?”

I stared at him. “Ian. I’m fine.”

“So you’re, like . . . feeling . . . normal?”

“Like I just said.” Why was everyone suddenly freaking out on me? “It was just a boiler.”

“Yeah, it wasjust a boiler,” he said, his eyes boring into mine. What was going on? “But that’s not what I’m talk­ing about.”

“So what are you talking about? I promised my aunt I’d be home before next Tuesday, so . . .”

“You really don’t know?”

“Ian,” I said, getting annoyed. “Come on. What is it?”

“Okay.” He put down his broom and came around the side of the counter. He had an excited glint in his eye, and his brow was furrowed with intensity. “Your eyes are gray.”

“Yes,” I said. “Is that your big revelation?”

“Come on, just listen. Last night they were silver.”

My heart skipped a beat. He had noticed?

“They can look that way sometimes,” I said casually. “Trick of the light.”

“Skye,” he said, putting both hands on my shoulders. “Silver. Metallic. Like the stuff that’s inside those old thermometers.”

I shivered as he brought up the exact imagery I’d thought of.

“Can you put something over the window?” I said. “It’s freezing in here.”

“Did you hear me?”

“Yeah, I did. I just don’t think it’s that big a deal. My eyes can look silver in certain light. I don’t know why you’re freaking out about it.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it. I’ve seen your eyes in all kinds of light. I mean, they’re beautiful.” He paused, his cheeks flushing red. “But that’s not the point.”

“Look, I really appreciate you letting me know.” I didn’t like where this conversation was going. I broke away from his hold and took a few steps backward. “But I’m fine. Do they look silver now?”

Ian’s face fell. “No. . . .”

I shrugged in response.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he said, looking away. “I guess I sound crazy. It was probably just glass flying or something. It was some insane chaos in here. Forget I said anything, okay?” But his eyes still held that same intensity. I backed away. I had to get out of here.

“I’d offer to stay and help,” I said, “but I have to go fin­ish up some reading before the semester starts. See you tomorrow.”

“You’re unbelievable. It’s still vacation! You are the only person I know who catches up on reading she’s not even behind on.”

I smiled. “I want to go to Columbia. And that’s how you do it.”

“Whatever works, Skye, whatever works.”

“Good luck with the place.”

“Thanks,” he said, still standing in the same spot, unmoving.

“Later, Ian.”

As I walked outside, I glanced over my shoulder, through the window. He was back to sweeping up the glass. He looked so alone. Guilt nudged at me.

What was I running from, anyway? So my eyes had been wonky last night. And Ian had seen them. It didn’t necessarily mean anything bad. Maybe I was overreact­ing. Maybe, like I’d told Ian, it really was just a trick of the light. Just because I always immediately thought the worst, didn’t mean I needed to stop being a friend.

I took out my cell phone and called Cassie. When she answered, I got straight to the point. “I’m at the Bean, planning a little surprise of my own. You and Dan need to get over here.”

“Um,” she said. “Doesn’t the Bean kind of look like an earthquake hit it?”

“Cassie.”

“Sorry.”

“Are you going to make quips all day or are you going to help me?”

“Make quips. . . .”

I coughed loudly into the phone.

“Fine.” She sighed. “I’m coming to help you. It’s not easy being so selfless, you know.”

I snapped my phone closed, and stepped back through the gaping hole where the front window used to be. Glass crunched beneath my boots, and Ian turned to look at me. I smiled. “So, are there any extra brooms around here?”

With Dan and Cassie helping, we had the glass swept up and the broken furniture hauled out to the Dumpster by the time the crew from Wylie’s Windows had arrived.

Cassie broke out a thermos of her special hot chocolate sprinkled with chili powder. Then we sat on the couches and watched as repair people sealed the new plate glass windows into place. Beyond them, the dark clouds were rolling nearer. I guessed karma had kept them at bay until we were done.

“I can’t believe you guys helped me clean up this mess,” Ian said as he surveyed the work. “I was getting paid for it.”

“I mean, we’re really good friends,” said Cassie.

I tipped my mug in his direction. “You probably do owe us. Don’t worry, we’ll collect on it soon.”

