Grey

Book One of the Romany Outcasts Series

CHRISTI J. WHITNEY

HarperVoyager

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street,

London SE1 9GF

www.harpervoyagerbooks.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperVoyager 2015

Copyright © Christi J. Whitney 2015

Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2015.

Cover photographs © Shutterstock.com

Christi J. Whitney asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Digital eFirst: Automatically produced by Atomik ePublisher from Easypress.

Ebook Edition © April 2015 ISBN: 978-0-00-811358-2

Version: 2015-04-02

To the E.H.S.T.S.

You know who you are

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

1. Dreams and Waking

2. Hope and Fear

3. Lost and Found

4. Rise and Fall

5. Sink or Swim

6. Sighted or Blind

7. Fire and Ice

8. Fight or Flight

9. Darkness and Light

10. Sanity and Madness

11. Drought and Rain

12. Betrayal or Trust

13. Day or Night

14. To Be or Not To Be

15. Free or Bound

16. Calm and Panic

17. Turbulence and Tranquility

18. Smoke and Mirrors

19. Words or Actions

20. Everything and Nothing

21. Heaven and Hell

22. Faith or Futility

23. Demons or Angels

24. Alive or Dead

25. Reluctance and Surrender

26. Mended and Torn

27. Flesh and Stone

Acknowledgements

About the Author

About the Publisher

1. Dreams and Waking

‘Sebastian!’

I hear my name, but I can’t answer. I’m trapped by the image in my head.

It flashes again.

Rainbow-scorched leaves. Gypsy music.

Caravans of faded paint.

‘Sebastian Grey!’

Dark and nothing.

I struggled for words. ‘Yes, sir?’

‘Are you joining this group or not? I need to get a list…’

Another flash.

Bonfires. Starless night.

A girl dancing. Ribbons in her hair.

‘For the last time, Mr Grey, wake up!’

My mind ripped free. I jolted, launching papers into orbit. For a split second, I wasn’t convinced of my surroundings. Then, as fluorescent lights bored through my skull, it hit me.

I was in the middle of class.

And twenty-five pairs of eyes were staring straight at me.

All my school supplies littered the floor – textbooks, papers, colored index cards. Everything except the pencil that I’d somehow snapped between my fingers. I coughed and hunkered in my seat. Across the aisle, Avery leaned sideways in his desk, giving me the look I’d seen way too many times: the one that questioned my sanity.

‘Crap,’ I whispered.

I’d done it again.

Mr Weir moved closer. He glowered at me from under spidery eyebrows. I prepared myself for the tirade. But just as he took a wheezing breath, the bell rang. I shrugged and gave him my best smile as the room reverberated with slamming books and screeching chairs.

Mr Weir grunted and waddled back to his desk, my outburst promptly dismissed as more important matters – like the end of the school day – took precedence. I dropped to one knee and recovered my textbook.

‘Hey, Sebastian, you okay?’ Avery towered over me. ‘What just happened there?’

I blinked away the lingering haze. ‘It appears I must have dozed off.’

‘Seriously, man,’ said Avery, his brows shooting up. ‘Who talks like that?’ He knelt and picked up one of my library books, examining it with a shake of his head. ‘I swear, sometimes I think you read way too many old books. They’re messing with your head.’

I snatched it out of his hands. ‘I don’t read old books.’

‘You read Shakespeare.’

‘That’s different.’

Avery laughed, shoving papers at me. ‘Sure it is.’

I stuffed them in my bag, taking care to hide my tattered copy of Hamlet from Avery’s prying eyes. We squeezed into the crowded hall, avoiding locker doors banging open and shut around us.

‘You never answered my question, you know,’ Avery continued.

‘I realize that.’

We strolled in companionable silence down the hallway. Okay, maybe I was the one who was silent. Avery Johnson – senior superlative and social giant – had something to say to everybody we passed. At the end of the corridor, he stopped.

‘Okay, what was it this time?’

‘Nothing,’ I replied. ‘I fell asleep.’

‘Yeah, right,’ Avery said in an amused huff. ‘That wasn’t a nap. That was a complete zone out. Same as this morning in gym, when you stood there like a zombie until Alex Graham smacked you in the face with the ball.’

‘I’m athletically challenged.’

‘Try strange,’ he replied.

‘Can you maybe find another expression to stare at me with? It’s not helping.’

Avery went dramatically serious. ‘Sorry.’

‘Oh, that’s better,’ I replied. ‘I feel much more comfortable now.’ Avery’s features didn’t change. There’d be no avoiding it this time. I worked out my confession. ‘Okay, so you know when you stare at a camera flash and then you keep seeing the glow, even after it’s gone?’

‘Yeah…’

I gripped the strap of my backpack. ‘Well, I keep seeing this same thing in my head, like a camera flash. Only not a light. An image. It used to just happen at night, but now I’m starting to see it during the day.’

‘What exactly do you keep seeing?’

‘A girl.’

Avery whistled slyly. ‘Must be some dream, eh?’

‘No, it’s not like that.’ My head throbbed. I pinched the bridge of my nose between my fingers. ‘It’s not a dream.’

‘A vision, then,’ said Avery, lighting up like Christmas. ‘You can see the future! Or maybe the past. You know, like that guy on TV. The one that helps the cops solve cases and junk.’

I grinned sideways. ‘If only. ’Cause that would be kind of cool.’

‘And profitable,’ added Avery. ‘We could totally…’

‘Hate to disappoint,’ I said, holding up my hands before he could spout off some money-making scheme that I would – mostly likely – lose cash on. ‘But I don’t have dreams, visions, premonitions, or anything worth printing up business cards for. It’s just an image. I probably saw it in a book somewhere.’

‘Well, whatever it is, when you come out of it, you do this jerking spaz thing.’ He demonstrated for my benefit. ‘Like a bad episode of Sebastian Can’t Dance. Maybe you should ease up on the caffeine.’

‘Oh, you’re hilarious,’ I said, shoving him towards the exit doors. I wasn’t about to tell Avery I’d seen the image every night for two months, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had any decent sleep. I’d reached the limits of sharing. ‘Glad to know I covered all the basics of self-embarrassment. Maybe next time I’ll work up a drool.’

Avery pushed open the set of metal doors, flashing a Cheshire grin as he passed through. ‘Hey, don’t worry too much about it, Sebastian. It’s not like it’s the first time you’ve done something weird.’

My brother Hugo owned a tattoo shop on the edge of town, near the railroad tracks. It was a hole-in-the-wall, crammed between a flea market and a convenience store; just the kind of place where you’d expect to find people injecting ink into each other’s arms. A neon sign hung over the door flickering the words Gypsy Ink Tattoo Parlor. A woman’s face, showing her with flowing hair and hoop earrings, adorned the front window.

I eased my sputtering old van into a parking space with a sigh of relief. Memories of Sixes High School faded away as I opened the shop’s painted black door and stepped out of the blinding sun.

The eclectic style of the Gypsy Ink fascinated me, with its bright red walls and linoleum floor – black-and-white checked – like an old diner. A coffee table scattered with tattoo magazines faced the front counter, flanked by two dilapidated purple leather sofas. The art was a portfolio of skulls, roses, and half-naked women.

I dumped my backpack in a rickety armchair and reached for the stash of candy Hugo kept in a plastic monkey head next to the register. My gaze went automatically to the enormous framed picture hanging behind the counter: a colorful caravan of Gypsies gathered around a campfire.

I popped a fistful of gummy bears in my mouth and frowned at the painting. I wondered if I’d looked at the picture so much it had imprinted itself onto my psyche. And if it had, then how was I supposed to get rid of it? I squinted at each figure on the canvas. The image my brain kept conjuring definitely resembled the Gypsies in the painting, but not an exact match. My reverie was broken by a rough, friendly voice from the back of the shop.

‘Hey Sebastian, is that you?’

‘Yeah, it’s me.’

It was uncanny how Hugo could do that. My brother always seemed to know who was in the shop. It was both creepy and comforting.

‘Grab us a couple of sodas, will you? I’ll be out in a minute.’

I heard the buzz of Hugo’s ink needle. I snagged two sodas from the shop’s refrigerator then grabbed a container of beef jerky and a jumbo bag of salt-and-vinegar potato chips off the shelf. I deposited my stash on the coffee table and flopped on the closest sofa. Popping the lid off the container, I started in on the jerky and leafed through a magazine while I waited for Hugo to finish.

Five minutes later, a lanky kid appeared, sporting a bandage of plastic wrap on his bicep. Hugo entered just behind, slapping him on the back and giving a speech on tattoo aftercare. The kid, looking pale and relieved, shook my brother’s hand and left, jangling the string of bells above the door.

Hugo laughed and plopped beside me. My foster brother looked like a tattoo artist. He was wearing a pair of jeans that were so splattered and tattered they should have been burned. His black T-shirt was rolled up to his shoulders, showing off arms covered in a myriad of designs that extended to the fingers of both hands. A swirling tattoo sprouted out of the collar of his shirt, winding its way up to his right ear. His dark hair and goatee would have made a Viking proud.

He reached for his soda. ‘So, how was school today?’

Because he was thirty and ran his own business, Hugo felt the need to act parental with me, even if I was technically an adult and not legally under his care. I shrugged and ripped open the bag of potato chips.

‘It was okay, I guess.’

Hugo leaned back, taking a swig from his can. ‘That good, huh?’

I scarfed down the chips and let my gaze drift over the waiting room. It was usually quiet this time of day around the Gypsy Ink. The shop didn’t officially open until noon, and most of the regulars came during evening hours. ‘So, where are the guys?’ I asked, steering the conversation away from school.

‘Kris took the day off, and Vincent and James are next door at the store. We’re down to a just a few sodas and a bag of…’ He trailed off, noticing the empty beef jerky container and the damage I was doing to the family-sized bag of chips. ‘Make that a few sodas. Man, Sebastian, you eat more than anyone I know. Where do you put it all?’

I turned the bag up to my mouth. A few crumbs bounced off my shirt, sprinkling the floor. ‘I can’t help it if I’m always hungry.’ I crushed the bag in my hand and tossed it across the room. It dropped easily into the trash can at the door. ‘I’m a growing boy, Hugo.’

He shot me a look, but I couldn’t interpret it very well. Another ability of Hugo’s that unnerved me was the way he could just close off his emotions, like shutting blinds on a window. One minute, I knew exactly what he was thinking, and the next, it was as if I didn’t know him at all. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘you’re going to eat us out of the shop. You know that, don’t you?’

My lips curled into a grin. ‘I’ll pay you back one day. If you’ll teach me to ink, I’ll work for you.’

‘Yeah, yeah, that’s what you say.’ Hugo leaned forward, ruffling my hair affectionately. ‘But for now, just do your homework and then sweep the floor. I’ve got to clean up my work area.’

He’d never been receptive to my tattoo artist idea. It was always talk about high school and graduation with him. He left the room while I rifled through my backpack for my calculus book and binder. The sound of my brother rummaging through things in the back made me stop and smile.

Though we weren’t related by blood, Hugo Corsi was the only family I had. I didn’t like thinking of myself as a foster kid, but I’d grown up in a state-run group home. I probably would have stayed there until I aged out of the system, but Hugo’s parents had changed all that.

Not long after they asked me to live with them, the Corsis went to Europe to take care of some major family business, but they said they wanted me to stay in Sixes and finish school. Hugo owned a small apartment attached to his tattoo parlor, and he volunteered to take me in.

Of course, I was grateful to Hugo. Because of him, I had a home and some semblance of a family. The Gypsy Ink was all I knew, but I was comfortable here.

I struggled through the math problems and managed to have them done by the time Hugo reappeared in the waiting room.

‘How’s pizza sound?’ he asked. ‘Kris has a customer coming in tonight, so he’s going to pick up some food on the way over.’

My stomach rumbled. ‘Pizza would be great. Make sure he gets enough.’

Hugo shot me that look again. ‘Don’t worry, he knows how you eat.’

It was getting dark outside, and the shop’s fluorescent lights threatened me with a headache. Hugo saw me rubbing my temples, and he switched on the lamp, dousing the overhead bulbs. The throbbing in my skull dissipated, but the annoying pain spread to my back. I rolled my shoulders, pressing my fingers into the tense muscles.

‘So, how’s the back?’ Hugo asked, sitting down beside me. He busied himself with straightening the magazines, but I could hear an edge to his voice.

I sighed and gave a one-shouldered shrug. ‘Not bad.’

‘Is it getting worse?’ Hugo studied my hand as I rubbed my neck.

‘It’s a little stiff. Maybe I’m sleeping on it wrong or something. It hasn’t bothered me until just now; probably from leaning over my notebook too long.’

Hugo’s examination made me a little uncomfortable. Sure, my back had been giving me trouble off and on the last few weeks, but Hugo was staring at me like I’d gotten into all his ink and had a graffiti-fest on the wall.

Suddenly the front door swung open, and Vincent and James burst in, bearing plastic bags of groceries. James saw me first and chucked his bags into the armchair before grabbing me in a headlock and hoisting me off the couch.

‘Hey, Sebastian! How was school today, man?’

He set me down, and I scrambled out of his grasp. The man was huge, with muscles flexing under his tattoos and a shock of brown hair pulled haphazardly into a ponytail at the nape of his neck.

I rubbed my protesting shoulders and backed away before James decided to pick me up and toss me across the room in another friendly display of affection. ‘It was fine, James.’

Vincent – who was tall, red-headed, and sported the most tattoos of anyone in the shop – tossed a package of paper towels and toilet paper in my direction. ‘You know better than to ask him, James. We never get details.’

