We passed notes to each other in class, chatted during breaks, and she grinned at me in the corridors, but Summer hadn't yet asked me to sit with her at lunch. Every day I hoped for it, but part of me dreaded it, too. I still hadn't found a weekend job, so I could never afford to eat in the cafeteria. We lived in different worlds—the food I brought in would be a window into mine that I didn't want her looking through.
In homeroom one morning, a neatly folded note landed on my desk. We could use cell phones until the first class, but the Graces, unbelievably, didn't even own phones.
The paper had that off-white rough recycled thickness to it that made me feel more special just touching it. I wished I could buy some, in a beautifully bound notebook, and write my Book of Shadows on that paper, but I had to make do with a set of lined ones with shiny black covers from the dollar store.
I opened up the note.
Is it working yet? any tingles? — S
She meant the spell. And no. But then again, I hadn't even seen Fenrin since we'd done it. I had been half-hoping he'd come over to me the next day, mumbling something about not being able to help himself, he just had to know if I was free that evening. But that only happened in movies. I was glad it hadn't happened that way. It would have felt fake, and I wanted real—so real it was painful.
I got out my thin purple nib pen, the one that made my writing look delicate and creatively loopy, and scribbled back.
I don't think so. Maybe it takes some time?
She was five desks away from me on the diagonal, but people always passed her notes along without opening them. I watched her read it and then scribble something back in tiny letters at the bottom.
Lunch?
My heart leapt. I'd just eat the fish fingers I'd brought during afternoon break instead, and if she commented on my lack of food, I'd say I'd had too much breakfast. But when we both came out of physics, and she glanced at me in the hallway to make sure I was following, we didn't go to the cafeteria. We went back to the thicket.
It wasn't raining, but the wind still had an edge to it, and I wished I'd brought my striped scarf. It made me look five, but it was the only thick one I had. We traipsed across the field in silence. Summer never seemed to expect me to ask questions. I guess no one ever did, they just followed her around. Did I want to be one of those, too? Or should I try to impress her by challenging her?
We reached the thicket clearing and sat down. Summer still hadn't looked at me. She rooted in her bag—a hippy patchwork thing, totally at odds with the rest of her style—and pulled out a massive Tupperware box. I watched her, safe for a few seconds to stare. Her legs were so willowy. I'd have killed for legs like that.
"Where's your lunch?" she said as she opened up her box. It was full to the brim with colorful-looking food.
I thought of my sad little bundle of fish fingers wrapped up in foil and a plastic bag at the bottom of my backpack. "I didn't bring any."
"Huh? Why not?" Summer's mouth twisted. "You're not one of those who's always on some diet, are you?"
Judgment oozed from every syllable. Summer could get very impatient with anything she deemed stupid, which crossed a pretty wide range of behavior. I needed to remind her of the reason she'd taken an interest in me, that I wasn't like other girls—but not everyone was as naturally slim and beautiful and well off and lucky as her.
"No," I said. "I don't do diets. I'm just not very hungry, that's all."
"You want to try this?" she said, offering me her box. "It's pretty good. Esther is actually a great cook."
"Um, I'm not going to eat your lunch," I said, still stung. Did I really look that pathetically starved?
Summer was taken aback. "Wow. I'm not diseased."
"No, I didn't mean it like that. I just … I'm a really fussy eater."
"Just try it. If you don't like it, don't eat it. Simple as that."
I peered into the box.
"It's just meatballs with a lentil and vegetable salad. But she does have a wicked way with spices," Summer commented.
I picked up a meatball with my fingers and tasted it gingerly.
It was good.
It was so good. Springy meat edged with something sharp, like lemon, with onion and garlic and something else I didn't know, something wild and fruity. I ate three of them before I even realized what I was doing.
"Sorry," I said, pulling my fingers back. "Christ, I'm shoveling your lunch in like a hog."
"I'm not hungry," Summer said with a shrug, and she tossed me a fork wrapped carefully in a roll of cloth. The salad was even better. Lentils were something I boiled until they were this bitter slushy mush, and then I threw a couple of sausages in to make a greasy kind of stew. They'd always been cheap, stodgy winter filler. Never these little buttons of crunchy spice.
"Your mom is a genius," I said, my mouth full.
Summer's lips, stained with a deep plum color, curled up at the edges in a cold smile. "No, she's not."
"Well, my mom's idea of cooking is to collect takeaway menus and decorate the kitchen with them, so in comparison."
