I looked up to see Tati standing in the doorway of the kitchens. Sometimes Indigo would make a kitten-cry and wrap her arms around Tati and call her Tottlepop. Tati loved it when Indigo called her that. She would kiss Indigo on the head, and for a moment they’d look like mother and daughter.
I tried not to watch them when they were like this. My mother never held me. Maybe she wanted to, but whenever she came home from operating the ferry’s ticketing office, Jupiter was always there to gather her up and so there was nothing left for me.
Tati approached us, and Indigo straightened in her seat. When she got all stiff like that and called Tati “the guardian,” Tati’s face closed. But Tati couldn’t see Indigo’s expression at that moment.
“You’re wasting all that sunlight,” she said, perching her chin on Indigo’s head and winking at me.
Beyond the shape of their eyes and color of their hair, Tati and Indigo didn’t look much alike, even though she was the older sister of Indigo’s mother. Tati’s features were wide, squashy, and friendly. Indigo was drawn with a more restrained, elegant hand.
“She’s not nearly as beautiful as my mother,” Indigo had told me. “But I still love her.”
I didn’t need Tati to be beautiful to love her. I loved her the moment I had entered the House, and Tati feigned a gasp: “Indigo! Is this your long-lost sister, or did you finally bring one of your shadows to life?”
I had beamed when she said that. Here, I belonged. I didn’t mind if that meant being someone else’s shadow.
Most days, Tati wore colorful scarves on her head, and when she hugged me, it was like she was using up all her strength for that one embrace. Tati was a witch, which is to say she was a kind of artist. She worked, she told us, in “the medium of memory” and smelled like hot glue and dried roses.
“It’s gross outside,” said Indigo, studying the puzzle, ignoring Tati’s arms wrapped around her.
“We tried swimming in the creek,” I offered.
“Too cold,” said Indigo.
“Oooh, there’s an idea!” said Tati. “Why don’t I have a pool built for you girls? I can put it in the backyard—”
“I don’t want a pool inmybackyard,” said Indigo, enunciating each word.
“Oh, sweetheart, are you sure? I think you girls would love it—”
Indigo pushed her hair back and chose that moment to toss her head, hitting Tati’s face. Tati winced, her hand flying to hermouth. Tears of pain welled in her eyes. Indigo turned to glance at her. I thought she would apologize, but she didn’t.
“I don’t want a pool onmyproperty,” said Indigo, annoyed. “The end.”
I slid from my chair. “Are you hurt, Tati?”
“I’m fine,” she said through clenched teeth.
When she lowered her hand, I saw blood on her fingertips. She quickly wiped her hand along her dark skirt.
“Then why don’t you girls go to the local pool?” she asked. She tried to smile, but the warmth had vanished from her voice, replaced with something soft and yielding. It reminded me of the way my mother spoke to Jupiter. “I’ll write a note so they let you in.”
A few hours later, we sat in the shade cast by the lifeguard’s chair, our feet dangling in the water. The public pool was crowded, and it smelled like sunblock and sweat. I kept glancing at Indigo, wondering if she’d say anything about Tati. I felt guilty for accepting Tati’s hug before we left. Indigo had shrugged her off, and so I had let Tati hold me as close as she’d ever held Indigo.
Indigo stared across the water. “Did you know that if you possess someone’s true name, they’ll belong to you forever?”
“What’s a true name?”
“Like a secret name,” said Indigo solemnly. “Everyone has a true name. Trees, monsters... even people. What’s yours?”
“Azure,” I said.
Indigo shuddered. “I can’t believe you said it out loud!”
“So?”
I tried to appear nonchalant, though I worried I had given up something priceless.
“Sometimes your real name is the name people call you. But it’s only important if someoneknowsthat it’s true,” said Indigo, eyeing me. “And once they know it’s true, then they own you and you can never gain your freedom unless they give it back to you.”