‘We should work on that,’ said James.

I rolled my eyes. ‘Well, I’m hungry and I’ve just had paper goods thrown at me. Sorry if I’m not in the mood for story time.’ Vincent flashed me a lip-pierced grin. I tucked the packages under my arms. ‘I’ll be right back.’

The bathroom of the Gypsy Ink was not the cleanest place in the shop. After all, the responsibility of maintaining it fell to four guys who were having a good day when they remembered to brush their teeth and change their underwear. Since coming to stay with Hugo, the job of keeping it decent for customers had become mine. I complained, but I couldn’t really do anything about it. I had to earn my keep, so to speak which, apparently, included bathroom detail.

I flicked on the light and surveyed the damage. It wasn’t too bad, so I decided to put off cleaning until the next day. I tossed the packages under the sink and hurried out, passing the rooms where the guys did their tattooing. Each one matched their personalities, from my brother’s bright orange walls to Vincent’s pirate theme.

I started to round the corner into the waiting room when something pulled me up short. Everything was strangely quiet. I paused and listened. And then, I heard my name. The guys were talking, but their voices were low, barely above whispers. Instinctively, I pressed my back against the wall and slid forward so I could hear.

‘If this is true, it changes everything.’

‘We don’t know that.’

‘We can’t jump to conclusions without proof.’

‘But we can’t wait either.’

‘Hugo, what have you seen?’

There was a pause in the conversation, followed by my brother’s slow intake of breath. ‘I can’t be sure yet,’ he said. ‘And until I am, nothing will be done, understand? Now, shut up, all of you. He’ll be back any second. Get out the pizza.’

The others abruptly switched the conversation to trivial things. I continued to lean against the wall, ignoring the ache in my shoulders. This was more important. I’d just eavesdropped on some big secret, and it was pretty obvious why I’d been left out. Whatever they’d been whispering about, it had to do with me.

My stomach grumbled and I pressed my hand against my torso. Maybe they’d been discussing whether I was ready to learn how to tattoo, something I’d been begging Hugo about for months. If so, then I definitely wanted to know.

I put on an easy smile and launched into the room. ‘So, what were you guys talking about?’

Hugo glanced up from the cash register. ‘Nothing important.’

‘Are you sure?’ I pressed. ‘Because it sounded like…’

‘Just shop talk,’ he said, cutting me off.

I met my brother’s eyes and read the look. I wasn’t going to get anywhere with the direct approach. I switched gears while I debated my next attempt. ‘Hey, Kris,’ I said, eyeing the pizza boxes in his hands. ‘It’s about time. My stomach’s threatening to eat itself.’

‘Yeah, I got your food right here,’ Kris replied. ‘Just try to save some for the rest of us, eh?’

There were four pizzas: two were cheese and two were loaded with meat. I normally opted for the cheese, but tonight, the meat had my number, and I piled six slices onto my plate and ripped through them like there was no tomorrow. James shook his head incredulously at me, and I grinned back.

The guys talked about the shop and their customers and about the repairs Hugo was making on his bike. Vincent said his girlfriend was going to stop by, and James thought that his wife might also show up. I listened in silence as I worked through the pizza, but fragments of their whispered conversation filtered through my head.

‘Sebastian.’ Hugo frowned at me. ‘You look tired. Why don’t you go back to the apartment? Maybe watch some TV? Kris has a customer coming in, and we’re going to stick around and help close up after.’

The hint was far from subtle.

There’d be no secrets spilled tonight, unless I forced it. My brother was worse than a maximum-security prison when he wanted to be. But I was patient. Or maybe just tired. Sitting around had made my back worse and, combined with my lingering headache, had pretty much beaten the curiosity out of me. I’d catch my brother tomorrow. Whatever he was keeping from me, I had a better chance of prying it out of him when he was alone.

‘Sure, Hugo. Whatever you say.’ I looked at my empty plate and considered grabbing another slice of pizza, but opted against it. I took another soda instead and hoisted my bag over my shoulder. ‘Well, I guess I’ll see you guys tomorrow.’

‘Nighty night,’ said Vincent.

‘Don’t let the bedbugs bite,’ added Kris.

James grinned. ‘And don’t forget to brush your teeth.’

I hurled an empty pizza box at his head and rushed out before he could catch me. The last door on the hall led to home: Hugo’s nondescript apartment contained a simple kitchen, two bedrooms, one bath, and a living room.

I dumped my bag and stepped over a small glass table to reach the love seat. I curled up in the cushions, planning to watch television for a while, but I’d barely made it to the Discovery Channel before my eyelids started to droop. Within minutes, I was asleep.

I wasn’t sure at what point Hugo came in, but when I woke, it was 3 o’clock in the morning, and a blanket had been draped over me. I shifted, letting out a groan. My shoulders were killing me. I tried massaging the stiff muscles as I stumbled to my bedroom. Once there, I flopped down, face first, onto the hard mattress.

Sleep never returned. The image of the Gypsy girl flickered through my mind, but staring at the clock every fifteen minutes kept her appearance to a minimum. When the numbers registered 6:00, I got up and scrabbled for the nearest pile of clean clothes, retrieving a pair of jeans and a faded T-shirt. I ducked into the bathroom, got ready, and took a critical glance in the mirror.

I shoved my fingers through the dark mass of hair plastered to my face. The summer had done nothing for my skin – not that it had much chance – since I spent most of my time indoors or with my hood pulled low to block the searing Southern sun. My friends went to the beach; I worked in Hugo’s shop or read in the apartment. I felt more comfortable there.

My eyes were rimmed with dark circles, betraying my lack of sleep over the past few weeks. I scowled and reached for the hood of my jacket. As I did, I noticed something strange, just below my right temple. I tilted my head towards the mirror. It was a chunk of gray hair, as wide and nearly as long as my thumb.

‘You have got to be kidding me,’ I said to the mirror.

It didn’t talk back, but my phone alarm did. I messed with my hair until I managed to cover up the silvery streak. I didn’t know if I was starting to go gray at the ripe old age of eighteen, but I’d have to figure out the hair thing later. If I didn’t leave now, I’d be late for school. I flicked off the light and left Hugo’s apartment.

The shop was dark, but I didn’t need help finding the vending machine. I confiscated two bags of chips, a package of Oreos, and a Pop Tart, hoping they would appease my crazy appetite until lunch. I smirked at my handful of snacks. Hugo was right. I was going to eat him out of house and shop. I let myself out and locked the door behind me.

2. Hope and Fear

My stomach didn’t make it past fourth period. It rumbled loud protests – which I ignored – as I hurried down the aisle of the Sixes High School auditorium. Most of the class had already assembled. I slid into the third row and dumped my backpack in Avery’s lap. His face contorted.

‘Ow, man! Whatcha got in there? A bowling ball?’

‘Why do you ask?’ I plopped down smugly beside him. ‘Oh, I guess because that’s something a really weird person would do.’

‘Okay, okay,’ he said, shoving my bag at me. ‘I’m sorry about what I said yesterday. I was just making an observation, that’s all.’

Everybody has their quirks. For the most part, I accepted mine. But I didn’t need my recent blank-outs adding to my already sizable list. I slid my book bag underneath the seat and grinned. ‘Apology accepted.’

‘Hey, Sebastian,’ said a voice behind me, ‘are you going to audition for the play?’

I tilted my head to meet Katie Lewis’s bright blue eyes. She was practically bouncing on the seat behind me. Katie may have given some substance to that cliché about dumb blondes but, in reality, her grade point average put her at the top of our class.

‘Ah, no, I don’t think I’ll be auditioning. I’m better backstage, you know, in the shadows, where I can’t be seen.’ I didn’t consider myself a theater person – even though I did like Shakespeare – but after helping with one of the drama department’s shows, Katie had twisted my arm until I joined the club.

‘Oh whatever, Sebastian. It’s our senior year. You should at least try.’ She tapped her pencil against my arm. ‘You never know, right?’

‘Leave the acting stuff to Avery and Mitchell,’ I replied, jerking the pencil playfully out of her hands. ‘Just give me a paintbrush, stick me behind a wall, and I’m perfectly happy.’

‘Yeah,’ said Avery. ‘As long as you’re not on a ladder.’

‘Hey, I tried to warn the stage crew. Putting an acrophobic artist on anything higher than a chair is just asking for trouble.’

‘I’d never seen somebody’s face actually turn green before.’

‘Well, it’s a gift.’ I made a mental note to request another crew assignment for this year’s production.

The bell rang, and Ms Lucian sauntered through the doors, toting a stack of colored papers. She seated herself on the edge of the stage. No one knew exactly how old Ms Lucian was, with her youthful face and red-tipped black hair, but she’d been teaching drama at Sixes for a long time.

‘Good morning, my darlings,’ she said in a pleasant voice. ‘How are we today?’ There was an eruption of less than favorable responses from the masses. Ms Lucian’s brow arched ‘Okay, forget I asked.’

She began to call the roll. I hugged my legs to my chest and rested my chin on my knees. The drone of student names seemed to go on forever.

A girl’s face, veiled in shadows…

Her hands stretching. Reaching. Pleading…

A sharp jab to my stomach knocked me back into reality.

‘You’re doing it again,’ Avery whispered harshly.

Ms Lucian glanced over her clipboard, her eyes fixing on me. For a moment, I thought I caught something in her gaze, but then it was gone. ‘Did we not get enough sleep last night, Sebastian?’ she asked.

‘My apologies.’ Avery kicked my chair. ‘I mean, I’m sorry. No, I didn’t, really. Get enough sleep, I mean.’

Behind me, Katie smothered a laugh.

‘Well, let’s try to work on that, all right?’ Ms Lucian looked disapprovingly at my posture. ‘And do take your feet down off the seat, please.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

What was going on with me? After all the sleepless nights, I supposed dozing off in class was pretty much a given. But zoning out like this was unnerving. I rolled my shoulders and tried to concentrate.

Ms Lucian continued. ‘Class, your assignment today is a project, but before you all kill each other choosing groups, listen up.’ She presented the papers. ‘I received these fliers in my mailbox this morning. The Circe de Romany is coming back to town, and they will be here for an extended run. According to this advertisement, they’ve got a lot of stuff going on at the Fairgrounds over the next few months, so you might want to check it out. Who knows, there might be some extra credit involved if you attend some of their performances.’

Ms Lucian distributed the fliers, and everyone pored over them excitedly. I wasn’t sure why, but my stomach suddenly bottomed out.

‘Check this out,’ Mitchell said loudly in my ear. He held the paper in front of his freckled face and then shoved it at me. ‘Finally, something to do on the weekends besides movies and bowling.’

I took the paper, looking it over skeptically. ‘So this is a carnival, as in, cheap rides and overpriced cotton candy?’

‘Nah,’ said Avery. ‘It’s way better than that. They were here two years ago, don’t you remember?’

‘I wasn’t here two years ago, Avery.’ I glanced up with a wry smile. ‘Thanks for noticing.’

‘Oh, right.’

Katie rolled her eyes at him. ‘You’re an idiot.’

‘Well, I noticed you, buddy,’ said Mitchell. He raised his arm dramatically. ‘It was halfway through our sophomore year. You walked into class, looking all lost and confused. I said to Katie, “Hey, it’s the new kid! Let’s tell him they hold PE classes on the football field and see if he falls for it!”’

‘Ah yes, fond memories,’ I replied. ‘And so was the detention I got afterwards.’

‘That was freaking amazing,’ said Mitchell, puffing out his chest.

‘Remind me again,’ I said, crossing my arms. ‘Why are we friends? Oh yes. Because I have a soft spot for charity cases.’

Mitchell punched me in the shoulder. ‘Nice.’

‘So anyway,’ said Katie, pulling our attention back, ‘to answer your question, Sebastian, the Circe de Romany come through Sixes every couple of years. They have rides and games, all that carnival junk. And they put up this huge tent and have all kinds of special performances. It’s actually pretty awesome.’

I studied the list of shows on the flier. It was true that Sixes came up lacking in the field of recreational activities. It was easy to see how something like this could cause a stir.

Mitchell leaned over to Katie. ‘So the Romanys will be back in school?’

My stomach did that same weird elevator drop again, and the muscles in my neck went crazy tight. I watched Katie, suddenly interested in her answer, even though I didn’t have a clue who Mitchell was talking about.

‘Oh gosh, yeah, she’s totally coming back,’ Katie said, beaming happily. ‘We’ve been talking a lot lately online. She says the Circe has leased the Fairgrounds until next spring, so she gets to attend school here for her senior year.’

Avery folded the flier, stuffing it into his pocket. ‘Just her?’

‘No, her brother’s coming too,’ Katie replied. ‘He’s not big on the home-schooling thing. He’s bored.’

‘He’d better be going out for the football team,’ said Mitchell. ‘He was a starter, back during freshman year, before they left town.’

The conversation continued, but I gradually lost interest. Whoever the Romanys were, I’d arrived in Sixes long after they’d left. Still, I couldn’t ignore the feeling in the pit of my stomach like a case of nerves. But since I didn’t have anything to be nervous about, I chalked the sensation up to my hunger. When the bell rang for lunch, I was seriously relieved.

The school’s campus resembled a small college, with separate buildings devoted to particular areas of study. As we made our way up the hill to the Common Building, the potent smell of school cafeteria food hit me full in the face. The odor grew worse as we crammed our way through the doors.