“There’s still a lot left to be done,” Dan said as he glanced around at the buckled floor and splintered walls.

“The construction crew will be in tomorrow,” Ian told him.

We sat in silence for several moments simply enjoying watching someone else work. The Bean’s general man­ager, Burt, had come through earlier with the insurance adjuster to assess the damage and was in his office now making phone calls.

“So what was with those guys last night?” Cassie asked, a glint in her eye. “The two who were fighting.”

Dan shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t even see them until the crowd formed. Were they there the whole time?”

“They were arguing about something,” I said.

Cassie sat up. “You saw them? Did you get a good look? What did they look like?”

I took a sip of the spicy hot chocolate and suddenly wished I hadn’t said anything. I’d sort of wanted to keep my private conversation with Asher outside, well, private. “Yeah, when I came back inside. I sort of heard the begin­ning of their fight.”

“What were they arguing about?” Dan asked. “Had to be pretty serious, the way they were going after each other.”

Everyone looked at me like I was going to spill some huge juicy piece of gossip. “Honestly, guys, I don’t know. Something about rules. Whatever. I didn’t really hear.”

Ian snorted. “How about the Respect Skye’s Birthday rule?”

“That is an important one,” I said, giving his shoulder a nudge. He smiled and turned away, but I could see a blush creeping up the back of his neck.

“But who were they?” Cassie asked. “Anybody know?”

“Why are you, like, so interested?” Dan said, kicking her foot lightly.

“Dan,” Cassie said, addressing him like you would a visi­tor from another planet. “If they are new in town and they are hot, I’m interested.”

“They’ve never been in here before,” said Ian. “At least not while I was working. They’re probably just tourists. Here for ski season.”

Only I wasn’t so sure. I thought about the guy who’d been leaning against the wall outside. Asher. The sense of déjà vu I’d felt when he’d looked at me. But I couldn’t tell my friends that. I couldn’t even explain the feeling to myself.

I remembered the lone figure standing in the street, watching us as we drove off. Even now the memory gave me chills. I tried to brush it off, but the scene clung to me.

Why did I know that it had been Asher? And why had he been watching me? Had he felt the same giddy attraction I’d felt? Or was it something more?

“Just so you know, Skye, we did not invite them,” Cassie said.

“Yeah, but we didn’t close down the Bean, either,” Ian said. “Burt nixed that request, so we couldn’t exactly con­trol who was at the party. Anyone could have come in off the street.”

“Next year, I’ll convince him to close it down,” Cassie promised.

“Next year, no surprise party,” I insisted. “Please? For my senior year, you have to grant me that one wish.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever you say, Skye.” Cassie put her hand in front of her face and shook her head at Dan and Ian as though I couldn’t see. Another surprise party was inevitable.

“Well, since you’re ignoring all my requests anyway”—I got to my feet—“I promised Aunt Jo I’d be home before the storm hit, and it’s been way longer than an hour.”

Ian stood up. “Thanks again. You saved my life today.” He awkwardly pulled my hood down over my face before shoving his hands into his pockets and saying he needed to go talk to the manager. He walked off.

“He’s so cute,” Cassie said. “I don’t know why you don’t just go out with him already.”

“You think all guys are cute,” Dan muttered.

“No, I don’t, Daniel. I think some are hot.”

I left them to their squabbling and headed out to my car. I didn’t know why I had a sense that someone was watch­ing me. I glanced around. People were trudging up and down the street, wandering in and out of the shops. But I was looking for someone in particular. Asher.

Only I didn’t see him. Instead, I was climbing into my car when something else caught the corner of my eye. I jerked my head around, but it was gone. I could have sworn I’d seen a shock of blond hair, blue eyes.

I turned the key in the ignition, promising myself I would officially banish all thoughts of the two guys from last night the second the car roared to life. They were probably just what Ian had said they were: tourists. I’d never see them again.

On the drive home, I kept the windows open. I hoped the freezing air would make everything vanish into the white sky.

Chapter 4

The next morning, I woke up floating. My eyes were closed, even though it didn’t feel like I was asleep anymore. It was hard to tell. I must have been in that weird state between dreaming and waking, where dreams could be memories and the real world could be a dream. It felt like my body was suspended above the mattress, though how far above it I couldn’t tell. And suddenly, I didn’t want to open my eyes at all. I stiffened in panic.

