Riya didn’t need to answer—Nyra probably already knew.
“Not tonight,” she murmured anyway, clutching her bowl—though she wasn’t exactly hungry anymore.
“Right.” Nyra smiled, but it was smaller now. “I know you’re busy. But we’ll miss you. We always do.”
Riya nodded and hurried up the stairs, as if she couldoutrun the sound of their voices.
She wished Amara hadn’t brought up her little hypothetical—brought attention to it. Attention she couldn’t deal with right now. Because for one awful second, she’dfeltit—her mom’s eyes, lingering. Like she didn’t want to scare Riya off. Like there was still a chance she might be coming back to them.
Riya shut her door behind her, set her dinner down untouched, and flipped open her laptop.
Then she pulled up every digital archive she could think of.
Letting out a long breath through her nose, she clicked through page after page in her browser. The text blurred, her swollen, tired eyes burning.
Even if Kian didn’t understand the stakes. Even if the world refused to give her answers—
Giving up was not an option.
Chapter 14
Kian had been nowhere to be found today.
It should’ve been a relief.
For the past week or so, she’d almost grown used to his bizarre omnipresence: the casual lean against a locker; the not-so-subtle glances across the cafeteria; the suspiciously well-timed hallway encounter. Friday, she’d fled AP US History four minutes early to avoid him, only to spot him at the vending machine outside her class, contemplating a bag of pretzels like it held the meaning of life.
If he wasn’t around now—had something happened? Was it too much to hope for that the curse was loosening its grip?
More likely, the red thread that bound them was choking him out like a starving anaconda. Meanwhile she was stuck in PE, wasting a precious hour she could spend finding an actual solution, with the full moon on the 26th getting closer by the day.
“Dodgeball agaaain?” whined Michael Woodward. He was the president of the Improv Club, though Riya did not find him funny, especially after he’d demanded funding to pay for club T-shirts.
Coach Reese, PE teacher and former marine, didn’t look up from his clipboard. “Yup.”
Michael’s friend, Akash Kumar, groaned. “Someonedidn’tfeel like teaching today, huh.” He froze whenthatmade Coach Reese look up. “Uh, no offense, Coach. I just mean I’d rather do one of those team-building exercises. Like an obstacle course.”
“Dodgeballisa team-building exercise. Right, Khan?”
Despite Riya’s general indifference to PE, Coach Reese liked her. Probably because she was one of the few students who didn’topenlycomplain.
“You could argue that,” answered Riya. “Unfortunately.”
“?‘Unfortunately’?”Coach Reese barked a laugh. “Well, I’ll take it. Everyone line up!”
“Goody Two-shoes,” Michael muttered.
Riya shot him a glare; he ducked behind Akash.
“I think they wanted you to talk Coach out of it,” came a voice at her ear.
Riya stiffened. Right. Theotherdownside to PE class:Quinwas in it.
They stood half a step too close, their silvery-blond hair clipped back, bemused as always.
“I don’t have that kind of influence,” Riya said. “They’d be better off asking you.”
“True.” Quin smirked. “Too bad Ilovedodgeball.” Their eyes skimmed her. “You look like you should take this opportunity to blow off some steam.”
