Dedication

This book is dedicated to my nieces, nephews, and niblings who are coming of age—and to everyone who is struggling to understand their purpose and their legacy. Our purpose may not be easy to uncover or interpret, but we all have something unique to contribute to this planet. May we all discover the guiding lights to illuminate our paths through the maze of life.

1

The dream was always the same. Me, tiny and bobbing in the air—darkness all around. The warmth of a large pair of arms holding me close, a whisper telling me I wasn’t alone. I could never see a face, but I didn’t need the flash of an eye or the curve of a mouth to tell me who these arms belonged to. I felt their strength, and I knew. It was my mother.

This was the dream: her holding me, me snuggling against her skin, pressing into the crook of her arms. Then, a loud bang. The darkness suddenly pulsing with chaos. Surrounded by yelling and shuffling feet, my mother becoming frantic, squeezing her arms tighter and tighter around me. Light bleeding into the darkness as her body grew hot, burning with a deep orange glow. Jerking back and forth with me pressed to her chest, she vibrated until she began to blaze.

My mother was an inferno, an explosion of flames. But no matter how fiery her arms became, I was never in danger. As she burned, gusts of air curled around me, wrapping me in a cool cocoon of winds. For a brief moment, my mother’s love broke through all the fire and wind. One drop of water—a single tear—fell upon me, splashing on my forehead. Then my mother threw me high into the air, thrusting me back into darkness, leaving me completely and utterly alone.

I woke with my heart thudding, the dream still clinging to my skin. My room was dark, and just like at the end of my dream, I was totally and completely alone. I pressed my hands against my face and squeezed my eyes tight, the same question whipping around my mind: Was it a memory or a dream?

A scream ripped through the quiet. My eyes popped open, but the house was silent. All I could hear was the thudding of my heartbeat. Just as I was slipping back into the dream, the scream rang out again. I threw off the covers and ran to the window. Outside, everything was so cloaked in shadow that I could barely make out the tin animal ornaments scattered around our front yard. The rickety wood fence that held us in sat in silhouette. Beyond our gate, I could see the narrow dirt road that led to town. Past that the woods looked like an ocean—except instead of water, there were treetops spreading out as far as I could see.

The voice screamed for a third time, and the sound scratched at my heart. Someone, or something, was out there—and they were scared. I threw on MawMaw’s silky robe and paced my room. The need to help was like an itch nagging at my legs, but I knew MawMaw would want me to stay put, to keep my secret safe. She would say, “There are things for only you and me to know.”

The next time I heard the scream, I tugged on my boots and tiptoed down the stairs. My heart jumped with each squeaky floorboard, but I made it through the dining room, past MawMaw’s quilting nook, and across the foyer without waking her. I eased the front door open, praying it wouldn’t creak on its hinges.

“I’ll be back,” I whispered to the silent house, then I launched myself across the front porch and down the stairs as fast as I could.

As soon as I reached the front gate, I felt a twinge between my shoulders, like MawMaw was staring at me. I whirled around, but the only witness to my escape was the house, glowing tall and ghostly under the moonlight. Up above, stars cluttered the sky, bathing the goat pen, pig pen, and chicken coop in a soft, eerie light. I imagined MawMaw standing in the yard, fixing me with a hard look, saying, “Ain’t too late for you to come back upstairs, kick off them boots, and get your butt in bed, where you belong.” Guilt almost made me obey, but the scream ripped through the night again.

“Sorry, MawMaw,” I whispered.

I pushed through the gate and followed the river that curved around the house. I had listened to the soft whisper of the water and played under the canopy of those trees all my life. The trees that spread for miles beyond our gates kept people out—that’s how MawMaw liked it.

Halfway down the footpath, the overhead branches grew thick, dimming the moonlight. I knew that sea of trees as well as I knew the cracks in my ceiling, but without the kiss of light, the woods became a strange place. Before long, fear rumbled in my chest, and it felt like the woods had swallowed me whole.

The scream rang out again, and I turned, tripping over dips and rises in the dirt until I found myself on the footpath to Deep Creek. Dodging low tree branches, I raced through the grass until I could see the creek.

When the footbridge was a few feet away, I stopped short. It looked like a death trap in the daylight, but the night had transformed it into a terrifying thing. It glowed, menacing and skeletal, in the moonlight. Its decaying wooden handrails and missing planks warned me away. Suddenly, it felt like I was the one in danger. Why had I raced out of the house? Why did I think I could help?

The next time I heard the voice, it was a yelp, pitiful and hopeless. I scanned the bridge and saw a pair of skinny legs dangling from the edge, so small they had to belong to a child. Concern snuffed out my fear, and I rushed onto the footbridge. It dipped and rattled under my feet. My stomach clenched in terror, I lowered to a crouch and started carefully inching forward.

“Hold on!” I yelled. The voice whimpered back. I stopped short at a gap in the planks. Down below, I could see the creek racing along, the water slapping against the rocks on the bank. For a few seconds, I considered skirting the sides and edging my way forward, but I didn’t trust the rotting handrails to hold me. As I stared into the waters below, the sound of the creek seemed to grow louder. I knew there was one way I could save the child, but only if I did the one thing I promised never to do.

In my dreams, Mama is fire and I am wind, but it’s water that took her—and Daddy too. They drowned in their own house. The way MawMaw explained it, no one in New Orleans was ready for the storm. Even though canals and lakes swell every hurricane season, it had been decades since the water had overflowed like it did after Katrina hit. Storm-swollen waters had broken through the city’s weak levees before, but not with such force, sweeping through the streets, swallowing neighborhood after neighborhood until most of the city was underwater.

MawMaw says I should feel proud that my parents found a way to save me even though they couldn’t save themselves. They had built a float and attached it to the bars on the attic window. And I had been strong enough—even as a tiny baby—to survive. Watching those little legs wriggling off the edge of the footbridge now, I imagined the child plummeting down into the water and drowning, and I knew. I knew that, whatever MawMaw wanted, my parents wouldn’t want me to let a child die the way they did.

Determined, I backed off the bridge and anchored my weight in the gravel under my feet. With closed eyes, I spread my fingers and called the winds to me. The second I felt them draw close, I opened my eyes and lifted my hands. My fingers twitched as I traced out the path I wanted the winds to follow. Holding my breath, I clasped my fingers into a fist and sighed in relief when the winds twisted in response, spiraling into tight threads. Moving quickly, I braided the air, weaving the winds into a huge blanket. With a sharp flick of my wrist, I sent the woven winds rushing toward the bridge to sweep beneath the child.

When I felt the thump of the wind colliding with those little legs, I curled my index finger, commanding a few loose strands to curl around the child’s ankles.

“You can do this,” I whispered to myself.

I took a deep breath, rippled my fingers, then yanked my hands back. A wild yell of terror rang out as the winds tugged the child through the air, dragging that small body above the river and hurtling straight toward me. As soon as the child cleared the riverbank, I released my hands and let them flop at my sides. A little boy tumbled to the ground, landing with a thud next to my feet. He stared up at me, both of us trembling as the winds flew away.

“H-how you did that?” he asked when he found his voice.

“I didn’t,” I lied.

The boy’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, you did.”

I shook my head. “Didn’t.”

The boy jumped to his feet. His T-shirt was torn, and there were scratches on his hands and arms. “You the only one out here.”

I was searching for a better lie to tell when I recognized him. One day, a few years ago, MawMaw told me to put on the one dress I owned. We climbed into her pickup truck and drove one and a half hours into town. She led me into a huge building with music posters covering the walls and an excited crowd gathered in front of a small stage.

“What is this?” I asked, confused.

All my life she had pushed people away, and now she had thrust us in the middle of a crowd. This was the opposite of avoiding people.

“Where are—”

MawMaw cut me off. “Even deserts get a little bit of rain,” she said.

Before I could ask another question, a band walked onto the stage with their accordions and guitars, drumsticks and washboards. When they started playing, the music felt like pure gold pouring over me. In the center of the stage was Big Bo, foot thumping and violin bow flying. His voice shouted and growled lyrics, showering us with electricity. MawMaw grabbed my hands and pulled me onto the dance floor. We swayed and spun until I felt like glitter was raining down on me. We went home hours later with sore muscles and happy hearts, and I slept so hard, I didn’t even dream of Mama.

From then on, every few months, we’d climb into the truck and go. It didn’t take long before being at a zydeco felt like being at home. Just a few months ago, I was spinning myself around the dance floor, wild and free, when Big Bo had introduced this little boy to the audience. He had climbed onto the stage, his face beaming with pride. When he started singing, time and space disappeared. I stopped dancing instantly and listened as his husky voice fell soft in my soul.

I’m not the same

Not the same one you left behind

I want to let you know

Just in case you change your mind

The memory brought a smile to my lips.

“You’re Big Bo’s boy,” I said, the grin still lingering on my face.

A look of fear flashed in the boy’s eyes. He hunched over, hiding his head in his hands.

“Don’t cry,” I whispered, kneeling down and rubbing his back. “You’re safe now.”

“You gonna tell,” the boy said. I put my arm around his shoulders and pulled his shaking body close.

“I won’t, I promise,” I said. “We won’t tell anyone about tonight.”

He sniffled and peeked up at me from behind his palms.

“You won’t tell Big Bo?”

I shook my head. “As long as you won’t tell anyone . . . what happened.”

He uncovered his face and wiped his eyes with his knuckles. His face grew serious.

“I promise I won’t tell a soul,” he said.

I held out my hand, and he grasped it, squeezing with his fingers to seal our promise. Then we fell silent as we turned away from the bridge to find our way back through the woods. I sent a silent prayer into the night that the boy would keep my secret safe. But the trees loomed overhead, rustling and echoing MawMaw’s warnings. I imagined her next to us, shooting me a look of disappointment.

“Don’t you know, child,” I could hear her whispering, “the things you hide in the dark always come out in the light?”

2

“Veronique!”

The next morning, I awoke to a shout. I rubbed my eyes and rolled over. My head was pounding. I felt like a truck had run me over.

“Veronique. Get dressed and get down here!”

I sat up. My mind exploded with panic as MawMaw’s words filtered into my brain. She always called me baby, chérie, or sugarplum, but never Veronique. Not unless I was in trouble.

“Coming!” I yelled.

I pushed back the covers and grabbed a shirt and a pair of shorts. I wrestled my hair into two fat cornrows and rushed out of the room. Halfway down the stairs, I heard a deep, booming voice. In my entire life, MawMaw had let only two people in the house, the mailman and the next-door neighbor. Who on earth was here?

Then I stepped into the parlor and froze. Sitting on the antique aqua sofa, broad and wide as ever, was Big Bo.

“This her?” he rumbled.

“That’s right,” MawMaw replied from the kitchen. “We be in there in a second.”

I wheeled around, ready to race back to my room when Big Bo asked, “Where you running off to?” I stopped in my tracks and turned to face him.

He rose to his feet and spread his arms.

“I came to give you my thanks,” he said, grinning.

“Thanks?” I stared down at the floor, too scared to catch his eye. “Why?”

Big Bo laughed, and the sound reminded me of everything I loved about him. I imagined him swaying onstage at a zydeco, singing and smiling with a face wet with sweat, commanding the whole room to dance. It was more calming to think of him onstage instead of standing here, towering over MawMaw’s furniture.

“You brought my boy home last night, didn’t you?” he said, smiling broadly. His teeth flashed and glimmered against the deep brown of his skin.

“He yours?” I asked. It was all I could think to say. If I said anything more, I was afraid I’d be a mess, switching between thanking him for his beautiful music and begging him to tell me every single word Lil Bo had said about last night.

“He my boy’s son, and he . . .” Big Bo looked down at his shoes. For a few seconds, he seemed just as lost for words as I was. “He like to wander.” His hand flung through the air as if waving away something worrisome before it could get too close.

I frowned, remembering Lil Bo’s hunched shoulders and sobs. I didn’t think Big Bo was a danger, but something in that house had made Lil Bo race away from the people who were supposed to love him.

Before either of us could find anything else to say, MawMaw walked into the parlor carrying a pitcher of lemonade. Her gray hair, which was usually twisted and pinned neatly on top of her head, was tugged back into a messy ponytail. She looked tired—too tired for this time of morning. The pitcher trembled in her hands. I launched forward, ready to take it from her, but she tightened her grip and shot me a warning glance. She had always been so steady, but lately her hands had been trembling more often. Whenever I asked about it, she’d shrug. “Just getting old, I guess.” But she’d been old all my life and that had never stopped her from being strong.

Lil Bo marched into the parlor behind MawMaw, carrying a tray of glasses. I had never seen the pitcher or the glasses, but I guess we’d never had real company before.

“You didn’t have to trouble yourself.” Big Bo’s voice filled the house.

“Well, ain’t so often we have visitors,” MawMaw said. “Specially not royalty.”

Big Bo laughed, and all the awkwardness that had filled the parlor when we were alone disappeared. “Royalty? You must’ve got me confused with somebody else.”

Big Bo sat back down on the sofa. Seeing him surrounded by MawMaw’s lace doilies and colorful quilts was a strange sight. I’d only ever seen him at the center of a musical universe, men with spoons and washboards, fiddles and accordions swirling around him.

Lil Bo set the tray down, then fished a horseshoe out of the big bowl on the coffee table and slid into an overstuffed pink chair. I knew it was only polite to join them on the couches, but MawMaw hadn’t said a word to me since I’d come downstairs. I decided it was safer to wait on my fate with the heavy coffee table between us. As she filled the glasses with lemonade, I peeked over at Lil Bo again, wondering how much he had told MawMaw. Slumped in the chair, he kept his chin pressed to his chest and his eyes fixed on the thin, rusted piece of metal in his hands.

When everyone had a glass, Big Bo lifted his lemonade into the air. “Well, like I said, I appreciate you looking after Bernard here.” He placed a heavy hand on the boy’s head. “To Ms. Broussard and Miss Veronique. Everybody need neighbors like y’all. I wish y’all good health and sweet music.”

“Same to you, Bo. And your family,” MawMaw said.

“I thank you,” Big Bo said, flashing MawMaw a quick smile before draining his glass and placing it back on the tray. He reached over to nudge the boy.

“Well, say thank you, Lil Bo.”

The horseshoe slipped out of Lil Bo’s hands and went clattering to the floor.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

“It’s okay. You keep it, honey,” MawMaw said when he picked it up and went to return it to the bowl.

He began to slip it into his pocket, but Big Bo stopped him.

“You ain’t here to get no gift; you here to give your thanks,” he boomed. “Give it back.”

The boy’s shoulders hunched around his ears as he dropped the horseshoe into the bowl.

“Wasn’t supposed to be out there no way,” Big Bo muttered. Then he looked up at me as if a thought had just struck his mind. “How did you find him all the way out there anyway? You like to wander too?”

Before I could answer, MawMaw cleared her throat and jumped to her feet.

“Well, thank you for your visit.”

“Oh,” Big Bo said, as if MawMaw had taken him by surprise. He shifted to the end of the couch.

“Thanks again, lil missy,” he said, nodding at me from across the coffee table. Then he leaned down to offer his hand to MawMaw. “You know, Bayou Bash is coming. Why don’t y’all come and enjoy it on me. I know how much y’all love a zydeco.”

“That’s kind of you.” MawMaw smiled and shook his hand, but I could tell she didn’t mean it. The smile was too tight and her eyes too cautious.

“Good,” Big Bo said, closing both MawMaw’s hands in his. “I’ll put y’all on the list.”

“If we’re in town, we’ll be there.”

If we’re in town? Those four words blazed through me like an electric shock. Since when did we ever go anywhere? I was suddenly sure I was in terrible trouble. I had wild visions of MawMaw locking me in the house and refusing to let me leave. My life would be over. No more playing in the woods, no more visiting the horses on the neighbor’s farm, no more zydecos.

“Let’s go, boy.” Big Bo turned as if he expected the world to turn with him. He worked his way out from between the sofa and the coffee table and followed MawMaw to the front door.

With the adults gone, Lil Bo slid into action. He darted toward the coffee table, grabbed his glass with two hands, and noisily gulped down the rest of his lemonade. When he set the glass down, I plucked a horseshoe from the bowl and thrust it at him.

“Keep it for good luck,” I whispered.

He yanked his hands away and shook his head.

“Don’t worry, we have plenty. My neighbor’s horses leave them all over the place.”

He reached out for it hesitantly.

“Did you keep our secret?” I asked as Lil Bo tucked the horseshoe into his back pocket.

He looked at me with those serious eyes. “I’ll never tell,” he said.

We both fell silent for a few seconds.

“Get on out here,” Big Bo boomed from the porch. Lil Bo rolled his eyes. I grinned and put my arm around his shoulders, guiding him to the front door.

“You gonna come hear me sing again?” he asked as I pushed the screen door open.

“Of course.” But I wondered if that were true.

On the porch, MawMaw was leaning against the banister talking to Big Bo about the metal roosters that decorated our front yard. When Lil Bo slunk past her, she reached out and patted him on the back. He smiled at her shyly and walked down the stairs to join his grandfather.

As they climbed into their pickup truck, I could feel MawMaw’s calm quickly fading. Normally, if she fell silent, she’d be gathering her thoughts, preparing to reveal one of life’s deep secrets to me—but today, her silence was ominous. By the time Big Bo’s truck disappeared, MawMaw was shaking with anger.

“You used your powers in front of that little boy?” she asked, not looking at me.

“Did . . . did Big Bo tell you that?”

“Answer me.” MawMaw finally turned to look at me, her lips pinched in a furious frown. Her eyes were steady and fierce, but her hands trembled violently.

I grabbed her shoulders in alarm. “Are you okay?”

“Answer me!” she snapped.

“I had to! He was hanging from the bridge. He was going to . . .” My voice pitched high in protest. “I saw Lil Bo’s legs wiggling over the water. If I didn’t help, he was going to fall and drown,” I finished in a low voice.

MawMaw sighed. It was a heavy sound, as if her breath was weighed down by sadness. Then, without another word, she turned and walked back into the house. I hung back, biting my lip. All my life, I had watched Maw Maw’s wiry body do what we needed to keep this place going. Chopping wood, wrestling catfish off fishhooks, hunting snakes, shooting possum—she did it all without fear or exhaustion. To see her so shaky now shook me to my core.

I raced back into the house after her and shut the door.

“Does Big Bo know?” I asked.

She paused halfway through the parlor, her hand resting on the back of the couch. “He doesn’t know. The little boy can keep a secret, but it didn’t take long for me to figure it out. He said you ran across the bridge to save him.” She shot me a skeptical look. “What were you doing out there anyway?”

“I . . . I heard him screaming. It was so loud, it woke me up. I could tell he was in trouble.”

She crossed her arms and fixed me with an incredulous stare. “So you just marched your narrow behind out there in the middle of the night like some goddamn superhero?”

Tears stung my eyes. “I’m sorry, MawMaw.”

She covered her face with her hands, sank down into the big pink chair, and folded into herself. For a handful of seconds, she didn’t move. Terror washed over me. I had seen MawMaw rage, I had seen her lecture—she’d even shaken me in frustration before—but I’d never seen her curl into a ball, defeated. I crept over to her, my heart pounding loudly. We were alone in the world, and if I didn’t have her on my side, I had no one.

“MawMaw?” I sat on the arm of her chair and touched her back gently.

“I can’t keep you safe anymore,” she said, her voice muffled against her palms.

“What?”

She lifted her head. Her eyes were glittering. “You’re. Not. Safe. Here.”

I grabbed MawMaw’s hands. “You kept me safe my whole life. What’s different now?”

MawMaw gently tugged her hands out of my grasp. They tremored like leaves fluttering in the wind. She held them up so that neither of us could ignore their quivering.

“I’m losing my strength. It’s time for us to face the truth. Chérie, I’m dying.”

“What?” I jerked away from her. Now my hands were shaking. My mind twisted and contorted, refusing to accept MawMaw’s words. Dying? That wasn’t possible. “No. MawMaw, you can’t know that. . . .”

MawMaw stroked my cheek. “I wish I could watch over you forever, but I can’t. I’m sick and I don’t have much time left. . . .”

My throat tightened. I felt like I was going to black out. “What are you saying? What’s wrong with you? How long will you—”

She pulled my hands into her lap. “They don’t know. But I can’t take any chances. I can’t go without knowing you’re safe.”

MawMaw’s words pierced me, leaving me tingling and nauseous.

“Are you . . .” I gulped, then pushed the words out. “Are you leaving me?”

MawMaw shook her head. Her eyes were wet with tears. “You’re leaving me. It’s time for someone else to teach you about life. You’re going to live with your aunt Eve. She’s coming to get you in a few days.”

I felt like she had smacked me in the face. This was home, the only one I had ever known. “Is this because of last night?”

MawMaw shook her head. “I won’t let you come home one day to find me cold on the floor. It’s gonna hurt to let you go, but it’s time to prepare for the future. Eve and her family are ready for you. They’ll take care of you when I’m gone.”

“No.” I wrenched my hands free and fell to the floor in protest. “I won’t go.”

“Don’t be silly,” she said, her voice softening. “This is the end of my life, but the beginning of yours.”

Her words battered me, leaving me bruised and breathless. I held on to her legs, sobbing.

“Oh, chérie,” she whispered, stroking my hair.

I could tell she had so much more to say, but she took pity on me. Reaching down, she pulled me up onto the couch, then wrapped her arms around me. I clung to her, and, together, we did the only thing we could: we held each other tight and wept until we had no more tears to cry.

3

Preparing to leave MawMaw’s house felt like a nightmare and a fairy tale all at once. She was my miracle, my champion, my teacher, and my mirror. Without her as my anchor, I didn’t know who I would be. I tried to clutch on to every moment as it rained through my mind. I fought to remember the words she used to haggle with the milkman over pennies, her encouraging laughter as she taught me tricks for remembering a math formula or a recipe, the glare in her eye any time she stared me down until I dissolved into a puddle of tears.

My thoughts slipped from her face to her hands. They had held me steady over the years, washing and braiding my hair, cutting fabric and sewing quilts and dolls just for me, cooking my favorite foods. She didn’t have any powers, but that didn’t stop her from figuring out that I could use my own hands to guide the winds. She showed me that the winds rose and fell with my emotions. When I was upset, they raged, sweeping open cabinet doors and slamming them shut. When I was excited, glasses flew off the countertops and smashed against the wall. She taught me to control my emotions and calm the winds by stroking my inner wrist.

“But how am I supposed to hide my powers from them?” I burst out in the middle of folding and packing my clothes.

MawMaw had spent my whole childhood reminding me that I was forbidden to show my powers to anyone, but I’d never had to hide my powers in my own house. How could she spend my whole life warning me that people would try to take me away from her if they found out about my powers—then suddenly turn me loose to live with strangers?

“You’re strong enough to control them now,” she said.

My heart was throbbing so hard, I felt like it would burn a hole in my chest. MawMaw tightened her jaw and told me to get back to packing, but I just stared at her, my hands resting in the pile of clothes sitting in my lap. I knew she was hurting just as much as I was. She’d always said taking care of me was the hardest and most beautiful thing she had ever done in her life. I was a restless child, always moving and screaming, and the winds were constantly swirling around me. I knew how many sleepless nights she fought through when I was a baby, so why wasn’t she fighting harder for us to stay together? How could she just let me go?

Six short days after I had saved Lil Bo, the day came to leave. That morning, I went to MawMaw’s room with my hair damp from the shower. I sat on a cushion on the floor and leaned against her bed. She framed my shoulders with her knees, and her scent engulfed me in a mix of flowery lotion and spice-tinged perfume. Even though she was right there, rubbing hair grease onto my scalp, I suddenly felt so alone. I wrapped my arm around her shin and leaned my head on her knee. She pulled my hair to one side and started to braid, humming one of her favorite songs as she worked.

