Beautiful Chaos(130)

“Aunt Marian!” I was so relieved to see her that I almost knocked her out cold as I hugged her. When I finally let go, I could tell she was waiting for me to say it. Something, anything—about the reason they let her go.

So I waded in, slowly. Giving them bits and pieces of the story that didn’t quite fit together. At first, they were both relieved to hear some good news. Gatlin, and the Mortal world, wasn’t going to be destroyed in a supernatural apocalypse. Casters weren’t going to lose their powers or accidently set themselves on fire, although in Sarafine’s case it had saved our lives. They heard what I wanted them to hear: Everything was going to be okay.

It had to be.

I was trading my life for it—that’s the part I left out.

But they were both too smart to let the story end there. And the more pieces I gave them, the quicker their minds fit the pieces together to create the twisted truth of it all. I knew exactly when the last piece slid into place.

There was the terrible moment when I saw their faces change and the smiles fade. Liv wouldn’t look at me. She was winding her selenometer compulsively and twisting the strings she always wore around her wrist. “We’ll figure something out. We always do. There has to be another way.”

“There isn’t.” I didn’t need to say it; she already knew.

Without a word, Liv untied one of the frayed strings and tied it onto my wrist. Tears were running down her cheeks, but she didn’t look at me. I tried to imagine myself in her place, but I couldn’t. It was too hard.

I remembered losing my mom, staring at my suit laid out on the chair in the corner of my room, waiting for me to put it on and admit she was dead. I remembered Lena kneeling in the mud, sobbing, the day of Macon’s funeral. The Sisters staring glassy-eyed at Aunt Prue’s casket, handkerchiefs wadded in their hands. Who would boss them around and take care of them now?

That’s what no one tells you. It’s harder to be the one left behind.

I thought about Aunt Prue stepping through the Last Door so calmly. She was at peace. Where was the peace for the rest of us?


Marian didn’t say a word. She stared at me like she was trying to memorize my face and freeze this moment so she could never forget it. Marian knew the truth. I think she knew something like this was coming the moment the Council of the Keep let her come back.

Nothing came without a price.

And if it had been her, she would have done the same thing to protect the people she loved.

I was sure Liv would’ve, too. In her own way, that’s exactly what she did for Macon. What John tried to do for her on the water tower. Maybe she felt guilty that it was me instead of him.

I hoped she knew the truth—that it wasn’t her fault, or my fault, or even his fault. No matter how many times I wanted to believe it was.

This was my life, and this was how it was ending.

I was the Wayward. And this was my great and terrible purpose.

It was always in the cards, the ones Amma was so desperate to change.

It was always me.

But they didn’t make me say any of that. Marian gathered me up in her arms, and Liv wrapped her arms around us both. It reminded me of the way my mom always hugged me, like she would never let go if she had a choice. Finally, Marian whispered something softly. It was Winston Churchill. And I hoped I would remember it, wherever I was going.

“ ‘This is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.’ ”





12.21





Remainders


Lena wasn’t in her bedroom at Ravenwood. I sat down on her bed to wait, staring up at the ceiling. I thought of something and picked up her pillow, rubbing it against my face. I remembered smelling my mom’s pillowcases after she was gone. It was magic to me, a piece of her that still existed in my world. I wanted Lena to at least have that.

I thought about Lena’s bed, the time we broke it, the time the roof caved in on it, the time we broke up and the plaster had rained down on everything. I looked at the walls, thinking about the words that wrote themselves there the first time Lena told me how she felt.

You’re not the only one falling.

Lena’s walls weren’t glass anymore. Her room was the same as it was the day we first met. Maybe that was how she was trying to keep things. The way it was at the beginning, when things were still full of possibility.

I couldn’t think about it.

There were bits of words everywhere, I guess because that’s how Lena felt things.



WHO CAN JUDGE THE JUDGE?





It didn’t work like that. You couldn’t reset the clock. Not for anyone. Not even for us.



NOT WITH A BANG BUT A WHIMPER





What was done was done.

I think she must have known, because she left a message for me, written across the walls of her room in black Sharpie. Like the old days.



DEMON MATH

what is JUST in a world

you’ve ripped in two

as if there could be

a half for me

a half for you

what is FAIR when

there is nothing

left to share

what is YOURS when

your pain is mine to bear

this sad math is mine

this mad path is mine