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“Driving from U Penn to Columbus to Glendale? Never again. I pulled an all-nighter just to get off the road.” Stef waved at their guests. “Hi, Monica.” He offered a hand to Gordon. “Hi, blond stranger. I’m Stefan.”
“The infamous Stef! Nice to meet you. I’m Gordon.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Stef said. “And you brought pizza.”
“S’all yours,” Monica chirped.
Stef dropped his duffel bag on the floor with a thud. “You are now officially my new favorite people.” He pulled himself a double slice, and Joy beamed. Monica and Gordon held hands. Stef adjusted his glasses and took a bite. It was a perfect moment.
Stef spoke around a mouthful. “So where’s Dad?”
“Out with Shelley,” Joy said. “Where else? And he’s going to seriously kill you for showing up before he got home. I think he was planning on there being cake.”
Stef folded the second slice over the first and took another bite. “I wouldn’t say no to cake.”
“Yeesh. Where do you put it all?” Monica asked enviously. “Aren’t you supposed to get all freshman-fifteen?”
Stef looked long and lanky, much the same as he had when he’d left with his inside-out, backward shirt, scratched-up glasses and tight-fitting jeans. “Joy and I share the Malone metabolism,” he said between bites and adjusted his raggedy red friendship bracelet over his wrist. Joy was surprised he hadn’t ditched the thing while at college. It was so summer camp. “Besides—” he swallowed “—I had to keep up. Back in middle school, Joy’s appetite put me to shame.” He glanced at Gordon. “There’s nothing worse than being out-eaten at the school’s pie-eating contest by your pipsqueak little sister.”
“Ha ha,” Joy said, but she couldn’t help smiling. This was something that phone calls and IM chats couldn’t replace—the feeling of being in the same room, riffing off one another, sharing memories, teasing, being together. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed it until just now.
Stef clapped his hands together as he swallowed the last bite. “Okay, I hate to be incredibly rude, but I need to collapse on my face,” he said. “But before I go catatonic, I want to give you your present.”
“You brought me something?” Joy asked.
“Yep! And it’s bigger than a bread box.”
Joy clapped her hands and squealed at Monica. “I’m getting a present!”
Gordon laughed. “I think you just turned six,” he said. “I could see pigtails and everything.”
Joy stuck out her tongue as Stef hooked her elbow, propelling her into the kitchen. “Come over to the window,” he said.
“The window?” Joy asked nervously as the four of them crowded together and craned over the sink. Joy swallowed back the momentary jitters she experienced every time she came near the kitchen window. Her mind played tricks as her brain mixed a wild concoction of fear and memory, leaving Joy half expecting to find another message written in light or a monster’s giant tongue about to shatter the glass.
Shaking off her first memories of the Twixt, Joy looked down into the courtyard. It looked completely ordinary with a fat couple sunning in folding lawn chairs as three kids chased each other with Super Soakers near the parking lot.
“You got me a water gun?” she guessed.
Stef pointed. “No. There. In the corner.”
Joy stood on her tiptoes, spying Stef’s used Kia. “Is it in the car?”
Stef dangled keys from his fingers. “It is the car.”
Joy screamed. “I get your car?”
“With a quarter of a zillion miles on it. I was going to trade it in, but Mom and Dad agreed to buy it off me and give it to you.” He dropped the keys into her palm. Joy bounced in her shoes. “I’ll help you clean her up before I pick up my new one at the dealership, but then she’s all yours,” he said. “Be careful with the driver’s side window—it sticks.”
Joy wrapped her arms around Stef’s chest.
“Thankyouthankyouthankyou!”
“You can thank me by giving me oxygen.” He laughed as though pained and ruffled her bangs. “Okay! Now that I have officially won the Best Brother Ever Award, I would like to thank the Academy before I grab another couple slices of pizza and go to bed.” Stef pinched his lip and nodded to everyone. “Nice to see you, Monica. Nice meeting you, Gordon. Nice surprising you, Joy. My pillow awaits.”
Joy gave Stef a parting kiss on his scruffy cheek.
“Thanks, Stef! Welcome home!”
“You’re welcome and good night.” He waved as he dragged his duffel bag into his room, across the hall from hers. The door closed, and they all heard a thump.
“Well, he seems nice,” Gordon said. “So when do I get a car?”
“Care to take us for a spin?” Monica asked.
Joy swallowed some of her excitement. She’d promised Ink she’d stay home.
“Not until after Stef helps me clean it,” she said. “You know how he is.”
“He’s a slob,” Monica translated for Gordon.
“Like you should talk,” Gordon said. “My mother would kill me if my room looked like yours!” Monica poked him in the gut. He poked her back. Monica squealed. Joy tucked the keys in her pocket and sauntered back to the den. She had her own car. Stef was in his room. Her dad was due home soon, and her friends were laughing in the kitchen—it was a perfect ending to an almost-perfect night. Joy smiled as she closed the pizza box.
All it was missing was Ink.
