He may not be able to fly in the long run if he stays in these conditions, Dr. Walsh had told me. That phrase had felt like ice in my veins. Still does.
“We’ll figure it out as it comes,” Dr. Walsh reassures me. “For now, you both are safe. That’s a victory, James.”
Yes, all of this is a victory. Like I’ve landed the lottery. But I can’t help but feel like I’m walking on a ledge, like I’m already plummeting to my death, and I don’t think, this time, Farren will be there to catch me.
A happy yelp echoes from outside. Dr. Walsh and I both move to the window. The view is spectacular, stretching all the way to the cliffs I’ve just been warned against going near. Closer though, in the field below, Farren washes down Daphine, the dragon who helped save me. From this angle, it’s evident why Daphine resides in the Walsh Sanctuary. Dozens of scars crisscross over her blue scales, remnants of a fishing net.
Daphine sprays Farren with water and now she’s soaking wet, laughing. I twist away, feeling like a gawker if I look a second longer.
Dr. Walsh shakes his head, though I can tell he’s not exasperated. “That girl.”
Yes, that girl. That girl I need to stay away from, especially if she’s truly determined to get rid of me.
Even if this loft feels like freedom, I still can’t make any mistakes. I’m fighting to stay here for more than myself. I’m fighting for a proper future. One I’ll have to cut Farren Walsh out of if I want to survive.
CHAPTER SEVENWHEN YOU HAVE A MORNING OF MEDDLING AND METAL
FARREN
Ihave to start getting used to some things around here. Like James Murphy walking into the kitchen so early the sun has barely awoken. I’m scrambling eggs on the stove for my dad and me, our normal Monday summer ritual. One minute it’s a typical Walsh morning, with Mom organizing the weekly schedule at the table, and Dad in the other room taking a call that, by his tone, could be him discussing a life-threatening illness or ordering a ham sandwich for lunch. And then in walks Murphy.
He’s wearing that same impenetrable solemn expression. I think some people read mysterious as sexy. Maybe that’s why so many girls have a crush on him.
What a bunch of dragon dung.
On the other hand, he’s wearing simpler clothes than I’ve ever seen on him. No buttoned-up school uniform. No flying guards or silver chest plate. Just a white shirt, and riding pants with suspenders. His hair is also wet. Something I haven’t seen since I pulled him out of the water. A flash of memory returns of us both soaked, me clinging to him as I flew Daphine to the medical tent. I revert my attention back to the eggs, scraping at the pan.
“Well, good morning, James. Farren wasn’t joking. It seems we have another early riser on our hands.” Mom laughs as she sips her coffee. “I have to admit, I assumed most teenage boys sleep in late.”
I huff. I wouldn’t joke about James Murphy’s strangeness, especially when it could affect everything. I knew he’d be awake. Yet watching him awkwardly stand in my kitchen is still shockingly odd. Wrong.
“I saw the lights on,” James gives in explanation.
“Please, join us.” Mom whips her attention to me. “Farren, could you add some eggs for James?”
I’ve added dozens of eggs for Jeffrey and Shelly over the years. I still have the horrid impulse to object.
“I’m fine,” James inserts, but then he casts his eyes around the kitchen like the faded wildflower wallpaper is going to produce a new Farren-free menu. His awkwardness literally hurts to look at.
“How do you want them?” I ask without even glancing up, stunned that I’m about to learn how James Murphy likes his eggs. This is plain unnatural.
“Whatever you are making is fine.” He pauses. “Scrambled is fine.” He sits at Jeffrey’s designated seat. When I peek at him, he’s fidgeting with the pepper shaker.
I whisk up more eggs and off I go, making the nemesis breakfast. I find myself unable to ignore him though. James’s focus, however, is pulled toward my dad on the phone in the other room. The phrase “Do you see the bone?” can be heard in the calmest of voices.
“Patrick is probably discussing something awful,” Mom says. “You’ll get used to his upbeat tone and the fact that it never changes. Even when he is talking about the most gruesome of injuries. But that reminds me. Your mother wanted to make sure you knew where the phone was and that you are allowed to use it anytime.” She presses her lips together. “I do hope you won’t be too homesick.”
“I won’t.”
I plate the eggs, enthralled in my semi-eavesdropping.
Mom doesn’t take his short responses as indication to stop her questioning and she continues with, “Yes, but you may not see your friends all summer and, oh, what about a girlfriend? Someone as handsome as you must have a girlfriend.”
The pepper shaker clatters to the table.
I turn with the plates as James fumbles with the mess and answers. “No.” His gaze flicks to mine. “No, I don’t.”
I scowl as I lay down breakfast in front of him. Don’t look at me when you say that, I want to shout. My mom is going to think I’m harboring some secret boyfriend. And I’m not the one that would keep that a secret. James’s name gets circulated in the potential dating pools of school so often half the time I do believe the rumors he’s dating three people at once.