Usually, when she started singing, I tilted my head back and joined in. But today my throat felt dry and my thoughts were heavy with something MawMaw had said. As I sat there, the words You’re not safe here cycled over and over in my mind.

“MawMaw,” I whispered. “When I leave, is something bad going to happen to me?”

MawMaw pressed the tip of a big plastic comb to the edge of my hairline and dragged it down my scalp, clearing a straight part through my hair.

“You are one of God’s mysteries and treasures,” she said, gripping my shoulders. “I can’t promise that trouble won’t come for you, but you were meant to be here. I know you will be protected.”

At that, I shrank deeper into myself. MawMaw had always been my protector. I didn’t know who this version of MawMaw was.

“How will I know the difference?”

“The difference between what?”

“Between something coming to hurt me and something coming to protect me?”

MawMaw drew in a long, ragged breath. “You have to feel it, like you feel the winds. If somebody’s pushing and tugging at you, trying to convince you to trust them—don’t. It has to be natural. Listen to that voice inside you—sometimes it’s tiny, sometimes it roars, but you can always trust it, more than you can trust anything else.”

MawMaw went silent again as she dragged another part across my scalp. I bit my lip, thinking that it was the voice inside me that had sent me out into the night to Lil Bo. If I hadn’t listened, would I still be leaving her?

After my hair was done, MawMaw led me downstairs, where she had a feast waiting. Cheese grits and biscuits, sausage and strawberry jam. I grabbed her into a hug and pressed my cheek against hers. “What am I going to do without you?”

MawMaw squeezed me back. “I’m old, chérie. You were always going to have to find a way without me.”

She said it so offhand that I felt ashamed and childish. It was only natural that MawMaw would leave me behind one day, but I had never thought about it. I had taken for granted she would always be there. The tears that had been threatening to spill since I’d woken up began to roll down my cheeks. I felt too sick to eat.

“I have something for you,” MawMaw said, handing me a tiny gold photo album. I wiped my eyes with my napkin and flipped it open. It was blank. I looked up at her, confused.

“Follow me,” she said.

In the parlor, she had a stack of photo albums waiting for us on the coffee table. I paged through them, pausing at a picture of me as a newborn and my parents looking down at me proudly.

“You can take any pictures you want,” she said. She pulled the photo out from beneath the plastic and slid it onto the first page of my new album.

She turned to Auntie Eve’s family picture—Eve, Uncle Asim, and my cousins Zambia and Jabari crowded on a tiny couch, beaming with wide grins. I pulled the picture out and slid it onto the second page of my new photo album.

Flipping through a thick green photo album, I found another picture of Mama. Her arm was linked through another woman’s arm, and they were looking at each other laughing.

“That’s Auntie Eve too?”

“Yes, they were so young,” MawMaw said. I looked closely at Auntie Eve, trying to see my future in the contours of her face.

“Does she know . . . about me?”

“Yeah, she knows, but don’t let her catch you messing around.”

I frowned. “Why not?”

“Knowing about something ain’t the same as liking it.”

And just like that, I felt my loss all over again. I wasn’t just leaving behind the only family I had in the world; I was leaving behind the only person I never had to hide my powers from.

I bit my lip, forcing back my tears. MawMaw quietly handed photos to me, and I picked through them, deciding which moments I’d take with me. I found a picture of MawMaw holding me as a baby and tucked it into my album. I felt overwhelmed with the thought that this was the last memory we were building together. As I was putting the last photo on the last page of my album, a car horn beeped outside. I looked up at MawMaw and froze.

“I’m scared,” I whispered.

MawMaw went silent, like she had lost her breath for a second. Then she put her hand to my cheek.

“Just because this don’t feel good don’t mean this ain’t good for you.”

Her words were firm, but her face was pained. I couldn’t tell if she was trying to calm me or convince herself that she was doing the right thing. Even though I was full of panic, I couldn’t ignore the way her hand trembled against my face and how frail she felt.

I was suddenly sure I would fall apart if I sat here one more second. So I put a shaky smile on my face and picked up my new photo album.

“You ready?” MawMaw gently squeezed my shoulder.

I nodded, but it was a lie. I would never be ready. Even if I had a million years to prepare.

We climbed the stairs to my room in silence. She picked up one suitcase, and I picked up the other. I looked at the bare mattress and pretended I would sleep in my bed again. I looked at the dolls sitting across the top of my dresser and pretended I’d be back for them. I looked at my yellow walls and pretended I wasn’t leaving them behind. Then I turned away and pretended I wasn’t losing MawMaw forever.

When I stepped outside, there was a small, shiny black car waiting in the driveway. I paused on the porch as the car door opened and a tall woman with reddish-brown skin and short curly hair stepped out. She wore bell-bottom jeans and a bright orange T-shirt. She had dark eyes just like my mother’s—just like mine.

She brought her hand to her mouth when she saw me. For a few seconds, she seemed trapped in place, as if shaken by the sight of me. Then she dropped her hand and shifted her gaze to MawMaw. “Cecily,” she said.

“Evelyn,” MawMaw responded.

“I didn’t expect her to look so much like Daphne,” she said.

“She’s standing right here. She can hear you,” MawMaw said, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

I glanced back to catch MawMaw’s expression, but she was busy shoving something into my suitcase.

“You . . . you look like your mother spit you out,” Auntie Eve said. She had come halfway to the porch to get a closer look at me.

I smiled, at a loss for words.

“Humph,” MawMaw said loudly. When I turned, she had hoisted my suitcase against her hip. Auntie Eve opened the trunk, took the suitcase from MawMaw, and threw it in. Then she took my suitcase, dumped it next to the first, and slammed the trunk shut. She turned and shot MawMaw a sharp glance.

“Good to see you, Cecily. I’ll be in the car while you say your goodbyes.”

“And you’ll keep me posted on everything?” MawMaw asked, raising her eyebrows.

“Of course,” Auntie Eve said with a quick nod.

MawMaw and I looked at each other. My heart broke out into a wild pounding.

“She don’t like me,” I whispered.

MawMaw shook her head. “It’s more complicated than that. She don’t like this situation. She and your mama had their issues, but she’s a good woman.”

“Really?” I asked, casting a skeptical glance at Auntie Eve, who was checking her watch.

“She might be a little bitter on top, but she’s all sweet underneath. The whole family is. They’re gonna love you, and you’re gonna love them. Don’t think I spent all this time raising you just to leave you with somebody who’s gonna do you harm. You can trust Auntie Eve. You better off with somebody who treats you a little rough but got nothing but goodness for you than a fool who’s the other way around.”

“Don’t mistake sugar for kindness,” I said at the same time as MawMaw.

She laughed. “So you do listen to me.”

I nodded and pulled her into a hug.

“Promise me you’ll trust your gut. Never trust the surface, and always take a deeper look,” she whispered fiercely.

Holding her tight, I couldn’t ignore how frail she felt—like she was dissolving, like some parts of her were already gone and the parts I could still feel were no longer mine.

I whispered, “I love you,” gave her one last squeeze, and turned away.

She grabbed me before I could slip out of her reach.

“And don’t forget. Don’t show nobody what you can do.” She waited for me to look at her before repeating, “Nobody!”

“I promise,” I said, wriggling away from her. I couldn’t stay near her one second longer. Whatever my life would be like with Auntie Eve, it had to be better than this awful feeling of being torn in two. With my head down, I wrenched open the back door, threw myself against the upholstery, and pressed my cheek against the seat. Then I heard Auntie Eve clear her throat. I lifted my head and met her gaze in the rearview mirror.

“You must be out of your mind if you think I’m gonna drive all the way to New Orleans with you sitting back there like I’m your chauffeur.”

There wasn’t a hint of a smile on her face.

When I didn’t move, she said, “Girl, I ain’t playin’. Get up here in the front seat. We ain’t got all day.”

I tensed and pushed the door open. Even though I tried not to, I looked at MawMaw as I climbed out of the back seat.

“I love you,” MawMaw said.

I flashed her a grim smile, then rushed around the car and got into the passenger seat.

“Seat belt,” Auntie Eve said without looking at me.

I pulled on my seat belt and then twisted around to stare through the back windshield. When we jerked into motion, MawMaw lifted her hand in a wave, a sad smile on her face. I watched until she was nothing but a speck. Then I shut my eyes tight as the car picked up speed and the only life I’d ever known faded into the distance.

4

I stared out the window as Auntie Eve drove in silence, dragging me into a strange and unfamiliar future. The longer we drove, the more it felt like the world had narrowed into a path of pale concrete that stretched on forever, leaving me suspended in emptiness, as if everything behind me had been erased.

I squeezed my eyes tight, shutting out the highway and pretending we were just going for a short drive. I imagined the tires rolling over the bumpy dirt road that ran past MawMaw’s house and driving down the gravelly tar-topped roads that cut through town. When I opened my eyes, my pretending fell to pieces. The towns we passed through were foreign to me. The trees did not gather into a forest the way they did at home—they slipped past in a blur, parting to give a glimpse of huge plantations, swampy rivers, and smaller roads that, like the one we were now on, took me farther and farther away from MawMaw.

“I named you, you know,” Auntie Eve said out of nowhere.

I turned and shot her a surprised look.

“Your mom wanted to name you after me, but I told her not to make you a hot mess before you had a chance to live your life.” She chuckled. She seemed to momentarily dip into a memory.

“So why did you pick Veronique?” I asked.

“I thought somebody named Veronique wouldn’t be afraid to jump on a plane and travel the world.”

It was my turn to chuckle. I was afraid to jump in a car and drive to a new city, forget flying in an airplane.

“What was she like?” I asked. All I knew about Mama was from my dream. MawMaw was my dad’s mother, and whenever I asked about Mama, she would shrug and say, “Didn’t know her really, but I know she loved you very much.”

“She was stubborn,” Auntie Eve said, her words hard, like she was angry. “And strong. She was one of the strongest people I ever knew.”

She looked at me for the first time since we were in the car. “You really do look like her,” she said, and turned back to the road. “She wouldn’t let go of anything or anyone she loved.” Her jaw tightened. “I hope you’re not headstrong like her, or we’re going to have problems.”

Then she fell quiet and the car filled with silence again, this time heavy and final.

A few hours later, I woke from a deep sleep to discover a new world outside the car window. The highway was gone, the trees had disappeared, and the sky was blazing with dusky pinks and oranges. Now we were on a two-lane city street. On either side were small shops—a hairdresser, a barbershop, a bar—with handmade signs and peeling paint. The shabby brick buildings with dirty windows, weather-worn clapboard houses with torn screen doors, and abandoned gas stations felt familiar, as if I could touch home, but here in the city there was constant movement. A tall man with wild hair and golden teeth flashed a smile at his friend before dipping into a car. A group of girls wearing bright blue skirts and heavy-looking backpacks burst out in laughter. A man sitting on a crate slapped down a domino on a tiny table as the men gathered on the corner around him roared with excitement. People hanging out on porches, walking down the sidewalk, blasting music from their cars—it all made MawMaw’s warnings echo in my mind.

The second I tensed, the winds snapped to attention. They slipped into the car, snaking around my shoulders in thin tendrils. Their presence was a comfort, but they landed heavier and wetter than the winds I was used to—their strangeness was another reminder that I wasn’t home.

We drove down a smaller street and everything changed. The energy was calmer—there were less people, and the buildings weren’t falling apart. Instead, the street was lined with colorful houses—sky blue, green, pink—crammed in together with nothing but narrow fenced-in alleys between them. At the next corner, I caught a glimpse of a painting covering the side of a building. A girl, brown like me, had her arms spread wide and her head tilted up to the sky. It felt like she had opened her arms to welcome me. Just as I was relaxing against the seat, Auntie Eve parked the car.

“We’re here,” she said quietly.

I hesitated to get out. The childish part of me wanted to hold on to this moment, tried to convince the rest of me that we could just stay here, suspended in space and time, where none of this was real—where I hadn’t really left MawMaw and I wasn’t actually here in New Orleans. Then Auntie Eve tapped on the car window and it all fell away.

I climbed out of the car with awkward limbs. When my feet hit the pavement, the porch lights around me started turning on one by one, like a magical greeting. The door of the house in front of me creaked open, and a little boy came barreling down the stairs.

“Mama!” he yelled, streaking past me and launching himself at Auntie Eve.

She lifted her arms, holding my suitcases away from her body as he collided with her legs, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Jabari,” Auntie Eve said, resting the suitcases on the sidewalk. “This your cousin Veronique. Say hi.”

Jabari shot me a shy smile. “Hi.”

“This our little tornado,” Auntie Eve said, rubbing his back.

He looked so happy to be in his mother’s arms. Then he peeled off Auntie Eve and raced over to me.

“Come on, Zaza is waiting for you,” he said, grabbing my hand and tugging me toward the house. The grip of his small hand in mine filled me with a sweetness that erased my whirlwind of worry.

Then I stepped into the house, Jabari released me, and a large pair of arms enveloped me.

“Welcome, welcome.” A deep voice rumbled through my chest as a man hugged me. He let me go and held me at arm’s length.

“I’m Uncle Asim, and I can’t tell you how excited we are that you’re here,” he said with a big, broad smile. He had a full brown beard, a bald head, and twinkling eyes. His shirt was longer than any man’s shirt I had ever seen, and it was covered with a wild, colorful pattern.

“I’m Veronique,” I said with a shy smile.

“Sit down, sit down.” He ushered me over to a bright yellow couch. “You must be tired.”

I looked around the small living room. Every inch of wall space was covered with bookshelves, all the way up to the ceiling. I had never seen so many books in my life. MawMaw only had the Farmer’s Almanac, the Bible, and a set of two encyclopedias.

“So many books, right?” Jabari said, leaping onto the couch next to me. “Baba has a bookstore.”

“Nobody’s asking about Daddy’s bookstore,” another voice said.

I turned and saw a girl my age leaning in the doorway. While I was a regular tan—“my little chicory root,” MawMaw always called me—this girl was a deep chocolate brown. A drape of long, beautiful braids framed her face. I put a hand up to my hair. I was proud of MawMaw’s braids—they were always neat—but they were nowhere near as fancy as this girl’s hair. She jerked her head toward the hallway, waving me toward her. Uncle Asim frowned.

“Zambia, don’t plan on disappearing into that room. Your cousin has to eat. She’s been on the road all day.”

“I’m just gonna show her where she’s sleeping,” the girl said, her voice clear and insistent.

She skittered across the room and grabbed me by the hand. I stared at Zambia as she slipped her arm into the crook of my elbow. When I’d seen her photo in MawMaw’s album, she’d been a young girl. I hadn’t realized she would be my age. I’d never had a friend before and now here was my cousin, tugging on my arm like we had known each other forever.

“Be quick!” Uncle Asim called as Zambia hustled me out of the living room.

Then he turned to Jabari. “Why are your hands empty? Wasn’t there something you were supposed to help your mama bring in?”

“Uh-oh.” Jabari jumped up and darted out of the house.

“I’m Zaza,” Zambia said when we stepped out of the room.

“Her name is Zambia,” Uncle Asim rumbled from the front room.

“Like I said, I’m Zaza.” Zambia rolled her eyes as she guided us down the hallway. “And welcome to our room.” She closed the door behind us and spread her arms.

The room seemed to sparkle. Its pale orange walls were decorated with pictures in shiny silver frames. The floor was covered with a fuzzy pink rug. Her bed had a fluffy ice-blue comforter and two huge silver sequined pillows.

“That’s your bed,” she said, pointing across the room to a bed just as pretty as hers. The comforter was bright orange with huge red flowers on it. The pillows were dark purple. I thought of MawMaw’s quilt folded tight in my suitcase. It was worn and faded, and had a few rips and tears. I’d slept with it ever since I could remember, but I knew then that I’d never dare pull it out in front of Zaza.

A few feet past Zaza’s bed, under the window, was a white desk that looked just like MawMaw’s vanity table. I noticed a tiny metal tree made of twisted strands of silver sitting at the far edge of the desk.

“What’s that?” I asked, moving closer to examine it. Wire branches reached upward, but instead of leaves, each branch was topped with a small, colorful glass bottle.

Zaza rolled her eyes again. “Kez. He works at Daddy’s store and he’s always making stuff.”

I leaned down and squinted at it. The bottles were tiny and perfectly made.

“But what is it?”

“He said it’s a bottle tree. Some old-time thing to trap bad spirits.”

“Bad spirits?” I straightened and looked over at Zaza.

“We moved here a few years ago to be closer to Daddy’s bookstore. It was my first time sleeping in my own room, and I . . .” She bit her finger and looked at me as if deciding whether to trust me. “I was scared. When Kez found out I couldn’t sleep, he decided it was because of bad spirits.”

“Did it work?”

Zaza shrugged. “Yeah, but I don’t think it trapped any spirits. Turn off the light.”

Zaza pointed to the light switch near the door. I shuffled across the fluffy pink rug and turned off the light. When I turned around, Zaza flipped on a switch at the base of the tree. In an instant, light filtered through the bottles, spreading tiny bits of sparkle all over the dark room.

“Isn’t it pretty?” Zaza said, smiling. “When I turn this on, I sleep like a baby.”

For a few seconds, Zaza and I were enraptured by the sculpture’s shimmering lights. Sleeping in here would be like sleeping outside under the star-studded night sky. Then she broke the spell, clicking off the light on the sculpture and throwing herself against her bed.

“So what grade are you in?” she asked.

As I flipped the light back on, my mind was scrambling. I had seen TV. I knew what a grade was; I just didn’t know what grade I was in. MawMaw kept track of my course work and certifications, but we never discussed anything more than what classes I needed by what age.

“Well, how old are you?” she asked without skipping a beat.

“Sixteen,” I said, leaning against the wall, relieved to hear a question I could answer.

“Same as me, so you must be in tenth grade. Mama signed you up at my school. We only have, like, a month left, but at least you’ll get to meet all my friends before summer. I can’t wait to introduce you tomorrow.”

Zaza continued the tour of her room, pointing and commenting on the people in the photographs on her wall. Every photo seemed to have a story, but I had stopped listening. My mind was whirling. School? Tomorrow? I was doing all I could to stay calm. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours, and I wasn’t ready to walk out of this new house and step into another new world.

“You’re so cute, the boys are going to love you, but we gotta do something about your hair!” Zaza said.

I felt her hands on my head and jerked away, shielding my braids. I couldn’t take them out—not yet. It would be letting go of one more thing that tied me to MawMaw.

Zaza looked at me, confused.

“Um . . .” My mind was panicked. Tears burned my eyes and threatened to fall. “Can you tell me where the bathroom is?”

Zaza relaxed. “Oh, I thought something was wrong,” she said. “Follow me.”

Something was wrong, but if I said another word, tears would come spilling out and I would ruin my first night with my cousin.

I followed Zaza down the hallway, stiffening when I felt a thin breeze curling around my shoulders. “Not now,” I whispered, clapping my fingers against my wrists and pressing as hard as I could.

In front of the bathroom, Zaza pulled me into a quick hug. “You’ll like it here,” she whispered in my ear. Then she nudged me into the bathroom and eased the door shut.

The second I was alone, I felt a flare of anger shoot through my body. It wasn’t rational, but I couldn’t help it. I was angry with MawMaw for getting sick. Angry with my parents for abandoning me. Even angry with Zaza’s family for being so nice. After holding them back all day, I finally spread my fingers and released the winds. They matched my rage, rustling past the shower curtains, pinging off the ceiling, thrumming against the tiles. Nothing was safe—not even me.

The winds whipped around the bathroom, slamming into me, crashing against the walls, and colliding with each other. I knew I should stop them, but their destruction was comforting. Feeling them shove me around felt better than being pushed around by life. I braced myself against their destructive whirling and let them fly free. When they became so frantic that they threatened to shatter the mirror, I stretched out my hands, rolled my fingers into a fist, and wrestled them back. They halted, folding into themselves as suddenly as they had exploded. Then I slumped against the wall and slid to the floor. With nothing left to hold me together, I let out a ragged gasp, covered my face with my hands, and cried.

5

I didn’t let my tears fall for long. MawMaw would hate to hear I locked myself in the bathroom, bawling like a baby. I dried my face with a few swipes of my hand, then cleaned up as quietly and quickly as I could. When I was almost done, three soft knocks rang out on the door.

“Time to eat,” Jabari called.

“Be right there,” I replied, with a glance in the mirror.

Patting my cheeks dry, I was startled to see I had the same moles dotting my temples as Zaza did. Looking closer, I saw I had the same lines under my eyes that Auntie Eve did. I turned my head from side to side, eyebrows rising in surprise when I realized that Jabari had my chin. They were strangers, but each one of them wore little pieces of me.

I opened the door and followed Jabari’s thumping footsteps through the living room to the back of the house. When I stepped into the dining room, I saw the whole family waiting for me. The table was small, about half the size of MawMaw’s, but somehow they managed to fit five chairs around it. Zaza motioned to the empty seat next to her.

When I sat down, my awkwardness was replaced with awe. The table glittered with fancy glasses, glowing white candles, and gold-rimmed plates on pretty purple place mats. A warm feeling rushed to my heart, and I heard MawMaw’s voice saying, “They your family. They your blood, baby.” In that moment, I knew what MawMaw was trying to tell me. Family meant that even if I didn’t know them, they would make space for me.

Uncle Asim flashed a smile at me, then turned to Jabari.

“What are you grateful for, boy?”

The question seemed like it came out of nowhere, but Jabari didn’t skip a beat.

“My new wrestling game,” he said.

“And you, Zambia?”

Zaza peeked at me. “I’m grateful to get a sister.”

I turned to her, and we grinned at each other.

Uncle Asim nodded. “I’m grateful to have a home we can welcome Veronique into.”

That’s when I realized that they were all going to say something. Worry surged in my chest again as I hoped Uncle Asim wouldn’t make me talk. At MawMaw’s house, she always blessed the food and all I had to do was listen. Dinner was a quiet meal. After a whole day of talking to each other, we didn’t have much to say after sundown.

I sighed in relief when Uncle Asim skipped over me and turned to Auntie Eve.

“And you, baby?”

“I’m grateful that . . .” Auntie Eve paused. “That Daphne’s baby is here . . . with us.”

My breath caught in my chest to see tears well up in Auntie Eve’s eyes. After our prickly car ride, I was nervous that she didn’t want me here. My whole life I thought I was the only one who missed Mama, the only one who needed her close, but now I knew better. I hadn’t even been here a whole day and already my idea of what family meant had twisted and turned in so many different directions. Maybe family meant having people who loved the same people you did.

No one moved for a few seconds; then Zaza broke the silence. “What did you cook, Daddy?”

He took the covers off two ceramic pots in the middle of the table.

“Moroccan stew and quinoa.” He smiled.

Both Zaza and Jabari groaned.

“We just said our gratitudes,” Auntie Eve said, dabbing her eyes with her napkin. “Don’t act ungrateful when your father spent so much time cooking this meal for us.”

Jabari didn’t say another word, but Zaza muttered in my ear, “I bet you didn’t have to eat quinoa at your MawMaw’s house.”

“Well, she ain’t at her MawMaw’s house anymore,” Auntie Eve said.

“Your plate?” Uncle Asim said, reaching across the table toward me. When I handed it to him, he piled on something that looked like clumps of tiny balls, then poured thick stew on top. I flashed him a smile so he wouldn’t think I was ungrateful.

Auntie Eve threw Zaza and Jabari a questioning look. “What y’all waiting on? The two of y’all can serve yourself.”

The table exploded with activity as four pairs of hands reached into the center of the table, moving around each other to get the food onto their plates. Jabari filled his first and immediately shoved a forkful into his mouth.

“Hot, hot,” he yelped the second the food hit his tongue.