* * *
Joy was late to work. She logged in at the exact moment she realized she’d forgotten to wash her apron. There were splashes of dried coffee and smears of dirt and what smelled like marinara on the pocket. She soaked a dish towel and hurriedly scrubbed at the stains.
“Someone’s here for you,” Neil said, tapping her shoulder with his cheat sheet. “Table Four. Asked for an ice water, hold the glass.” His voice dipped in sympathy. He’d been her senior server when she’d started at Antoine’s, and he still tried to keep an eye out for her. “What a way to start the day.”
“Are you kidding me?” Joy peeked around the counter to see who was at the two-top and stared. Invisible Inq was quietly kicking her heels under her seat, chin propped on the back of her interlaced fingers, smiling.
Joy tied off the bow and grabbed her check cover, swallowing panic. No one should be able to see Inq except her. No one without the Sight...
“Don’t forget your ice water,” Neil said as he went to fold napkins.
Watching Neil out of the corner of her eye, Joy stopped at the fill station and scooped some ice cubes onto a saucer, placing a teaspoon on it for good measure. The freezer wasn’t the reason chills swept over her body as she marched to Table Four.
The wily Scribe twinkled and waved her fingers.
“Hi, Joy!”
Joy didn’t know whether to put down the saucer or not, as if leaving evidence would confirm that she was certifiably crazy to the rest of the staff. Fortunately, it was still early, and the café was all but empty.
“What are you doing here?” Joy said under her breath.
“I thought I’d come visit you at work,” Inq chirped. “Make sure that you were okay. I heard pillow talk that you had a bit of excitement yesterday, and Ink asked me to check on you.” She eyed the smeared black apron. “Nice digs.”
Joy held her temper, knowing she had to choose her words carefully when speaking to invisible people, especially Inq.
“This is not a good time,” Joy whispered, trying to think of some reason she could give for standing in the middle of the restaurant talking to an empty table with a saucerful of ice in her hand. Did Neil realize that Table Four looked empty? Did he have the Sight? Had Joy put him in danger by leading Inq here? Had she exposed herself by admitting that she could see Inq, too? Joy was one of the rare people born with the Sight who had managed to keep her eyes from being cut out. Joy’s mind drifted to the four-leaf clover in her bag.
“Yes, well, that’s the trouble with mortality, isn’t it?” Inq said smoothly, opening her menu. “So much to do, so little time.” She smiled again. “I hear Antoine’s makes a passable frittata.” Joy was about to snatch the trifold menu out of her hands when Neil walked by. Inq turned to him boldly. “Excuse me,” she said. Joy froze. “Could I trouble you for a new napkin?”
Neil handed one of his freshly rolled cloth napkins to Inq and gave Joy a conciliatory “What can you do?” shrug before continuing on to Table Ten. Joy stared at Inq, who dabbed demurely at the corner of her lips.
“He can see you,” Joy said under her breath. “How can he see you? Does he have the Sight?”
Inq blinked her innocent all-black eyes. “Do you recommend the frittata?”
“Inq!” Joy placed the saucer of melting ice in front of Inq and crossed her arms as if she could hold in her heart attack. “What, exactly, does he see?”
“He sees me, of course,” Inq said with a grin. “But it’s not him—it’s me. I’m wearing a glamour. I look exactly like me, sans spooky eyes. It makes things easier when I want to buy something pretty or eat out on the town. Otherwise, it looks like some sort of ghost is haunting the place with stuff floating all around. So cliché.” She shut her menu primly. “I’d like the frittata, a side salad and a large glass of fresh orange juice, please.”
Joy flipped open her notebook and started writing to cover her racing thoughts.
“A glamour?” Joy said over her pen.
“Mmm-hmm.”
A way for the Folk to be seen—in this world!—and look like normal, everyday people? The possibilities blossomed like flowers in her brain.
“You knew,” Joy said.
“I suspected,” Inq said. “It doesn’t take a genius. Sooner or later you’d want a way to show off my brother, even if only to prove that you’re not crazy.” She tapped the table. “I’ve had more than one lehman, remember? I know how humans think.”
Joy finished writing with a flourish. “Can you tell me where to get one?”
“I’ll do better than that,” Inq said. “After brunch, I’ll show you.” She handed back the menu. “Extra croutons on the salad, please.”
* * *
After lunch, Joy stepped out of the ripples onto a familiar stretch of sidewalk. The reality check pushed her completely off balance. Inq caught her elbow.
“I thought we were going to see a man about a glamour,” Joy said.
Inq grinned. “We are.”
“Are we stopping by my house first?” Joy pointed back up the path that wound toward her condo. “We’re right between my place and the mini-mart.”
Inq started walking with a skip to her step. “Really? Do tell.”
“Wait,” Joy said while jogging to keep up. She had been nervous about being outside despite wearing the futhark pendant and having Inq as her guide. She was pretty sure Ink wouldn’t approve of the outing, but now Joy was curious, excited and confused. “Are you trying to tell me that you can buy glamours at the C&P?”