The cafeteria was packed, and I was glad our group opted for the picnic tables in the courtyard. Avoidance of crowds ranked high on my quirks list. We fought through the food line and escaped into the great outdoors. Avery made a beeline for a couple sitting at one of the far tables, and I held the door open for Katie as we followed behind.

‘Bet he’s going to rag Brandon and Emma,’ she said as Avery sprinted away. She gave me one of her knowing looks and smiled. ‘You know they’re like an official couple, as of yesterday.’

‘That’s nice,’ I said politely.

Her smile turned sly. ‘So, now it’s your turn.’

‘Oh no,’ I said, using my lunch tray as a barricade. ‘I’m immune to your schemes. No more trying to set me up. You do remember the Becky Drummond fiasco, don’t you?’

‘What?’ Katie shrugged. ‘She was perfect for you.’

‘She said I smelled like moss. Who says that on a first date?’

‘Okay, maybe not perfect.’

‘I know you feel it’s your God-given duty to bring me up to acceptable social standards,’ I said, trying my best to look solemn, ‘but I assure you, I’m a pathetically lost cause. Use your oozy matchmaker charms on some other poor soul.’

‘Oh, come on, Sebastian.’ Katie nudged my shoulder. ‘You’re funny, you’re sweet…’

‘And you sound like a commercial for a dating agency.’

Katie sighed. ‘Well, points for trying, I guess.’

‘Yeah,’ I grinned. ‘Always points for trying.’

Her laugh told me I’d won the battle. For now.

The afternoon sun was bright, even for autumn, and I yanked up my hood. I felt Katie’s disapproving stare. I’d be getting a lecture from her on the benefits of sun exposure before the day was through. She’d given me a few, usually when I’d back out of one of her trips to the lake. When it was sunny, Katie practically lived on her father’s boat, soaking in the rays. But the sun and I had never been friends. I resented the pounding migraines it inflicted, so I tended to hold a grudge.

We pushed through mingling students until we reached our table. Avery was sprawled across it, punching Brandon on the arm and congratulating him for snagging Emma, a cute girl with curly, sand-colored hair.

‘Hey, guys,’ said Brandon, scooting over to make room for us, ‘did everybody hear about the Circe coming to town?’

Anxiety jolted through me at the mention of the carnival. I pressed a hand to my stomach, not feeling as hungry as I had before.

‘Yeah, we were talking about it last period,’ Mitchell replied, holding up his slice of square-shaped pizza and examining it critically before taking a bite.

Katie pulled a bright green phone from her purse. ‘Yeah, and that reminds me, I’ve totally got to find out when they’re coming to school. I can’t believe it’s been two years!’

‘Let me know what she says,’ said Brandon as he polished off a strange concoction that I assumed was meant to be a burrito. ‘It’ll be cool to see them again. Maybe they’ll get us backstage passes or something to one of the shows.’

Emma laughed. ‘Yeah, like they’d let you back there, Brandon. You’d break something!’

He put a hand to his heart in mock hurt. ‘Hey, I’d be careful. I just like to look at stuff, you know?’

Avery pelted him with a hamburger bun, and everyone began talking about the Circe again. The louder their conversation got, the ickier I felt. I tugged my hood lower and studied the pile of soggy fries on my tray. The image of the Gypsy girl threatened the edges of my vision, but I stubbornly blinked her away. Freak class was not in session right now. I refused to provide Avery any more ammo to use on me today.

‘Check it out, guys!’

Mitchell pointed over the courtyard, and we followed his gesture passed the front of the school where the town’s main road ran parallel to the campus. A bright caravan of large tractor-trailers was passing by. Red paint spelled out the phrase Circe de Romany. The lettering was set against a background of orange and gold, with a design of swirling green vines and yellow flowers as the border.

Behind the trucks rolled several expensive-looking tour buses, branded with the same logo, and a cluster of smaller vehicles brought up the rear of the procession. The entire courtyard paused, watching the caravan amble down the road like a bright, twisting serpent.

The soft jingle of Katie’s phone caught my ears. ‘It’s her!’ she said. ‘They’re coming in tomorrow to register for classes!’

Avery leaned forward, rubbing his chin. ‘Well, I’ll make a point of being available to show her around.’

‘Yeah, I’m sure you will, Avery.’ Brandon huffed.

Lunch resumed, but I’d lost my appetite. I never skipped out on meals, but suddenly the three mustard-drenched corn dogs staring up at me were completely unappealing. Was I coming down with something? I pushed the tray aside and unscrewed the lid of my bottled water instead, wishing I had some aspirin. Beside me, Katie happily sipped a juice box. I cleared my throat, trying to appear casual, but feeling strangely unsettled.

‘So, who is the she you keep talking about?’ I asked.

‘Josephine Romany,’ she replied.

Hot chills ripped through my insides, like I’d plunged into a pool of lava and liquid nitrogen at the exact same instant. The shock was so strong that it sucked the air from my lungs. I pitched forward, clutching the edge of the table. Was it food poisoning? I stared at my plate. I hadn’t even eaten anything yet!

Katie grabbed my arm. ‘Sebastian?’

My airway opened again, and I could breathe. Was this an allergic reaction to something? I squinted up at the sky. Gradually the feeling passed.

‘Just a bad headache,’ I replied, pushing thoughts of various ailments from my brain.In a flash, Katie’s hand was in and out of her bag, this time, holding a bottle of Tylenol.I took it gratefully. ‘Thanks, mom.’

She poked me hard in the ribs.

The bell echoed through the courtyard, announcing that our brief stint of freedom was over. A collective sigh swept through the masses as students converged on trash cans and doors, disposing leftovers and shuffling to their next destinations. I parted ways with Katie, still feeling uneasy. Not to mention I’d barely touched my lunch.

The courtyard sloped downhill, ending at a covered breezeway. The shade felt good after being in the harsh sun, and I shoved my hood back, pushing hair out of my face. My stomach had settled, but my mind continued to swirl. The image of the dancing girl flashed in my head like the neon sign over the door of the tattoo parlor. But now, each time the image appeared, a name accompanied it:

Josephine Romany.

‘Sebastian, are you still there?’

I transferred my phone to my other hand as I buckled the seatbelt. ‘Yeah, I’m here.’

‘Weren’t you listening to me?’ Katie asked.

I paused, trying to remember what we’d been talking about. The two hours since lunch had been a blur, and my brain was mush. ‘Um…’

Katie sighed on the other end. ‘The project Ms Lucian talked about in class today,’ she continued impatiently. ‘When are we going to work on it?’

‘I’m sorry,’ I replied, starting the engine. ‘The pounding in my head’s making it difficult to think.’

‘Another headache?’

‘You know me and sunny days,’ I said dismissively. I stepped on the gas and coaxed my old van onto the road. ‘But about the project. I don’t know if I can do it this week. Can I get back to you?’

‘Yeah, just don’t wait too long. I know we’ve got almost a month to work on it, so Ms Lucian’s not going to cut us any slack, and the rest of our group is totally avoiding me about the whole thing.’

Katie hated procrastinating on anything related to schoolwork. This was probably killing her. ‘Look, don’t worry about it. I’ll talk to the guys, and we’ll come up with a day to work on it. I promise, we won’t let you down.’

‘Thanks, Sebastian,’ she replied, sounding relieved. ‘You’re not nearly as much of an idiot as the rest of your species.’

I chuckled. ‘I think you mean gender.’

She giggled. ‘No, I don’t.’

‘Talk to you later, Katie.’

‘Bye.’

I tossed the phone on the passenger seat and rubbed my temples. By the time I made it through town and steered my van into the parking lot of the Gypsy Ink, my headache had traveled, setting up residence between my shoulder blades. The last thing I felt like doing was homework.

I shuffled through the waiting room, giving a brief wave to Kris, who was busy behind the counter. I’d grab a quick snack and then lay out flat on the floor of the apartment for a while. Just until the aching eased. I paused in the hallway just outside the door of Hugo’s workspace. I didn’t have to say anything. My brother knew I was there.

‘Hey, Sebastian.’ He glanced up from his sketchbook. ‘What’s up?’

‘Do you have any sports cream?’ I leaned against the wall and squinted as a sharp pain lanced through my shoulders. ‘My back’s killing me.’

Hugo’s brows settled low over his dark eyes. ‘In the drawer beside my bed.’

‘Okay, thanks.’

I continued down the hallway, followed by the weight of my brother’s stare. He probably thought I was trying to get out of work, which wasn’t a bad idea. I chucked my bag on the bed and rummaged through Hugo’s nightstand until I located the tube of medicine. I worked the cream into my back, but it felt as if someone was digging long fingers between my shoulder blades, attempting to separate muscle from bone.

I gave up with the cream and stumbled to the bathroom on a quest for aspirin. Just as I reached for the medicine cabinet, another shock of pain doubled me over. I gripped the edge of the counter and straightened. My gaze flicked to the mirror. For a moment, I almost didn’t recognize the face staring back. I was crazy pale, even for me, and my skin made the hazel color of my eyes look dull. But then I noticed something else. Another chunk of gray was poking through my disheveled hair.

What kind of sickness produced symptoms like these? There had to be some reasonable explanation. I was just stressed. My body was worn down. I needed a weekend of sleeping in and watching mindless movies. Then I’d be back to normal. I jabbed my fingers through my hair until the discolored strands disappeared beneath the surface of the black.

But it didn’t matter. I knew it was still there.

And I was beginning to get just a little concerned.

3. Lost and Found

Katie was waiting for me in the school’s main lobby the next morning, holding a chicken biscuit in her hand. The sight of warm food made my mouth water. My breakfast had consisted of a bag of potato chips and three protein bars. I eyed the foil package innocently.

‘Is that for me?’

‘Of course. You’re always in a better mood after I’ve fed you.’

I grabbed the biscuit and hugged Katie at the same time. ‘My hero.’

‘Hey, I’m doing this for my benefit, not yours. I’ve seen how you get when you’re hungry.’

Katie tapped endlessly on her phone as we strolled to our lockers. She opened the door with one hand and pulled out a book. I managed to sneak a quick peak in her locker mirror. The two gray streaks in my hair were pretty well hidden. That was a relief. So was the fact that my back pain had disappeared, along with the image of the dancing girl. I’d actually slept most of the night. But something new was bothering me.

I took a bite of chicken biscuit, and I was surprised at how unsettled it felt in my stomach. I chewed in silence, letting my mind wander back to the day before, and the talk about the Circe de Romany.

Katie pocketed her phone. ‘You’re really quiet today.’

I raised an eyebrow.

She smirked. ‘Okay, quieter than usual.’

‘Maybe.’ I paused a moment. ‘Um, Katie?’

Apparently something in my expression was amusing. She twisted a strand of hair around her finger like a gold ring and winked at me. ‘Um, Sebastian?’

‘I was just wondering if you heard any more about the Romanys?’

Her brows lifted. Yes, she was definitely amused. ‘I have. Why?’

I played with the biscuit wrapper, choosing to stare at it rather than meet Katie’s gaze. But we’d been friends for a while, and it didn’t take long for Katie to read my thoughts.

‘Uh huh,’ she said. ‘By Romanys, you mean Josephine.’

Warm-and-cold sensations spiked through my body again. I pressed against the lockers to cover my reaction, but blurted, ‘What makes you think that? I don’t even know her!’ I abruptly stuffed a huge bite of chicken into my mouth to shut myself up.

Katie reached up and flicked a piece of biscuit off my shirt. ‘Cute, Sebastian.’ Her look made the blood rush to my cheeks. ‘But I’m sure all the guys have been talking about her,’ she continued. ‘So naturally, you’re interested, right?’

‘No. Just curious. That’s different from interested. Everyone else seems to know these people, and you’re obviously pretty close to her.’ I attempted a smile. ‘I just wanted a heads-up, that’s all.’

The heated chill passed, leaving only the warmth of embarrassment. This was almost worse than my zone outs.

‘Well, Josephine’s awesome. I totally get what they all see in her. Just remember one thing’, she jabbed her finger into my sternum for emphasis; ‘I consider myself her best friend, and I’m looking out for her. So don’t get any ideas.’

A startled laugh escaped my throat. ‘No worries there. Lost cause, remember?’

‘I’m signing you up to the audition, Sebastian,’ announced Mitchell, leaning smugly over his seat in the auditorium.

‘Don’t even think about it,’ I replied sternly. I continued to scribble in my theater notebook. ‘I’m not kidding.’

He only laughed.

I ignored him and studied my artwork. The massive circular patterns looked like batches of gray smoke engulfing the paper. Or maybe it was a representation of my churning insides. I hadn’t felt right all day. No, make that the last two days. Or whenever it was that I’d first heard about…

Katie’s phone vibrated beside me. She glanced down excitedly at the text. ‘Guess what, guys! Josephine’s in the office signing in.’

She was here.

It was as if the air had been squeezed from my lungs. My notebook dropped from my hands. Cold rushed over my skin, and I leaned forward, feeling myself in danger of falling out of my seat.

‘Sebastian?’

Ms Lucian stood over me. I swallowed hard and pried my fingers loose from the armrests. ‘I’m fine,’ I said, automatically, before she could ask. But I wasn’t. It felt like I was suffocating. ‘I’m going to check out some props for our project.’

I bolted out of the chair and up the stairs to the stage. I could feel everyone watching me the entire way. As soon as I had parted the curtains and was safely out of sight, I fell against the wall and slid to my knees. I stared into the rafters, then looked away before I imagined plunging to my death over the edge of one of the pieces of scaffolding.