Zaza laughed. “That’s what you get for being greedy.”

She made a big show of scooping up a forkful from her plate and blowing on it before putting it in her mouth. As everyone started eating, Uncle Asim looked at me expectantly. I realized I was just staring at everyone instead of eating. I looked down at my food. It was a mix of unrecognizable colors and shapes. The only thing I was sure about were the carrots and onions.

“It’s not going to magically turn into mac and cheese if you keep eyeing it down,” Auntie Eve said.

Jabari giggled. I blushed. Taking a deep breath, I scooped up a forkful of food and shoved it into my mouth. The stew exploded with flavor and sweetness. That’s when I realized the dark lumps in the stew were raisins. I made a face without meaning to. Who cooked with raisins?

“She don’t like it,” Jabari said, giggling.

“Doesn’t,” Auntie Eve corrected.

Uncle Asim just laughed along with Jabari. “You’ll get used to it,” he said, and started eating his food.

Before I could take another bite, the doorbell rang, and Auntie Eve’s fork clattered against her plate. She glared at Uncle Asim. “I thought you told that boy not to come tonight. It’s supposed to just be us.”

“But Kez always comes to dinner,” Jabari said.

“Not tonight,” Zaza hissed at Jabari across the table.

“Is he the one who made your light?” I asked Zaza under my breath.

Zaza nodded and slid her gaze back to her father. He slowly got up from the table.

“Why? Why not tonight?” Jabari whispered.

When Zaza jerked her head toward me, Jabari shot me a look of surprise. I could see him working to figure out why me being there meant Kez couldn’t come to dinner. His look slowly darkened as he realized his new cousin could change the rhythms of his life and take away the things he was used to. The feeling that made me cry in the bathroom came creeping back. Even if I was family, I wasn’t one of them. Not yet.

“But he can eat now, Mama, right? Now that he’s here?” Jabari was trying to whisper, but his voice pitched high with emotion.

There was a pause. No one spoke.

“Eve?” Uncle Asim said.

Auntie Eve sighed. “Let him in.”

“He act like he can’t feed himself,” Zaza grumbled.

When Uncle Asim opened the front door, a few strands of wind swept into the house from outside. They gathered around my shoulders as they always did when they were begging me to play. Under the table, I spread my hands and, with a quick flick of my fingers, pushed them away. They rushed out of the room at the same time Uncle Asim returned to the table with a boy at his side. As the breeze swept past, the boy turned his head as if he could feel it moving around him—then he looked down at me.

“Keziah,” he said. “This is Zaza and Jabari’s cousin Veronique.”

The boy didn’t greet me. He just looked at me confused. He was tall and skinny with long limbs and a wild tangle of hair that stuck high up into the air. He put his hands on his hips.

“Since when y’all got a cousin?” he asked, sounding offended that he’d never heard of me.

“We got a lot of family you don’t know about!” Zaza said. “You don’t know everything about everyone.”

“Don’t start, you two.” Uncle Asim put a hand on Zaza’s shoulder as he moved back around the table to his seat.

“Is she your niece, Baba Asim?” he asked.

“She’s mine,” Auntie Eve said.

“Hi,” I said.

Kez didn’t respond. Instead, he stepped closer to me, his brow furrowed like he was trying to figure me out. I stared back at him, getting lost in the reddish freckles that danced across his nose and cheeks. After a few seconds, he reached his hand out to me. “Nice to meet you.”

I took his hand, blushing slightly at his formality.

“So you live in New Orleans?” he asked, keeping my hand in his grasp.

“She does now,” Zaza said.

“Veronique just moved in with us. She’s from a small town near Natchitoches,” Auntie Eve said, jumping in before I could come up with an answer. “Now, don’t kill her with questions. She just got here a few hours ago.”

Slowly, his hold on my hand softened. I slipped my fingers out of his grasp and turned to my food, trying to ignore the intensity of Keziah’s eyes burning a patch of heat on the nape of my neck.

“Get a plate, boy,” Uncle Asim said, dragging an extra chair to the table.

Auntie Eve cleared her throat, and everyone went back to eating. I pushed my food around, pretending to eat while I snuck glances at Keziah as he moved around the kitchen. He knew which cabinet held the plates, which drawer held the forks, and where to find a glass. It was almost as if he lived here too.

At the table, he piled his plate high, then slid into the empty chair. He poked Zaza.

“So why didn’t you tell me you had a cousin?” he said. “What’s the big secret?”

Zaza shrugged. “Why you care? You jealous?”

“I’m curious,” he said, shoveling a forkful of food into his mouth.

“Boy, you got a brain that just don’t quit,” Uncle Asim said, wiping his hands on his napkin and throwing it on the table. “What if we start grilling you about your family tree?”

He shrugged. “I’m an open book.”

“Oh yeah? So where’s your brother?” Zaza asked.

Keziah kept chewing, but the corners of his mouth turned down into a frown.

“That wasn’t necessary, Zambia,” Uncle Asim said sternly.

Zaza crossed her arms and slid down in her seat, her face hard and obstinate.

“Why can’t we ask about his brother? I want to meet him,” Jabari said.

Auntie Eve and Uncle Asim looked at each other.

“Veronique, Keziah’s brother is missing,” Uncle Asim said. “For about four years now. Keziah, Veronique’s parents passed away in the storm. She grew up with her grandmother and she’s come to stay with us because her grandmother is sick.” He turned to his daughter. “Zambia, I expect you to treat both of them with respect and kindness, especially because you haven’t lost any family. Do you understand?” he said firmly.

She nodded slightly, but she didn’t uncross her arms.

“You two,” Uncle Asim said to me and Keziah, “have had to deal with more than some adults. Try to be kind to each other. Don’t ask questions the other may not be ready to answer. You hear me, Keziah?”

Keziah put his fork down and nodded.

“We’re a family in this house—and everyone at this table is part of this family,” Uncle Asim continued. “I need each of you to take care of one another. That means kindness first and questions later. Do you understand?”

I nodded. On my way to New Orleans, I had obsessed about whether Auntie Eve really wanted to bring me to her house, but I hadn’t thought about the rest of the family. This was Auntie Eve’s home, but it was also Uncle Asim’s, and Zaza’s, and Jabari’s—and sometimes Keziah’s too. I was connected to Auntie Eve through my mama. And through Auntie Eve, I was connected to a whole new collection of people. I looked around the table—at Jabari, looking up at his dad, his face full of questions; Auntie Eve, stone-faced and silent; Zaza, pouting and protective; Kez, hanging over his plate, ravenous; and Uncle Asim, focused on us all. I thought of the bottle tree sculpture with the tiny lights in Zaza’s bedroom. Everyone gathered here was like a point of light on that tree, stars that—when clustered together—made a constellation called family.

6

That night, Mama filled my dreams. She held me as she always did, and I snuggled deep into the crook of her arms. But this time, when Mama started burning bright, I could finally see her face. She had Auntie Eve’s nose, and her mouth was twisted into a scowl of rage. She glared around her, one hand raised with a ball of fire hovering over her palm.

When the winds came to cocoon me, I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, trying to hold her in place, but Mama’s tear splashed down upon my forehead anyway. Then she threw me into the air, thrusting me into darkness and leaving me all alone as always.

When I opened my eyes and saw a smooth plaster ceiling overhead, I sat up in a panic. For a few seconds, I was lost, searching frantically for the white-painted ceiling beams from my bedroom at home. Then I caught a glance of the metal tree, and in an instant, it all came flooding back. I was not home; I was in New Orleans, in Zaza’s room, in a new bed, living with a new family.

Mama’s family.

I tried to steady my heartbeat as my mind worked to untangle reality from memory. My breath calmed, but the uneasiness lingered on my skin as thoughts leaped back and forth between the dream, MawMaw’s house, and my new home.

I tried to fill myself with MawMaw’s faith by repeating her words: “You’re strong enough to handle this. You will be protected. Everything is going to be okay.”

The memory of MawMaw hung in the air long after I stopped whispering her words, but her faith did not soothe me. I pushed back the covers and shuffled from the bed to the closet.

“You’ll get used to this,” I whispered as I eased the closet door open.

If I couldn’t be home, I thought, I could at least hold a piece of home close. I felt around in the dark for my suitcase and slid my hands over my clothes until I found MawMaw’s quilt. As I dragged it onto my lap, some kind of pouch fell to the floor with a thud.

I crept over to Zaza’s desk, and, by the light of the tiny tree sculpture, I ran my fingers over the leather pouch. Peeking inside, I saw bundles of fifty-dollar bills. Nestled between the money were two small pieces of paper. The first was a note from MawMaw.

You have always had so many questions. I know it hasn’t been easy learning to live with your gift. I’m proud of how far you have come. Your mother left something for you. I know it doesn’t have the answers you’re looking for, but I hope it makes you feel closer to her. Even though you and I are separated, I will always be with you, sending you strength from home.

—MawMaw

I heard Zaza sigh and turn over. When she was still again, I reached for the other piece of paper. My heart was pounding as I unfolded the thick, dark edges. I ran my fingers over the paper. It had ridges, as if something had been pressed into it. There were dates and places written everywhere, arrows pointing from one end of the page to the other. Was this my mother’s handwriting? Four strange symbols were drawn in the corners, each one inside a circular border. One had a wavy line cutting across its center, one had a smaller circle in the center, one held a triangle, and the final one contained a spiral. I turned the note over, looking for some kind of explanation, but the back was completely blank.

My mind was spinning with questions. Was I supposed to know what any of this meant? I felt like a lost child as I stared at the words and symbols—and for the first time in my life, MawMaw wasn’t there to help.

In the morning, Jabari burst into the room.

“Alarm clock!” he yelled, jumping onto Zaza’s bed.

Zaza yelped and slapped Jabari’s back. When he ran out of the room, she rolled over and looked at me.

“Ready to slay on your first day?” she mumbled sleepily.

I quickly learned that my answer to that question didn’t matter. Zaza had a vision, and for the next hour and a half, she rebuilt me into the Veronique she saw in her mind. I could have fought her, but as she launched a blur of clothes, hair products, and makeup at me, she seemed unstoppable. Her energy was like a physical force—a whirlwind that swept me into her world.

When she was done, Zaza dragged me to the mirror on the back of her bedroom door. My eyes were rimmed with a dark color that made them look bigger and more intense than usual. We were both wearing short-sleeved minidresses. Hers was bright pink with black and white stripes down the side, and mine was white covered in huge blue and purple flowers. My hairstyle was a mix of Zaza and MawMaw. I’d teared up when she went to undo MawMaw’s plaits, so she’d left half my hair braided and pinned it flat against my head. Then she let the opposite side hang loose—big, curly, and free.

“Like it?” she asked.

I squinted at my reflection. I wasn’t sure how to answer.

Zaza grabbed my shoulders. “What’s wrong? You hate the makeup?”

I opened my mouth to explain, but no sound came out. What could I tell her? That I was terrified to face a building full of new people? That I had only learned to control the winds for as long as a zydeco, and I wasn’t quite sure if a school day was longer or shorter than a zydeco? That my mother had left me a secret message that I didn’t understand? That I wanted to rip off these clothes, wipe off all the makeup, and go hide under MawMaw’s quilt so I wouldn’t have to face any of it?

“N-no,” I finally stammered.

“You look good.” She snapped her fingers and stood back to admire me.

I smiled and nodded. I did look good; I just didn’t look like myself.

“Girls!” Auntie Eve yelled.

Zaza checked her phone. “We better go.”

She ran over to her closet and grabbed a pair of high-top sneakers.

“What size do you wear?”

“Nine,” I said, still staring at myself in the mirror.

“Shoot, my shoes won’t fit you. Please tell me you brought something other than those boots.”

I looked at my boots on the floor next to my bed. I tried to see them through Zaza’s eyes, but all I could see were all the acres I had walked while wearing them—taking care of the animals at home, visiting the neighbor’s horses, and running through the woods.

“Just my house slippers,” I said.

“We’ll grab a pair from my mom.” Zaza scooped up her backpack, threw it over her shoulder, and led me out of the room. “Mama,” she yelled as we walked down the hall. “Can Veronique wear your black flats?”

“Yes, they’re in the closet,” Auntie Eve yelled back.

Zaza dipped into her parents’ room and returned with a pair of scuffed black shoes.

“They ain’t new, but they’ll do until we get you some new shoes.”

She grabbed two granola bars from the kitchen, then led us to the front door, where Uncle Asim was waiting. She planted a kiss on his cheek and bounded down the stairs.

“Have a great first day of school, Veronique,” he said, handing me a bright blue-and-purple backpack as I reached the door. “Don’t worry about trying to learn the routines and all your teachers’ names. Just get through the day. One step at a time.”

“Thanks,” I said, pulling the bag onto my back and hurrying outside.

“Oh, and we’ll get you a phone later in the week,” he said when I made it down the stairs.

I gave him a wave, then rushed to catch up with Zaza, my heart leaping at the idea of being able to call MawMaw whenever I wanted. Of being able to hear her voice and ask her about the note she’d given me.

As we walked past the colorful houses with porches, flower bushes, and trees, Zaza listed everything she expected would happen during the day. When we got to the corner, the quiet of Zaza’s neighborhood fell away, replaced by the urgent rush of a wide, busy street. Little kids in school uniforms raced down the sidewalk behind their parents while a steady flow of cars, trucks, and buses sped down the street.

We joined the foot traffic, walking past brick buildings with large glass windows, a seafood market, and a big church. As we strolled past a blue building with a bright yellow sign that read Tattoo, a burst of wind brushed against my ears. It was heavy and wet, just like the winds I had felt yesterday.

“Zazaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

Three girls ran toward us, hair flying, voices pitched high. A girl with bright pink hair broke away from the others and collided with Zaza, knocking her off-balance. She wrapped her arms tight around Zaza, then nodded at me.

“This her?” she asked, looking at me over Zaza’s shoulder.

I flicked the wind away and clasped my hands in front of me as Zaza pulled out of the hug.

“Macy, this is Veronique. Veronique, this my friend Macy.”

Macy pulled me into a quick hug, then smiled at me broadly. Her gold nose ring matched the sparkle in her eyes. The second girl drew close and squinted at me with her hand on her hip. Her eyebrows were curved in two perfect arcs, and her hair was pulled up in a high bun.

“Your cousin don’t look country,” she said.

Zaza cut her a look. “Uh-uh. Don’t even think you gonna run around calling my cousin country, Dawn. Her name is Veronique.”

She rolled her eyes at Zaza and swatted the air. “It ain’t that serious. She ain’t offended. Right?” she asked me.

I shook my head no, eyes widening at the sight of her fingernails. They were bright blue and pointed like daggers.

The third girl and Zaza slapped each other’s hands in a complicated series of movements. They snapped at the end, then turned to me.

“This is Toya.”

“That’s me,” Toya said, flipping her hair over her shoulder and striking a pose as if taking a picture. Her hair was dark from the root to the middle; the bottom half was blond.

Toya stepped closer, and the other two girls followed. Gathering around me, everyone started talking at once.

“You like Zaza’s room?”

“How old are you?”

“You got a boyfriend?”

The questions flew at me quickly. I stared at the girls, overwhelmed and fascinated. Macy elbowed Zaza.

“She don’t talk?”

“She talks, y’all just crowding her. Move.” Zaza shoved her friends backward. “Give her some air.”

I gulped and said, “I love Zaza’s room, I’m sixteen, and I don’t have a boyfriend.”

The girls giggled.

“She’s so cute,” Dawn said. She threaded her hand into the crook of my elbow and pulled me to walk next to her. “I’m the nicest one. So I’ll look out for you.”

“She mean she the bossiest one!” Toya yelled from behind us.

Dawn shooed her away with a flash of her bright blue nails.

“So what they call you for short?” she asked.

I shrugged.

“Everybody call you Veronique?”

I nodded. The only person who ever called me anything was MawMaw. She called me all kinds of words—sweetie, chérie, love—but I couldn’t imagine Zaza’s friends calling me any of those.

Dawn looked back. “Zaza, what’s your cousin nickname?”

Zaza looked up from her phone and rolled her eyes. “Why she need a nickname? Her name ain’t hard.”

Dawn wrinkled her nose. “I know, but it’s too long.”

She turned back to me and eyed me up and down like she was trying to figure me out. “You like Nini?”

Nini, I mouthed, then frowned. It was cute, but it didn’t fit me.

“Nica? Nique-Nique?”

None of those names fit either. She threw out more ideas, twisting and chopping and flipping my name in every way imaginable. Just when I was thinking about picking one to be done with it, Dawn said, “Oooh, I got it.”

She shoved me with her elbow and took a step back. She put her hands on her hips. “What about”—she paused and flipped her hands over dramatically—“V?”

V. I paused, then tried it out loud. V sounded cool. Like someone who could take on a new city and a new school without crumbling. Like somebody not afraid to be her own person. Like somebody with a secret.

“V,” I said, nodding in approval.

Dawn burst into applause. “Yaaaaaassss.”

She turned to the girls and held her hands up, making them come to a stop.

“Alright, y’all ready?” she asked.

“For what?” Toya asked.

“Presenting . . . V,” she said, smiling broadly.

“Oooh, excuse me,” Macy said, swishing her hair.

“She fancy,” Toya said.

“V?” Zaza asked carefully, her gaze darting to me as if checking to see if I was really okay with having a new name. I nodded and bent over into a deep bow. It was more dramatic than anything Veronique would have done, but exactly what V would do.

Zaza’s face burst into a wide smile, and she nodded in appreciation. “Alright, V!”

Toya suddenly yelled, “Bus!” and pushed past us, her two-toned hair flashing as she raced ahead. In that same moment, the bus came barreling down the street, stopping at the end of the block.

“Come on, V,” Dawn said, grabbing my arm.

Macy and Zaza chased behind us. As we ran together, my troubles slipped out of my mind. I didn’t feel burdened with questions or worried about the future. I wasn’t Zaza’s strange and lonely cousin, out of place in a new city. I was V—a girl who belonged.

7

When we got off the bus, Macy and Zaza led the way to a huge, pale concrete building. I stood in its shadow, shrinking into myself as Macy, Toya, and Dawn bounced up the steps, gave me a quick wave, and disappeared into the school.

“Let’s go,” Zaza yelled, then waited patiently, holding the dull green metal door open.

I slowly climbed one stair at a time as other kids raced past me. Zaza made faces at them as they ducked through the door she was holding open for me.

When I had finally forced myself to climb the stairs, Zaza dragged me into a huge foyer with gray tile floors and brown marble walls.

“It’s not so scary,” she said, charging through the foyer, joining the flow of kids. “They got three security guards here. The one with the fade and the earring, he’s the nice one. The other two don’t play, at all.”

“Security guards?” I asked.

Zaza pointed to the other end of the foyer, where a man and a woman hovered close to a huge metal frame and a conveyor belt. They wore the same dark blue pants and white button-down shirts. The kids who had just been rambunctiously shouting in front of the school quietly filed through the frame after putting their bags on the conveyor belt.

“Is that a metal detector?” I asked, in shock. I’d seen them on TV, but only in prisons or airports.

Zaza shrugged. “One or two fights and they gotta act like everything is high security.” She tugged me forward. “You gotta move it, or we’re gonna be late for class.”

As we neared the metal detector, I felt the heat of someone watching me. I turned to see another security guard leaning against the marble wall, surveying us with a watchful eye.

“Stay away from that one,” Zaza whispered. “He ain’t nice for nothing.”

When we reached the conveyor belt, one of the security guards grabbed a plastic bag from the boy in front of us. Zaza giggled as he sniffed it.

“Oh man, bologna again?” the security guard said. “Tell your mama I like turkey and cheddar better.”

“Stop playing,” the kid said, and grabbed his lunch back.

After the boy moved through the metal detector, Zaza pushed me ahead of her. “Put your bag on there, then go through,” she said.

“Who’s this?” the security guard asked as I dumped my backpack onto the conveyor belt. His hair lay in neat curvy rows flat against his scalp.

Zaza sucked her teeth. “Ain’t none of your business, Mr. Eric.”

He leaned toward Zaza with a serious face. “Everything that happens in this school is my business.”

I held my breath, thinking Zaza had been wrong about him being the nice one, but in a flash, he flipped his hand up and grinned broadly. Zaza slapped his palm.

“This my cousin Veronique, Mr. Nosy. Now let her pass before we’re late.”

“I ain’t stopping her, am I?” he asked, putting his hands on his hips.

Zaza took me by the shoulders and walked me forward. My elbow collided with the frame and the machine beeped. Mr. Eric narrowed his eyes and threw me a concerned look. The other security guard stepped out from behind the machine.

“Ms. Asia, you can see she don’t have nothing on her,” Zaza said. “Can she go through?”

The security guard glanced over my minidress, but she didn’t drop the tough scowl on her face.

“You know the rules, Zaza,” Ms. Asia said.

In that same moment, a loud bell rang. Zaza sighed loudly and crossed her arms.

“Now we gonna be late because these broke-down machines don’t work right.”

My nervousness flared as Ms. Asia grabbed my bag off the conveyor belt and Mr. Eric held Zaza back from going through.

“Mrs. Roberts. Mrs. Roberts,” Zaza yelled over Mr. Eric’s shoulder.

A tall, thin woman was striding toward us. She was all angles, from the jut of her shoulders to the sharpness of her cheekbones. As she got closer, the shiny finger waves in her hair and the gold rings adorning her fingers glimmered. Everything about her was sharp. Even her clothing—a silky maroon shirt and slim purple pants—covered her in wrinkle-free, perfectly creased style.

Mrs. Roberts didn’t seem to notice Zaza at first. Instead she flashed a disappointed glare at the students waiting to move through the metal detector.

“There are far too many of you still out here after the morning bell. Your lateness reflects on the whole school. I expect each and every one of you to be on time all the way to the end of the school year. It’s not summer break yet.”

She didn’t raise her voice, but somehow it echoed throughout the whole lobby. A murmuring swept through the kids in line.

“Sorry, Mrs. Roberts!” a few kids yelled out.

“Mrs. Roberts,” Zaza broke in. “This my cousin Veronique. She’s starting today, but Ms. Asia and Mr. Eric won’t let us pass.”

Mrs. Roberts seemed to consider me for a few seconds. “Ms. Asia, did you see anything concerning in Veronique’s backpack?”

She shook her head no.

“Pick up your bag,” Mrs. Roberts said to me. “Mr. Eric, I’ll take it from here. Zambia, get to class.”

“But do you got—” Zaza paused and changed her tone when Mrs. Roberts cut her a look. “Mrs. Roberts, do you have her schedule? Is she taking classes with me?”

“To class,” Mrs. Roberts said firmly. “I’ll go over your cousin’s paperwork with her.”

Zaza whirled around and wrapped me in a quick hug. “Hope we get lunch together,” she whispered in my ear, then ran to class.

“Follow me,” Mrs. Roberts said, and led me down a wide hallway. Rows of blue lockers—chipped and rusted—lined the walls. Over the lockers were big, bright posters with slogans like “If you can believe, you can achieve,” “Reach for your dreams,” and “Hard work + Determination = Success!”

Any jumble of students in Mrs. Roberts’s path magically became quiet and purposeful as she passed. At the end of the hall, we reached a door that read Main Office in fading paint. When Mrs. Roberts closed the door behind us, all the noise from the hall instantly fell away, replaced with clicking keyboards and whirring fans.

According to the clock hanging on the far wall, it was just after nine a.m. Back home, MawMaw would be done feeding the chickens, the goat, and the pig. In a flash, I remembered the feel of the crisp morning air on my cheeks. I imagined walking beside her as she inspected the edges of the land to make sure we hadn’t had any wild animals come tearing through during the night. I wondered if she was strong enough to keep her old schedule. Were her hands steady enough to make her morning tea? Was she thinking of me?

