I’m made of pleasure—every nerve, every cell.
The whole floor splits beneath us, the bell tipping down through the jagged hole.
Dean scoops me up in his arms and sprints for the stairs. The tower lists to the left, stones raining down like deadly hail. The stairs fall away under his feet. Dean is jumping as much as running, leaping over empty space.
The bell crashes down, bouncing off the walls with huge, hollow booms. It slams to a halt with a noise like an explosion, right as we burst through the door at the base of the tower, a landslide of rock and grit tumbling after us.
We stand panting on the grass, naked as the day we were born and covered head to toe in gray dust.
The Bell Tower is still standing, but just barely—it now tilts to the side worse than ever, with several more holes in the walls and no steps to climb up to the top.
Shouts come from the windows of the Accountant’s Tower, the students roused by the crashing and clanging of the bell falling down. Lights snap on in the infirmary—probably Sasha and Snow rising from their bed in their private quarters.
Laughing madly, Dean and I sprint for the stables before anyone can see us. We hide inside, amongst the piles of old furniture and files, until we find a box of ancient jerseys.
My jersey covers me much better than Dean’s—it hangs down to my knees, while his resembles something worn by Winnie the Pooh.
I can’t stop laughing.
“Maybe wrap another one around your waist?” I snort.
He seizes me and kisses me again, our mouths tasting of sex and ash.
Dressed but not exactly decent, we each run for our respective dorms.
“What in the hell?” Rakel says, when I try to sneak into our room unnoticed. “Have you been down in a coal mine?”
“I can’t possibly explain,” I tell her.
“Well, you missed a hell of an evening. Lola’s been bawling in her room and she won’t come out.”
“What happened?” I say.
“Someone cut her hair off. She won’t say who.”
Rakel gives me a suspicious look.
“You didn’t have anything to do with it, did you? Because I would hope you’d involve me in any revenge plots against Lola and Dixie.”
“I didn’t know a thing about it,” I shake my head, mystified. “For once, I’m actually innocent.”
Rakel snorts.
“I don’t know what you were doing, but you’re the furthest thing from innocent.”
32
Dean
Heaven — Julia Michaels
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The last week of school is the happiest week of my life.
I spend every moment possible with Cat. We go for long walks all over the island—across the vineyards fragrant with ripening grapes, down through the shady river bottoms, and along the wild, salt-swept beaches.
When the final marks are posted, I’m not in first place for my year. Anna Wilk took that honor, and Ares took second. I barely scraped third.
And yet . . . I don’t care.
Who would I have told, if I were first?
My father is dead. I can no longer impress or disappoint him.
And I no longer care what Danyl Kuznetsov or Abram Balakin think. In fact, when I consider the prospect of becoming Danyl’s lieutenant, all I feel is anxiety at the possibility that he might share Bodashka and Vanya’s ambitions of overthrowing Ivan Petrov and taking control of St. Petersburg. I want nothing to do with that.
The only person I want to impress now is Cat. She would much rather spend another lazy afternoon together than see me score a few points higher on my final exams.
I’m dreading a long summer without seeing her.
As we sit up on the cliffs overlooking the Moon Beach, the breeze tossing Cat’s curls around her face, I ask her, “Are you going to Los Angeles for the summer? To visit Zoe?”
“Actually . . .” Cat pulls up a blade of new green grass, twisting it between her fingers, “Miles and Zoe are coming back to Chicago for a few weeks. I was planning to meet them there. And I hoped you might come with me . . .”
“To Chicago,” I say.
It’s not really a question. I’m just voicing the words aloud, as if that will help me understand how I feel about that idea.
“Not to see your mom,” Cat amends, quickly. “But I thought . . . maybe . . . you might want to see some of the rest of your family.”
She means my Aunt Yelena, Leo’s mother.
She was my father’s twin. They were best friends, growing up. The closest people in the world to each other.
I suppose Leo told her what happened. I wonder if she was upset?
“They’re not my family,” I tell Cat. “I’ve never even met them.”
Cat looks me in the eye, laying her hand on top of mine on the warm grass.
“They could be,” she says. “If that’s what you wanted.”
I turn my hand over so I can grip her fingers tight.
As always happens when I consider the ugly, bloody history of my forbearers, my stomach churns and my face gets hot. Usually a wave of anger and resentment washes over me.
But today, I feel something different. A little bit like fear, and a little bit like longing.
“I don’t think any of them would want to see me,” I say, quietly.
Cat reaches up to touch my cheek, her hand softer than any pillow.
“Do you want to be with me always?” She says.
“Yes,” I tell her.
“Then you’re going to be tied to the Griffins and the Gallos twice over. We’ll all be connected to each other. We’ll all be family.”
I take her hand off my cheek and bring it to my lips, kissing it gently.
“I’ll do whatever it takes to be with you, Cat. I’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy. If you want me to come to Chicago with you . . . then that’s what I’ll do.”
The morning we’re due to leave Kingmakers, I visit Snow one last time.
He’s in the gym, straightening the mats and putting away any errant pieces of equipment, even though there’s no more classes and no students dedicated enough to train on the last day of school.
Not even me.
When he sees me standing in the doorway he straightens up, smiling without any surprise.
“Did you change your mind about coming to New York?” he says.
“No,” I reply. “But if the offer still stands in a few years . . . ”
“It will always stand,” he says, quietly.
“Thank you.” I pause, wanting to say this right. “Thank you for everything, Snow. You helped me, when I didn’t want it or ask for it. When I wasn’t grateful or even deserving.”
“You were deserving,” Snow says, his eyes as clear and piercing as ever. “I saw that from the start.”
I cross the mats and embrace him one last time.
I hope I can give that sort of hug to someone, someday.
“Cat asked me to come to Chicago with her,” I tell him. “Over the summer.”
“What did you say?”
“What do you think I said?”