Maybe I wasn’t diseased or suffering from cafeteria food poisoning. Maybe I was having a nervous breakdown. I was sick and shaky, and my body felt like I was taking a shower in alternating cold and hot water.

But why?

There was no telling what Avery and the others were probably saying about me. This was rapidly moving out of the realm of quirky. This was teetering on insanity. I put my head between my knees and prayed for the bell.

My pride sank to the bottom of my Converse as I stood in front of the call-board, staring at the audition sheet for the drama department’s production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. My name was in the middle of the page. Mitchell had signed me up for auditions, the next afternoon.

The fact that he’d done it while I was hiding out backstage was just plain irritating. If I backed out now, they’d never let me live it down. But I wasn’t an actor and had no intention of embarrassing myself – or Shakespeare – for that matter. As much as it stung my ego, I was going to have to bail out.

As I continued my inner debate, the door to the auditorium opened. Class was over and everyone had filed out to lunch, so I assumed Mitchell had returned to gloat. But no one appeared. Then, someone knocked on Ms Lucian’s door. Since her office was around the corner, I didn’t see who had entered. But I could certainly hear the voice.

‘Excuse me, Ms Lucian. Could I speak with you?’

It was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard.

Ms Lucian gave a polite reply and enquired as to how she could help. The voice spoke again.

‘I’d like to audition for the play, if that’s still possible.’

The teacher gave an enthusiastic affirmative, followed by instructions for finding the call-board.

‘Thank you,’ said the voice.

There was silence. Then I panicked. The voice would soon be at the call-board. I shivered harshly. Something in my gut told me to get out of there before it was too late.

But just as I reached up to scratch off my name, I caught a whiff of perfume. No, not perfume. It wasn’t like the overpowering department store stuff that Emma wore, or even the fresh, fruity concoctions Katie slathered on every morning at her locker. Not that those weren’t nice. But this was more like a scent; exotic, like flowers and spices from some strange place I could never afford to visit. My fingers froze over the ‘4:00’ time slot. Then, another hand hovered over mine, gracefully wielding a pink pen. It wrote a name with a gentle flourish.

Josephine Romany

I couldn’t remember how to breathe.

The voice drifted across my ear. ‘Are you auditioning?’

‘No,’ I managed. ‘No, I’m not.’

There was a delicate intake of breath behind me. My cheeks burned, and my feet felt bolted to the floor. I couldn’t move, much less turn around.

‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream is a great play,’ said the voice: Josephine Romany’s voice. ‘I’m sure they’ll need plenty of guys.’

‘Well, I don’t know about that. I mean, yeah, it’s a great play…I just meant…I mean, I’m not sure yet…about auditioning. I haven’t thought much about it.’

What was I saying?

‘Well, you really should.’ Her voice was liquid sunshine. ‘Everyone should give live performance a chance.’

‘Okay,’ I said, trying desperately to remember why I’d been so intent on scratching my name off in the first place. ‘I’ll do it.’

‘Good.’ There was the click of a pen and the pull of a backpack zipper. ‘Well, I’ve got to stop by the registrar’s office. I’ll see you later…’

She trailed off purposely. My name, I realized with a start. She wanted my name! It took me a second to figure out what it was. ‘Sebastian.’

I smelled that sweet, exotic scent again. It made me dizzy – but a good kind of dizzy – a swirling bliss that I didn’t want to end. I put a hand on the call-board to keep from pitching forward.

‘I’ll see you later…Sebastian.’

The way my name sounded in her voice sent a current of electricity pulsing down my neck. It surged along my skin, unlike anything I’d ever felt before. I turned just in time to catch a glimpse of green shirt passing through the doors. I wiped my hand across my eyes, trying to sort out the craziness in my head.

I felt sick, almost queasy, but also elated, as though I was floating miles above that cloud nine place people talk about. How could such bizarre emotions exist at the same time? And why did they revolve around Josephine Romany; a girl I hadn’t even had the nerve to turn around and meet properly? My gaze drifted to the sign-up sheet. Fate, it seemed, had decided to give me another chance. There, right above my name, was hers.

We were auditioning in the same time slot.

‘You’re auditioning for the play?’ James looked at me incredulously.

‘It’s against my will, believe me.’

I’d barely walked through the door of the shop before he’d started yelling for some fresh paper towels. No one else was around, so I plucked a roll from under the counter. A young woman was his latest victim. She leaned over the back of his leather office chair as the burly man finished up an elaborate rose and butterfly combination on her back. She was quite the bleeder, and James kept dabbing his cloth, mopping up the red droplets seeping through the design.

‘Nice work,’ I commented.

‘Thanks,’ James muttered, concentrating on the last bit of shading. The needle stopped and he grunted in satisfaction. ‘Check it out and see what you think.’

The customer scrutinized her fresh ink using the long wall mirror. ‘It’s great, James,’ she cooed. ‘Thanks a lot.’

The woman left and James followed me into the waiting room. He deposited money into the register. ‘So, why the school play, Sebastian?’ he asked. ‘I didn’t think you were the acting type.’ Before I could answer, he snapped his fingers. ‘Oh, I got it! It’s a girl, isn’t it?’ He rocked back on his heels triumphantly, daring me to disagree.

‘Mitchell signed me up.’ I wasn’t about to mention my encounter at the call-board. The guys gave me a hard enough time about my dating life as it was. ‘As a dare.’

‘School play?’ my brother asked causally as he emerged from his room.

How did Hugo do that? Even fifteen feet down the hall, behind a closed door, and with a tattoo pen buzzing, he’d still managed to hear my news.

‘Yeah,’ I admitted. ‘Auditions are tomorrow.’

‘O-kay.’ He drew the word out sarcastically. I shuffled towards the couch. ‘Hey, don’t sit down yet,’ he said. ‘I need you to pick up some Chinese takeout. We’ve got a busy evening.’

I sighed and held out my hands, waiting for Hugo to fork over the money. ‘I don’t get paid enough for this.’

He grinned back at me. ‘Yeah, you do.’

I ran the errand, and within minutes, we were all sitting around the coffee table, piling up plates of Mongolian Beef. I didn’t have the healthiest of diets, I realized, as I topped mine off with a helping of crab Rangoon.

‘So what do you have to do for this big audition tomorrow, Sebastian?’ Vincent asked around a mouthful of noodles.

‘Read from the script, I guess.’ I wiped my hands against my jeans before snatching up the last box of rice. ‘I’m scheduled for 4 o’clock.’

Vincent chuckled. ‘You look freaked out.’

‘More like petrified,’ agreed Kris.

I pressed my fork into the carton, smashing the rice until it resembled mashed potatoes. ‘Well, it’s just…there’s this new girl in school…’

‘I knew it!’ James declared. ‘You’ve got a thing for her!’

Ugh. It was like having a pack of annoying big brothers.

‘No, I don’t, James.’ I raised my fork and stared at the chunk of disfigured rice clinging to it. ‘I figured I’d be up on stage with Katie, or even Mitchell. But this girl’s the only one in my time slot. I’m just a little nervous, I guess.’

Kris whistled. ‘Must be one intimidating chick.’

‘That’s just it. I don’t even know her.’ I took a bite and chewed thoughtfully before continuing. ‘But, you know, the strange thing is, when I heard her name yesterday, I got this really weird feeling that I should. I can’t explain it.’

Hugo shoved his plate aside. ‘Why do you say that?’

‘Well, because it’s not possible. She’s new at school – as in – she literally just registered for class. Katie says she’s part of that carnival that came into town yesterday. It’s called the Circe de…’

‘We know the one,’ Hugo said curtly.

Everyone paused.

Then Kris cleared his throat. ‘Well, I think you’ll ace it, Sebastian.’

Vincent jumped in. ‘Still can’t figure out why you’d want to audition for something like that, girl or no girl.’

‘I’m just doing it to save face, Vincent. It’s not like Ms Lucian will cast me.’

My brother returned to his food, as did the others, and we passed the rest of the meal in silence. But the room felt tense, and I began to wonder if Hugo had issues with the carnival, or maybe somebody who worked there. Hugo was pretty opinionated. Whatever the case, I could tell he wasn’t going to talk about it that night, and I’d learned, if I pushed my brother for details when he was in shut-down mode, I found myself with an additional list of chores.

I had way too many chores already.

After dinner, I bagged everything up and hauled it out to the dumpster behind the strip mall. The air was cool, and a gentle breeze rustled through the treetops. The stars were barely visible through the haze of city lights. I loved the night. Everything was quiet, peaceful. Comfortable. I sighed contentedly, despite the fact that I was carrying smelly trash to an even smellier dumpster.

When I returned, the crew had cleared out, but Hugo was waiting for me. He motioned me to follow him down the hall. Something about the way he squared his shoulders as he stepped inside his workroom made me uneasy.

‘Sit down, kid.’ He patted the second-hand dentist’s chair he used for costumers. ‘I think it’s time you had a little initiation.’

My eyes widened. ‘Are you serious?’

Hugo had always been against my getting a tattoo, which was a little hypocritical of him, in my opinion. I was the legal age, and I was planning on going into the business after graduation. I couldn’t see his hang-up. But every time I mentioned it, he’d tell me there was no need to rush. A tattoo artist telling someone not to rush into a tattoo? Something had to be wrong with that picture.

I eased into the room with about as much confidence as a rat approaching a chunk of cheese in a trap. ‘So what’s changed?’

Hugo positioned his rolling chair, and a strange look flashed across his face, followed quickly by a cool smile. ‘I thought you might need a little good luck for the audition tomorrow.’

I settled into the orange fabric of the dentist’s chair and regarded my brother suspiciously. This wasn’t the Hugo I was used to; the one who treated me like a kid. Auditioning for a high school play didn’t seem important enough to change his strict opinion. But here he was, setting up his workstation for my tattoo.

My tattoo.

‘Wait.’ I sat up rigidly. ‘Just what exactly did you have in mind?’

Sure, I wanted to be inked, but I hadn’t actually decided what I wanted yet. Hugo didn’t answer. He meticulously poured ink into small containers and then mixed the colors. He used black and white, as well as a shimmering silver ink I didn’t remember seeing in his supplies.

‘What’s that?’ I questioned, pointing to the ink.

‘It’s a new color I’ve been wanting to try,’ he said, flatly, absorbed in his preparations. Okay, so maybe I wasn’t a rat. I was a guinea pig. But all the guys in the shop had been the test subject for one tattoo project or the other over the years. Looked like it was my turn now.

When Hugo was ready, he grabbed the pen, his demeanor business-like. His foot hovered over the pedal. ‘Ready?’

‘No stencil sketch? No Sharpie drawing?’

In all the times I’d watched Hugo at work, I had never seen him simply take the needle to skin. He put a hand on my shoulder. The smile that tightened his lips was genuine enough, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

‘Trust me,’ he said. Hugo’s eyes glazed as if he was concentrating on something only he could see. He shoved up the left sleeve of my jacket and flipped my arm over, exposing the pale skin along the inside of my wrist. ‘Now, hold still.’

I swallowed hard. ‘Don’t do something stupid, please.’

Hugo didn’t respond. He was already focused on his task. His foot pressed the pedal, and the familiar hum of the pen filled the air. I looked away, setting my jaw in preparation. The initial touch stung, the needle moving in and out of my skin so fast that my arm tingled. The tingle grew into pain which intensified as Hugo began to carve a design into the tender flesh of my wrist.

Adrenaline kicked in, engulfing my body in an exciting buzz. But my arm ached, sort of like the time I’d hit my elbow weird on the edge of the counter while dodging one of James’s wrestling moves. It made my eyes water, and I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to laugh or let out a string of unpleasant words. Though I was tempted to watch the process, I focused on the wall. At last, the mechanical drone of the pen ceased. The wheels of Hugo’s rolling chair squeaked as he pulled away from me.

‘You’re done.’ He sounded oddly relieved. ‘Go ahead, check it out.’

The tattoo was black and gray – Hugo’s specialty – but I was startled by the design. Permanently inked into my wrist was a dandelion flower. Each gray petal was painstakingly detailed and eerily lifelike. The stem and two jagged leaves wrapped around the outside of my wrist. Of all the things I thought Hugo might be putting on my skin, this image didn’t even appear on the radar. I could feel my brother waiting for my reaction.

‘What is this?’ I asked, stunned.

Hugo tossed a wad of paper towels into the trash. ‘I think my artwork’s pretty decent. Can’t you tell?’

‘I know what it is, Hugo. I mean, why this? I was expecting tribal artwork or, at the very least, something black and tacky. But…a flower?’ The shock was wearing off. Had my foster brother seriously just inked me with a dandelion?

‘It’s what you’re supposed to have.’ The tone of Hugo’s voice squelched my rising irritation. ‘Don’t doubt your brother, Sebastian.’

James’s bearded face appeared in the doorway. ‘Look who’s finally been initiated, Vince!’ he boomed over his shoulder. ‘Sebastian’s gotten his first ink!’

Vincent entered the room and grabbed my arm. His gaze flicked briefly to Hugo, who was leaning against the wall, watching silently. I felt that vibe again, as if there was something they were keeping from me. My shoulders tightened.

‘So what’s really going on, guys? Is this some kind of joke?’

‘Not at all,’ Hugo replied. ‘We’ve been talking about your apprenticeship for a while. And I’ve finally decided that you’re ready.’

I blinked, still leery. ‘That’s it?’

‘I was going to surprise you next week, but in light of your audition tomorrow, I thought you could use a little good news. So, what do you say, Sebastian? Are you ready to join us?’