“Come sit,” Mrs. Roberts said, leading me to a small office and gesturing to an empty chair.

I dumped my bag on the floor and tugged at the hem of Zaza’s dress before sitting.

“Veronique, I understand you were homeschooled,” she began as I slid into the chair.

I nodded without looking at her.

“This is high school, Veronique. You’ll need to use your voice.”

I glanced up. She was staring at me, hands hovering over the computer keyboard. The arc of her eyebrows tensed, as if to underscore the seriousness of her statement.

“Yes?” I whispered.

She sighed and turned away from the computer. Leaning across her desk, she stared deep into my eyes.

“Baby, your voice is your identity. If you don’t use it, other people will speak for you and decide who you are.”

She paused, waiting for me to reply, but I just nodded.

“Do you understand me?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.

I cleared my throat. “Yes,” I managed to push out. Then I added more volume. “Yes, Mrs. Roberts.”

She relaxed and turned back to her computer.

“Good, now let’s get your schedule.” Mrs. Roberts started typing. “I was very impressed with the work your aunt submitted to enroll you. Even though we’re finishing up the school year, I have no concerns about your preparedness. For now, we’re going to focus on getting you accustomed to school. In the fall, you’ll be ready to dig into your schoolwork.”

My body went cold. How long had MawMaw been planning this? When did she start talking to Auntie Eve? How long has she been living with me not saying a word about how my life was about to change?

“You know, your mother and your aunt went to this school,” Mrs. Roberts said, cutting into my thoughts.

I paused, my mind splitting down a new path of thought. “Did you know my mother?”

Mrs. Roberts nodded. “I went to school here too.”

“Was she . . . ? Did she . . . ?” The questions started raging through me like a forest fire. What was she like? Were you friends?

Mrs. Roberts turned to me.

“Breathe,” she said, and she took a deep breath as if showing me how.

I inhaled with her and then let out a long, slow exhale.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, staring deep into my eyes. “I’ll be here, and we can talk about your mother anytime.”

I nodded and clasped my hands in my lap. If I were home, I could take my questions and uncertainty out to the forest. I could let the winds rage through the trees and rush around me until I was exhausted, but here I had to swallow my emotions and wait for them to quiet inside me.

“I know these are all big changes,” she said. “But you have a strong family. They will take good care of you.”

I nodded, but she kept staring at me.

“Thank you,” I said softly.

“You know, I’ve always believed,” Mrs. Roberts said softly, her eyes still trained on the screen, “that those who have passed are still watching us from above.”

“Do you really think so?” I whispered.

She looked away from the screen and met my eyes again.

“I absolutely do,” she said.

Since I had left home, the feeling of missing MawMaw had been tugging at me. I expected that. But I didn’t expect to run into signs of my mother over and over again. She burst into my mind in the shape of a great big fireball, as huge as the sun, beaming down on me. For a few brief seconds, I felt warmed from within. Then my face went still as thoughts of MawMaw looped right back around to pull at my heart. If MawMaw was right, she would be joining Mama soon, and it would be her turn to keep an eye on me from afar.

“Okay,” Mrs. Roberts said, punching one last key and leaning back as the printer sprang to life. “You’ll return to the main office tomorrow morning to take pictures for your ID.” She pulled my schedule out of the printer, glanced at it, then stood. “Let’s get you to your first class.”

As I scooped up my backpack from the floor and stood, my fears of facing the school day suddenly came rushing back. I took a breath, preparing to be thrust out of the quiet of Mrs. Roberts’s office and back into the chaos of the school.

At the door to her office, Mrs. Roberts stopped and put a comforting hand on my shoulder. She looked at me as if she could see the nerves racing through my body.

“On the first day, everything seems worse than it is. But I promise this will all seem normal in a few weeks,” she said.

Then she launched down the hallway, and I had no choice but to hold tight to the straps of my backpack and follow, praying with all my heart that she was right.

8

After Mrs. Roberts walked me to my first class, I was on my own. Battling nerves, I braved each class. Every new set of staring eyes and questioning faces gave me stomach cramps. My strategy was to smile as much as I could while I flashed my schedule at the teachers and stammered through explanations. Then I slunk into an empty seat, where I spent the class studying the ebb and flow of the room, trying to learn how I was supposed to behave in school.

As the day wore on, my mind became crammed with rules: when to raise your hand, how to get a bathroom pass, when to speak up in class, how to answer questions. And every time the bell rang, I had to start all over again with a new instructor and new rules.

Between classes, the school was a tornado of energy that took a completely different set of skills to survive. There were so many students that moving through the halls felt like swimming through chaos. Instead of just walking, students hung on to each other’s shoulders and yelled jokes down the hall, laughing riotously the whole time.

When the last bell finally rang, I was exhausted.

As soon as I stepped outside, I wanted to collapse on the front lawn. Suddenly, a pair of hands covered my eyes from behind.

“Zaza?” I asked. But when I pried the hands away, I saw that the fingernails were bright blue and daggered.

“Dawn!” I said, turning around.

She and Zaza were standing behind me laughing. Zaza leaned into me and gave me a big hug.

“I can’t believe I didn’t see you all day.” She frowned.

“I know how we can make up for it,” Dawn said, slipping one hand into the crook of my elbow. “Sno-balls!”

She grabbed Zaza’s wrist and led us into the swarm of kids drifting down the sidewalk toward the bus stop. With a loud rumble, the bus pulled up to the curb, and the crowd surged to get on. Zaza and Dawn got swept in one direction, and I was nudged backward.

“V!” Zaza turned back with a swish of her braids. I lifted my hand and waved. She frantically motioned for me to catch up, then—pushed along by the drift of people—disappeared into the bus.

My palm itched to scatter the crowd with a flick of my hand. Instead, I used my shoulder to force my way forward to the stairs. As I approached the bus driver, I saw the kids in front of me flashing their phones over the scanner to pay their fare.

“Zaza?” I called out. After the school day, I thought I didn’t have any more panic in me, but I felt my nerves flare for what felt like the millionth time since the morning.

I felt around in my book bag for the little piece of paper Zaza had given me to scan on the bus earlier. I didn’t know if it would work again, but I thought flashing it at the driver would be better than being empty-handed.

“Zaza!” I yelled again. As the driver looked at me expectantly, the crush of people filling the bus stared at me annoyed.

“I got you,” a voice behind me said. Then an arm reached around me and held a phone to the scanner. When it beeped, I looked back and saw a boy standing on the step below me.

He flashed a dazzling smile at me. “You ain’t gonna say thank you?” he asked.

“Oh! Thank you,” I said. Confusion overshadowed my gratitude.

“Let’s go,” someone said from outside the bus.

The boy scanned his phone again, then put his hand on my waist.

“I ain’t tryna handle up on you or nothing,” he said, guiding me forward. “Just we ain’t the only ones that need the bus, you know. We gotta let everybody else on.”

I nodded and let him nudge us through the people clogging the aisle. As the bus jerked forward moments later, we both fell off-balance. I grabbed the overhead bar and looked up to find the boy staring at me, our faces only inches apart. Embarrassment swept through me, but his lips lifted into a huge smile. I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

After a few seconds of studying his mouth, his high cheekbones, his short curly hair, I finally found the courage to stare right into his eyes. He inched a little closer, and I felt something inside me shake loose. I had been close to boys before, twirling in their arms at a zydeco, but it never felt like this—a seesaw of curiosity and nerves at the same time.

“So you go to Langston?” he asked, breaking the silence.

I nodded. “It was my first day,” I said, gripping the overhead bar tighter.

“I hope you didn’t meet nobody cool before you met me,” he said. He paused as if he was thinking, then shook his head. “Nah, nobody at that school cooler than me.”

I laughed and he joined in.

“You’re”—he paused, his gaze flicking over my face—“different.” His voice was soft, so I took it as a compliment.

“Umm, thanks,” I mumbled, blushing and turning my head away. I finally caught a glance of Zaza. She and Dawn were sitting together at the back of the bus.

Are you okay? Zaza mouthed.

I nodded and looked at the boy.

“So, ummm, I’m going to go sit with my cousin.”

He slid his hand forward on the bar and touched mine. “Uh-uh. Tell me your name first.”

“My name?”

He nodded and waited for my answer, but it felt like my ability to form words was slipping away.

“V!” Zaza yelled when she saw me standing there frozen. She waved me over. “You coming?”

“I gotta go,” I said, giving him one more glance before turning away.

“Wait!” He touched my shoulder. “What does V stand for?”

“Veronique.”

“Ve-ro-nique,” he said. Something about the way he dragged out my name made me stop. When I stole another peek at him, he had a smile on his face as if he was tasting my name. “You got a phone number, Veronique?”

I shook my head. “I just moved here,” I said. “I don’t have a phone yet.”

He looked at me for a few seconds as if he was trying to figure out if I was lying to him.

“You got a pen and some paper in that big old backpack?” he finally asked.

I nodded and dug through my backpack, my heart pounding. I ripped a piece of loose-leaf paper out of my binder and handed it to him with a pen.

When he was done, he folded the paper into a small square, then pressed it into my hand. When our fingers touched, all the sound around us fell away and a huge gust of wind blew through me.

“I’m Tyree,” he said, his voice low, as if he were speaking for my ears only. “And I got a feeling about you, Veronique.”

The bus jerked to a stop, and he slid past me with a wink. I watched him bound down the stairs and leave, my head spinning with questions. What was that little surge of power when our hands touched? Was the weight of being drawn to him a force I should avoid?

“V!”

I snapped out of my thoughts. Zaza and Dawn were waving me toward them.

“Why did you leave me?” I asked, making my way down the aisle.

“Look like leaving you ain’t hurt you none,” Dawn teased, leaning over Zaza’s lap to smack my leg.

“Oh my God, Veronique. He is yeah to the yeah,” Zaza said.

“That boy is straight trade,” Dawn agreed.

I looked at them confused.

“He’s cute,” Zaza said, deciphering their words for me.

“Fine as hell,” Dawn threw in. Then she tugged at my wrist. “What did he write?”

I unfolded the neatly creased paper that was sitting in my palm and cleared my throat.

End of School Party. Friday night. Bring your cousin and get ready to dance with me.

—Tyree

Dawn pouted. “What about me?”

“We going,” Zaza said, banging her hand on the handrail on the seat in front of her. “We are going.”

Dawn made a sarcastic sound. “Yeah, right. Your mama don’t let you go nowhere. How you think you going to a party?”

Zaza flipped her hair and rolled her eyes. “But I always make it out, don’t I?” she said. “And we going to this party.”

At the mention of Auntie Eve, another layer of worry settled upon me. In a flash, I remembered her warning me about being headstrong. Zaza and Dawn were normal girls, obsessed with friends and boys and parties, while I was worried about secrets and powers and keeping myself safe. Tyree’s party sounded fun, but I couldn’t risk it. Breaking the rules might be a part of Zaza’s life, but being disobedient could turn Auntie Eve against me.

9

In the gravel-covered courtyard of the sno-ball stand, a little boy sat a wooden picnic table. Under the shelter of a big colorful umbrella, he snuggled against his dad and shoved spoonfuls of bright red ice into his mouth. Only a few days ago, I was just like him—safe and secure in MawMaw’s shadow.

“What you want?” Zaza asked as we approached the tiny mint-green building at the back of the courtyard.

“Um.” I stared at the list of flavors taped next to a little serving window. There were so many choices.

Dawn knocked on the glass, and a woman wearing an apron slid open the window. When I saw that she was as old as MawMaw, my heart tightened.

“What you want, baby?” the woman asked.

“I’mma have a large pineapple and spearmint,” Dawn said.

“Y’all all getting large?” she asked.

We nodded, and she pulled out three tall Styrofoam cups. She flipped on the ice machine, and it whirled into action, grinding ice and dropping it into each paper cup. When each cup was full, the woman pressed a metal funnel against the ice, making an upside-down cone shape.

Zaza poked me with her elbow. “You wanna get what I’m getting? Bubble gum and cherry?”

“I guess.” I shrugged.

Dawn shot me a look.

“You don’t have to get what she gets.”

“She knows that, Ms. Bossy,” Zaza said.

Dawn laughed. “Says the girl telling her cousin what to get.”

As they bickered, I chose my own flavors. When I leaned into the window and asked for cherry and strawberry, Dawn shot Zaza a smirk, but she didn’t say a word.

Zaza smacked Dawn on the arm. “Girl, you heard what Candy did?”

“Oh Lord. What happened?”

And just like that their conversation went twisting around people I’d never heard of, dissecting dramas that had nothing to do with me. With their attention distracted, I felt my body relax. For the first time all day, no one was asking me questions or wondering who I was. I leaned against the building and looked up at the sky. Overhead, vines of bright pink bougainvillea hung from the roof of the stand. I closed my eyes and let the wind play around my face. I smiled, imagining the breeze carrying me home, resting me gently back among the trees, where I belonged.

I felt a tap on my arm and Zaza was thrusting my sno-ball at me.

“To your first day,” she said, hitting hers against mine.

“And to that party,” Dawn said, grinning. “So how we gonna work it?”

“Obviously, we can’t go from my house,” Zaza said, leading the way out of the courtyard. “We’re gonna have to say we’re spending the night at your house. Is your mama gonna be home?”

“Wait. Friday? Lemme think. You know what . . .” Dawn paused dramatically, then sang out, “I think she’s working a double.”

“Perfect. My mama don’t need to know that.”

“We can all wear jean shorts and . . .”

Zaza and Dawn charged ahead, talking excitedly over each other. I followed, gripping my sno-ball, the coldness of the ice seeping into my fingers. This time, being ignored didn’t feel like a relief. It felt like they were taking my promise to MawMaw and ripping it to shreds.

“I can’t go,” I blurted out.

Zaza and Dawn stopped short and turned back.

“What do you mean?” Zaza looked at me like I had lost my mind.

“You can’t let a boy that fine slip away,” Dawn said.

I shook my head. “I can’t. I promised MawMaw . . .” My words died on my tongue. I couldn’t tell them what I had promised MawMaw. “I promised your mom I would follow all the rules. And I promised MawMaw I’d listen to your mom.”

“The rules!” Zaza had so much disgust in her voice, as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

I crossed my arms to let her know how serious I was. “I just got here, Zaza. Your parents are being really nice to me. I don’t want to make them mad.”

“Speaking of,” Zaza said. “We better hustle before my daddy sends somebody looking for us.”

Zaza pulled me by the arm and dragged me forward.

“I swear,” Dawn said, falling in step next to us. “They act like they gotta know where you are every second of the day.”

“You really don’t want to go to that party?” Zaza asked softly.

I took another sweet, syrupy slurp of my sno-ball, stalling for time.

“Girl,” Dawn said. “You remember how scared you were the first time you snuck out?” Then she dissolved into laughter. “You thought your mama was behind every bush.”

“Shut up.” Zaza pouted. For a few seconds, I thought she was serious, but then I saw the laughter dancing in her eyes.

“What if we at least plan to go,” Dawn said. “Then if it don’t feel right when the time comes, we can just stay home.”

“Ooh, good idea, right?” Zaza said, nudging me with her elbow.

I fell quiet as we trudged past a porch with a swinging seat and a yard full of banana trees. Soon we were back at the corner of that busy street that had taken us to school that morning. I felt the contradictory pull of wanting to be swept into the magic of meeting a boy and following him to a party, and the need to take cover, stay safe, and heed MawMaw’s warnings.

“Okay,” I said quietly, stabbing the ice at the bottom of my cup with the straw. “We can try it.”

Zaza and Dawn squealed and sandwiched me into a tight embrace.

“Damn, that’s my bus,” Dawn said, disentangling herself and giving us a quick wave.

The bus swooped up to the stop, and Dawn raced beside it, rushing to the door.

“See y’all tomorrow!” she shouted as she mounted the stairs.

“Don’t forget to ask your mama if we could spend the night,” Zaza yelled after her.

When we made it across the street, we drained the last sweet bits of our sno-balls and threw the cups in the trash. Within two blocks we were standing in front of a building with little mosaic tiles decorating the front walk and thick black columns framing the door.

“This is it,” Zaza said, leading me around the corner to a set of big glass windows filled with books.

I started walking toward the door, but Zaza jumped in front of me.

“Wait! Let me see your tongue,” she demanded.

I froze underneath a pair of signs that said “Free Your Mind” and “Know Your History.”

“My tongue?”

Zaza nodded and waited expectantly.

I stuck out my tongue, and she winced.

“Mine too?” she asked, and stuck out her tongue.

It was a dark purple. I gasped. “My tongue’s purple?”

She nodded. “Okay, when we get inside, if Daddy asks you how your day was, give him a thumbs-up or something like that. Don’t talk. Just come with me to the bathroom.”

She pulled the door open, and a bell tinkled, announcing our arrival.

“You survived!” Uncle Asim yelled from the back of the store.

“She gotta pee,” Zaza yelled back.

“Urinate,” Uncle Asim corrected her.

“Use the bathroom,” Zaza said.

Uncle Asim sighed as Zaza rushed us through the store.

“No stopping,” she whispered in my ear.

We zipped through the main area and the hallway, dropping our bags on the floor outside the bathroom. Inside was barely bigger than a closet and everything was crammed up against each other—a short little sink sat right up against a mini toilet, which was tucked under a small window. Jostling each other, we took turns pooling water into our palms and rinsing out our mouths, rubbing our tongues with wet fingers.

“Is it . . . ?” Zaza asked, pausing her furious rubbing. “Is it gone?” She stuck her tongue out. The purple had faded, but it was still there.

I shrugged. “It’s less obvious.”

Zaza groaned. “Let me see yours.”

I stuck out my tongue.

“Shit,” Zaza said. “Let’s try more water.”

“Wait, we not supposed to eat sno-balls?” I asked, water running down my chin.

Zaza pushed me with her hip to get more space at the sink.

“No, he just annoying with his speeches. Anytime you eat anything that didn’t come out the earth. Blah, blah, blah, chemicals. Blah, blah, blah, artificial flavors. Blah, blah, blah, no nutrients . . .”

“Zambia,” Uncle Asim yelled. “I know it don’t take two of y’all to use the bathroom.”

Zaza sighed.

“He won’t notice,” I said, nudging her.

“Zambia!” Uncle Asim yelled again when she didn’t answer. “I need some help out here. Move it.”

“That’s why I can’t stand coming here after school,” Zaza said, rolling her eyes. She reached past me and grabbed a roll of paper towels off the back of the toilet. She ripped one off and dried her face, then handed one to me. “He always think I’m here to work.”

She checked her tongue in the mirror one more time, then tugged the door open.

“Where’s that note from Tyree? I gotta figure out how we gonna get to the party from Dawn’s house.”

“It’s in my backpack.”

Zaza stepped into the hallway and slammed right into Keziah. An avalanche of books dropped to the ground.

“You out here spying on us?” Zaza asked, kicking one of the books aside.

Kez rolled his eyes. “Everything ain’t about you, Zaza,” he said. “I swear you drive me.” He kneeled down and started piling the books together.

I bent down and stacked the books that had scattered at my feet.

“You don’t have to help him,” Zaza said with her hands on her hips.

“Nobody needs your rude opinions,” Kez shot back.

As they bickered, I saw a notebook lying open on the floor. Written on the left-hand side of the notebook was a list of dates and places. A map marked with black dots and red arrows was taped to the right-hand side. In the corner of the page, I saw a shape that looked familiar—a circle with a wavy line through it.

“What’s this?” I asked, pulling the notebook closer.

“Don’t touch that,” Keziah said, lunging at the notebook.

I stood up, stung by his reaction. He slammed it shut.

“Now who’s rude?” Zaza said. “You act like your family didn’t teach you no manners.”

“Sorry,” he said, frowning an apology at me. “It’s nothing.”

Zaza put her hands on her hips. “Better be nothing. Better not be a whole page out one of my daddy’s books taped in your lil raggedy notebook.”

“Well, you better not be planning to sneak your cousin out to a party,” he snapped back.

I gasped. Zaza got really quiet.

“You were spying,” she whispered.

“I wasn’t,” Kez said. “You’re just a lot louder than you think.”

Zaza took two steps toward Keziah and leaned right in his face. “What I do with my cousin is my business. I don’t care what my daddy says. You ain’t here to tell me what to do.”

Keziah slammed the notebook on top of the pile of books.

“You always act like you got it under control, right, Zaza?” he said, scooping the books up off the floor. “Don’t forget who you always call when your lil plans don’t work out.”

“Don’t forget you’re here to go to college, not steal my family or run my life,” Zaza said. She sucked her teeth and walked away. Keziah huffed and went the other way, stalking past the bathroom and marching farther down the hallway.

I turned to follow Zaza, but I felt an itch between my shoulders. I looked back to see Kez standing in the dimly lit hallway, shrouded in shadow. I couldn’t see the expression on his face—it was so dark it looked like he barely had a face at all. All I could see was the glimmer of his eyes as he stared at me like he knew more about me than I could ever guess.

10

That night I lay in bed staring at the points of light Kez’s sculpture beamed onto Zaza’s ceiling. Everything that happened during my first full day away from MawMaw crashed and collided in my head. The tense jitters that rode my neck and shoulders as I faced each new classroom, the brief moment of quiet in the courtyard of the sno-ball stand, the plan Dawn and Zaza were hatching for the party Friday night, and Kez staring at me so intensely that it felt like he’d burn a hole right through my soul.

Suddenly I sat up. I knew where I had seen the circle and wavy line that was drawn in Kez’s notebook. I slid back the covers and crept to the closet, trying not to wake Zaza. I pulled the leather pouch out of my suitcase. In the dim light of Kez’s lamp, I ran my fingers over the mysterious scribbles as I searched for the symbol that matched Kez’s drawing. When I found it, I gasped. It was exactly the same. Why did Kez have that symbol drawn in his book? Did he know what it meant?

Zaza turned over, exhaled loudly, then settled back into stillness. I picked up the scrap of paper, snuck to the den, and found the phone to call the one person I could talk to freely.

She sounded tired when she answered.

“MawMaw,” I whispered.

“Chérie!” Her voice lifted with new energy when she heard my voice. “How they treating you?”

“Real good, and . . .” I had felt so ready to demand answers, but now I felt like a child. Instead of telling her about the symbol in Kez’s notebook, I let out a rambling stream of words telling her about everything that had happened since I left. She said all the right things, laughing at the right moments and asking the right questions when I fell quiet.

Finally I said, “I found the paper you put in my bag. Tell me about that.”

“What’s there to tell? I wrote everything I know in the note. Your mother left it for you.”

“How? How did you get it?”

From what MawMaw told me, she hadn’t seen my mother after the storm. No one had. The whole thing sounded like a dark fairy tale—a city underwater, neighbors with rowboats, helicopters full of infants and elderly. Eventually I grew old enough to see it for myself. The videos on the computer, the documentaries on TV showed everything I could not imagine: Dirty brown water covering houses to the rooftops. Desperate people waving from their roofs, begging for rescue. Wreckage everywhere. My parents were up against something bigger than I had ever imagined.

“It’s like I always told you . . .”

MawMaw repeated the story of me being discovered all alone on a homemade float that had been tied to the bars of the attic window. But this time, she added a new detail.

“I told you that when they found you, your parents were nowhere to be seen. Weeks later, after the house was drained, when the search parties finally made it out—they found your father’s body, but not your mother’s. Inside your onesie—”

“I know,” I interrupted. “There was a piece of paper with my name and everybody’s phone numbers. Auntie Eve’s number, my mother’s number, and yours.”

“What I never told you was there was another piece of paper—the one I packed into your suitcase.”

“Why did you hide it from me? What does it mean?”

