“She probably took the kid back to her lair like a jaguar dragging its prey into a tree. People have eating habits. I’ve seen you bury your peach pits because you have some idea in your head that they’ll magically grow into trees and you’ll get a second helping of peaches. I hate to break it to you but the soil here probably isn’t as fertile as the mystical mountain where you’re from.”
“I know that,” he said with a scowl. “All I’m saying is that something doesn’t add up.”
“And I’m saying that if we waste time on recaps, we’ll never get through this—this quest or geas, or whatever it is we agreed to. Quentin, that was one demon. One, and it nearly ended us! We have ninety-nine more to catch. Let’s focus on them instead of fights we already won.
“We put the bad guy in the dirt and saved a baby,” I concluded. “That’s perfect math to me.”
Quentin snorted. “Someone’s taking to the demon slaying lifestyle rather comfortably.”
26
Yunie slammed her hand down in the middle of the textbook I was reading. She was the only person who could do that without pulling back a stump.
“This is the final round of the concours,” she announced. “The last stage of the competition. The performance that counts.”
I looked at the four concert tickets underneath her fingers, dated for a couple weeks out. One was for me.
I knew that two were for my parents. Both of them loved her like a second daughter. Mom had gotten all the “why-can’t-you-be-more-like-Yunie” out of her system by fourth grade, and Dad was resigned to the fact that most of his family photos of me past a certain age also had Yunie in them.
It was unspoken that those two tickets were for me to decide a suitable arrangement. She wasn’t not going to invite them to the most important event in her musical career to date. Nor would she ever show a favorite. But I could freely pick one or none or both of my parents to come, and feel guilty about whatever combination I chose in order to keep the peace.
It was the fourth ticket that confused me. “What’s this for?”
“That one’s for you to give to Androu as your plus one.”
“Why would I take Androu and not Quentin?”
Yunie rolled her eyes at me like I was trying to play checkers at a chess match. “To make Quentin jealous. You really have to get with the program here, because your lack of game is disturbing.”
She slid the ticket back and forth with her pinky. “And way to incriminate yourself. You didn’t even hesitate there.”
I prickled all the way up the back of my neck. My mind had only gone to Quentin because it’d be easier to explain his presence to my mother. And I’d talked to him most recently. And because demons.
“You didn’t tell me the two of you were that far along,” Yunie continued.
Anyone else would have thought she was teasing me. And she was. But my Yunie-sense, the only superpower that I truly believed in, indicated that she also sounded slightly hurt.
“We’re not,” I said. “I mean, we’re not anywhere along. Of course I would tell you if we were anywhere. There’s nothing to tell, really. Really.”
I couldn’t keep track of what I was embarrassed about at this point. I only wanted to make sure she knew that I wasn’t trying to hide something as important as a relationship from her. While at the same time hiding a massive supernatural conspiracy that she could never know about.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I should lay off. I just like seeing you without that line of concentration running down your forehead all the time. Sometimes you get so stressed out from studying that you could hold a playing card between your eyebrows.”
I looked at my friend. She was brimming with nervous energy, almost bouncing on her toes. Which meant for once she wasn’t convinced she would win this competition. Yunie showed fear by turning even more radiant and pretty. Judging by the glow on her face, this one was for all the marbles.
I handed her back the fourth ticket.
“I won’t need this,” I said. “I’m going without distractions. You’re the only person who matters.”
She threw her arms around me and squeezed. “Well, yeah, duh.”
“What’s the need for secrecy?” I asked.
“Huh?”
Quentin and I were on the school roof again, giving meditation training another shot. I’d bought us this window of time by telling my mother that all team workouts had been changed to doubles, so I’d be home late every day. She wasn’t happy about it, and I couldn’t help imagining the gross liquid metal escaping my lips as I lied to her, but this was for the greater good.
The roof had become our own private spot, mostly because we could get there without tripping the stairwell alarms. The thrum of the ventilation units provided white noise that I had hoped would drown out my thoughts. That obviously hadn’t worked, but at the very least I found this a relaxing way to cool down after practice.