‘So that’s what all the weirdness has been about? All the talking behind my back was because you were keeping this a secret?’

James snapped his fingers. ‘Yep, you got us.’

I stared at my new tattoo. The elegant detail Hugo crafted into it made the dandelion look ancient, not just minutes old; as though I’d always had it there, perched gracefully along my wrist. ‘So what does this dandelion have to do with being an apprentice?’

The others looked at Hugo, but he kept his gaze on me, regarding me carefully. ‘Not much, actually. It’s more a matter of clan tradition.’

‘Clan?’ I glanced around the room, but the others continued staring at my brother. ‘Am I missing something here?’

‘We’re Gypsies, Sebastian,’ said Hugo.

‘Well, that explains a lot.’

‘I’m serious.’

‘Gypsies?’ I repeated, sitting up straighter. I thought about the shop, its name, and all the paraphernalia. Even the folk music they’d occasionally play in the lobby. I’d always assumed it was just a theme; a gimmick for the tattoo parlor. ‘You mean like, real Gypsies?’

‘Yeah,’ he replied. ‘Like real Gypsies.’

‘So, what, do you like tell fortunes on the side?’ I quipped, still convinced this was part of the joke. ‘Got a crystal ball hidden under the counter I don’t know about?’

‘Don’t believe all the crap you see in movies, Sebastian.’ Hugo began cleaning up the workspace. ‘My parents come from a long line of Roma.’

It had only been over two years since Zindelo and Nadya Corsi had left for Europe, but I had a hard time remembering their faces. ‘Roma?’

‘Some people consider the term “Gypsy” disrespectful,’ Hugo continued. ‘It’s a name given to us by the gadje, the non-Roma. The truth is we’ve been called lots of things: Travelers, Black Dutch, Tinkers, you name it. But Gypsy suits us just fine.’ He crossed his arms, looking proud. ‘You could say we move in different circles.’

James cuffed me on the shoulder. ‘That just means we do our own thing around here.’

I glanced at my brother, feeling the sting of betrayal. ‘Why haven’t you ever told me?’

‘You never asked,’ Hugo replied lightly, but his smile faded as he caught my look. ‘I picked my own time to tell you, Sebastian. Who we are…our lineage…it isn’t something to be taken lightly. It’s important that this remain a secret from anyone outside of the Roma.’ The corner of his mouth tightened. ‘We keep a low profile.’

‘Who is we?’

Hugo flicked his head at the others. ‘Clans are made up of different Gypsy families, with one head family usually in charge. We all belong to the same clan: the Corsi.’

I stared at the men; the ones I’d come to regard as family. I’d never seen them so serious before. Suddenly, they didn’t look like the same ragtag gang of tattoo artists who hung around my brother’s apartment and doted on me like a kid brother.

‘And the flower?’ I asked again, holding up my arm.

‘The dandelion’, Hugo corrected, ‘is symbolic. It’s been used by all the Outcast clans for centuries. It represents persistence and survival.’

‘So it’s a good thing, right?’

Hugo laughed; an oddly choked sound. ‘Of course it is, Sebastian. Why else would I have given it to you?’

‘I don’t know. Payback, maybe? For all the times I bugged you about getting a tattoo?’

‘It’s an important part of our heritage,’ he explained. ‘I wanted to wait until the right time, that’s all.’

I studied my foster brother, trying to take it all in. Thinking of Hugo as a Gypsy was just, well, weird.

He knelt next to my chair. ‘But keep that heritage bit to yourself, Sebastian. There’s a lot more of us than you might think, and not all clans get along.’

‘What, like rival gangs or something?’

Vincent snorted from across the room. ‘Hardly.’

‘We just like to stay out of each other’s way,’ said James.

‘I’m starting to get that,’ I replied, looking at him dubiously.

‘But it’s nothing you need to worry about,’ Hugo interjected. ‘Just don’t go telling all your friends that you live with a bunch of Gypsies, okay?’ His smile returned. ‘Low profile, remember.’

‘A funny request, coming from a guy who named his shop the Gypsy Ink.’

He looked smug. ‘Ever heard of hiding in plain sight?’

‘Okay, okay,’ I relented. ‘I’ll keep your little secret. But I do have one question.’

‘Shoot.’

‘If you’re Gypsies, what does that make me?’

A singular look came into Hugo’s eyes. ‘Does it really matter?’

I frowned. ‘No, I guess not.’

‘Good.’ Hugo held out his hand. ‘Then welcome to the clan.’

4. Rise and Fall

I was pouring a glass of orange juice the next morning when Hugo shuffled into the kitchen. He was rarely ever up before nine, and it was only a little after seven. ‘Hey,’ I murmured, cautiously. Hugo was about as much of a morning person as I was.

He almost smiled, which I took as a good sign, so I proceeded to make myself a heaping bowl of cereal as he fumbled with the coffee maker. I curled up at the kitchen table, and after Hugo poured his coffee, he joined me.

‘So how’s the tat?’ he asked over the rim of his mug. I set down my spoon and pulled up the sleeve of my shirt. Hugo gave it a casual glance, and then a double take. He lowered his mug. ‘Whoa,’ he breathed, suddenly awake.

‘Okay, not the response I was expecting,’ I said, checking out my arm to see the cause. The top layer of skin had peeled away during the night, leaving the design intact, glaringly detailed against my pale skin. I shifted my glance to Hugo, bewildered. ‘What is it?’

Hugo took my wrist, held it closer, and examined the tattoo with an expert’s eye. ‘I’ve never seen a tat heal this fast,’ he commented. ‘There’s no redness, no swelling.’ He ran a finger over the dandelion. ‘Is it tender?’

‘Nope.’

Hugo dropped my arm – almost too quickly – it seemed. ‘Guess you’re a fast healer, kid.’

‘Or maybe I just heal faster than Gypsies do,’ I ventured. ‘We should run a study or something.’ My brother returned to his coffee, ignoring my attempt at humor. I gritted my teeth, still not completely over my feelings from the night before. Hugo had always been pretty guarded, but I didn’t think he’d keep me in the dark about something he considered this important. ‘Sorry,’ I said after a few minutes of silence, choosing to push away the left-out feeling. ‘It’s just that I’m having a hard time believing you guys are Gypsies.’

‘Why? Everyone has a heritage, Sebastian. We all come from somewhere.’

I jammed my spoon into my cereal. ‘Yeah, I guess you’re pretty lucky to know yours.’

I could feel Hugo’s eyes on me, but I didn’t press the issue; either about my foster brother’s Gypsy roots or the lack of my own. I was dangerously late for school already. I polished off a third bowl of cereal without saying another word. Hugo still hadn’t finished his coffee by the time I dumped my leftover milk and grabbed my backpack.

‘Well, I’ve gotta get to school.’

‘Yeah,’ Hugo replied, staring hard into his mug.

I paused in the doorway and tilted my head, trying to figure out if I was being paranoid or if Hugo was acting a little strange. With it being so early in the morning, it was difficult to tell. ‘Okay, well, I’ll see you this afternoon, I guess.’

Hugo snapped out of his preoccupied silence. ‘I expect a full report later on about this whole audition thing,’ he said with a wide grin.

I groaned. I’d almost forgotten about my impending torture. ‘Well, don’t get your hopes up. There won’t be much to report.’

As soon as school ended, I raided the vending machines. My nerves had returned, and with them, my appetite. Lunch had been the equivalent of eating rubber. I polished off three packs of crackers on my way to the auditorium, and was opening my fourth when a sharp pain cut through my wrist. I dropped the package, and wrapped my fingers around my tattoo. Maybe I wasn’t as quick a healer as Hugo thought.

I spread my fingers and examined the dandelion. It looked exactly the same as it had at the breakfast table, but my skin throbbed like bad sunburn. I shook out my arm, collected my spilled snack, and opened the front doors.

No one was in the lobby when I arrived, and I was glad for the chance to collect my thoughts. But just as I leaned against the wall, the door flew open and the stage manager – sporting a clipboard and an attitude – burst into the lobby.

‘Aren’t you in the 4 o’clock slot?’ he demanded.

‘Yeah,’ I replied.

‘Well, you’re late.’

‘What?’ The clock above the door read 3:50. ‘I thought…’

‘Never mind,’ he huffed, cutting me off. ‘The rest of your group’s already inside.’

I followed him in, and the door clanged shut behind me. The stage lights were on, but the rest of the auditorium was dark. The stage manager scurried down the aisle as I found a seat in the back row. On stage, Katie and Avery were in the middle of reading a scene. Avery’s booming voice echoed through the house. He was good.

Really good.

This was going to be embarrassing.

When they finished, Ms Lucian – who was seated in the second row – thanked them for their efforts. Katie spotted me as they exited, and she waved encouragingly. Avery punched me across the shoulder. I didn’t see Mitchell, but that was okay.

I would kill him later.

While Ms Lucian wrote in her notebook, a strained quiet enveloped the room. The anticipation felt like a vice cranking against my lungs, each moment increasing the pressure. It squeezed drops of sweat from my forehead, dampening my hair inside my hood. It was just a stupid audition. It wasn’t as if I was delivering a speech to the United Nations. Why were my hands shaking so much? Finally, Ms Lucian lifted her head and addressed the auditorium.

‘Josephine Romany.’

I craned my neck to see, though I really didn’t know who I was looking for. All I knew was her voice; the sweet, exotic smell of her perfume. And the awful, wonderful, twisting of my stomach as it made sailor knots beneath my T-shirt.

And then, I knew. My anxiety had nothing to do with the audition. I was nervous about her. Near the front, a girl rose and made her way down the aisle; movements fluid and smooth, like a professional artist. I braced myself against the seat as Josephine seemed to float up the stairs, out of the darkness and into the light.

Beautiful just didn’t cut it. The Bard himself would’ve stabbed me with his quill for my lack of words, but nothing seemed to fit her. She wasn’t fashion magazine beautiful, like the cheerleaders who sat in front of me in science with their dress-code-breaking skirts that made it hard to concentrate. Josephine Romany was something else, something outside of Sixes; from some other place and time.

Her full lips didn’t need lipstick, and the way she smiled made her whole face glow. She looked out over the audience, tucking a strand of hair the color of hazelnut coffee behind her ear. Thick brows lifted over the most amazing eyes I’d ever seen: large and luminously green. The glow of stage lights clung to her tanned skin.

As she stood waiting for instructions, the air around me hummed. It was the same electricity I’d experienced at the call-board, and it reminded me of the way I’d felt when Hugo had given me my tattoo – weirdly uncomfortable and alarmingly pleasant – all at the same time. I stared at her, fascinated, unable to look away.

‘Sebastian Grey.’

Ms Lucian peered into the audience, and I was horrified to realize she was searching for me. This was it. I had to go stand up there with this new girl who was doing all kinds of unexplained things to my insides. I stumbled out of my seat, head numb and legs wobbling as though I’d never used them before. I struggled to maintain some semblance of composure as I walked with heavy steps to my own funeral.

‘Break a leg, man,’ Brandon whispered as I passed.

A script was slapped into my hands and, suddenly, I found myself next to Josephine Romany. I felt euphorically sick.

‘Hello again, Sebastian,’ she said.

I wanted to make eye contact; to actually look into her face for the first time instead of just seeing her from afar, but I also wanted to remain upright and coherent, so I merely nodded in her direction. ‘Hey.’

Ms Lucian rapped her pencil against her notebook, demanding our attention. ‘All right, I want you both to turn to page sixteen.’ She waited while we found our places. ‘Josephine, if you would read for Hermia, and Sebastian, please read for Lysander.’

I’d read A Midsummer Night’s Dream more than once, and I knew that Lysander was one of the romantic leads. This was going to be terrible. The words swirled on the page. Just don’t pass out, I pleaded to myself.

‘Sebastian, are you all right?’ Ms Lucian studied my face carefully. ‘You don’t look as though you’re feeling well.’

I planted my feet, determined to see this through. ‘I’m good.’

‘All right then, let’s begin.’

Josephine had the first line. ‘Be it so, Lysander,’ she read in a low, clear voice. ‘Find you out a bed; for I upon this bank will rest my head.’

‘One turf shall serve as pillow for us both,’ I said through clenched teeth. ‘One heart, one bed; two bosoms, and one troth.’

Somewhere, Shakespeare had to be laughing.

I was no Avery, but I survived the audition by keeping my head firmly buried in the script and my thoughts glued to the words on the page. I had never been happier than when Ms Lucian interrupted and thanked us. Josephine left the stage first, and I followed, my legs still feeling like liquefied jelly.

Josephine glided ahead of me in the aisle, tossing her hair over her shoulders as she walked, carefree and obviously unaffected by what had been fifteen of the most gut-wrenching minutes of my life. I felt more confused than ever. My palms were sweaty, my brain was gooey, and I had all the coordination of a two-year-old. What was going on with me? Auditions were over, and I’d seen the elusive Josephine Romany.

The mystery was over.

So why did I still feel so weird?

Everyone had gathered in the lobby. Katie whirled and clutched Josephine’s arm as soon as we appeared. I hovered near the door, still feeling like an idiot, but unable to take my eyes off the new girl. I rubbed at my wrist, which was throbbing to the beat of my pulse.

‘Oh my gosh!’ Katie cooed. ‘You were so good! You’re totally going to get Titania!’

‘You were great too,’ Josephine replied cheerfully.

‘That was a lot harder than I thought it would be,’ Katie went on, barely drawing a breath. ‘I can’t believe I didn’t wet myself right there.’