I was floating?

I counted backward, still unsure if the counting was hap­pening in my head or if I was saying the words out loud.

Three. Two. One.

I opened my eyes.

But I wasn’t floating at all. The sensation of being in midair had vanished, and I lay in bed, the comforter tan­gled tightly around my body as if I’d been tossing and turning the whole night. It was morning. The only thing that floated in the air was the occasional dust particle caught by the weak winter sun. The window was open, and the cold air blew my curtains back to let in the gray light of the early day. Was the clasp broken?

The alarm on my nightstand buzzed loudly, and I fum­bled to snooze it. When I saw what time it was, I froze. Seven thirty. School started in forty minutes. I was late. I was never late. How many times had I hit Snooze?

I forgot everything as I scrambled to pull myself together. I burned through my morning routine, pulling on a pair of dark jeans, a couple of long tanks, a chunky cardigan, and a long necklace or two. In the bathroom, I washed my face and rubbed in some tinted moisturizer, brushing my teeth as I frantically scrambled to apply two coats of mas­cara with my left hand. I swept my hair back into a loose knot, stepped into my boots, grabbed my backpack, and pounded down the stairs.

By the time I blew through the kitchen, Aunt Jo was already sitting at the table, a mug of coffee in her hands. “I’m leaving on a mountaineering trip to the Collegiates this morning,” she said offhandedly, narrowing her eyes to study me. I really wished I didn’t look so harried. It ruined the image I wanted to project: that I was fully capable of taking care of myself.

“I’ll be back late Saturday,” she continued. “I’ll have my cell, but if you can’t get in touch, call the office. They can connect with satellite.”

“I know the routine.” It was always the same whenever she took a group out. I poured coffee and about half a box of sugar into a travel mug. The Collegiate Peaks were a spectacular section of the Rocky Mountains. Looking at her small, wiry frame, you’d never picture her trudging up the side of a mountain underneath a forty-pound back­pack, but she was deceptively strong. And, as she liked to remind me when the question of breaking curfew came up, a pro with an ice pick.

“I’m trusting you to behave while I’m gone,” she said.

“I’m trusting you to come back and bake me some cookies.”

She laughed. I knew she felt guilty about leaving me alone so much, so I always tried to make it seem like it was no big deal. But the truth was I really missed her when she was away. But then she’d probably miss me when I went off to college, and I didn’t want her making me feel guilty then. So I was paying forward.

I grabbed a cereal bar from a box in the cabinet and kissed her on the top of her head. “See you soon,” I said. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” she replied, smiling after me. “Don’t forget. Call the office if you need anything!”

And then I was in my car and flying to school. The snow hadn’t stuck very much, aside from forming some weak piles along the side of the road, and the roads themselves were already clear. The trees were a green-and-brown blur on both sides of me. I had a perfect, tardy-free record— there was no way was I going to start off the semester being late for homeroom.

Just as I pulled in to the parking lot, my cell phone rang in my backpack. I pulled it out while maneuvering the wheel with one hand. Cassie’s number blinked up at me.

“Lady,” she said breathlessly into my ear. Cass always said everything breathlessly, as if she couldn’t wait to tell you. “Are you ready for second semester?”

“I’m ready for my coffee.”

“What? I don’t think I quite heard that.”

“I said,” I repeated, louder this time, “let me drink my coffee in peace, woman.”

“You’re no fun. See you in homeroom; this gossip isn’t going to spill itself.”

Cassie’s favorite thing in life was gossip. And it was almost always about guys, which was Cassie’s favorite subject.

I glanced at the clock on the dashboard. 8:01. Nine min­utes to make it to homeroom before I was officially late.

On my way up the front steps of the school, I stopped. I felt a prickling sensation that caused the fine hairs to rise on the nape of my neck.

I knew no one was behind me—I had been alone in the parking lot when I got out of my car—but I turned around anyway.

“Morning, Skye.” It was Asher, looking up at me from the bottom step. His short black hair ruffled faintly in the breeze.

He looked guarded, one leg on a lower step, the other tensed on the step just above it. But beneath his serious exterior, it looked like he was trying hard not to smile.

