beyond that, the ocean. There was still a little amber light in the sky over the water. Her
new friends would all be in the lodge making s'mores, telling demon stories around the
hearth. It was a Dawn-and-Jasmine social event, part of the Nephilim Nights Luce was
supposed to have helped organize, but all she'd really done was request a few bags of
marshmallows and some dark chocolate from the mess hall.
And then she'd escaped out to the shadowy fringe of the woods to avoid everyone
at Shoreline and reconnect with a few other important things:
Her parents. Callie. And the Announcers.
She'd waited until tonight to call home. Thursdays chez Price meant her mom
would be out playing mahjongg at the neighbors' and her dad would have gone to the
local movie theater to watch the Atlanta opera on simulcast. She could handle their
voices on the ten-plus-year-old answering machine message, could manage to leave a
thirty-second voice mail saying she was petitioning hard for Mr. Cole to let her off
campus for Thanksgiving--and that she loved them very much.
Callie wasn't going to let her off so easy.
"I thought you could only call on Wednesdays," Callie was saying now. Luce had
forgotten the strict telephone policy at Sword & Cross. "At first I stopped making plans
on Wednesdays, waiting for your call," Callie went on. "But after a while, I kinda gave
up. How did you get a cell phone, anyway?"
"That's it?" Luce asked. "How did I get a cell phone? You're not mad at me?"
Callie let out a long sigh. "You know, I thought about being mad. I even practiced
this whole fight in my mind. But then we both lose." She paused. "And the thing is, I just
miss you, Luce. So I figured, why waste time?"
"Thank you," Luce whispered, close to tears--happy ones. "So, what's been going
on with you?"
"Unh-unh. I'm in charge of this conversation. That's your punishment for
dropping off my radar. And what I want to know is: What's going on with that guy? I
think his name started with a C?"
"Cam." Luce groaned. Cam was the last guy she'd told Callie about? "He didn't
117
turn out to be ... the kind of guy I thought he was." She paused for a moment. "I'm seeing
someone else now, and things are really ..." She thought of Daniel's glowing face, the
way it had darkened so quickly during their last meeting outside her window.
Then she thought of Miles. Warm, dependable, charmingly no-drama Miles,
who'd invited her home to his family's house for Thanksgiving. Who ordered pickles on
his hamburgers at the mess hall now even though he didn't like them--just so he could
pick them off and give them to Luce. Who tilted his head up when he laughed so that she
could see the sparkle in his Dodgers-cap-shaded eyes.
"Things are good," she finally said. "We've been hanging out a lot."
"Ooh, bouncing around from one reform school boy to the next. Living the dream,
aren't you? But this one sounds serious, I can hear it in your voice. Are you going to do
Thanksgiving together? Bring him home to face the wrath of Harry? Hah!"
"Um ... yeah, probably," Luce mumbled. She wasn't totally sure whether she'd
been talking about Daniel or Miles.
"My parents are insisting on some big family reunion in Detroit that weekend,"
Callie said, "which I am boycotting. I wanted to come visit, but I figured you'd be locked
up in reformville." She paused, and Luce could picture her curled up on her bed in her
dorm room at Dover. It seemed like a lifetime ago since Luce had been at school there
herself. So very much had changed. "If you'll be home, though, and bringing reform
school boy, try and stop me."
"Okay, but Callie--"
Luce was interrupted by a squeal. "So it's settled? Imagine: In one week we'll be
curled up on your couch, catching up! I'll make my famous kettle corn to help us through
the boring slide shows your dad will show. And your crazy poodle will be going
berserk. ..."
Luce had never actually been to Callie's brownstone in Philadelphia, and Callie
had never actually been to Luce's house in Georgia. They'd both only seen pictures. A
visit from Callie sounded so perfect, so exactly what Luce needed right now. It also
sounded utterly impossible.
"I'll look up flights right now."
"Callie--"
"I'll email you, okay?" Callie hung up before Luce could even respond.
This was not good. Luce flipped the phone shut. She shouldn't have felt like
Callie was intruding by inviting herself to Thanksgiving. She should have felt great that
her friend still wanted to see her. But all she felt was helpless, homesick, and guilty for
perpetuating this stupid cycle of lies.