Summer didn't respond. Mothers seemed like a sore subject for her, and I wouldn't push anymore, but I found myself wondering if I'd ever get to meet fearsome matriarch Esther Grace.
I tried to change the subject. "Why aren't you eating in the cafeteria today?"
"Didn't feel like the crowds."
"But you always meet at least Lou and Gemma in there on Tuesdays," I said, and then stopped, annoyed at my slipup. My guard came down around her too easily.
Summer didn't seem to notice that I'd just confessed to semi-stalking her. "Ditched 'em," she said, looking up at the treetops.
I ducked my head down to hide the grin I could feel threatening to break out.
She'd ditched them to have lunch with me. On our own.
The hour we spent together that day was the first time I ever really talked to Summer properly. I was half-afraid she'd ask me about my house, or my family, or my life before this town, like everyone else had, as if existence could only ever be about those things and nothing more.
Instead we talked about dreams we'd had, the ones that felt more real than being awake; we talked about reincarnation and ghosts and whether we'd try to kill Hitler if time travel was real; about how intoxicating it was to lose yourself in another world so completely that you forgot your own reality. It was books for me. Music for her.
I'd never met anyone who wound her way through conversations like this, as naturally as dancing, as if there were no other way to talk. She told me that for her music was the closest to the concept of the divine as she'd ever get. I told her that the music she liked sounded more like demons mating in hell, and she roared with laughter, obviously pleased.
I was sitting next to a wild creature, sharing my innermost thoughts with a Grace who had turned her attention to me; it was terrifying and a thrill. It was the start of something.
We had lunch like that together three times before I finally worked out that Summer was feeding me on purpose. I didn't understand why at first. But then I remembered Fenrin seeing my slimy beans and cheese on toast, and for days afterward I could only feel the hot flash of shame whenever she was near.
If she noticed, she never said anything.
My name changed the next week.
I'd never told anyone my secret name before. I'd written it in my Book of Shadows on the inside cover.
This being the journal of the workings of the craft
By River Page
It had always been River, my secret name, as long as I could remember. That was how I knew it was the right one. It had unfurled itself in my mind, grown its roots right down into my spine. I couldn't be anything else, ever. Page because turning over to a blank page always gave me a sickly-sweet feeling in my guts. Blank pages could be transformed. They were new lives, over and over.
But I'd never told anyone about that name, and I thought I never would.
"I don't really like my name," I said to Summer one lunch-time. We were sitting in the cafeteria—the rain was pelting outside. She'd given me her lunch as usual, after having two bites and declaring herself full.
Instead of churning out the usual platitudes people liked to do, like one of her other friends would to her, Summer said, "Of course not. It's a boring name."
I liked her for that. But it still stung, until she followed it up with, "It doesn't suit you. It's not your real name, is it?"
I got exactly what she meant. And she said it because she knew that I would. And in that moment we connected, hard, and I felt something grateful and happy and fierce stirring inside me. My coal-black insides flared in recognition of a soul like mine.
"Nope," I said. "Not even close."
"So what is your real name?"
I didn't even think about it. I should have, but I didn't. Lou and Gemma were sitting with us, but they were screeching at each other about some TV show and paying no attention to our conversation.
"River," I said. "River Page."
"Way better," she commented, and that was that. "I'm going to call you River from now on."
No big deal. Done.
"So what are you doing this weekend?" she said to me.
"Summer," Lou murmured urgently, before I could reply. Her eyes were fixed across the room. "Look. He's totally stalking her."
I followed her gaze. Thalia had entered the cafeteria and was joining the queue for food. As I watched, Marcus detached himself from the wall he'd been leaning against and slipped in behind her.
"Jesus, that's creepy," said Gemma.
I watched him tap her on the shoulder, and her face dropped like a stone when she saw who it was. They exchanged a few words, but it was clear she wanted nothing more than to get away from him.
Sweet, friendly Gemma was full of fascinated disdain. "Why is he even in here? He never comes to the cafeteria."
"What's the deal with him and Thalia?" I dared to ask.
Lou shrugged. "Marcus is totally obsessed with Thalia, ever since forever. It's kind of sad, really. I mean, she'd obviously never go near him. But he just doesn't get it. He needs professional help."
I glanced at Summer. She was silent, watching them across the cafeteria.
"I'm going to go and rescue her," Gemma said.
Summer snorted. "She doesn't need rescuing."
Gemma obediently relaxed back down.
"She should get a restraining order," muttered Lou.