Brandon jumped in. ‘Aw, you were great, Katie. You too, Josephine.’ He spotted me. ‘And you were pretty decent, I guess.’

They all looked at me then, and I smiled, fully aware that Josephine was watching as well, even though I couldn’t bring myself to meet her gaze. ‘Thanks for the encouragement, Brandon.’

‘Ah, it was good for you, Sebastian,’ he said. ‘Who knows? Maybe Ms Lucian will take pity and actually give you a part.’

‘Stranger things have happened,’ I replied.

Josephine was still looking at me, and I knew I should’ve said something to her, but what would’ve made sense? I couldn’t reverse time, and I was pretty sure I’d destroyed my first impression. I wanted to melt into the lobby’s concrete wall.

Katie saved me from any further embarrassment by pulling her away from the group. ‘Well, we’ll see you guys later. We’re heading to the mall.’

I watched them go, feeling as if I was in a trance. I had total tunnel vision on Josephine as she opened the door and slid inside Katie’s car. But as soon as they pulled out of the parking lot my head cleared, and the world refocused. I stuffed my hands into my pockets, hoping I hadn’t looked as stupid as I’d felt.

‘I gotta give you credit, Sebastian,’ said Mitchell, approaching me. ‘I didn’t think you’d actually go through with the audition.’

I shrugged. ‘Hey, I’m always up for a challenge.’

Avery attempted a serious expression. ‘Did you have fun?’

‘Oh, tons. It ranked right up there with chickenpox and root canals.’

‘You’ve gotta stop taking yourself so seriously, man,’ Avery declared. ‘What’s life without a little risk? And you lucked out today. You got to read with Josephine.’ He dropped his arm around my shoulder. ‘What about that?’

I shrugged him off. ‘So?’

‘Oh, come on. She’s pretty hot.’

‘Definitely,’ agreed Mitchell.

‘And with that whole carnival girl vibe she’s got going on…’

‘That’s enough,’ I snapped.

Avery looked stunned. ‘Excuse me?’

I felt a rush of heat as a frightening surge of anger blazed through me; the kind that made me want to hit something. I paused, shocked at my own emotion. I didn’t get like this. Indignant, sure. Even ticked off, on occasion. But nothing like this.

This was raw, barely controllable, anger.

I took a deep breath. It had to be leftover nerves from the audition, that’s all. I took a few more breaths and pressed my fist against my leg. Something inside me finally released, and the harsh emotion disappeared as quickly as it had come.

‘Sorry,’ I said, putting on an easy smile and playing down my reaction. ‘Listen, I’ve got to go home and, you know, recover from this audition thing. Maybe get a little therapy. I’ll see you guys tomorrow, okay?’ I ignored their stares as I pushed open the lobby doors and rushed out.

What was wrong with me?

5. Sink or Swim

I considered skipping school the next day, but there was no point. I’d already seen Josephine Romany – and thoroughly embarrassed myself in the process – so that was over. Things could go back to normal now.

But I found myself constantly thinking about her, and the more I tried not to think about her, the more it happened. I wanted to see her, to somehow make up for my awkward reaction – which made even less sense to me than it did the day before – but then I’d feel mortified at the thought of seeing her – and I realized it was because I didn’t want to see her, which made absolutely no sense.

Feelings like this couldn’t be normal.

I transferred my lunch tray to one hand so I could massage my aching shoulders. Much to my dismay, and despite aspirin and a tube of muscle cream, they hadn’t loosened at all. If anything, the cramping tightness had gotten worse. Avery shifted closer as we walked through the courtyard.

‘Did somebody go to the gym last night?’ he asked hopefully.

‘Sorry, Avery,’ I replied, covering my irritation with a smirk. ‘I’m not going to join your fitness club, even if they do have really good smoothies.’ He tried to look wounded, but I wasn’t buying it. ‘I’m just a little stiff today,’ I added. ‘The weather, I guess.’

Avery glanced at the sky and cocked an eyebrow. ‘The weather?’ It was a perfect autumn day – one that begged for football and bonfires – not aching joints and muscles. ‘Look, Sebastian, I know you’ve got a full year on me, but that’s old people talk, man.’

‘I said it’s the weather, okay?’ I grinned under my hood. ‘Now shut up or I’ll beat you with my cane.’

‘Yes, sir.’

The gang was assembled in the courtyard, but with one addition: Josephine sat atop the table, chatting with the others. I instantly put on the brakes, my blood pounding in my ears. All attempts at normalcy crumbled. Avery pushed ahead, oblivious to my reaction.

‘I was so excited when my parents said we were staying in Sixes,’ she said to Katie. Her face lit up as she talked. ‘I really like it here.’

‘Well, it’s cool to have the Circe back in town,’ Mitchell squirted a packet of ketchup on his hot dog. ‘It’s been pretty boring around here.’

‘I’m glad you got switched into drama, Josie,’ said Katie. ‘I barely see you all day.’

I grimaced as Katie called her Josie. It seemed too plain for someone like her.

She was sunlight reflected on a pond.

‘Speaking of hiding out,’ said Avery from across the table, ‘where’s Francis? Did he register for drama, too?’

Josephine laughed. ‘My brother wouldn’t be caught dead in a drama class. You know what a big jock he is.’

Avery straightened, bowing out his broad chest. ‘And what’s that supposed to mean? You can’t be a jock and participate in the theatrical arts?’ He flexed his broad arms for emphasis. ‘Is that what you’re saying?’

‘Of course you can,’ Josephine replied, clearly entertained. ‘But trust me, you don’t want Francis anywhere near the stage. He claims he’s too much of a tech-head for the artsy stuff.’

‘Yeah?’ Brandon set down his soda and leaned forward. ‘So what does that make us?’

Katie smiled. ‘Well-rounded.’

Josephine propped her chin in her hand. ‘So, my birthday’s on Monday.’ She was met with a chorus of well wishes and she laughed. The sound gave me a pleasant rush. ‘Thanks, guys,’ she continued, ‘but my parents are insisting on throwing me a party…turning eighteen and all that. I have to humor them, but spending a whole evening with my troupe is not exactly what I’d call a party. I mean, honestly, I see them every day.’ Everyone was listening and, like a seasoned performer, Josephine milked every moment of their attentive silence. ‘I asked my parents if I could bring some friends from school, that is, if anyone is interested.’ She tilted her chin, looking around the table innocently. ‘I’d love it if you all could come. It’s at the Circe, of course. Monday night at seven. What do you say?’

It wasn’t really much of a decision. An invitation to a party at the Circe de Romany on a weeknight easily topped the most exciting weekend plans in Sixes. Everyone talked, and Josephine seemed pleased, and I found myself smiling at her. Then I realized I was still standing there, frozen, stupidly holding my tray. Josephine saw me.

‘What about you, Sebastian?’ she asked. ‘Can you come?’

The dancing girl whirls. Green eyes meet mine.

Blinding pain. A shriek in the dark…

Everything snapped into focus. I barely kept my tray from crashing to the ground. I took a step back, clutching the plastic handles, trying to breathe again. All this time, all those zone outs. The image of the Gypsy girl. It wasn’t from the painting in the tattoo shop. It was her.

It was Josephine.

My mouth dropped open before I had the good sense to clamp it shut. All eyes were on me now, and Katie’s were so large that I thought they might pop out of her head. Josephine blinked at me, waiting for my answer. I concentrated all my energies on declining her invitation. There was no way I could attend her party. Not when just looking at her made me freak out.

‘Sure.’

The word escaped my lips completely against my will, and the sensation felt like plunging down a long flight of stairs. Josephine’s expression turned strangely solemn as she stared at me.

‘Good.’

After another dinner of Chinese takeout, I collected the Gypsy Ink trash and prepared to make my nightly pilgrimage to the garbage bin.

‘Don’t be long,’ said Vincent, tossing me another bag from his workroom. ‘There’s another load waiting for you by the counter.’

‘Some Friday night,’ I replied, transferring garbage around until I could get it all in one trip. ‘Most people go to the movies. I’ve got a date with a Hefty bag.’

Vincent followed me to the back. ‘And whose fault is that? I figured you’d be hanging out with Katie.’

‘Nope,’ I said, kicking the door open and shoving myself through. ‘She’s doing something with Josephine.’ My scalp tingled when I said her name.

Vincent raised his brows. ‘The girl from the audition?’

‘Yep.’

My scalp tingled again, growing rapidly into an annoying itch. I pressed the side of my head into my shoulder, trying to scratch without dropping the garbage bags. Vincent watched me with amused curiosity.

‘Problems?’ he asked through quirked lips.

I tried using the other shoulder. The itch just seemed to spread. ‘Hugo’s got to stop buying that cheap crap shampoo.’

Vincent thrust another bag into my chest. ‘What, discount brand not good enough for you, pretty boy? Next you’ll be asking for body wash and those loofah things my girlfriend uses.’

‘At least I take showers,’ I said with a broad grin. ‘You should try it sometime. Really helps with the smell.’

I tucked the bag under my arm and hurried down the steps before Vincent retaliated with more trash. The door clanged shut behind me. So maybe I was sans plans for the weekend, but I didn’t mind. I wasn’t feeling particularly social. With all the weirdness I’d been experiencing lately, along with my teetering emotions, the thought of a couple of days away from everybody at school was pretty appealing.

My feet crunched over the gravel, and the sound echoed off the concrete walls. The lane was wide enough for a car, but the building on one side and the hedge of thick pine trees on the other made it feel enclosed, even stifling. The only illumination came from a sickly orange streetlight teetering precariously from a post.

The glow reminded me of the bonfire in my recurring image. And at that moment, I realized something: I hadn’t seen a single flash of it since lunch. Since I’d realized Josephine was the girl. Another mystery solved, I decided, as I closed the distance between the shop and the garbage area. I’d obviously seen Josephine’s picture somewhere – probably at Katie’s – since they were apparently good friends.

In other words, I was cured of the whatever-it-was – which should’ve been a relief – but I wasn’t totally back to normal. My insides hadn’t felt right since the afternoon before, not to mention my throbbing back, the unexplained slivers of gray hair I’d kept carefully hidden, and the fact that I couldn’t stop thinking about Josephine Romany, no matter how hard I tried.

Or how many chores I hid behind on a perfectly decent Friday evening.

I heaved the garbage bags over the side of the dumpster, determined to ask Hugo for a raise. Maybe his little Gypsy clan wasn’t rich, but I figured enduring the dumpster smell was worth some extra cash. With my hands free, I could finally dig them into my hair for a decent scratch, but my head wasn’t tingling anymore. Or maybe I just wasn’t thinking about it because of the repugnant smell of the alley. I sniffed, wondering when the stench had gotten so bad. It was enough to clear my sinuses. I brushed my sleeve disgustedly across my nose and turned around to head back to the shop.

Then I heard it: a shuffling sound from the other end of the alley. It wasn’t unusual for someone to be behind the building, dumping trash or breaking down boxes. But it wasn’t the sound that bothered me. My skin began to crawl, and the base of my skull throbbed to the rhythm of my steadily quickening pulse. The atmosphere around me felt suddenly dark.

Very, very dark.

I pressed my back against the cold metal and peered around the dumpster. The building was black and ominous. Under the feeble light the rows of doors gaped at me like hollow, fathomless eyes. The alley was deserted.

‘Hello?’ I called out into the darkness.

The only reply was the creaking of an old pine tree as a breeze chilled the October air.

My breath spewed out in white puffs. I set my jaw to stop my chattering teeth, and pushed myself away from the trash bin, eyeing the back door of the shop.

A shadow passed across the alley. No, it was more than a shadow. It was like smoke; blackened and thickly curled. It crept along the ground, clinging to the gravel and trash, enveloping the road. It could’ve been fog, but it moved too quickly. As if it had some kind of purpose.

Fair is foul, and foul is fair. The line from Macbeth ran through my head as I watched the mist slither closer, leaving a translucent trail. Hover through the fog and filthy air.

The air seemed to whisper jumbled sounds; like many voices speaking to me at once…none distinguishable or pleasant. My blood dropped to subzero levels. I could feel my heart crashing against my ribcage. I remained perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe. The mist continued to roll towards me, gaining in breadth until it stretched the width of the alley.

The door to the shop seemed a hundred miles away.

The smoke rose and hovered above me like a storm cloud. I could feel energy swirling inside it; a presence; alive and vibrant, propelling it downward. It drifted against my skin, cold and warm. I crouched, digging my shoes into the mucky ground, ready to make a run for the door. Then a strange female voice whispered in my ear.

We’ve found you…

I shot forward, propelling myself across the alley. But I didn’t get far. A gust of wind slammed into me like a freight train. The impact ripped the air from my lungs. I ricocheted off the dumpster and skidded, face first, across the dirt. Gravel sliced my palms, tore at my knees. My head rattled. Darkness invaded my vision. I felt my body trying to stand, to right itself, but I was losing consciousness. Something registered through the fog: a door banging open. I choked, gasping for oxygen as I crumpled to the ground.

I wasn’t sure how long I lay in the slosh and grime of the alley. I heard the scratching of an animal in the dumpster and the buzzing of the streetlight. But time itself passed out of reach and beyond my comprehension.

Then, arms were around me, lifting me from the ground. Vincent’s hard, lean face was close to mine, his dark eyes worried. I could smell his sweat and the hint of teriyaki on his breath.

‘Are you hurt?’ He sounded scared. ‘What happened to you?’

‘S-something…’, my throat felt coated with sand, ‘…attacked me.’