She sighed. “Chérie, I have no idea what it means, and that’s exactly why I didn’t give it to you sooner. Your mother had her own life and her own plans. I wish I could give you all the answers, but I’m in the dark. I can’t understand anything that’s on that paper.”

I nodded, disappointment threading through me. I didn’t know why I thought anything would be different this time. MawMaw had always been mysterious—only telling me bits of what I wanted to know and forcing me to live with questions whirling around me like hurricane winds. Giving me Mama’s note didn’t change that.

I thought about telling her about Kez, but suddenly I couldn’t bring myself to. I couldn’t bear hearing another nonanswer or worse, to make her regret giving me the one piece of information she had. She would never tell me anything again if she feared it would expose my secret.

“What about the money?” I asked instead. “Why’d you give me all that money?”

“In case of emergency.”

“What kind of emergency?”

“You’ll know when the time comes.”

I sighed, but my heart softened. MawMaw was tough, but she wasn’t cruel. I knew she wouldn’t do or say anything to hurt me, not if she could help it.

“I’m sorry, baby, that this is how things ended up. I’m so proud of you and so proud of what I was able to give you.”

“Okay,” I said. I wanted to say so much more, but I felt my throat and chest getting tight. And I knew MawMaw well enough to know the conversation was over.

“They’re gonna get me a phone,” I said, forcing cheerfulness into my voice.

“That’s great, honey.”

“When I get it, I’ll be able to call you every day.”

MawMaw laughed. It sounded dry and rustling—too weak to be MawMaw’s laugh.

“I can’t wait,” she said.

“I love you,” I said.

“Love you, sugarplum,” she said back. “I know you will figure it all out.”

And for a few seconds, we sat in silence. I let her words linger over me. When I hung up, I didn’t move. I just sat there with my hand cradled over the phone, as if holding on to it could keep me closer to her—as if all I had to do was sit there long enough and the phone would unveil all my life’s secrets, giving me all the answers that MawMaw could not.

11

The rest of the week flew by too quickly, and before I knew it, it was Friday—the night of Tyree’s party—and I was sitting on a streetcar, surprised that Auntie Eve didn’t sniff out our lies. Instead, she had dropped us off at Dawn’s house without a hint of suspicion. Dawn stayed behind because of cramps, so I was left twinning with Zaza in an off-the-shoulder bodysuit and a pair of ripped jean shorts.

As the streetcar screeched to a stop, Zaza tugged me to my feet.

“If you’re not having fun, I promise we can leave,” she said, throwing her arms around my tense shoulders. We only walked a few blocks before we heard the ghostly sound of music floating through the night air. When we neared the house, we saw a crowd of people crammed into a narrow driveway. Zaza nudged me excitedly as we watched the people’s heads bobbing and hands flinging in the air in time with the rhythm.

“They got beaucoup people at this party,” Zaza whispered in awe.

At that moment, I felt a pulse, as if the music had rushed out into the street to grab us. All my jitters dissolved into curiosity. Zaza must have felt it too, because she turned to me and asked, “Ready?”

I nodded, and she grabbed my hand. We plunged into the crowd, squeezing past bodies as they swayed to the beat. The farther we traveled into the crowd, the louder the bass throbbed and the deeper the music dipped into our chests. The rhythm was nothing like zydeco, but the faces around me beamed with the same magic and delight I always felt on the dance floor.

Zaza steered us to an empty space along the side of the house next to a row of ice chests. The music echoed in our bodies and pounded in our ears. Zaza bumped me playfully as she wiggled in time with the music. I started swaying as I studied the dancers. Everything and everyone around us seemed to be vibrating with the beat, and the energy made me feel right at home.

Zaza poked me. “You thirsty?”

She ducked down, grabbed a can from one of the coolers, and handed it to me. I looked at the red-and-gold writing and smacked Zaza on the arm.

“Zaza! This is beer!”

She winked at me and popped hers open. I put the beer back into the cooler, pulling out a ginger ale instead. After I had taken a few sips, Zaza pointed into the middle of the crowd.

“There he is!” Rising onto her tiptoes, she waved wildly. “Tyree! Tyreeeeeee,” she yelled.

I choked on my soda.

“Stop! Stop!” I smacked her hand down.

Tyree walked toward us, and I felt my cheeks flame with heat. I turned away from the dance floor and leaned against the house.

“What are you doing?” Zaza asked.

“What if I was wrong?” I whispered. “What if he didn’t really like me?”

Zaza peeked in Tyree’s direction. “You ain’t got nothing to worry about.”

“Y’all made it,” I heard Tyree say.

Looking down at my brand-new neon orange sneakers, I saw a pair of gold sneakers pointing toward me. I brushed my hair back and gave him a shy smile.

“This my cousin Zaza.”

Tyree nodded. “I seen you at school, but I never saw Veronique before.”

“She just moved here,” Zaza told him.

“So you wasn’t making up a story to get rid of me?” he joked.

I shook my head and tried to relax, but my face was stiff with nervousness. Tyree reached his hand out to me.

“Ready for that dance?”

“Oh, umm, yeah, I guess. . . .”

I looked over at Zaza. She swiveled her hips with a goofy grin plastered on her face. “This is what we came for,” she whispered.

I handed her my ginger ale and took Tyree’s hand. I stared at the back of his purple jersey as he pulled me into the crowd. He stopped in the middle of the driveway and turned to face me. A new song filled the air and a big whoop went up from the crowd. Everyone started hopping, sliding, and stomping in time with the beat. Tyree started shaking his fist in the air as he bopped to the music, sliding one foot forward and pulling it back, tapping the toe of his shoe against the concrete of the driveway.

“Roll with it,” he sang along with the chorus, giving me an encouraging grin as he kept moving to the beat. I started slowly, hopping from foot to foot, trying to copy the quick switching of Tyree’s steps. Halfway through the song, my stumbling smoothed out and my legs found the magic in the movement. Suddenly my feet were dancing over the concrete.

“Yeahhhhh!” Tyree drawled.

We sweat our way through a parade of second line songs, time disappearing between the rattling of the drums and the bold bursts of the horns.

Soon the music calmed and the high-energy beat was replaced by a slow rhythm snaking through the night air. Tyree reached for my hands and pulled me closer. The people around us pressed their bodies together and closed their eyes, as if dancing that close was the most normal thing in the world.

Tyree caught a hint of concern on my face.

“You want to stop?” he asked, taking a step backward.

A soft breeze slipped between us, instantly soothing me, but I missed his closeness. I shook my head, tightened my grip on his hands, and awkwardly mimicked the people around us. He fell into sync with me and let my stiff swaying take the lead. Little by little, my body relaxed. As one song melded into the next, we surrendered to the music and to each other, our dancing unfurling like a night flower. When we finally untangled our limbs, I felt slightly dizzy.

“Wanna get something to drink?” Tyree asked, leaning in so I could hear him. A fine layer of sweat covered his skin.

I nodded, wiping my damp hairline. When we got back to the side of the house, Zaza was busy having her own moment, holding on to a boy as she swayed to the music. She winked at me as Tyree grabbed two sodas from the cooler, then pulled me into the backyard.

Suddenly there was space. We crossed the yard, moving past the DJ, his laptop and mixer, and a few clusters of people hanging around the speakers. Near a tall wooden fence, we collapsed onto a bench underneath a tangle of jasmine. Tyree plucked one of the tiny white flowers and handed it to me. I held it close to my nose.

“Smells good, doesn’t it?” Tyree nudged my leg with his knee. “You glad you came?”

“Yeah, I’m—” I broke off. My shoulders tensed up as Tyree scooted closer.

“Oh,” he said, backing away. “You think I’m one of those dudes.”

“What dudes?” I asked.

“You know, who moves funny,” he said, swishing his hands in the air. “They all look at girls like . . . what they can get from them. That’s not me.”

I shook my head. I didn’t know what he was talking about. I didn’t know what other boys were like. I just knew he made me feel so many things at once.

“Everything is just so new to me,” I said, feeling the wind slip by. It moved in soft lazy circles, stirring the jasmine overhead.

“I know what it’s like,” he said.

“You do?” I couldn’t imagine Tyree out of place anywhere.

“Yeah, I do. I had to leave home too. I lost . . . My parents were worried . . .” Tyree sighed and glanced at me like he was trying to decide how much he wanted to say. “My cousin died, and my parents sent me away to my aunt’s. I know why they made me go, but at first it was really weird. Everything was off. I felt like . . . like . . .” He paused, looking past me as he thought.

“Like you had to throw away everything you ever loved, everything you ever knew. Like you had to learn everything all over again. Like you’re . . .” I dropped off, wondering if I was going too far.

“A stranger in a foreign land,” he said, finishing my thought.

I widened my eyes and nodded. He was the last person I expected to understand what I was feeling.

“I’m sorry about your cousin.”

Tyree squeezed his eyes shut and nodded, then shook his head like he wanted to toss away the memory.

“So what would you be doing at home?” he asked.

He listened as I told him about MawMaw and the animals, the trees and the river. He asked questions about what I missed the most and laughed at my stories.

“You gonna teach me to zydeco?” he asked when I told him how it felt to twirl all night to Big Bo’s music.

“Whenever you’re ready,” I said.

Then we both leaned against the fence, staring up at the stars in the sky.

“You know what’s funny,” he said without turning to look at me. “When they sent me away, I hated it. But now that I’m back, it’s not the same. My cousin’s gone, and all these people—none of them really know what I been through. Sometimes I feel like I don’t belong here anymore.”

“So you’re split,” I said, thinking of MawMaw’s house and Auntie Eve’s house. “And no matter where you are, it’s like you belong—”

“Nowhere,” he said, finishing my sentence.

The music of the party receded, and all I could hear was Tyree’s soft breathing. He reached for my hand, and we clasped fingers. Then we sat there, quietly enjoying the night air together.

“This okay?” Tyree asked, lifting our hands.

I nodded. He grinned.

“So you not scared of me no more?”

I laughed. “Shy and scared ain’t the same thing.”

“Are you too shy to kiss me?”

His words sent an electric shock whipping through me. The winds surged overhead, sparking in concert with my emotions. I let out a soft breath, to calm both the winds and my heartbeat.

“You . . . you want to kiss me?”

His face softened, and he squeezed my hand.

“I wanted to kiss you from the first second I saw you,” he said.

My breath caught in my throat. For once, the winds went quiet, wrapping me and Tyree into a cocoon of stillness.

Tyree flicked his eyes downward and leaned close. He paused a few inches from my mouth and stayed there, as if asking me to decide if our lips should touch. So many things had happened to me that I hadn’t chosen. Leaving MawMaw, starting school, coming to the party—I hadn’t wanted any of those things. Now, suddenly, it was up to me what would happen next.

I paused, savoring the chance to choose, then leaned in and pressed my lips to his. When our mouths met, the winds stirred again, dipping down to brush against my shoulders before swirling around us. For a few glorious seconds, my worries and questions drifted away. All I felt was Tyree and me floating as our kiss pulled me in deeper and deeper.

I didn’t feel the winds hurtling around the backyard in big, sweeping gusts until they slammed against the legs of the DJ’s table. A crashing sensation vibrated through me, and I jerked away from Tyree, but it was too late to rein in the winds. The music cut off abruptly as the uncontrolled breezes knocked over the table. There was a loud cracking sound, then the table collapsed with a bang.

The sound of yelling voices erupted, filling the backyard. Tyree jumped to his feet. Across the yard, the DJ’s table was broken, the speakers were overturned, and his laptop was shattered on the ground.

“What the fuck, man?” the DJ yelled. “This shit is expensive. You paying for it.”

“What we paying for? We ain’t do shit.” One of the men standing in front of the table crossed his arms and glared at the DJ.

“Oh, you think you ain’t gon’ pay?” the DJ asked, jumping over the broken table. His eyes were wild.

Tyree grabbed my hand and ran straight toward the commotion. He put his hand on the DJ’s shoulder. “Chill, bruh. Chill. We gon’ figure it out.”

The DJ shrugged him off and shoved one of the men. Just then, Zaza ran up to us, her face panicked.

“You okay?” she asked, yanking me away from Tyree.

Before I could answer, one of the men reached into his waistband and pulled out a gun.

Zaza stumbled backward. “We gotta get out of here,” she said, grabbing my hand. “Now!”

Zaza steered us through the crowd, slipping past while everyone stood around wondering what happened to the music. When we were almost to the sidewalk, a gunshot rang out. Panic erupted, and a rush of people spilled into the street, shoving us as they darted around, seeking escape.

I held tight to Zaza’s hand as everyone stampeded in all directions. Some ducked between parked cars, others hauled themselves over fences to take shelter in the neighbors’ yards, the rest just ran. Zaza had only guided us a few feet when the crush of people crashed into us. Someone broke between me and Zaza. Suddenly we were knocked apart and I was tumbling to the ground.

“Zaza!” I yelled, squinting through the scattering feet.

I jumped up and joined the crowd as quickly as I could. I ran, calling Zaza’s name until my throat hurt. When I had almost given up, the winds brushed up against me and circled my head. As it drifted past my ears, I heard Zaza’s voice.

“Veronique!” she called.

I felt a flicker of hope. With a roll of my fingers, I called the winds to attention. The moment I felt them at the ready, I shouted, “Zaza!” into my cupped hands, then flicked my fingers outward, sending the winds flying over everyone’s heads.

The next thing I knew, the wind was tugging me through the crowd, knocking people aside to clear a path for me.

Finally, at the end of the block, I saw Zaza standing under a tree, frantically calling for me. When I saw her, I waved my hands and ran into her arms.

“You okay?” Zaza asked.

I nodded, my heart thudding as Zaza and I held each other tight. Then Zaza clasped my hand in hers, and we took off running again, moving through the shifting swirl of bodies that surrounded us. We ran under the glow of the streetlights, our feet slapping against the pavement, the wind at our backs. It whipped around us, tugging at people’s hair, banging against cars—an invisible force, ready to shove and rescue, to magnify and distract, ready to do whatever was needed to destroy all danger and keep us safe.

12

Zaza and I ran until the people grew sparse. When we stopped to catch our breath, fear flashed through me, hot and quick. I was the cause of the yelling, the gunshot, the people stampeding—all because I had felt something new. All because I had lost control.

“We’re going to be in trouble now, right?” I said, worry burning through my words.

She looked at me and pressed her fingers to her lips. “Don’t jinx us. We’re good, we’re safe.”

“But . . .” I looked around. We were alone on the corner; everyone from the party was quickly racing away. Down the block, a tangle of people still clogged the street.

“You need to learn how to chill out,” she said, pulling out her phone. She leaned against the chain-link fence that bordered the house on the corner. “We didn’t get hurt. You got to see Tyree. It was a good night. Now we just gotta get home.”

In the distance, the sound of police sirens blared into the night. Zaza’s eyes went wide, and she leaped into action, tapping a contact on her phone.

“We can’t get caught out here,” she mumbled. “Can’t be answering no questions from the po-po, and can’t get stuck if they block off the neighborhood.”

She pressed the phone to her ear, and I stared at her as if my life depended on this one phone call.

“We need a ride,” Zaza said when a muffled voice answered the phone. After a pause, she rolled her eyes. “I know. I’ll owe you. The twelve is coming. I gotta get V outta here.”

The person’s voice blared through the receiver. Zaza held the phone in the air as the sirens rang out, then pressed the phone back to her ear.

“You heard that. The twelve is coming! So if you don’t want us to get caught up in some police BS, come get us. I’m dropping a pin.”

“Who was that?” I asked after she hung up.

“Annoying-ass Kez,” she said, tapping the screen a few more times. “I can’t stand him, but he looks out.”

Over the next few minutes, the sounds of sirens multiplied. As they blared louder and louder, Zaza’s nonchalance wilted. Finally, a dark blue car pulled up across the street and blinked its headlights.

“That’s him.” Zaza pushed off the fence and set off across the street with a dramatic swing of her braids. Before I reached the car, she was already yanking the passenger door open and melting against the seat.

“Oh my God, thank you!” Zaza actually sounded grateful.

“This what you call a party, huh?” Kez asked, pointing his chin at the flashing red and blue lights that lit up the street.

“Shut up. A fight broke out.”

“What a surprise.” Kez eased the car forward, guiding us away from the sirens. “Y’all lucky y’all didn’t get hurt.”

“It was a small fight,” Zaza said.

“But there was a gunshot,” I said.

Kez shot Zaza a look. “So somebody could be bleeding out at the party right now.”

“I think they just shot in the air,” Zaza said. “Didn’t sound like they shot anybody.”

I wondered how Zaza knew what it sounded like when someone got shot. I caught a skeptical look flash across Kez’s face, as if he was wondering the same thing.

“So y’all ran?” Kez asked.

“Hell yeah—us and everybody else at the party.”

“You still think putting your life in danger is fun, Zaza? When you gonna grow up?”

“If being grown up is being boring like you, never!” Zaza shot back.

“I rather my fun come without the risk of death,” he said with a sideways glance at Zaza before stopping at a red light. Then his gaze drifted up to the rearview mirror and he locked eyes with me.

“And you think Zaza’s right. Was the party big fun?” When he said big fun, he spread his fingers and shook his hand in Zaza’s face. She slapped it away.

“It was . . .” I paused, flashing back to kissing Tyree. “Until the fight and until I lost Zaza.”

Kez sucked his teeth and shook his head. “You lost her, Zaza? You really trying it.”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” Zaza said. “Even careful Kez could lose somebody in a stampede.”

“Whatever,” Kez said, shaking his head. The light switched to green, and he turned his attention back to driving. “I’ll never understand you, Z.”

“But we found each other, right?” Zaza turned back to face me. “Tell him, V. There were people everywhere, but it was like this huge gust of wind blew her right to me.”

“A huge gust of wind, huh?” Kez repeated. He dragged every word out slowly, then glanced at me in the rearview mirror again. My body went cold, and I wrapped my arms around myself.

“Yeah, we weren’t separated long. It—”

Kez turned onto a busy street, and Zaza stopped talking instantly.

“What are you doing?” she asked, smacking his arm. “We’re not going home. We’re spending the night at Dawn’s house.”

“You think so, huh?” Kez asked.

“What do you mean? I know so.”

“Well, I know that your plans have changed.” Kez paused, and a dramatic silence filled the car.

“What?” Zaza said, her voice shrill and sharp.

“Your mom called. . . .”

“She knows we weren’t at Dawn’s?” Zaza shouted.

“She went over there on her way home to check on you and your cousin. Then she called me. Luckily, I had no idea where you were.” He turned and gave Zaza a little bow. “Thanks for that, actually.”

Zaza’s face tightened, and she shrank down into the seat. When Zaza went quiet, Kez flipped on the radio, letting loose a wild explosion of sound. Kez tapped his fingers to the rhythm of the rapidly beating drums and hummed along with the singing horns.

“You love it when I’m in trouble,” Zaza muttered.

Kez kept humming, then stopped. “So, Veronique . . .”

“Call her V,” Zaza snapped.

“So, V, what did you feel when this wind blew you to Zaza?” Kez’s eyes flicked to mine again. “Did it come out of nowhere?”

Zaza pulled herself out of her slump, whipping around. “Kez, shut up about the damn wind. My mom knows we lied to her.”

“Damn, you tense, girl,” Kez said, smirking at Zaza. He didn’t ask me any more questions, but he kept flicking his gaze at me in the rearview mirror. Over and over our eyes met, and each glance felt like he was staring straight through me, like he knew my secret.

“So.” I cleared my throat and tried to shake off my jitters. “What is your mom going to do to us?”

“Everything is overrrrrrrrrr,” Kez sang. “First, she taking Zaza’s phone. Then she ain’t gonna let nobody spend the night out for a good six months, and forget about hanging out after school.” He slammed his hand on the dashboard. “Straight to the bookstore. All day every day.”

“Real funny, Kez,” Zaza said dryly.

“Who’s joking? Freedom? That’s gone. Straight like that!”

“I hate how much you are loving this.”

“Me?” Kez pressed his hand against his chest like he was shocked and slid to a stop in front of Zaza’s house.

As we idled in the street, the living room light flicked on. Zaza groaned.

“You know you better not keep her waiting.”

For once, Zaza didn’t have a comeback. Instead she just pushed the door open with a sigh. She paused with one foot out of the car.

“You coming in?” she asked Kez.

Kez burst out laughing. “Hell no. Your mama don’t like me as it is. You think I’m gonna go in there and catch heat for your mess? Nah, bruh.”

Zaza went quiet. For a second it looked like she was going to beg, but instead she just got out of the car, said “Let’s go” to me, then slammed the door shut.

“Thanks,” I said to Kez as I opened the door and climbed out. He rolled down his window.

“Hey, V.” I turned around. “You better be careful,” he said in a low voice. “Eyes are watching—and your secret is showing.”

Shock sparked through my body, but before I could respond, Kez had already rolled up the window, leaving me to stare at my reflection in the glass until he drove away.

13

When we stepped into the house, my heart was still pounding from Kez’s words. Auntie Eve stood in the middle of the living room, her arms crossed, a stern frown on her face.

“So is this who you are, Zambia?” she asked with no greeting and not even a glance at me. “A liar?”

“It was just a party, Mama. We were all supposed to go.”

“Is this your defense? ‘We were all lying to our parents together’?”

Zaza looked at the floor and didn’t say anything.

“And what about you?” Auntie Eve asked, turning to me. “Is this how you behaved at Cecily’s house? Sneaking out to a party you have no permission to go to?”

I shook my head. It felt like a million thoughts were flying through my mind. This was the second time sneaking out at night had gotten me in trouble—that night with Lil Bo, the winds had helped; tonight they had just caused a stampede.

“It’s my fault,” Zaza said. “Veronique didn’t want to go. I made her.”

Auntie Eve narrowed her eyes at Zaza. “You made her lie to our faces and pretend she was going to a sleepover with you so you could go to some wild party that ended in chaos?”

Zaza sighed. “That wasn’t supposed to happen. It was a safe party, Mama. Everyone was having fun before the fight broke out.”

Auntie Eve grabbed Zaza’s shoulder and leaned forward until they were face-to-face.

“There is no safe party, Zambia. You are sixteen years old, and you haven’t figured that out yet. Where do you think you are? Paradise? You think there’s little angels flying around to keep you safe? You watch the news, don’t you? We talked about this. You don’t know who’s walking around with a gun, ready to get into a fight. Who’s coming to a party to get revenge on somebody. It doesn’t matter what kind of party you think it is. It’s not safe out here!”

When her words died down, Auntie Eve stayed there, eyeballing Zaza for an uncomfortably long time. Then she straightened up and crossed her arms again.

“So whose safe lil party was it? Which one of your lil friends got friends who come to a party packing a gun?”

Zaza glanced at me. She looked like she was making a split decision between telling Auntie Eve another lie or the truth.

“It was a boy from school,” Zaza said.

“A boy!” Auntie Eve yelled. “Since when do you think you have permission to go running around the city chasing after lil boys?”

“I wasn’t chasing after him, Mama. He doesn’t even like me, he likes—” Zaza stopped short before saying my name. “He likes my friend.”

Auntie Eve got quiet, staring from one of us to the other. I sucked in my breath. I suddenly saw how easy it would be for Zaza to blame everything on me. I edged a little bit closer to her, grateful she was trying to protect me.

“Zambia,” Auntie Eve finally said, her voice full of disappointment. “The rules we have in this house are for your safety. A bullet doesn’t care who you are. You’re clearly not old enough to be making smart decisions about your life. Give me your phone.”

With a sigh, Zaza then reached into her back pocket, pulled out her phone, and handed it to Auntie Eve.

“There’s going to be some serious consequences for this lil fake-out you pulled tonight. Let’s start with you showing me you know the rules. Go to your room and write down all the rules you’re supposed to follow. Every rule you remember us ever telling you. Every rule you broke tonight. All of them!”