"They used to be friends, didn't they?" said Gemma.
"Yeah, but not anymore. Anyway, you can't be friends with someone like that."
"Someone like what?" I asked.
Lou tossed me an appraising glance. I was too new. I didn't get to have an opinion. I tried my hardest to look bland.
"Someone with mental problems," said Lou shortly.
Gemma nudged her. "He's gone."
"Thank the lord."
I glanced at Summer. She was toying with her necklace, turning the little piece of curved jet over and over in her fingers, and appeared not to be listening.
Fenrin's glaring match with Marcus made more sense now—Fenrin had a problem with him because of Thalia, and everyone knew about it. I'd seen Marcus interact with precisely no one around school. He was a pariah because that was what happened to people who messed with the Graces.
He was a lesson for me.
"Sum, stop playing with your jewelry and eat some food," said a voice.
Summer smiled sweetly. "That's rich, bitch."
Thalia shot her a look and slid into the free seat next to me, her hips curling forward to slip herself into the gap without moving the chair out. She had two thin scarves looped around her neck, long dangling feather earrings, and a deep pine-needle-green top that wrapped around her tiny torso and had ties that circled her waist twice, the ends trailing down one thigh. The caramel-colored hair wrap dangled loose from her topknot, resting against her shoulder. Summer had told me that the wrap was made from the hair of a mustang tail.
It was impossible not to stare. I tried my best. Thalia was only two years older than us, but in every other way she seemed miles ahead. It was curious how close the Graces were to one another because I knew it wasn't done for older people to hang out with younger people, especially if they were related. But the Graces gave no sign they'd ever noticed that rule.
"Hey, are you okay?" said Gemma, her voice carefully concerned. "What did he say to you?"
Thalia paused. "It's fine," she said. "Nothing." She started rearranging the objects on her tray with quick, precise movements, bracelets jangling and dangling off her wrists.
Lou shook her head. "What a prick."
Thalia's shoulders were stiff. Couldn't they see how much she hated them right now for bringing it up?
"Boring," said Summer loudly. "You'd be far more interested in the conversation we've just been having." She nodded to me.
"Why, what was it about?"
"People's real names," said Summer. "Sometimes, you know, you get given the wrong one."
Thalia raised a brow, leaning her chin on her hand in rapt attention. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lou start talking quietly into Gemma's ear.
"And," Summer continued, "sometimes you just know what the right one is."
I listened in sinking horror. Was she really going to tell her sister, the sun goddess, about it?
"So," concluded Summer. "Her real name, we've ascertained, is River."
"Oh no," I said. "I mean, we were just messing about."
Thalia shrugged. "If it's your real name, you should go by it, right?"
I swallowed, trying not to think about the fact that Thalia Grace was talking to me, casually, as if we did this every day.
"Yeah," I said, "but I can't just … change my name."
"Of course you can. Your name is simply what everyone collectively chooses to call you. So we'll just call you River."
"Sure," I muttered uneasily.
But inside, I felt myself start to unfurl with a secret kind of excitement. What if I really became River?
"So River," said Summer, and it came out of her naturally as if it had always been so. "As per our previously interrupted conversation, what are you doing this weekend?"
"Nothing much," I said. Everyone else would probably be going to the Wader, the late-open bar where all the surfers apparently hung out. It was all anybody could talk about in English on Friday afternoons. What they were wearing. Who they'd be seeing.
My extraordinary plans involved hitting up Luigi's, the Italian chain restaurant next to the cinema, to see if they needed any weekend kitchen staff. The rest of the time I'd bury myself in movies. Read some more of my witchcraft books. Write in my Book of Shadows.
Wonder what the Graces were doing.
"We're having a thing on the beach," said Summer vaguely. "Just a few of us. You should come."
"It's April. Isn't it, like, freezing right now?"
"Oh, we always have a massive bonfire. It'll be cool. We'll have food. BYOB."
I looked blank.
"Bring your own booze," said Thalia helpfully. "We bring food. You bring drink. And a gift."
"A gift?" I echoed, mystified. Was this some kind of strange local custom?
Thalia was coolly amused. "Well, it is considered polite when attending a birthday party to bring a gift. Or do you not do that where you come from?"
"Whose birthday party is it?"
Summer rolled her eyes. "It's not like a big thing."
I rounded on her. "Yours? You never said anything!"
"Really, because it's just not a major deal."
"Not a major deal?" drawled Lou, cutting in. "Are you serious? It's basically the party of the year. Last time everyone got completely naked and did these chants—"
"Don't be ridiculous," said Thalia. "I was there, nothing like that happened."