“So,” he said, clearing his throat, “I’m sorry for fighting at your party. I didn’t mean for you to see what you did, and . . . hear what you did. It wasn’t because of you, Skye. Devin and I have a long-standing history. . . .” He paused. “I was really glad we got to meet outside. What did you end up wishing for?”

“I—” I’d forgotten to make a wish after all. But what he was saying made no sense. Why would I think the fight had anything to do with me? I didn’t even know these guys. I wondered if maybe he was just nervous about see­ing me again. I knew I was.

“Oh,” he said. “I forgot my opener. Sorry. I’m Asher.” But I already knew that.

He held out a hand. I eyed him suspiciously. Slowly I reached my hand out as well. He met me halfway. When our hands touched, a tiny wave of goose bumps trailed up my arm. I quickly pulled away.

“See?” Asher smiled. “Not so bad, right? Anyway, look, aren’t you going to be late for homeroom? Want me to walk you?”

“Inside?” I said. “But I . . . There’s a pretty strict secu­rity policy. . . .”

“Well, it’s good to know my new school has at least one leg up on my old one,” Asher said casually as he gestured for me to go ahead.

“Your new school?”

“Yep. Looks like you’re stuck with me for a while. But don’t worry, I’ll try not to start any more fights.”

“You’d better not,” I told him lightly, trying to hide my shock. “I can’t be associated with a known troublemaker.”

Asher’s face broke out into a wide, wicked grin. “That’s a shame, because my cousin would tell you that trouble-making is something I was born to do,” he said. His eyes flickered between mischief and seriousness.

“Your cousin?”

“The guy I was fighting. But I’d advise you not to believe anything he tells you.”

Something about his sudden, intense gaze made my cheeks burn. Quickly I walked on ahead through the school’s big front doors, and Asher jogged a few steps to catch up.

“Ah . . .” he began, fumbling with a sheet of paper in his back pocket. “Maybe you can help me find my homeroom. Where is room two-eighteen, exactly?”

I smiled in spite of myself. “This way, come on.”

As we walked down the hall and up the stairs, I got that same prickly, being-watched feeling as before. The girls all stared at Asher—and glared at me. The bell was going to ring any second, and most people had already filtered out of the halls to their classrooms. But the stragglers turned as we passed, parting for us like the Red Sea. Their whis­pers followed us down the hall. I slid my eyes sideways as we walked in relative silence. I had to admit, it wasn’t just his eyes that were alluring; it was as if all of him radiated this magnetized power, drawing people in toward him.

“It’s just up here,” I said, snapping myself out of it.

When we reached the open door to the room, I waved my hand like a magician unveiling something that had been hidden. “Here you go.”

“After you,” he said.

I blinked at him, my heart pounding suddenly. I hadn’t told him that I was in this class, too.

“What’s wrong, Skye?”

He could have just assumed, a small voice whispered inside my head.

The sharp sound of metal against metal made me look around.

The blond guy from the party—Devin—was standing by a locker on the far side of the hallway.

And he was staring at me.

His face was expressionless, but the temperature in the hallway seemed to plummet.

He hefted his backpack onto one shoulder and approached. I wanted to head into the room, but I was rooted to the spot. He stopped in front of me.

“I’m sorry about ruining your party Saturday night.”

His voice was quiet, calm, shy. But also seemed sincere. I hadn’t been this close to him yet, and now I could see that his eyes were a tranquil blue. Peaceful. It was something I’d longed for since my parents had died—a place with no troubles.

When I glanced back at Asher, I could sense the ani­mosity rolling off him in waves. I looked back and forth between them, unsure of what was going on. Standing there, I felt closed in—trapped—like I had Saturday night during the fight.

“You should both talk to Dr. Schneider,” I said. “The guidance counselor. I hear she’s great with conflict resolution.”

The bell rang.

“Thanks, guys. Now I’m late to class.”

“First time for everything,” Asher said.

How had he known?

A Beautiful Dark
by by Jocelyn Davies

• Genres: Fiction
• hardcover: 400 pages
• Publisher: HarperTeen
• ISBN-10: 0061990655
• ISBN-13: 9780061990656