Auntie Eve flicked her hand, dismissing Zaza, who walked toward her room. I turned to follow, but Auntie Eve put a hand on my shoulder. “Not you. Come with me.”

Zaza looked back, worried. “Mama, I told you it wasn’t Veronique’s fault. She didn’t even want to go.”

Auntie Eve pointed to the doorway. “Your room,” she said sharply. “Now!”

Zaza shot me a sorrowful look and walked out of the living room. Auntie Eve pushed me toward the dining room. At the dinner table, she pulled out a chair. “Sit.”

“Auntie Eve,” I said with a shaky voice. “I’m sorry we broke your rules.”

“Sit,” she said again, as if I hadn’t said a word.

I lowered myself into the chair, folded my hands in my lap, and looked down at my knees. When Auntie Eve sat down, I heard the chair creak. She sighed deeply.

“Zambia doesn’t know who you are.” Auntie Eve paused, and I snuck a glance at her. She was staring at me intensely, that disappointed frown still on her face. “She thinks you are just like her, a best friend who lives in her house, but you two are not the same.”

I squirmed. It was almost as if Auntie Eve was saying there was something wrong with me.

“It doesn’t matter whose idea it was to sneak out. The fact is, if something happens out there, you can protect yourself and Zambia cannot.”

I wanted to tell her I would never put Zaza in a dangerous situation. And if she was ever in trouble, I’d protect her. But Auntie Eve kept talking.

“Maybe she’s showing off for you. Maybe you don’t want to disappoint her, but you can’t go running around the city with Zambia. That’s not what you’re here for. Do you understand me?”

I nodded, fighting to hold myself back from bursting into tears.

When Auntie Eve saw the expression on my face, she reached out and gently took my hands. “Look, baby, life hasn’t been fair to you. It hasn’t.”

Auntie Eve’s words mixed with her soft expression brought tears closer to the surface.

“I know what it’s like to lose the person who raised you. I was about your age when my mama died, so I know this is hard, but I need you to listen. Those powers you have, they are dangerous. They made my sister think she was a superhero or something. It tore us apart. That’s why we weren’t talking when she died.”

I went stiff. “So it’s true,” I whispered. “My mama did have powers.”

Auntie Eve looked confused. “Cecily didn’t tell you?”

I shook my head. Auntie Eve’s words knocked a little of the air out of my chest. Watching my mother burn night after night in my dreams, I had always believed my mother had powers—but believing was different from actually knowing.

“That woman is a piece of work,” Auntie Eve mumbled, her voice hard again. “After everything she did to keep you, you would think the least she could do was tell you the truth.”

“After everything she did?”

Auntie Eve nodded emphatically. “Did she ever tell you why you never met me? Why you never met your cousins?”

I shook my head.

“When they found you in the storm, they called us first, but we were in Florida. Cecily was closer. She called me and said she’d pick you up and we could get you when we got back to the city. It took us a whole year to rebuild and come home. We planned to keep you here with us, but Cecily stopped answering the phone.”

“Why?”

“She thought she could raise you better,” Auntie Eve said, her eyes darkening. “She called me months later to tell me you had powers.”

“Like my mama?” I asked.

“No.” Auntie Eve shook her head. “Not like your mama. Your mama wasn’t born with them. Cecily said you had them since you were a baby.”

“And my mama’s power was . . .” I held still, waiting for Auntie Eve’s answer.

“Fire,” Auntie Eve said, leaning back in her seat. “She could just make it pop up over her open hand like nothing. I didn’t like to see it, especially after she started disappearing for days, coming back hurt or so hyped up that she seemed high. She started keeping secrets, so we stopped talking about it. After we grew up and had our separate lives, she met your dad. He settled her down, and we started talking again. It felt like things were getting better. You were born. Then Katrina hit. . . .”

Auntie Eve shook her head as if trying to push away memories.

“Cecily stole our chance to raise you. I’m sorry she’s sick, but I’m glad you’re finally here. I need you to understand something.” Auntie Eve shifted to the edge of her seat and looked deep into my eyes. “I can’t have you bringing trouble to our doorstep the way your mama did. My first priority is to protect this family. If you’re going to live here, this home has to be a safe space.”

I inhaled sharply. If I was going to live here? Where else would I live? Was she saying she would kick me out if Zaza and I kept getting in trouble?

She reached out and grabbed my shoulder. Her grip was soft and her face was sad.

“You have to say no to Zambia—even if it ruins your friendship, even if she thinks you’re the most boring cousin ever—because once the two of you go out into that world, no one can predict what will happen and no one will be there to protect you.”

She suddenly pulled me into a hug as I sat there trembling and fighting tears.

“If you can’t be here without running wild with Zambia, then I can’t keep you here,” she whispered in my ear. “Do you understand me?”

Auntie Eve’s words landed in my heart, and any small sense of safety that I had built this week crumbled inside me.

Auntie Eve pulled away.

“Do you understand me?” she repeated firmly, her eyes glittering and fierce.

I nodded, and she pulled me up from my seat.

“Go get some sleep.”

I wrapped my arms around myself and walked away, each step feeling like I was walking further and further into a wild and uncertain future. I paused at the doorway and turned back. She hadn’t taken her eyes off me. She was still standing there, holding on to the dining table, staring at me with a face full of grief, as if she were already telling me goodbye.

14

I spent most of the night tossing and turning, everything Auntie Eve said swirling through my mind. Mama had the power of fire like I had the power of wind. And MawMaw had taken me. Whisked me away and kept me from Mama’s family. Then I remembered Auntie Eve’s tough glare, heard her voice whispering that she’d send me away if she had to. The thoughts were like a confusing jigsaw puzzle—none of the pieces quite fit together. Eventually, exhaustion crawled into my consciousness. I lost a grip on all my worries and I drifted into sleep.

The next thing I knew, the lights flicked on and I heard Uncle Asim’s voice.

“Up! Time to get up,” he barked.

I blinked and rubbed my eyes. Turning on my side, I could see Zaza sit up and shelter her eyes.

“It’s Saturday,” she protested.

“You should have thought of that when you decided to break the rules on a Friday,” he said. “Up! You’re coming with me to the bookstore. You two have earned a job as my weekend assistants.”

Zaza groaned and looked out the window. “It’s still dark outside!”

Uncle Asim raised his hand to stop her complaining. “You lost your sleeping-in privileges. You’re on my time now. Get dressed.”

Zaza opened her mouth to speak again, but Uncle Asim cut her off.

“All I want to hear is Yes, Baba.”

Zaza glared at her father. “Yes, Baba.”

Watching him walk out of the room without a joke or his usual grin was the second time in a few short weeks that I learned that my life could turn upside down with no warning. A kiss could lead to a gunfight. A lie could lead to a threat. And a secret could change everything.

Breakfast was silent and Uncle Asim was impatient. Before we were finished eating, he clapped his hands loudly.

“Wrap it up. Wash your bowls. Let’s go.”

I joined Zaza at the sink. Distracted by my unending swarm of thoughts, I lost my grip on the bowl. It slipped out of my hand and shattered in the bottom of the sink.

“I’m sorry,” I cried, bursting into tears. “I’m sorry.”

Shaking, I repeated those two words over and over again. I was sorry I had snuck out of MawMaw’s house. Sorry that she couldn’t take care of me anymore. Sorry I had broken Auntie Eve and Uncle Asim’s rules. Sorry I had these powers that I couldn’t always control. Sorry that I had nowhere to go and no answers to make my life easier.

Zaza pulled me into a hug. “It’s okay.”

“It’s fine,” Uncle Asim repeated. “We have more bowls than we need.”

But nothing was okay and nothing felt fine. Since the day I left home, life had become slippery and uncertain—less like a pattern that made sense and more like a maze that I didn’t know how to navigate and couldn’t figure out how to escape.

After driving to the bookstore in silence, Uncle Asim started giving orders as soon as we stepped through the doorway.

“I’m splitting you up. One of you needs to go to the back with Keziah and start packing the remainders we’re sending back to publishers. The other one will stay up here and . . .”

At the mention of Kez’s name, I suddenly felt jolted wide awake. I didn’t know what he knew about my secret or why he had scribbled the same symbol in his journal that my mother had drawn on her note, but I knew I wasn’t ready to face him or his questions.

“I’ll work with you, Uncle Asim,” I said, cutting him off.

Zaza didn’t argue. She just nodded and disappeared down the hallway that led to the back of the store.

“Alright, so we’re on restocking. I’ll send you to a section of the store and call out some titles. You’ll take those books down and”—Uncle Asim pointed to a stack of boxes in the middle of the store—“I’ll let you know which of the new ones I need you to put up there.”

I nodded. Uncle Asim went behind the counter and tapped a few keys on the computer.

“Okay, go to the biographies.”

Before he could give me the next set of instructions, his phone rang.

“Veronique,” he called.

I poked my head out from between the bookshelves and saw he was holding the phone out to me.

“It’s your grandmother.”

His voice was gentle, so different from how firm and serious he had been all morning. When I hesitated, he put his hand over the phone and said, “It’ll make you feel better.”

I walked over to him, more worried than relieved to be talking to MawMaw. When I took the phone, Uncle Asim motioned to the door with an encouraging nod. I gave him a grateful smile, then rushed outside.

It was so early, the sun hadn’t broken into the sky yet. The trees were cloaked in shadow, and the street was completely quiet. Somewhere someone was playing a radio, and I heard a lone voice singing along.

“Hello?” I said, crossing my arms tightly across my body.

“Morning.”

MawMaw’s voice was all business.

“I spoke to Eve. She said you snuck out last night?”

I huddled against a telephone pole across from the bookstore, my heart thudding in my chest. “I spoke to her too. And she told me you’ve been lying to me.”

“Have I?” MawMaw’s voice became sharp.

“My powers come from my mother. She can control fire, just like I can control the wind.”

MawMaw fell quiet.

“You knew and you didn’t tell me. You also didn’t tell me that Auntie Eve and Uncle Asim wanted me when I was a baby. That you hid me from them.”

MawMaw let out an exasperated huff. “I didn’t hide you from them. There was so much chaos after the storm. They had already left for Florida, and by the time they came back, I knew about you and the winds. You were too young to control them. I thought it was safer for you out here, where no one would ask any questions.”

“So you stopped taking their calls.”

“I protected you,” MawMaw said sharply.

“Like you’re protecting me now by refusing to tell me about my mother’s powers?”

“I know Eve is upset,” MawMaw said, ignoring my question. “And maybe it wasn’t fair to keep you away from them, but what would they have done with you? As a toddler breaking glasses and slamming cabinet doors. Shattering windows. I didn’t trust anyone else to take care of you.”

“But you’re trusting her to take care of me now.”

“I would never have let you go if I didn’t have to.”

“And you had to because I wasn’t safe anymore, right?”

“Because I’m sick,” she said. Suddenly her voice softened. It was so soft and whispery that she didn’t sound like herself. It should have made me quieter, it should have made me stop asking questions, but it just made me angry.

“Is it that you’re sick or is it that I’m not safe? Which one is it?”

As I waited for an answer, frustration built in my chest. I needed her to be my anchor, I needed her to have the answers, but every time I pushed her, she put up a wall of half-truths. MawMaw’s love was thick. It had held me from childhood to now, but these days, it had begun to feel brittle—like she could only bear to love me in one way, as someone to protect, not as someone to speak truth to.

Her silence stretched on.

“Please, MawMaw,” I begged. “Tell me what’s happening. Why wasn’t I safe at your house anymore? And how do you know I’ll be safe here?”

“I don’t,” MawMaw whispered. She took a deep breath and sighed. “I kept you because your mother asked me to. She called me two months before the storm. She said she had been in hiding. That someone had some kind of mission—and they wanted her to join it. They didn’t know about you, and she wanted to keep you safe.”

“Who? What mission?”

“She didn’t say. She just said she might need my help. I told her I would do whatever I could. I never spoke to her again.”

“A mission?” I snapped. “This someone who has a mission—are they dangerous?”

“You need to stop obsessing about this and find a way to keep your head down.”

Hurt exploded in my chest and flew out of my throat with a burst of air.

“I can’t believe you had my whole life to tell me about this. We could have figured it out together, but instead you’re leaving me to deal with this alone,” I shouted. The treetops rustled as a huge gust of wind rushed in to surround me.

“Control your emotions,” MawMaw said, sharp and quick.

For a few seconds, I didn’t do or say anything. Faced with my silence, the winds grew stronger, whipping up and down the empty early morning streets. I knew if I ignored them, they would grow more aggressive and insistent. I gave them time to rage stronger in the early morning quiet, then, with a wave of my hand, I pushed them away. They softened, swirling around me gently, stroking my cheek before wandering off to find another place to play.

“None of this is fair. I’m sorry, baby. Yes, I had your whole life to tell you, but your mother made me swear I wouldn’t tell you or anyone. Not until I had to. Everything I have done has been to protect you.”

MawMaw had always seemed strong and clear-eyed—and unafraid to face hard truths—but now I was seeing a new side of her. One that was too scared to tell me what I needed to know. I slid down to the base of the telephone pole. An old man walked by, his dog tugging him forward as they reached the corner.

“Don’t be angry, honey. It’s not going to help you. None of us can control the hands we’re dealt. It’s time for you to protect yourself. That’s the way life works. Every single child on this earth has to find their own way sooner or later. You just have a bigger mystery to solve than most.”

I sighed. Looking through the glass of the bookstore window, I saw Uncle Asim still working on the computer. The sky was slowly growing brighter.

“I feel like everyone knows more about my life than I do,” I mumbled.

“What’s that, Veronique?” MawMaw asked, her voice so strong, it felt like it was grabbing me through the phone. “Who is everyone?”

I shook my head even though MawMaw couldn’t see me. At the same time, Kez walked by the window and caught sight of me. Our eyes met. I quickly stood up and turned away.

“I—I don’t know,” I stammered, careful not to let the wrong words slip out. “I mean, if Mama was hiding from someone with a mission, what if someone else knows about it? What if whoever she was hiding from finds me?”

MawMaw sighed. “I understand why you’re scared. All this new information must feel like quicksand. Auntie Eve might not trust me, but I trust her to take care of you. And I trust you to keep growing. Your destiny will be revealed in time. Until then, stay hidden and stay safe. And please act like you have some home training. Don’t act a fool in your auntie and uncle’s house.”

“I won’t. I love you,” I said, and smiled softly when MawMaw said it back. Between my secrets and hers, “I love you” seemed like the only true thing we could say to each other anymore. I hung up and sighed. I was learning that love had its limits. MawMaw’s love couldn’t last forever, and Auntie Eve’s love would waver if I brought danger to Zaza.

Staring through the bookstore window, I narrowed my eyes at Kez.

If MawMaw couldn’t give me the answers I needed, I’d have to find someone who would.

15

When I stepped back into the bookstore, Uncle Asim and Kez were deep in conversation.

“We need all those books logged before we can start restocking the shelves,” Uncle Asim said. His frown told me he wasn’t happy with how things were moving.

“I don’t want to blame Zambia, but . . .”

“But the two of you are like oil and water.”

I reached over the desk and handed Uncle Asim his phone.

“I can switch with her,” I said.

Both Uncle Asim and Kez snapped their heads toward me. I wanted to shrink into myself and take it all back, but I channeled Zaza. She would be bold and ask for what she wanted—and what I wanted right now was to know what Kez knew about that symbol—and about me.

Uncle Asim sighed. “I guess that would be for the best.”

“It would be faster,” Kez said with a shrug.

“Zambia probably knows the shelves out here better than you do, Veronique. So we’d be faster out here too.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I said, managing to keep my voice from shaking. Secret maneuvers weren’t something I had a lot of practice in, but after just one week with Zaza, I was learning that confidence was everything when trying to get your way.

“Okay, send Zambia up here,” Uncle Asim said.

Kez slid from behind the counter, and I followed him down the hall. When we reached the back room, Kez threw himself into the office chair behind a desk crammed with books.

“You lucky,” he said, swiveling his chair to face Zaza. “Your cousin came to save you.”

“Thank God!” Zaza said, rolling her eyes. She pressed me into a quick hug and flounced out of the room.

“You have to help your baba up front,” Kez yelled after her. He turned to me. The combination of the full bookshelves and his gravity-defying hair framing his face in unpredictable patterns made Kez look like a wild genius. “You know what we have to do?” He crossed his arms as if challenging me.

“I’m sure you’ll explain it to me,” I said with a shrug.

“You’re gonna read me the ISBN and title, and I’m going to make sure they’re in the computer. Then you’re going to tell me how many are in the box. These are done,” he said, motioning to a pile of boxes next to the desk. “Those are the ones we still have to do.” He pointed to a tall stack of boxes in the corner.

“Okay,” I said. As I walked toward the boxes in the corner, my mind was spinning. How would I bring up the sketch in his notebook without sounding unhinged? But then I remembered how he had warned me that my secret was showing. He wasn’t worried about sounding strange.

I pulled open the box and lifted a book. My mind was busy, working to convince me to spit out my question, but I couldn’t find the right words. Instead, I just said, “Ready?”

“Actually . . .” he said. “Can I ask you a question?”

I raised my eyebrows. “Um, okay.”

“Your mom is Mama Eve’s sister?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. Then I looked down at the book in my hand, and without giving Kez a chance to speak again, I read the title and ISBN out loud.

Kez clicked the mouse and checked the computer screen.

“Got it,” he said, tapping on the keys. Then he looked up at me again.

“Do they look alike?”

I grabbed the next book. “Does who look alike?”

“Your mom and Mama Eve.”

“How would I know?” I said, crossing my arms. “I was just a baby when she died.”

“But was she, like, really tall?”

I shot him one of Dawn’s looks, the one she would flash when someone was standing too close to her or making too much noise near her.

He frowned. “Don’t get mad. I was only—”

“I have a question for you,” I said, cutting him off. “What’s in your notebook?”

Now it was Kez’s turn to get tense. His shoulders hunched like he was protecting himself.

“It’s private,” he said.

“Kind of like my family history,” I said.

Kez held his hands up. “My bad, I’m just curious.”

“Well, there’s something I’m really curious about,” I said, walking over to the desk. “I saw maps and notes in your notebook. Private, I know, but this . . .”

I found a notepad, picked up a pen, and drew a circle with a wavy line through it.

“I need to know about this. What is it?”

Kez stared at the paper for a few seconds.

“It’s just something my brother used to draw,” he said, looking up at me. “Does it mean something to you?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. I shuffled through my memory, trying to recall what Uncle Asim had said about Kez’s brother during dinner that first night. He had disappeared. Maybe he was hiding from something too. Maybe he knew about the mission. I opened my mouth trying to find the words to ask my question indirectly, but Kez cut me off.

“Next book?”

I was so busy hiding my secret from Kez, I didn’t realize that he had his own secrets to hide.

“So the maps . . .” I looked over at Kez, hoping I wasn’t pushing too hard. “Are you tracking your brother with those maps?”

Kez nodded. A look of pain flashed across his face. For a few seconds, it seemed like Kez was going to talk, but then his face hardened.

“You gonna read the next ISBN?” he asked. The toughness of his tone brought a wall up between us.

For a few moments, we stared at each other. I still didn’t know what he knew about my powers, and I didn’t know why he was obsessed with my mother. At least now I knew that it was connected to his missing brother.

When the staring became awkward, I cleared my throat and read the next ISBN. We started working again, ignoring all the questions we wanted to ask and the secrets we wanted to hide.

“I still don’t understand something,” Kez said about an hour later, when we had reached the bottom of the last box.

I looked up at him.

“I don’t understand why I never heard of you. You’re here because both your parents died in the—”

Just then, Zaza burst into the room. “Y’all ready for lunch?”

Neither of us answered. Instead we were dead silent. Zaza looked from Kez to me and back to Kez again.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

When we didn’t respond, she charged up to the desk and slammed her hand on a stack of books. “You were asking her questions again, weren’t you?”

“Whatever, Zaza.” Kez flicked his hand as if he were trying to shoo her away. “In the normal world, questions are how people get to know each other.”

“Well, I hope you’re not acting like the FBI.”

I wanted to tell Zaza that we were both asking each other questions, but there was nothing I could say to explain that there was a big hole in my life story and Kez might have a piece of the puzzle.

Before I could figure out what to say, Kez stood up and slid by Zaza.

“If you’re looking for a fight, Zaza, you’re too late. We’re done with the books.”

Then he walked past me and mumbled, “We’ll talk more,” before slipping out of the room.

16

At school on Monday, my head swam with questions. I stumbled from class to class, doing my best to surf the rhythms of my schedule, adjust to teachers’ moods, and manage students’ attitudes. In every quiet moment, my mind wandered back to the piece of paper with the symbols, to my mother and what she may have been thinking when she wrote it, and to Kez’s notebook. At the bookstore after school, Kez and I never seemed to find a moment alone. Either Uncle Asim had him off running errands or Zaza was around, making sure Kez didn’t get into my space. Since I couldn’t talk to Kez, I turned over the mystery in my mind while I completed my tasks—what was the connection between Kez’s brother and my mother? How did they both know the same symbol, and did it have anything to do with my powers?

At night, I waited for Zaza to go to bed and pulled out the paper, staring at it until I had memorized it. But days later, I was no closer to understanding what was happening than I was before Kez and I had talked. By the end of the week, I had a burning question—one I didn’t know how to ask without revealing myself. If my mother’s scribbles were about me and my life, those symbols could be related to my power. If Kez’s brother had the same symbol, could that mean he had powers too?

While I was busy trying to untangle my mother’s mystery, Zaza managed to avoid being reckless for two whole weeks. One afternoon, as I stepped out of school after the last bell, Toya swooped next to me and linked her arm in mine.

“We’re going to Bourbon Street,” she said with a sparkle in her eye.

She pulled me down the stairs alongside her.

“What? Now?” I asked.

“Right now!” She grinned.

Across the lawn, I could see Zaza, Macy, and Dawn huddled underneath the branches of a magnolia tree. The tree was majestic, with dark green leaves and its branches heavy with large white magnolia blooms. It was the kind of tree that would have become a special friend during my days spent in the forest at home.

“Let’s go, let’s go,” Macy chanted, snapping her fingers as she saw us coming.

I pressed my lips into a forced smile.

“Zaza,” I said, stopping short next to her. “We’ve been doing so good, we can’t . . .”

I grabbed her arm and dragged her away from the group.

“What about the punishment?” I whispered.

“What about it?” she shot back. “You see this weather?”

She pointed to the sky, which was a brilliant bright blue. I could not deny that the weather was delicious. The energy of late spring made the world feel like an enticingly beautiful place. But not even a day this gorgeous could make me forget Auntie Eve’s warnings. I can’t keep you here.

“Zaza!” I said, crossing my arms. “We can’t go.”

“We don’t have to stay long. We’ll go for, like, thirty minutes. I’ll tell my dad we had a study group for the biology final.”

I shook my head. “I can’t.”

Zaza put her hands on her hips. “Don’t let my parents scare you.”

I peeked past Zaza to look at the girls. Macy and Toya were hanging on each other, laughing at some story Dawn was telling.

“I don’t want to disappoint them.”

Zaza grabbed my shoulders and leaned close. “Trust me, they weren’t angels. They used to sneak out and leave town, smoking and drinking. That’s way worse than going to a party.”

My eyes widened. “How do you know?”

“My aunt Kasima, my dad’s sister. She stays with us when my parents go out of town. She knows everything about my parents—all the tea. And unlike them, she doesn’t pretend that they were never wild like me.”

We stood there, staring into each other’s eyes for a few seconds. Zaza’s expression reminded me of Auntie Eve’s stern glare.

“It doesn’t really matter what they were like when they were younger,” I said, then lowered my voice. “I can’t risk getting kicked out.”