"It was after you fell asleep." Summer grinned wickedly at her.
I couldn't tell if it was all a joke. Naked chanting? I'd never be able to do that, no matter how drunk I got. But back then I didn't know just how far I would go.
Thalia must have noticed my dismayed expression. She leaned closer to me as the rest of the table discussed the highlights of the year before.
"What's up?" she said softly, underneath the cafeteria noise.
"It's just … I need to get her a gift."
"I have to get her something from Fenrin, on Saturday. He never sorts it out in time. You want to come with me?"
Fenrin's name made my nerve endings sizzle.
"If you don't mind, that would be great," I said, without letting myself think about it. "Because I have no idea what to get."
I still had a little bit of money stashed in the box under my bed—I could use some for a gift. Though these days I often had to dip into it for food shopping when we were tight. We'd never exactly been a yacht-owning family, but with Dad gone, there was no second income to hide my mother's love of slot machines. We had a silent pact I never remembered making—she wouldn't remind me of the reasons why he wasn't around anymore, and I wouldn't remind her that gambling wasn't the best way to try and solve our money issues.
Thalia's voice was casually sly. "Fenrin's not coming with us, though," she said. "He always surfs all day Saturdays. It'll just be you and me."
"Oookay," I drawled. My heartbeat skipped. His beautiful face flashed in my head.
Thalia peered at me, then glanced at Summer and laughed. "You were right. There's nothing."
Summer shrugged. "Told you. It's a miracle."
"So she's gay."
I frowned. "She? I'm right here, you guys."
"Are you gay?" Summer said, leaning back in her chair.
I suddenly noticed that Lou and Gemma were listening in.
"What are you talking about?" I said.
"You don't like Fenrin," said Thalia, her soft doe eyes narrowed in amusement.
"I mean, I don't know him. I'm sure he's really nice."
"But you don't lust after him. Hence, you must be gay."
Lou laughed. Even Gemma was grinning at me. I wanted to strangle them both.
"Um, okay." I held my hands up. "I'm not gay."
"There's nothing wrong with being gay," Summer said, her expression cold. "Are you, like, ashamed?"
The wolves were circling. Think fast.
"No way," I replied firmly. "I read an article once that said there was no such thing as gay or straight, that sexuality was fluid. I mean, maybe if you're totally straight, you're kind of boring. No offense."
Summer smirked at Thalia, who shook her head and said, "No offense, but girls don't have what I need."
"The cock?" said Summer, delighted.
"Shut up. Gay, bi, straight, whatever she might be, River and I will be going shopping for your present on Saturday, so get your requests in now, 'cos you totally dropped the poor girl in it by not telling her it was your birthday in three days."
"Who's River?" asked Gemma.
They both ignored her.
Summer shrugged. "You know the kind of thing I like. Get me a band T-shirt."
"I will not," Thalia said. "The last one you bought had a picture of two skulls that sat right on your boobs. Esther pitched a fit, and I don't really feel like making her mad at me."
"Whatever," Summer said airily, and started talking to Lou on her left.
"So I was thinking of going around noon," Thalia said to me.
"Cool. I can meet you there. You're going to the Four Bells, right?"
The Four Bells was the shopping center in the middle of town. It was a strange name to call a shopping center, so I'd done a little research. Apparently, the council had named it after an old town myth, maybe thinking to root it into the community somehow, make it part of the local history. As if a man-made building full of gold-plated jewelry and plastic burger smells could be anything near as cool as that story.
Thalia scoffed. "That dive? No way. We're going to the Mews."
The Mews area was full of twisting alleys, away from the sea and close to the train station. I'd been told it was weirdo central.
"Don't look so worried. It's okay around there," said Thalia, offhand. "Well, during the day, anyway. We won't be hassled."
I shrugged. "I'm not worried. So, we should meet at noon outside the train station?"
"Yup."
Inside, I was whirling.
I was going out with Thalia on Saturday.
She called me River.
They'd both called me River, as if it was my name.
Thalia threw a dangling scarf end back over one shoulder, picked up her fork, and started to eat. But she didn't just eat. She shoveled, forking it in like she'd die if she didn't consume every last scrap within a minute, jaw furiously working, cheeks puffed with food.
I think my mouth fell open.
Summer was watching me sympathetically.
"Yeah," she said. "Everyone gets the same look on their face the first time they see that dainty bitch eat."