‘Attacked you?’ Vincent released me and jogged a few paces down the alley. His head twisted back and forth as he examined the road. Or, at least, that’s how it seemed. His form was blurry. I wiped my eyes with the edge of my sleeve. He returned and knelt beside me. ‘Are you sure, Sebastian? There’s no one out here.’

‘It was…’ The words didn’t make it past my teeth. The wind? I glanced at the scraggly pine branches swaying in the breeze. Then I noted the slimy tracks I’d left across the ground. Had I slipped, lost my balance in the mud? I looked at Vincent through narrowed eyes. ‘What are you doing out here?’

‘Looking for you,’ he replied. He didn’t meet my gaze; he was staring somewhat awkwardly at my hair. I brushed it out of my face as he continued. ‘You’ve been gone almost half an hour.’

‘Seriously?’

‘Come on,’ he said quickly, ‘let’s get you inside.’

He helped me to my feet. My palms itched and my right temple throbbed, but the rest of me seemed to be in working order. My lungs felt clear, and there was no trace of the mist anywhere in the alley. I glanced dubiously over my shoulder. Had I imagined it? Already, the details of what just happened felt fuzzy in my head. We entered the shop, and Kris glanced up from the counter. His eyes widened as he looked at me.

‘Um, your hair’s gray.’

I stared at him. ‘What?’

Vincent grabbed a mirror from the counter. I flipped it over and met my reflection. And I couldn’t believe what I saw. Kris was right. My hair was gray, but not the whitish gray of the elderly. It was a vibrant shade of pewter.

Only a few strands of my normally black hair remained. I tentatively brushed my fingers through it. My hair felt the same. But the shade was something out of the paint department at the hardware store. I’d heard of people’s hair changing color due to fright or trauma, but nothing like this.

‘Okay, what’s going on?’ I peeled my gaze from the mirror. ‘Is this another weird Gypsy tradition? First tattoos, then hair dye? Did my brother put you up to this?’

Vincent didn’t blink. ‘You’ll have to ask him.’

As if on cue, the front door banged open. Hugo stomped through, ushering a gust of wind. ‘Did you guys see the fog?’ he said, shedding his jacket. ‘It looks like we’re going to…’ He caught sight of me, instantly registering my new hair color. But he didn’t seem surprised. His face hardened for a moment, then relaxed into an expression I couldn’t totally place.

Almost like satisfaction.

‘Your hair’s gray,’ he said.

‘Yeah, we just covered that,’ I replied.

‘Looks good on you.’ Hugo brushed passed me and chucked his jacket on the counter. ‘Hey, Vincent, can you grab that book for me? I’ve got some research to do on a Gothic tat for a customer.’ Vincent hauled a large leather-bound book from the shelf behind the counter and handed it to my brother.

‘Hold up,’ I said, tossing the mirror aside, ‘is this gray hair part of some kind of initiation thing? I thought you already said I was in the club.’

‘It’s not a club,’ Hugo replied. ‘We’re a clan. And no, having gray hair doesn’t make you Roma.’

‘Then it has to do with my being your apprentice, doesn’t it? Your form of tattoo artist hazing.’ I paused, thinking. My scalp had only started itching after my shower earlier that evening. My gaze cut to Vincent and back to my brother. ‘You put something in my shampoo, didn’t you?’ Hugo had never really been the prankster type, but the other guys were always pulling something on each other. ‘Trying to get me to change my mind?’

Hugo cracked open the book and flipped through the pages. ‘Hmm…’

I smirked darkly and crossed my arms. My brother was stubborn.

But so was I.

‘Well, it’s going to take a lot more than flowery tattoos and hair dye or tossing me around the alley to get me to back down.’

Hugo glanced up with a sharp look. ‘Tossing you around?’

‘Yeah,’ I replied. ‘One of you guys was out by the dumpster, trying to freak me out.’ Everyone just looked at me. I let my gaze circle the group, studying their blank faces. ‘Okay, then,’ I continued, allowing my smirk to lengthen into a casual smile, ‘if that’s the way you want to play, bring it on. You’re going to apprentice me this time, Hugo. Nothing’s going to stop me from doing what I want with my life.’

For a split second, Hugo seemed to freeze. As he studied me, another expression flickered across his face. Conflicted, maybe even uncertain. But then, the blinds were closed again, and it was gone. Hugo tucked the book under his arm. ‘Well, I’ve got to get these sketches done. I’ll see you guys later.’ He smiled at me. ‘As for you, Mr Apprentice, you’d better get yourself cleaned up and grab a mop. You’ve tracked mud all through the shop.’

6. Sighted or Blind

‘Mr Grey, please remove your hood.’

I glanced up from my math problems. ‘Sir?’

Mr Weir stood over me, obviously irritated. ‘Your hood, Mr Grey,’ he said, pointing to a laminated list of rules on the wall. ‘No hats or coverings in the classroom.’

I looked around self-consciously. Everyone was in a typical Monday morning stupor, working drearily at their desks. Only Avery stole a glance at me over the edge of his textbook. I sighed and reached up, pushing back my jacket hood. Avery made a weird choking sound.

Alex Graham turned around in his seat directly in front of me. He looked me over in his typical ‘everyone on the planet is beneath me’ way and sneered through his nasty mountain-man beard. ‘Nice.’

My chest grew warm underneath my jacket at his insult. I didn’t need any more negative attention from Alex. He singled me out for ridicule enough on a daily basis as it was. I hunched in my seat and narrowed my eyes back at him, feeling the heat churning into irritated anger. I clenched my teeth, determined to keep my stupid, newfound emotions under control. No freak outs, Sebastian.

Mr Weir cleared his throat disparagingly, and continued moving down the row, checking students’ work. Alex snickered and turned back to his graffiti effort on the desk with his pen. As soon as the coast was clear, Avery leaned across the aisle and poked me with his pencil. He aimed his eraser at my hair, silently indicating the obvious question.

‘Just trying something new,’ I whispered.

No one needed to know that I’d tried to dye my hair back to its original shade all weekend, but with no success. I’d rinse out the solution, only to find the same slate gray color mocking me in the mirror. I didn’t know what Hugo and the guys had used on me or how long it would last. But for now, it appeared my new hair was permanent.

In the parking lot after school, we made our plans for the evening. Or rather, everyone else made the plans while I stood in the back of the group, adjusting the hood of my jacket and tugging it as low as possible. I’d been slammed with comments about my hair all day. Katie had given me several disapproving looks, and Emma had even threatened to stop by later and ‘repair the damage’.

‘Hey, I saw Erica on my way out,’ Mitchell said as he leaned against his car. ‘She said Ms Lucian’s going to post the cast list for A Midsummer Night’s Dream at six tonight.’

‘Finally,’ said Katie. ‘I’ve been freaking out all weekend.’

‘I’m sure you’ll get a part,’ said Emma, from under Brandon’s arm. He had her pinned against his car door and was proceeding to suck on her ear. ‘I can’t wait to see who got cast.’

‘Okay,’ said Mitchell, ignoring them. ‘I vote we meet here, check out the list, and then head to Josephine’s party at the Fairgrounds. Is that cool with everybody?’

Josephine’s party.

I’d forgotten all about it.

‘Works for me.’ Katie retrieved her keys from her purse. ‘Somebody text me as soon as you see the cast and let me know. I made the mistake of volunteering to help with the party, and now Josie’s made me her slave for the next few hours.’

Avery winked. ‘Remember, you promised you’d get Josephine to introduce me to some of those hot Circe performers.’

Katie wrinkled her nose. ‘Don’t get your hopes up.’

She got in her car and drove off. The rest of our group exchanged goodbyes and quickly dispersed. Avery pointed at me over the hood of his Jeep.

‘You’re still coming, right?’ he asked, opening the door.

I hesitated. I wasn’t the party type, but I’d told Josephine I’d be there. And I couldn’t pass up the chance to prove that I wasn’t a complete bumbling freak. The gray hair wouldn’t earn me any points, but at least maybe I could talk to her this time and not come off as a total idiot. ‘Yeah, I’m coming.’

I pulled out of the parking lot right behind Avery, and I was halfway home before an unsettling thought struck me. I didn’t have a birthday present for Josephine.

‘I can’t show up without something,’ I groaned aloud.

My rumbling van seemed to agree, so I turned around and headed back into town. Sixes was filled with dozens of shops, and I decided to try my luck in the historic district. Maybe I could find something unique there. Josephine just didn’t seem like the card and candy type. I chose a promising street and eased the van into a parking slot near a line of antique stores.

The first shop was called Antiquities and Such. I opened the bright pink door and ventured inside. Strands of Christmas lights framed the shelves and piano music drifted from a pair of frayed speakers. The smell of old things tickled my nose. An elderly lady looked up from her magazine and smiled somewhat warily at me.

‘Can I help you, young man?’

I smiled back. ‘I’m just looking, thank you.’

She nodded and returned to her magazine, and I ducked into the first aisle. Row after row of delicate collectibles taunted me. The sight was discouraging. What would Josephine like? I’d barely talked to her; if one could count a few awkward sentences as actual conversation. I should have asked Katie’s advice, but it was too late now.

I checked my phone. It was already 5:30 p.m.. I was running out of time, and I wasn’t going to find anything here. I spun around, fumbling for my keys, and dropped my phone in the process. It clanked against the glass shelving. As I knelt to pick it up, I noticed the bottom shelf was empty, save for one object: a porcelain figure.

She was dressed in a patterned skirt and peasant top, painted bright orange and yellow. The artist had captured her in the middle of a dance, with her arms extended, her back arched, and her hair billowing. Lifelike green eyes stared back at me, holding my gaze so intently that I could have sworn she was real. I leaned in closer; captivated.

A Gypsy figurine that resembled Josephine Romany. Romany. I could almost hear the wheels clicking together in my head. Could it be that the traveling circus was made up of Gypsies, too? Is that why Hugo had abruptly cut me off when I mentioned their arrival? Was there still more my brother wasn’t telling me?

‘Young man, can I get that for you?’

I toppled backwards off my heels, narrowly missing the breakables on the shelf behind me. I blinked up at the wrinkled face. ‘It’s her,’ I murmured.

The woman looked at me as if I’d escaped from a mental institution. ‘Well, I’m glad you like it. I’ll package it up for you.’

She took the figurine and hobbled to the counter. She rolled the porcelain girl in crinkled paper and bundled it into a bag.

‘That will be fifteen dollars.’

I scrounged up enough bills to pay for the gift. Back inside my van, I placed the bag on the passenger seat and stared at it, feeling a little hazy. Was I cursed with seeing Josephine in every dancing image for the rest of my life? I forced my gaze away from the gift and glanced in the rearview mirror instead.

I shoved back my hood and raked my fingers through my hair as if I could somehow brush out the pewter sheen. But nothing changed. I had to hand it to the guys. They were taking this initiation pretty seriously. I gave my head a fierce shake, yanked on my hood, and drove back to Sixes High School.

I’d given little thought to the cast list until I arrived. I just wanted to look at the sheet, congratulate those who had gotten roles, and commence with the most difficult part of my day: Josephine’s party.

‘Okay, Sebastian,’ I said, ‘let’s get this over with.’

A crowd had gathered to see the audition results, and I eased closer to the posted sheet, trying not to draw attention. The first thing I noticed was all the leads. Josephine was Titania, Queen of the Fairies. She would be perfect. Brandon had snagged Lysander, and Emma was Hermia. I doubted their love scenes would take much effort. Avery won the part of Oberon, and I was proud that Katie had been assigned the role of Hippolyta. Of course, I would have to give her some good ribbing over that name.

And then I saw the unexpected: my own name. I looked away and back. Sure enough, there it was, right next to the character of Nick Bottom, the weaver. I cringed, knowing exactly what was in store for me.

As if on cue, Mitchell’s mischievous face came into view. ‘Hey Sebastian, isn’t Nick Bottom the guy who gets turned into an ass?’

Avery shoved Mitchell while the rest of the group laughed.

The ass. I sighed deeply. Perfect.

7. Fire and Ice

My van protested as I hit every pothole on Fairground Drive. But none of my passengers seemed to care. They were too busy discussing the cast list. I’d volunteered to drive – not because my van held the most people – but because it provided some distraction. And not from the incessant joking about my role in the play, either; I was used to Mitchell and his junior high level pranks. They didn’t faze me.

But attending Josephine’s party was a different story.

‘Look, guys,’ Emma squealed, nearly jabbing me in the eye as she pointed over my shoulder from the back seat. ‘We’re here!’

‘Way to state the obvious,’ said Brandon, pulling her back into his lap with a laugh.

She poked out her bottom lip. ‘Not funny.’

He leaned in for a kiss, and I shifted the rearview mirror so that I didn’t have to witness any more of the public displays of affection that pretty much summed up their relationship. But Avery craned his neck around from the passenger seat and made gagging noises.

The Fairgrounds was a twenty-acre expanse designed for recreational activities, just outside town. As I pulled through the gates, evidence of the Circe de Romany was everywhere. An enormous tent loomed overhead, covered with lush red and gold stripes. Bright pavilions and booths, in similar colors and trimmed with green, lined the perimeter of the grounds. Katie met us in the parking lot, flushed and beaming like a blast of sunshine.

‘Pretty cool, huh?’ Katie was at my elbow as we piled out of the van.

‘It’s all right,’ I said, ‘I mean, if you’re into this sort of thing.’

She grabbed the edge of my jacket and yanked me down to her level. ‘Listen to me, you social invert, you’re going to have fun tonight.’ Her blue eyes narrowed playfully. ‘Understood?’