“Don’t be silly,” Inq said. “You buy glamours from a wizard. And, because this is the Glen—the original one—there’s all sorts of magic still around! You just have to know where to look.” She spoke while almost dancing around Joy in her excitement to share a new secret of the Twixt. “You’re not the only special snowflake in the neighborhood.”
Joy felt a grin tug at her lips. “So we’re really off to see the wizard?”
Inq nudged Joy. “You’re not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy!” she said. “This is Glendale, once known as the Glen, one of the access doors to Under the Hill, and still chock-full of magic! Can’t you feel it?” They were coming up to the mini-mart with its giant signs for the ATM, blue-raspberry slushies and state lottery tickets. They’d had a five-thousand-dollar winner. Joy blinked, trying to use her Sight to see what was hiding beneath the familiar building, but she didn’t see anything unusual. In fact, everything looked deceptively normal.
Inq laughed and threw her arms out. “Here we are!”
“Wait, I thought you said that you couldn’t buy them at the C&P?”
“I said you buy them from a wizard,” Inq said. “But the wizard happens to work at the C&P.”
Joy pushed open the door with its friendly two-tone hello. The smell was the same weird mix of air freshener and hot dogs. People milled about the aisles of snack bags and candy bars. Joy took a few steps inside and hugged her purse under her armpit. She was nervous about having so many humans as potential witnesses to Inq’s antics, and she still had no idea what was going on. The familiar and unfamiliar started square-dancing in her head.
Inq pretended to check out the covers of magazines while Joy debated snagging a fruit-and-nut bar to eat on her lunch break. At the café she could stave off the worst of her hypoglycemia by grabbing a roll here and there, but the carbs gave her a slow, weighty feeling that she never really enjoyed. Her lean, mean days of gymnastics training had given her a taste for chalky protein shakes, energy bars and aspartame.
“Watch,” Inq whispered to Joy as someone approached the counter. Joy’s stomach clenched. Mr. Vinh, the old proprietor, picked out the numbers on his cash register as he rang up a bag of nacho chips, a half liter of Coke, a pack of peanut M&M’s and a packet of gum. Mr. Vinh totaled the bill, and the customer paid cash. Before giving change, Mr. Vinh placed everything into a bag, including two small packets wrapped in leaves and tied with brown string. He hit Return on the register and counted out change, turning to address the next person in line. Joy kept her eyes on the young man who left—he looked Puerto Rican, but when he turned to shoulder the door, Joy saw that his throat was laced with pink gills and his feet in flip-flops had pale pink webs. The door closed behind him with its two-tone goodbye.
“You can’t be serious...” Joy whispered, disbelieving.
Inq smirked. “Meet Mr. Wizard.”
Joy shook her head. “It can’t be,” she said. “I’ve come here for years.”
“Of course you have,” Inq said, moving down the aisle. “But how often since your Sight’s been active? And did you buy any gum?”
“Gum?” Joy said, wondering when was the last time she’d chewed gum.
“It’s a code,” Inq said and waggled a slim red-and-black packet. “Nobody buys things like clove-flavored gum anymore. And buying certain snacks in combination is really a request for...other things.” Inq shrugged and pointed up. “Security cameras still work, so it’s important to keep up appearances. No one wants to run our supplier out of business. And, hey—” she waved a Kit Kat “—chocolate!” She winked. “Food of the gods.”
Joy stared as Inq stuffed a careful selection of things into her arms and pushed her forward. “Here,” she said impishly. “Go introduce yourself!”
Joy stared at her haul in dismay. She didn’t even like Gummi Worms...
Mr. Vinh glanced up at Joy as she spilled her armload onto the counter.
“Hello, busy girl,” he said in greeting.
“Hi, Mr. Vinh,” Joy whispered. He picked up the packet of spice-flavored gum.
“No sugarless mint?” he asked. It had been Joy’s favorite when she’d been in training, covering the sour smell of stomach acid in her mouth—the same sort of taste that was in her mouth now, all fear and nerves and reflux. She couldn’t believe that he remembered. “Maybe you want some wintergreen instead?”
Inq peeked over Joy’s shoulder. “How about a dermal, fourth-circle glamour with a subvocal charm?”
Mr. Vinh’s eyes lowered under his deep epicanthic folds, but he kept speaking to Joy as if he hadn’t heard Inq. “You are together?” he asked.
Joy nodded as Inq squeezed her shoulders. Mr. Vinh rang up the total for the lot.
“Eight dollars and seventeen cents,” he said. Joy handed over a crisp twenty. Mr. Vinh rubbed it between his fingers and held it up to the fluorescent light, all but rendered moot by the bright summer sun. Joy twisted her fingers. She felt like she was being carded. He finally nodded and made change, punching a number into the nearby phone. He spoke in rapid-fire something-ese, then hung up.
“My son will be here shortly,” he said. “Please wait over there.” He pointed to the lonely stack of morning papers in their thin wire display. Joy took her plastic bag, which sported a yellow smiley face and Have a Nice Day!, and stepped to the side. Inq grabbed a paper and flipped to the entertainment section.
“What are we doing?” Joy whispered as Inq turned pages.