Zaza blew out a dramatic burst of air. “Who’s gonna kick you out?” she asked, like it was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard.

“Your mom,” I said, my voice barely higher than a whisper. “That’s what she said to me after she sent you to your room the night of the party. That I wouldn’t be able to stay.”

The gleam in Zaza’s eyes disappeared as her face went serious. She squinted at me as if she was trying to decide if I was telling the truth. “No. Mama would never do that.”

Just then, Dawn broke into our conversation.

“Y’alllllllllllll, come on!” she drawled. “We rollin’.”

We turned to see Macy and Dawn walking away from the school. In the other direction, the bus was approaching the bus stop.

“You go,” I said, pushing her softly. “I’ll tell them about your study session. Biology, right?”

Zaza pulled me into a tight hug.

“Don’t let my parents stress you out,” she said. “They’re not so scary. After a while they won’t freak you out so much.”

I hugged Zaza back and hoped that she was right. I wished I could roll with her and the girls, but I couldn’t risk it. I needed somewhere to live more than I needed a friend.

I ran toward the bus filled with a strange mixture of pressure and relief. I was relieved that Zaza wasn’t mad with me for not going along with her plan, but she couldn’t erase the friction I felt trying to be a good niece to Auntie Eve and Uncle Asim, a fun friend to Zaza, an interrogator of Kez, and a detective to solve my life’s mysteries. It felt like everybody wanted something different from me, and every choice I made would make one person happy but hurt someone else.

I rode the bus to the bookstore with my mind in a frenzy, flipping through all the conflicts I was ducking and secrets I was trying to unravel. When I stepped off the bus, I felt a hand brush my shoulder. I looked up to see Tyree standing next to me with a big grin on his face.

“Are you stalking me?” he asked with a smile.

“Me?” I asked, tossing my head to shake off the fog in my brain. “Stalking you?”

He thumbed his finger at the bus as it was rolling away. “You know that’s my bus. If you on it, it must mean you looking for me.”

“Oh, so you think I was looking for you,” I said with a giggle.

“Obviously,” Tyree said. “But you’re lucky.”

“Lucky? Why?” I asked.

“Because I was looking for you too.”

My heart fluttered, and I was suddenly gripped by the feeling that time spent away from Tyree’s smile was time wasted.

“Well,” I said, tilting my head and flashing a smile. “You found me.”

“Only after two weeks of catching the bus. Where you been hiding?”

“I been on the bus. Every day. I guess you got bad timing.”

He laughed. “But look how God wanted me to win. Don’t this”—he pointed to me and to himself—“don’t it feel like this is the way it’s supposed to be?”

My cheeks warmed. I felt both embarrassed and excited at the same time. But I understood what he meant. Everything was easy between us. He made me feel like taking his hand and wandering with him wherever he wanted to go would be the most natural thing in the world.

When he noticed I had run out of comebacks, Tyree flashed another one of his smiles.

“So what we doing? We hanging out?”

And just like that, the real world came crashing back in. I imagined myself walking up to Uncle Asim’s bookstore, without Zaza, with the boy whose party we went to when we broke the rules.

Tyree held his hands up. “I’m pushing, I’m pushing,” he said.

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I just . . .” I fell silent, searching for the words to explain the mess I was in.

“How’s about this? I’ll walk you to the corner.” He pointed up the block. “That’ll give you just enough time to tell me your number.”

I shook my head again.

“Dang, you rough,” Tyree said. His voice still sounded like he was joking, but his face fell in disappointment. “No number, huh? I guess I read you wrong. I guess we weren’t vibing.”

“No, we were. It’s just that . . .” I thought about Auntie Eve’s fierce warning and Uncle Asim’s disappointment. “I still don’t have a phone yet.”

Tyree let out a relieved sigh. “So you would give me your number, if you could?”

I smiled. “Yeah.”

“Well, you got mine, you know? You could use it sometime.”

“I do?”

“I wrote it on the back of the note about the party.”

“Ohhh.” My mind went swirling back to that first day on the bus. I tried to remember where I put the paper, but all I could remember was the joy of dancing together, the scent of jasmine as we kissed in the moonlight, and the commotion that erupted after.

“You don’t even know where it’s at, do you?”

I shook my head.

“I’m gonna trust you with it again,” he said, digging into his backpack. “But if you take it, you are promising to call me.”

I laughed. “I’ll call.”

He wrote his number down, handed it to me. “Don’t lose it this time.”

Then he gave me a quick peck on the lips and sauntered back to the bus stop, leaving me with my heart thudding a wild beat as a soft, gentle breeze brushed my cheek.

Uncle Asim accepted my story about Zaza’s study session without pressing me for details. We worked quietly for about an hour before Zaza came traipsing into the store. She held the door open, and Kez came struggling through behind her, his arms full with a tall stack of boxes.

Uncle Asim rushed from behind the counter to help Kez. When Kez slipped out of the store and Uncle Asim disappeared down the hallway with the boxes, Zaza linked her arm with mine.

“Did you have fun?” I asked in a low voice.

“Yeah, is everything cool here?”

“Yep, no questions asked.”

“That’s how it should be.” Zaza grinned. “I can’t wait for you to get comfortable so you can be all disrespectful like me.”

I giggled. “Disrespectful?”

She nodded. “We’re young. In no time we’re gonna be all old and serious and pretending that we never had fun once in our lives. That’s why we have to enjoy life while we have the chance, you know?”

I shrugged. “Wellllll,” I said. “I had a little fun this afternoon too.”

“Oh my God,” Zaza said, drawing away so she could look at my face. “You keeping secrets?”

At that moment, there was a banging at the door. We both looked up to see Kez standing outside holding another stack of boxes.

“Ugh,” Zaza said, rolling her eyes.

She held the door open for Kez. After he struggled through the doorway, Zaza grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the bookshelves, where we could talk.

“Zaz! You see me struggling with these boxes. Instead of running off, could you maybe help?”

“We’ll be back in a second. We have important things to talk about.”

Kez huffed and cut his eyes at Zaza. I stole a glance at him. Zaza had no idea that Kez and I also had important things to talk about—and I was starting to feel like I’d never get a chance to talk to him again.

Zaza led the way to the farthest corner of the bookstore.

“Tell me, tell me, tell me!” she said, turning around to face me.

“Guess who I saw after school?”

Zaza’s eyes got wide.

“Ty—”

I couldn’t even get Tyree’s whole name out before Zaza started squealing.

“What happened? Where did you see him? Did he ask you out? When are you going to see him again?”

I took a deep breath. I was excited just to have seen Tyree, and Zaza was already zooming ahead thinking about what was coming next.

“He must have been on the bus with me. I saw him when I got off.”

“Oooh,” Zaza said, fluttering her eyes. “Did he look just as cute as that night at the party?”

“Cuter,” I whispered.

Zaza squealed again. “So I guess you weren’t afraid to break the rules a little bit!”

“Well, I didn’t really break any rules. I didn’t go anywhere, unlike some people.” I dug into my pocket and pulled out the piece of paper where he had written his number. “Annddddd . . . ,” I sang, waving the paper around.

“What’s this?” Zaza asked. She grabbed it and read his phone number, then she closed her eyes and pressed her hands together like she was praying. “Please tell me you’re gonna call him.”

“Well, we gotta get off punishment first.”

Zaza swatted her hand in the air. “I bet they can only hold out for another week. I can see it now. You’ll get your phone, and I’ll get mine back. Then it’s gonna be on.” She rubbed her hands together. “So how are we going to get you two together again?”

As Zaza threw out wild ideas for how I could see Tyree again, I reveled in the joy of giggling with her, and my worries started to fade little by little.

“You scored, girl,” Zaza said, throwing her arm around me and leading us out of the shelter of the bookshelves.

An explosion of warmth showered over me. Figuring out how to make all the right choices in life could wait. Zaza and I were united. As long as we were walking shoulder to shoulder, I didn’t need answers. It felt like I could survive on the thrill of being Zaza’s cousin, like as long as we were together, we were unbreakable.

17

A few nights later, after we did the dishes, Zaza led me to her parents’ room. She leaned on their doorway and cleared her throat.

“Could we go to Congo Square tomorrow for extra credit?”

Auntie Eve looked up from her tablet. Uncle Asim put down the book he was reading.

“Extra credit?” he asked.

“Yeah. They’re having an arts market, and my teacher is doing the face painting. She said if we check in with her and then go do a study of one of the sculptures in the park, she’ll give us extra credit.”

Auntie Eve put the tablet down. “Do you need extra credit?” She gave Zaza a sharp look.

“My grades are fine, but it’s always good to get extra credit, right?”

“I bet she needs all the extra credit she can get,” Jabari said, running into the room.

Zaza smacked his back as he ran past.

“I did all my homework, and the table is clean. Can I play my games now?” Jabari asked, jumping onto his parents’ bed and wriggling into the tight space between them.

“Go for it, but at ten thirty . . .” Auntie Eve said.

“It’s lights-out,” he said. “Thanks, Mama.”

“Actually, Zambia, we have a few things to discuss with you,” Uncle Asim said after Jabari had left. His face was serious.

“You do?” Zaza asked, standing up straighter.

“We’re very proud of the work both of you have been doing,” Uncle Asim said.

The look of pride Uncle Asim and Auntie Eve bathed us in filled me with warmth. It felt like all their anger and disappointment had disappeared and I was being welcomed back into their arms again.

“Your father says you’ve been doing an amazing job in the store,” Auntie Eve added. “You’ve been focused. And with your hard work, you moved through all the inventory.”

“That’s true,” Zaza said.

“So we’re taking you off punishment early,” Uncle Asim said.

“I knew it!” Zaza whispered under her breath.

“We expect you to keep up the good work that we’re seeing now,” Auntie Eve said. “And, with the last day of school coming, we also expect you to be responsible this summer.”

Auntie Eve motioned to her bedside table. “If you girls are going to Congo Square, I guess you’ll need phones.”

Zaza raced over and scooped up her phone and a white box containing my new phone from the tabletop. She shot me an excited look before turning back to her parents.

“We’re giving you permission,” Uncle Asim said, “but remember, this is your moment to build trust. If you don’t want to find yourself on lockdown again, you need to show us that you understand how to follow the rules. Before you do anything, ask yourself: Is this going to build trust?”

Zaza nodded with an expression that matched Uncle Asim’s seriousness.

“Absolutely,” Zaza said.

“And I’ll expect a full report when you get back from Congo Square,” Auntie Eve said.

There wasn’t a hint of a smile on her face, but I had finally learned that her serious expressions didn’t mean she wasn’t joking.

“Like what, you want to know what we eat?” Zaza asked.

“Every morsel,” Auntie Eve said.

“Aaannnnddddd what kind of art they’re selling?” Zaza asked.

As Zaza and Auntie Eve joked about how much Zaza would report back to them, I felt a soft breeze flit down the hallway and tickle my neck. It felt like a quiet embrace, congratulating me for a job well done.

When the breeze became more insistent, I quickly pressed my fingers to my wrist. The wind died down instantly. Uncle Asim had just warned Zaza to build trust. Both Zaza and I had to be careful not to step out of line. Except for the moment when I was distracted by Tyree’s kiss, I had managed to keep the winds hidden for more than a month now. This wasn’t the time to start slipping. Not when everything was starting to settle into place.

When I joined Zaza in our room after getting ready for bed, she sang, “Your phoooonnnneee,” as I flopped down on my bed. “Let me set it up for you.”

After I lay on the bed daydreaming for a while, she handed me the phone. “I put in a few contacts for you. See?”

I took it and tapped the screen.

“Uncle Asim, Auntie Eve, Zaza, and . . .” I squinted at the phone. “Trade Boo?”

“You know who that is.” Zaza swung her feet to the floor, lifted her arms, and started to rock back and forth like she was slow dancing.

I blushed.

“Where did you get his number from?”

“Your backpack.”

I looked down at the foot of my bed, and my backpack was open. The paper Tyree had written his phone number on was peeking out of the top.

“Zaza! You shouldn’t go through my stuff.”

Zaza’s face went serious. “I have never gone through any of your stuff. Ever. I just wanted to put his number in your phone.”

“But I can’t leave it like this. What if he sees it?”

“Relax,” Zaza said, falling back onto her bed. “Everybody has nicknames in the contacts. He’ll think it’s funny.”

She flashed her phone at me. I leaned across the gap between our beds and read the names in her contacts.

Queenie

Princess G

Baddie

Eats

Cupssssss

I laughed.

“Who’s Cupssssss?”

“Long story. Wait . . .” She paused when she saw me tapping around on my phone. “What are you doing? Don’t you dare type his name. Only boring grown-ups put real names in the phone. Put something cool. Like . . . how does he make you feel?”

I went quiet. The sweet sensation of our kiss swept through me. My heart danced and my skin tingled at the memory. Then a flash of images fluttered in my mind. His face, looking down at me that first day on the bus. His grin as he swayed and bopped in front of me on the dance floor. His quick kiss near the bus stop.

“Sweet,” I sighed.

“Okayyy, sweet Tyree,” Zaza said, pausing a few seconds to think. “So he’s like sweet tea!”

I smiled. Sweet Tea fit him, but I couldn’t imagine Tyree seeing his name was Sweet in my phone. I took a breath and tapped the phone. Slowly I typed T-E-A into the phone, then flipped it around so Zaza could see it.

“Cute,” she said.

I fell back on my bed, holding the phone to my chest. It was just a tiny piece of metal, but it held so much possibility. I could use it to call MawMaw without asking anyone to borrow their phone. I would have a phone number I could give to Tyree. It would be one small thing that could make me feel like I wasn’t so different—I was just a normal girl with a phone, not a chaotic collection of winds and secrets who didn’t understand her destiny.

18

The next day, when Zaza showed me what we were going to wear to Congo Square, I thought she had made some mistake. I tried on the outfit, then stared in the mirror with a frown.

“Maybe I could wear a different top,” I said, tugging at the hem of the shirt. It landed right where my ribs ended, leaving my entire stomach exposed.

“Why would you do that?” Zaza asked. “We look fire.”

She stepped in front of the mirror next to me and threw her arm around my shoulders. She had on the same crop-top-and-baggy-sweatpants combination. Hers was purple, and mine was blue. I grinned. Even with her long braids and my wild shock of curls, when she stood next to me, I felt like we were twins. With Zaza at my side, the outfit made sense.

“We’re going to meet up with the girls before we go to Congo Square,” Zaza announced. “Come on, we gotta get going.”

As we made our way to the meet-up spot, things around us slowly started to change. The trees that lined the street in Zaza’s neighborhood disappeared. There were still black iron fences and brightly colored houses, but soon the front yards gave way to more concrete, and there were more people walking on the sidewalks. When I noticed the buildings changing, I knew we were in a totally different neighborhood. Looking up at the balconies, the worn-down brick walls, and the hanging plants, I asked Zaza, “Where are we?”

Just then, a woman with bright blue hair rode by on a bicycle. In the front basket sat a poodle whose fur was also dyed bright blue.

“Only one place we can be with a lady like that.” She grinned. “The French Quarter.”

She grabbed my arm and tugged me to the side so we could avoid a pair of legs that were stretched out into the sidewalk. I stared as we passed, looking at the person’s messy knotted hair, the silver hoops piercing their ears from the top tip to the earlobe, and the spiky studs on their neck collar.

“Stop staring,” Zaza said, grabbing my arm.

I took one more look back as we walked past. The person held a tattered cardboard sign and lifted it higher when they saw me watching. NEED A BUS TICKET. FAR FROM HOME.

“You think they need help getting home?”

“Just wait,” Zaza said. “You gonna see lots of people with signs like that. There’s a lotta lost people in the Quarter.”

We turned the corner, and before we could even take a few steps, a man stepped into our path thrusting a flyer at us.

“Massage?” he asked loudly, motioning to his store. “Good, strong massage.”

“No thanks,” Zaza sang, and led me past him.

Every block revealed something new to see, from crystal stores and T-shirt stands to food steaming in the windows and funky clothes on sidewalk mannequins.

Zaza pointed to a street where people were walking up and down in the middle.

“That’s Bourbon Street. We’ll sneak out one night so you can really see all the madness.”

“Zaza!” I said. “We just got off punishment.”

Zaza grinned, a glint of mischief in her eye.

I shook my head, smiling. Seemed like I was always going to be in this push and pull with Zaza.

The sound of an accordion and washboard drifted into my ears. I listened closely, trying to work out the rhythm. I didn’t even realize I was wandering toward the sound until Zaza caught me by the elbow and pulled me toward her.

“Wait,” she said. “We’re meeting the girls here.”

I settled for tapping my feet to the faint sound of the music, straining to recognize the song.

“Here comes Macy,” Zaza said.

I turned and saw Macy thundering toward us, wearing the same crop top and sweats as us, but hers were pink.

“Is she always running?” I asked.

Zaza cracked up laughing. “Basically,” she said between giggles.

Macy collided into me and Zaza, wrapping her arms around us. We hugged her back.

A swarm of men holding beers and wearing black-and-gold jerseys crowded past us. Zaza pulled me and Macy to the side to let them pass. One of them with a gold-painted beard and thick black lines on his cheeks yelled, “Who dat?” at us.

“Who daaaaaat?” Macy yelled back at them.

They exploded with laughter. When they walked past, the bark of their voices floated away with them. Just then, Dawn and Toya sauntered up. Today Dawn’s nails were black, matching her outfit. Toya’s outfit was white. When we were all gathered, I understood why Zaza was adamant about what we should wear. Everyone had on their own version of a crop top and sweatpants. Surrounded by them, I felt like I was part of a fierce crew of girls who could take on anything that came our way.

“You wanna go find that music, right?” Zaza asked.

“What music?” Toya asked.

Everyone fell silent to listen for the music.

“That’s zydeco,” Dawn said.

“Oh yeah, y’all listen to that out in the country, right?” Macy said.

Zaza smacked her arm. “They listen to it here too.”

“You never heard of fais do-do?” Toya asked. She did an exaggerated double step and a twirl. “My uncle loves it. Let’s go.”

When we got to the corner, we saw three musicians standing in the cobblestone street. Toya put her hand on my waist and held her other arm out. I took her hand and grasped her shoulder, and she pulled me into a spin. As we started stepping to the beat, Zaza, Dawn, and Macy joined us.

The musicians picked up the pace, and we all twirled faster, two-stepping together, taking over the street in a cloud of dancing and laughter. By the time the song ended, I was surprised to see there was a small crowd of people clapping along to the music and watching us dance. Zaza bowed, and we all followed her lead, encouraging people to drop money into the open accordion cases that sat on the ground.

“I’m hungry,” Macy announced, breaking the spell.

“Beignets?” Dawn asked.

“You know I don’t never say no to a beignet,” Macy said.

“Or cake,” Toya threw in.

“Or pralines,” Zaza added.

“I bet you ate sugar straight out the bag when you were a kid,” Dawn said.

Macy laughed. “No, but no cookie is safe around me.”

We waited for a horse and carriage to pass in front of us. We could hear the man holding the reins giving a speech about the history of the French Quarter to the people riding in the carriage. When the traffic was clear, we crossed and headed down the street.

After two blocks of joking and giggling, we made it to a tan building with a huge covered seating area. The space was crammed with people sitting at round tables. Waiters in white jackets, black pants, and paper hats rushed around, stopping at tables with trays filled with plates of beignets stacked in a pile and covered in white sugar.

The girls started discussing their order. Dawn mentioned a café au lait. Macy rolled her eyes.

“You think you so grown because you drink coffee.”

“You want beignets?” Zaza asked me, but I didn’t answer. I was distracted by a man standing on a crate at the edge of the street. With a silver-painted face and hands, the man wore a silver suit and stood completely motionless, as if he were a statue.

“What’s he doing?” I asked.

“Making money,” Toya said.

Zaza pointed to the basket on the ground in front of the man. “Tourists will pay for anything,” she said, rolling her eyes.

A family that had been standing on the other side of the statue whooped at him. A woman pulled out a few dollars and dropped them into the basket.

“See,” Zaza said, and we fell out laughing.

“I’m getting my beignets,” Toya said, and sauntered into Café du Monde with Macy.

“We’ll be right back,” Zaza said, nudging my shoulder.

I leaned against the railing as the busy stream of people walked past me. Excited kids raced by waving balloons twisted together to look like flowers or swords. Bands of teenagers laughed and joked with each other. As a group of tourists trooped by, following a tour guide, I felt my face burning, like someone was staring at me. I turned, but all I saw were more people strolling and enjoying the day.

I relaxed again, this time looking across the street. There, I saw another human statue, this time a woman standing on a crate. She wore a long, flowy white dress, and her skin was the color of a ghost. While I watched a small crowd gather to stare at her, I felt that burning sensation again. This time when I looked around, I thought I saw someone shift behind a column, like they were hiding—and I thought they had wild hair like Kez.

I took a step forward but was stopped by a nudge on my shoulder.

“Where you going?”

I turned to see Tyree smiling down at me. It took a few seconds for me to find my voice through the surprise.

“Tyree? What are you doing here?” I asked, staring at him.

“Meeting you . . . ?” Tyree held his smile, but he looked confused.

I whipped around to find Zaza standing at the back of the courtyard, grinning broadly.

“Zaza did this!” I pulled out my phone to see if Zaza sent him a message from my phone. “I can’t believe . . .”

Tyree put his hand over my screen. “She didn’t call me from your phone. She said you gave her my number because you wanted to meet up.”

There was silence as we looked at each other. The noise and activity of the French Quarter pulsed around us.

“So you didn’t want to see me?” he said softly. Then he sucked his teeth. “I knew it was too weird. If you wanted to hang out, you would’ve just texted me.”

A confusing riot of emotions exploded inside me. The winds jumped to attention, whistling past my ears as they flipped around in nervous loops. I knew one thing—I hated seeing Tyree so mixed up because of me.

“No, I did,” I said. “I did want to hang out, but I guess Zaza wanted it to be a surprise.”

Tyree flashed me a skeptical look. “I told you, I’m not one of those dudes. I don’t like feeling like I’m the only one into it. If you don’t want me here, I can . . .” He pointed away from Café du Monde.

“No,” I said, grabbing his hands. The word came out louder than I wanted. The wind pulsed around me. I let go of Tyree, clasping my hands together to drive away the winds. When the breeze quieted, I took a deep breath. The truth was, I hadn’t felt the freedom to want anything since I had arrived in New Orleans. Everything had been protection and hiding, investigation and survival. I had touched joy through Zaza’s antics, but I hadn’t searched out my own.

“I’m happy to see you,” I finally said.

He smiled, his face settling back into his familiar confidence. “Good!”

As the winds relaxed, our eyes locked, and I let myself get lost in his gaze. I released the quest to hide my powers and just let the excitement of being face-to-face with Tyree tingle through me.

Suddenly Zaza was back, thrusting a white paper bag at me.

“Y’all happy to be reunited?” she teased. “You have hours to hang out. We can meet up at Congo Square later.”

“Meet up later? What . . . ?” I asked. Every time I thought I knew what Zaza had planned, she found a way to throw me for a loop.

At the same time, Tyree said, “Where in Congo Square?”

“At the second line statue right inside the gate on Rampart.”

“Cool,” Tyree said.

Zaza gave a wave and sauntered off. I ran after her.

“You planned this?” I asked.

“Of course!” she said with a giggle. “Gotta make sure you get a chance to hang out with Sweet Tea!”

“But . . .” I paused. “But remember what your parents said? Is this going to build trust?”

Zaza burst out laughing, but when she saw I was serious, she stopped.

“Don’t be dramatic. All you have to do is walk from here to Congo Square. You’ll get to hang out with Tyree, and I’ll get my extra credit project done. I’m gonna go straight there and wait for you, then we’ll go home together. Okay?”