My lip twitched into a grin. ‘Does fun include hovering dangerously close to the exit door, looking for the most opportune moment for escape?’

‘You’re impossible.’

She tried to hit me, but I dodged out of the way with a laugh.

Avery jogged up. ‘This is awesome!’

‘I know,’ Katie replied. ‘And Josie said the Circe’s added some new acts and expanded the carnival since their last visit.’

Avery looked as if he was in heaven. ‘More games and rides?’

Katie bounced on her toes. ‘Yep. And I hear the new shows are going to be really cool.’

I locked up the van, noting the numerous cars in the lot. Josephine had apparently wasted no time making friends. Just as I stuffed my keys into my pocket, a stocky young man strolled through the fence. A broad smile flashed across his tanned features.

‘That’s Francis, Josephine’s twin brother,’ Katie said, following my gaze.

‘I didn’t know she was a twin.’ Granted, I didn’t really know much about Josephine at all, but I could see the sibling resemblance. ‘So, is this his party, too?’

‘Well, technically. But he’s not big into parties.’ She crossed her arms. ‘Sounds like someone else I know.’

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ I replied in my most innocent voice.

‘Hey, guys,’ said Francis as he approached. He was friendly, and I got the feeling that, despite Katie’s words, he’d be perfectly at ease with any party thrown his way. ‘Thanks for coming. Glad it’s not gonna be just us carnies tonight.’

‘We won’t let you down,’ said Brandon.

Francis led us through the opening, speaking over his shoulder as we walked. ‘Josephine wanted to have the party in the Big Tent.’ He gestured to the massive structure. ‘But we’re behind on setup, and it’s a mess inside. So we’re in the Holding Tent around back.’

‘What’s that?’ Emma asked, flitting out of Brandon’s grasp as he tried to lick her neck.

‘It’s the smaller tent where we dress and warm up for shows,’ Francis replied. He rolled his eyes as he saw Emma and Brandon exchange a slobbery kiss. I smiled to myself, liking him already.

Avery jabbed my ribs every time he saw something interesting. I was in danger of being permanently bruised by my Neanderthal friend before we reached the party. Just as I started to give him a good shove into the nearby fence, a sharp pain in my wrist brought me up short. I pulled up my sleeve and rubbed at the tattoo. Why was it hurting again? Avery caught sight of the inked design, and his mouth dropped open.

‘Man, you’ve been holding back on me!’ He twisted my arm to see. ‘When did’ya get the new body art?’

‘A couple of days ago. My brother finally gave in.’ I yanked my arm back when I saw the look on his face. ‘Yeah, I know, it’s a flower. But it wasn’t my choice. Hugo did it.’

‘Wouldn’t have been my choice either,’ Avery said, sounding almost sympathetic. ‘But actually, it’s not that bad. I mean, that’s some serious detail work!’

‘It’s no big deal.’ I shoved my sleeve back down.

‘So it’s like a theme then, huh?’ Avery’s eyes darted to my hood. ‘The new hair, the tattoo. Gotta look the part, right?’

‘The part?’

‘Yeah, the whole tattoo artist apprentice thing. Didn’t you say your brother’s gonna start training you?’

I half laughed. ‘Oh yeah. I’m not letting him out of it this time.’

No matter what he throws at me, I thought.

My wrist flared with pain again, and I pressed my fingers against it. Avery shot me a curious look, but didn’t say anything else. We hurried to catch up with the others. Francis took us around the Big Tent to another just behind it, half the size of the first.

‘Here we are,’ he announced, peeling back the canvas flap. ‘Come on in.’

It was nearly dark outside, but the Holding Tent was illuminated with lights. They were everywhere: hanging from the tent supports, running along the walls, and lining the tables. Inside, it looked like a quarter of the senior class had turned up for the party.

I scanned the crowd warily, suddenly feeling a bizarre need to memorize every person in the room. I zoned in on a couple of football players scratching their names into the canvas wall of the tent with a knife, their bodies hunched to hide their actions. I narrowed my eyes, feeling a strange burst of anger underneath my sternum.

I breathed in through my nose and let it out through my mouth. The anger was still there. I closed my eyes, jostled by the fierce heat of emotion. Where was it coming from? The sensation was beginning to scare me, and I bit down on my lip, commanding my body to relax. Gradually, my muscles eased, and the emotion dissipated.

‘Sebastian,’ said Avery, punching my arm. ‘You coming or not?’

I shook myself off and nodded, stepping through the opening.

‘Ah-ouch,’ I gasped suddenly.

Avery stared at me. ‘What?’

The tattoo was burning, worse than before, like slices of hot metal in my skin. I clenched my fist and shook out my arm. ‘Artwork’s still a little tender, I guess.’

Avery studied me for a moment, then hoisted his present under his arm. ‘Well, time to schmooze with the birthday girl.’ He pointed and winked.

Josephine Romany sat in the middle of a group of people on a red, circular couch. Avery rushed forward, diving comically into the cushions and causing general bedlam. I forgot about my wrist as I looked at Josephine. She’d changed for the party, wearing an emerald dress that matched her eyes. Her hair was clipped back with a silver butterfly, and jewelry sparkled at her neck, ears, and wrists.

Avery flirted with the female attendees, his long legs sprawled out in some girl’s lap. I felt a twinge of envy: Avery never had awkward moments. ‘Get over here,’ he called to me. ‘You’re missing all the fun.’

I waved, but there was no way I was joining them. Talk about awkward. I retreated to a large table cluttered with expensively packaged gifts. I unzipped my jacket and retrieved the brown bag, trying to camouflage it in the pile, but it stood out against the colorful array. I reached out to swipe it back.

‘This is so freaking awesome,’ said Brandon, leaning over my shoulder to check out the gifts.

I backed away, leaving mine. ‘There’s a lot of people here.’

Brandon smirked. ‘Well, it is a party.’

‘So people keep telling me.’

I scanned the crowd again, watching the movements and body language of everyone around me like I was working security. It felt weird, but I couldn’t seem to refocus my attention.

Emma stopped playing with Brandon’s hair and frowned at me. ‘Whoa, you don’t look so good, Sebastian.’

Sweat trickled down my neck. ‘It’s just hot in here,’ I replied, pushing my fingers against my stinging wrist. My skin was on fire.

A man and a woman wafted through the entrance, flanked by a large group of people: the Circe de Romany troupe. Their eccentric clothing, hair, and make-up suddenly made the rest of the party seem dull. I leaned against the table and tried to focus on the new arrivals rather than the uncomfortably rising temperature.

‘Welcome, everyone,’ said the man. ‘I’m Nicolas Romany, and this is my wife Sabina. We want to thank you for coming to Josephine and Francis’s birthday party. Sixes has become one of our favorite touring locations, and we’re glad to be back.’

Spontaneous applause erupted through the tent. Sabina Romany stepped forward. She looked like an older version of her daughter. ‘We’d like to invite you to enjoy some early carnival fun. We’ve set up a few rides and booths, just for tonight. Francis, why don’t you show our guests the way?’

In a rush, kids were flooding out of the tent flap, with Francis in the lead and Avery on his heels.

‘Let’s go check out the games,’ said Brandon, slapping me on the back.

‘I’ll be there in a minute.’

He shrugged and looped his arm over Emma’s shoulders, following the crowd outside. My eyes fixed on Josephine. She was sitting alone on the couch. At the sight of her, the jellified feeling returned. I was burning up, but I didn’t know if it was from the heat or my nerves.

Okay, Sebastian. You can do this. Just walk over there and talk to her.

I wiped my face, stepped forward, then instantly backpedaled. A man had broken away from the lingering Circe group and was approaching the couch. He was lean and tall, and probably in his early twenties, though it was difficult to tell; his deep set eyes and angular face made him seem older. His hair was like black ink, perfectly styled, and his clothes were the well-tailored kind. All in all, he looked like he’d just stepped off a red carpet. He leaned down and planted a kiss on Josephine’s glossy lips.

I felt like I’d swallowed a bucket of ice water.

‘Josie, I have something for you,’ he said in a voice out of a jewelry commercial.

Her eyes lit up. ‘What is it?’

Of course, she had a boyfriend. A girl like that couldn’t be single. The scorch of disappointment burned hotter than my feverish temperature. I knew I needed to turn away, but my body refused to move. I watched as the man – wearing a model-worthy smile – produced a small, rectangular box. My head swirled. Josephine opened it and took out something that resembled a necklace.

I didn’t see anything else.

The ice in my stomach exploded into nausea. I clutched my torso, stumbling for the door. I burst through the opening and hugged the support rope, trying to keep upright, though I couldn’t see straight. It was the worst I’d felt in days. I took frantic gulps of autumn air, trying not to puke or pass out, or whatever my body was desperate to do for relief. The cold burn of oxygen was like medicine. Gradually the queasiness subsided. I pressed my hands to my face until my vision cleared. My skin was hot, almost clammy.

‘Great timing,’ I said to no one in particular.

Now I could add stomach bugs to my record of ill-timed incidents, like having your hair dyed gray right before getting a part in the school play. Or attempting to talk to a girl at the exact moment her boyfriend arrives.

I took a deep breath, and then a scent I recognized with startling clarity flooded my nostrils. I spun so quickly that I nearly lost my balance. Josephine Romany stood at the entrance of the Holding Tent. Any attempt to act casual seemed impossible.

Josephine approached. ‘Sebastian?’

I blinked at her, numb for words. My chance at the second first-impression was diving faster than a stalled-out plane. My tongue finally dislodged itself from the roof of my mouth. ‘Hi, Josephine.’

I was surprised at how good it felt to say her name, as if it was meant to roll off my lips the way it did.

‘Are you okay?’ she asked, searching my face. ‘I saw you run out.’

I wasn’t sure what startled me more: the fact that she’d noticed me or the fact that she cared enough to enquire. ‘Oh, sure, totally fine. I just needed some air. It was really…hot…in there.’

Josephine didn’t seem convinced. Her head tilted as she studied me. I tried to smile but ended up squinting at my shoes instead. There was a long pause.

Mayday. Plane down.

‘Hey, would you like a tour of the Ferris wheel?’ she asked suddenly.

My head snapped up. ‘A tour?’

Her smile melted my insides. ‘Well, sure. We haven’t gotten much chance to talk since I arrived, and now it looks like we’re going to be in the school play together…’ She trailed off, looking at me with a sort of friendly pity.

We have a survivor.

I felt a little confidence return. I hadn’t totally self-destructed. At least, not yet.

‘That sounds great,’ I replied.

‘That is, if you’re sure you’re feeling all right,’ she added quickly.

‘No, I’m good. Everything’s good now.’

‘Awesome,’ she said, sounding happy. ‘No one around here ever wants to ride it with me.’

Ride it?

The thought hadn’t occurred to me.

‘Oh.’

‘Oh?’ she repeated in a light tone.

‘I have a problem with heights,’ I confessed.

‘Well, we don’t have to, then.’

‘No,’ I said, hastily. ‘I’d love to ride with you.’

What was I doing? I hated being in the air. And with my stomach already doing somersaults, the chances of embarrassing myself beyond repair were pretty good. But I couldn’t refuse. Josephine could have asked me to ride a unicycle down a telephone wire, and I would have done it. I didn’t know whether to be happy or horrified. As she looked up at me, I decided on the first.

Josephine led us away from the crowded game booths to a less populated section of the Fairgrounds. We turned a sharp corner and then the Ferris wheel loomed into view. Its large form consumed the night sky. It was an impressive size for a carnival ride, and I counted twenty green and yellow cars on the circular frame.

‘Well, there she is,’ Josephine said. ‘We call her Bessie.’

‘Bessie?’

‘Yeah,’ she replied, darting through a short, roped-off line. ‘Francis and the other riggers hate her because she’s such a beast to put up.’

A gray-headed man leaned out of the small booth at the gate as we approached. He gave Josephine a short wave. ‘Two for the wheel?’

‘Yes, Karl. I found a willing victim at last.’

My body threatened a cardiac rebellion, but I had to admit, the thought of being Josephine’s victim was thrilling.

‘Well, climb in and I’ll send you up,’ Karl chuckled, ducking back into the booth. ‘You’re the first customers I’ve had all night.’

‘Poor Bessie,’ said Josephine, winking at me.

Our car was bright yellow. Josephine climbed in first. There was a single safety bar, which did nothing to help my acrophobia. Being this close to Josephine was nerve-shattering enough, but now, I was about to be hoisted dozens of feet off the ground. The engine chugged to life. Metal squeaked and groaned, and our car began its circular journey.

‘Sebastian, are you sure this is okay with you?’

Josephine was settled comfortably on her side of the car. The breeze had wrestled a few strands of her hair free from the clip, and they fluttered like angel wings around her face.

‘It’s not that bad.’

Behind her, the roofs of the pavilions sank from view. It was that bad. But I wasn’t about to let her know. I gripped the bar fiercely. My entire life I’d hardly given a girl more than a second glance. Now, suddenly, I couldn’t take my eyes off one.

And I was going to be sick all over her.

Josephine smiled. ‘You know, for an actor, you’re not that great a liar.’

‘Really? I thought I was masking my feelings of abject terror pretty well, under the circumstances. I haven’t curled up into fetal position. Yet.’

‘Ah, something to look forward to, then.’

‘Maybe. But I should warn you, my acting skills are about as subpar as my lying. I don’t know how convincing a fetus I’ll make.’ Brilliant, Sebastian. I groaned. ‘Pretend I didn’t just say that.’

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