Zaza and I stood there staring at each other for a few seconds. In Zaza’s world, life was something to twist and stretch until you got what you wanted. She made me want to live bolder, but she scared me too. I wasn’t like her; I couldn’t forget MawMaw’s rules or her parents’ warnings.

“You like him, right?” she asked, as if that was the only thing that mattered.

When I nodded, she gently shoved me away. “Go have fun. If you need a rescue, just call me on your new phone.”

“And you’ll come get me?”

“Yep, I’ll never leave you hanging. But . . .” She drew close and whispered in my ear, “I don’t think you’re gonna call me. I think you gonna be too busy making googly eyes at him.”

I blushed, knowing that Zaza’s prediction was probably true. Then I tugged at the hem of my crop top and walked back over to Tyree.

“And remember all the juicy details ’cause you know we got to know everything that goes down!” Zaza yelled. She burst out laughing when I shot her an embarrassed look.

“Your cousin is a trip,” Tyree said.

“I know,” I said, and then thrust the bag of beignets at him.

Our fingers touched when he reached for the bag, and a shift washed over me. I decided I would take a break from my worries, channel Zaza, and live for today.

Tyree dug into the bag, pulled out a beignet, and asked, “You good?”

I looked at him and beamed a wide smile.

“Yes,” I said, “I’m good.”

And in that moment, I meant it.

19

“So, Congo Square?” Tyree asked, holding out his hand. I took it, and we walked across the street toward a row of horses and carriages.

“That’s Jackson Square,” Tyree said, pointing to a grassy area enclosed by a tall black metal fence. In the middle, I could see the top of a statue of a man on a horse.

“Can you paint?” Tyree asked, guiding me to stand next to an artist who was busy painting a new canvas.

Behind the artist was a cluster of bold, bright paintings hanging on the railing around Jackson Square. We watched quietly as the artist dipped her paintbrush into some yellow paint and smeared it on the canvas.

“Well, can you?” Tyree asked, breaking the silence.

“I never tried,” I said. “You?”

“I got skills. I could draw a little something, but I can’t paint for nothing,” he said, leading the way past more artists. He walked slowly, pulling me into conversation with comments about the images captured on the colorful canvases—alligators playing trumpet and families barbecuing, crooked houses and big majestic trees.

When we reached the opposite corner, there was a huge crowd of people gathered in the square. I heard music blasting, then saw a man flip so high, it seemed like he was flying.

“Wow!” I said. “What’s happening over there?”

“Street dancers. You wanna go see?”

I nodded, and we rushed forward, squeezing between the people until we got to the front. In the middle of the crowd, a group of four teenagers, shirtless and sweaty, were spinning and flipping in time with the beat. We got there just in time to see their finale—three of the dancers, plus three people from the crowd, squatted down in a row, and one of the dancers took a running leap and flipped over all six people. As the crowd burst into applause, the dancers came around with hats turned upside down, collecting money from the crowd.

As we continued walking the square, I noticed a bride and a groom standing on the stairs of a huge church. Loud bells rang loudly as people poured out of the doors behind them.

“Is it like this every day?” I asked.

“What? Weddings in the Cabildo? Yeah, all the time.”

“I mean everything—the art, the dancers, the living statues. There’s so much going on.”

“That’s the Quarter. You never know what you’re gonna see.”

“It’s a lot to get used to.”

Tyree tugged on my hand, and we started walking again.

“I forgot. You from the country. You used to growing vegetables and digging in the dirt and wrestling animals.”

“Yeah,” I laughed. “Just like you’re used to dancing in the street, and throwing wild parties, and flirting with strangers.”

“What? I got it wrong?” he asked with mock seriousness.

“Wrestling animals?!”

“It made you laugh, didn’t it,” he said with pride.

I nudged him with my elbow.

“Nah, you know it’s just jokes. I remember everything you told me about you and your MawMaw and your land. It sounded kinda peaceful. Not like this wildness.”

For a second, Tyree sounded like he wished he could be in a quieter time and place.

“I’m sorry the party got so dangerous at the end,” he said suddenly.

“Not your fault.” My heart clenched with guilt. The broken DJ table, the fight that followed, that was all my fault.

“I don’t know what happened. I don’t even know the guys who had the gun. I don’t want you to think that’s me. That ain’t my life.”

“I believe you,” I said, squeezing his hand. I felt a little sick. Here he was feeling bad for trouble I created. “Did anybody get hurt?”

“Nah. That fool was just trying to act gangsta. We lucky he wasn’t really ’bout it.”

“I’m glad nobody got hurt.”

“I’m glad we got to dance before everything went crazy.”

“Yeah,” I said, looking up at him. “It was nice.”

Tyree stopped walking and turned to face me. He cocked his head to the side.

“Do you ever wonder if there’s a reason behind the things that happen to you?”

I looked at him confused. I spent most of my time wondering why I was born with powers, why my parents had died, why my grandmother gave me up, but I was sure he wasn’t talking about my insane life.

“Take you and me. Was it an accident we met, or is there a reason we ended up getting on the bus at the exact same time?”

I smiled, remembering how Tyree had swooped to my rescue when I was in a panic. Everywhere I turned, it felt like I was struggling to be who everyone wanted me to be. Tyree, though, didn’t need anything from me; he just wanted to be around me, exactly the way I was. He just wanted to make me smile.

“I don’t know why we met, but I’m glad we did.”

Tyree stepped closer to me. “You are? Why you glad we met?”

“Because I like how you see me.”

The grin that spread across his face was so bright it made his eyes sparkle.

“That’s good. That means you know I’m for real,” he said. Then he squinted at me. “Is it just me, or are you starting to feel it?”

“Feel what?”

For a few seconds, I thought I had lost focus and that the winds were swirling around, but when I flexed my hand to pull them in, the air was already still.

“Us,” he said, pointing to himself and back at me “This. Me and you, together.”

I felt a burst of sweetness. The winds sprang to life then, circling close to brush against my cheek and dance with my emotions. It picked up a few strands of my hair and blew it across my face. Tyree moved the hair out of my eyes and then rested his hand on the curve of my neck. Even though I felt the shyness crawling through me, I locked eyes with Tyree and let all the noise around us disappear. We moved closer to each other, and I reached my mouth up to his. When our lips met, the weight of all my worries peeled away, leaving me to swim in the safety of his arms. In this brief moment, while we were bound together, nothing could reach me. I felt like I was exactly where I belonged.

An hour later, Tyree and I made our way to Congo Square, walking under a huge arch that said Armstrong. In front of us was a statue of a long line of musicians—they were arranged in a row, legs striding as if they were caught mid-motion. With the bodies leaning into movement and lifting their instruments, the sculpture felt alive, and I could almost hear the music they were playing.

In the shadow of the statue, Zaza and Macy were sitting on the ground drawing in a huge notebook.

“There you are!” Zaza exclaimed, getting up. “We gotta go. We can’t get back late,” she said. “I can’t give my mama an excuse to put us back on punishment.”

A mischievous look flashed in Tyree’s eyes. Before Zaza could reach me, he pulled me into his arms and gave me a long goodbye kiss. As Zaza and Macy squealed, he whispered, “Can’t wait to see you again” in my ear. We said a quick goodbye to Macy, then Zaza and I raced out of the park.

At the corner, when we stepped off the curb into the crosswalk, I felt a forceful breeze smack against my cheek. I looked up just in time to see a motorcycle barreling straight at us. I tugged Zaza backward, but she slipped out of my grasp. I made it to the sidewalk only to see her standing there in the middle of the street. She twisted her torso back and forth as if trying to figure out which way to go, but her legs were frozen in fear.

The motorcycle was closer now, hurtling toward Zaza too quickly for me to grab her. Without another thought, I clapped my palms together, then ripped them apart, slicing through the air with my hands. The winds tensed in attention. I flicked my fingers forward, calling two huge gusts of wind to swoop forward and cross in front of Zaza, making a shield. I watched with my heart pounding as the motorcycle slammed into the wall of wind and went flying backward.

The motorcycle crashed against the concrete, and I rushed into the street, grabbing Zaza’s hand. When I had tugged her to safety, I pulled her into my arms and hugged her. Looking over her shoulder, I saw shattered plastic and metal scattered in the street around the driver, who was lying on his back next to his overturned motorcycle. My breath caught in my throat.

“You alright?” I asked Zaza, pulling away to look at her.

Her braids were covering her face.

“What happened?” she asked, confused.

I kept a tight grip on Zaza as I looked around to see if anyone had seen what happened. People came rushing out of the bar on the corner, out of houses down the block, gathering around the motorcycle. No one was focused on us. When I saw the driver lean up on his arm and look around in confusion, I sighed with relief.

“Let’s go,” I whispered.

Then I grabbed Zaza’s hand, and we ran.

20

That evening, I still felt like my heart was beating double time, but Zaza was all smiles while Auntie Eve asked us about the day. Zaza didn’t mention the French Quarter and I didn’t mention Tyree; neither of us talked about the motorcycle either. Instead, Zaza described her project and talked about the clothes she saw at the market. I talked about the statues and the trees.

“That place has a lot of mojo,” Auntie Eve said.

Dinner was a huge pile of bright red crawfish, potatoes, and corncobs spread across flattened newspaper that covered the dining room table. Everyone joked and teased as they reached to grab crawfish and crack the shells open. Soft slurping sounds filled the room as we ate the crawfish meat and sucked the juice out of the heads.

After dinner, there were no dirty dishes, just a pile of empty shells. Cleanup was quick, and before long, Zaza and I were in our bedroom alone again. Zaza disappeared to the bathroom to put on her pajamas and her hair bonnet. When she returned, she paused in the doorway.

“I think I’m losing my mind,” she said.

I looked up at her from my bed.

“Why? What are you talking about?”

“The motorcycle—it doesn’t make any sense. It was coming straight at us, and then it just . . .” She stopped talking and flipped her hand in the air. “How is that possible? That’s not possible, right?”

As she stared at me waiting for an answer, I clutched my knees to my chest. For a few seconds, I felt the rush of the motorcycle coming toward us all over again. I shook my head and pushed away the memory.

“It happened so fast,” I said. “He must have hit something on the street and lost control. I mean . . . if he didn’t, we would have . . .” I trailed off. I didn’t want to think about what would have happened to Zaza if I hadn’t stopped him.

“You know what I think?” she asked. She rushed over to my bed and plopped down next to me. “I think you’re my lucky charm.”

“Your lucky charm?”

“It’s my fault we almost got hit. I should’ve been watching before dragging you into the street. Then I made you go to Tyree’s party last month and we could have gotten shot.”

“It’s not your fault,” I said, guilt swelling in my throat.

She shook her head. “My mom’s right. I never think before I act. But now you’re here to protect me.”

“We’re protecting each other,” I said. The words felt dry in my mouth.

As relieved as I was that Zaza didn’t suspect me, I felt like a liar, and a horrible cousin. With shame dragging at my limbs, I threw my arms around Zaza and hugged her.

“I promise I’m going to be more careful,” she said.

When I couldn’t think of something to promise her, I squeezed her tight and said, “Maybe we can just stay home sometimes.”

“Let’s not take it that far,” Zaza said, bursting into laughter.

I laughed with her, but my heart was torn between joy and worry. First Tyree was taking the blame and now Zaza. How long would it take for them to discover that it was me who was ruining everything?

Zaza fell asleep, but I had too many thoughts rolling around my brain. I called MawMaw for the first time on my new phone. I didn’t expect her to give me any answers, but I needed to talk to someone. As it rang, I tried to figure out how much I was going to tell her, but the phone just kept ringing and MawMaw never picked up.

I scrolled through my nine contacts: MawMaw, Zaza, Kez, Auntie Eve, Uncle Asim, Dawn, Macy, Toya, and Tyree. There was only one other person on that list I wanted to talk to. My finger hovered over Tea for a few seconds, then I tapped it.

As the phone rang, I lay back in bed and pulled the covers over my head.

“What’s good?” Tyree said when he answered the phone.

“Tyree?” I said.

“Veronique,” he replied when he heard my voice.

I smiled, a real smile that warmed my chest.

“You in trouble now,” he drawled.

I giggled. “I am? Why?”

“Cuz now I got your number.”

“What are you going to do with it?” I asked.

“Oh, somebody’s bold on the phone.”

I laughed. Maybe I did feel a little bolder from the safety of the phone, or maybe I was just more comfortable with him now that we’d spent the afternoon together.

“So what’s up with you this summer? You gonna be around?”

“Uh, yeah, as far as I know. Just working in my uncle’s bookstore.”

“Not going home?”

Home. I thought about MawMaw’s frail body, her half answers to my questions, and her insistence that I keep my powers a secret.

“No.” Sadness popped the bubble of warmth that talking to Tyree had given me.

“Oh man, I’m gonna be out by my aunt’s. I was gonna find out if you were close and come surprise you.”

“You ain’t seen enough of me yet?” I teased.

“If I had my way, I would put you on a daily schedule. Let me tell you what I think we should do.”

“Yeah?” I rolled over in bed and listened to Tyree talk about all the places he wanted to take me. I closed my eyes and pretended there were no symbols and no mysteries—that I could spend as much time with him as I wanted without being worried that he would uncover my secrets.

“Can I ask you about your parents? Why are you staying with Zaza? What happened to them?”

“Katrina,” I whispered.

“I’m sorry.” He went quiet for a minute. “So you didn’t grow up with them?”

“No, that’s why I lived with my MawMaw. She raised me.”

“Maybe that’s why I like you.”

“Because my grandmother raised me?”

“Because of your parents. Because you know life’s not a game.”

Tyree fell quiet, but it didn’t feel awkward. It felt like we were sitting side by side, holding hands and staring into each other’s eyes.

“It’s kinda weird,” he said. “When I talk to you, I feel like everything inside me goes quiet. I got a lot of noise in my head.”

“I feel like that too.” With him, I could drift away from reality and float into a place where everything was sweet.

We both went silent again, quietly breathing each other in before sleep came to claim us. I was halfway to dreamland when I heard someone whisper my name.

“What?” I asked.

“Huh?” Tyree muttered, his voice heavy with sleep.

“Did you call me?”

“No, I fell out for a few seconds.” He laughed.

I heard my name again, a little louder than the first time. Throwing the covers off my head, I sat up to listen. Tapping on the window pulled me out of bed. With the phone pressed to my ear, I crept to the window. Outside in the alley, there was a dark figure. I ducked down to sneak a closer look. Peeking out from below the window, I saw a wild explosion of hair.

Kez.

“I . . . I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” I said into the phone.

“Nooooooo,” Tyree groaned. “We supposed to talk until the sun comes up.”

“I don’t wanna be the one to break it to you, but you ain’t gonna make it to the sunrise. I’m not either.”

Tyree yawned. “You right. Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” I said, and hung up.

I pushed open the window.

“Are you out of your mind?” I hissed. “You scared the crap out of me! What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk,” he said.

“Now? You couldn’t just come tomorrow during the day like a normal person?”

“And talk to you in front of the whole family?”

A shiver went down my spine. “Well, spit it out. What’s so important?”

Kez held his phone up. “You’re a social media star.”

On his phone screen, I saw movement and I heard a scream.

“I can’t see that.”

“Wait,” he said, and started tapping on his phone screen. My phone dinged. “Check your phone.”

I opened my texts and tapped the video. It was of two people laughing, then all of a sudden something flipped in the air, and people screamed and dodged.

I looked up at Kez, my face twisted in confusion.

“I’m not even in this video.”

“Don’t look at the people. Look at what’s happening behind them,” he said.

I watched it again. This time I could see me and Zaza in the background. We both stepped into the street, then she froze and I ran. You couldn’t see my hands in the video, but I was huddled on the sidewalk when the motorcycle went flying into the air. My mouth went dry.

“Who made this?”

He shrugged. “Who knows, but it’s online.”

“Online?!” Shock, confusion, and fear all hit me at once.

“And if I saw it, someone else could see it. You’re running out of time.”

“What do you mean?” I was so freaked out, I forgot to whisper.

“Think about it, Veronique!” Kez said, giving me a fierce stare. “I’m not the only one who’s going to see this video. Maybe . . . maybe we can help each other.”

My whole body went cold at the thought of other people seeing the video. I leaned toward Kez.

“How?”

“I’ll tell you what everything in my notebook means. I’ll explain everything.”

I’ll explain everything. Those three words shot straight through my body. Those were the three words I had always wanted to hear MawMaw say.

“Okay, talk,” I said.

Kez shook his head. “Not here, we have to do it at the bookstore.”

My resistance collapsed. I didn’t ask any more questions, and I didn’t worry about getting caught. I just gave Kez a sharp nod and said, “I’ll be right out.” Then I rushed to get dressed as the need for answers burned deep inside me.

21

The bookstore was a different place in the shadows of night. Instead of greeting us with welcoming glass windows and colorful books, it was barricaded—protected by a heavy metal gate like there was something dangerous in the dark that needed to be kept out. When Kez rolled up the gate, even the ringing of the bell that hung on the front door sounded strange and ominous, like a warning.

“We’re going all the way to the back,” Kez said, leading me past the counter and down the hallway. He opened the rear door of the bookstore, and we stepped outside. I followed him up a tiny circular staircase that was nestled against the building. The staircase vibrated as we climbed, trembling under our weight. My mind somersaulted through certainty and uncertainty. Even after all the hours Kez and I had spent together, it felt like the darkness of night had transformed us into strangers.

Kez was quiet as he fumbled with the lock. When it finally clicked, he pushed the door open and gave me a little bow.

“Welcome,” he said with the sweep of his arm. I walked into a long room that ran the length of the bookstore. The middle of the room was empty, but along the edges was everything a person would need for living. To the left, a kitchenette with a tiny sink, a small stovetop, and a toaster oven fighting for space. To the right, a small round table was littered with pieces of metal. A closer look showed it was a jumbled collection of Kez’s sculptures—all made of metal strands, twisted and arranged in different shapes, some with bits of glass like Zaza’s bottle tree.

At the far end of the space was Kez’s sleeping area: a narrow, neatly made bed against the wall and a small desk tucked in the corner. All the walls were bare except the back wall, which was covered in an explosion of words and images. Papers in different sizes, shapes, and colors were layered and pasted up in all directions. From where I stood, I could see small colorful notepaper, newspaper scraps, photographs, maps, handwritten notes, drawings, and even a few stained napkins, but I couldn’t see what was written and I couldn’t tell if there was any organization to the madness.

I looked at Kez, who was standing next to me with his hands behind his back, an expectant expression on his face. All that time I spent downstairs in the bookstore, never once did I imagine Kez’s life upstairs. Now, seeing this big, bare room, I realized Kez was all alone just like me. Maybe he had a family somewhere, but here in the city he needed a family as badly as I did—he needed those nightly dinners to feel he had a place to call home.

“So what did you want to tell me?”

“First, I want to show you,” Kez said, and motioned to the wall.

I crossed to the back of the room. The scraps of paper were all attached to the wall in different ways. Some were taped in place, others were held up by thumbtacks or tiny nails. I reached out to touch the papers, then turned to Kez.

“Can I?”

He nodded, and I lifted overlapping corners of paper, squinting at the writing. Each one had a word written in the corner:

Fire?

Wind?

Water?

A tingling feeling started in my stomach. “What is this?” I asked.

“That photo to your right, that’s my brother, Malcom. We called him Mal.”

I looked closer. The photo showed a younger Kez with a round face and an arm flung around an older boy’s shoulders.

“Now look at the papers on the other side of the photo.”

I moved to the next section of the wall and scanned cutout newspaper articles with bolded headlines. The word Fire was circled on every article.

“That article in the middle. That’s also my brother.”

The picture was grainy and the newspaper was a few years old, but I could make out a man wearing a long black trench coat. His arms were lifted, and his legs were spread into a wide stance.

“What’s he doing?”

“Using his powers.”

I froze as Kez’s words blew through me. A roar of questions exploded in my mind—at the same time a wind kicked up outside, whipping against the side of the building.

Kez glanced at the window.

“It’s getting windy out there.” He pierced me with a knowing look. “Are you okay?”

I nodded and took a few breaths to calm the winds. A collision of questions staked and overlapped before funneling down into one singular thought: He knows.

He knew . . . because his brother had powers too.

A wave of relief washed over me. I wasn’t alone.

“Let me start from the beginning,” Kez said, leaning against his desk.

“Mal was an adventurer. I liked to stay home and make things, and he liked to roam. Every time he disappeared, we’d find him exploring the woods behind our house—climbing trees, building things with sticks, just hanging out. About five years ago, there was a fire in those woods. My brother was trapped for hours. When firefighters finally put out the fire, they found my brother lying next to burnt, smoking trees, unconscious. They rushed him to the hospital, but he was barely burned. The firefighters and doctors didn’t understand it. Nobody could explain it.

“He became obsessed with fire after that. He would disappear for hours, and when he came home, his face and hands were always streaked with ash. He starting fighting with my parents, leaving the house at odd hours. And people outside our family were noticing little fires popping up around the neighborhood.

“I thought maybe surviving that fire made him obsessed. I thought maybe he was setting these fires, and I knew he would get in trouble if he didn’t stop. So I started tracking him, trying to match the fires to the days he snuck out. But that just made me more curious, so one night, I followed him.

“He wandered into the woods until he found a clearing. And then . . . he didn’t pick up sticks, he didn’t pull out matches, he just lifted his hand, held it palm side up, and stared at it until a flame burst out in the middle of his hand.”

Kez showed me what his brother looked like, holding his open palm up in the air. Seeing him like that made me think of my mother in the dream. These powers—the ones I had and the ones I had dreamed about—I’d always thought of them as something I was born with, something maybe in my family, but Kez and his brother weren’t related to me. They weren’t even from Louisiana. I remembered then, what Auntie Eve had said. How my mom hadn’t been born with powers either.

“So your brother can make fire?”

“Why do you sound so surprised? You can make wind.”

I shook my head. “Nobody makes wind.”

“Veronique, I felt it the first day I met you. I’ll never forget it. I walked into Zaza’s house, and this burst of wind followed me. It was rushing around me even after I closed the door. Then, as soon as I shook your hand, it just fell away. And it keeps happening. At that party with you and Zaza. Then again with the motorcycle. I know it’s all because of you.”

I shook my head again. Denying it made no sense, but I couldn’t bring myself to admit the truth. I had never in my life told anyone about my powers. As badly as I wanted answers, I didn’t trust Kez enough to open up to him.

“It’s all been theory up until now,” Kez said softly. “But I knew there had to be more of you. My brother was hanging out with new people before he disappeared. They didn’t show their powers, but they had to have them. They had to be like you. That’s why I’ve been asking you questions, why I’ve been watching you, to see if you’re with them.”

“With who? I’m not with anyone,” I said, bewildered.

“I know that now. Why else do you think I’m sharing all this?”

I turned back to the wall, and I saw another section: a napkin, a dirty scrap of paper, and a page from a notebook, all with that symbol drawn on it—the circle with the wavy line.

“You know what that is, don’t you?” Kez said. “Veronique, don’t you get it? Someone took my brother. And if they find out about you, they might take you too.”

I looked at Kez, my skin prickling at attention. So far, nothing he had said felt urgent, but now his story swirled together with MawMaw’s warnings. And now MawMaw’s worry had a shape. I shivered, imagining a swarm of people surrounding me, kidnapping me.

“I told you about my brother, now you tell me something,” he demanded. “How do you know about that symbol?”

“I . . . I saw it somewhere,” I stammered, thinking about my mother’s note. “How do you know about it?”

“After my brother disappeared, I found that symbol everywhere in his room. Scribbled on a piece of paper, carved into his desk, written on a pair of sneakers he left behind.”

Kez grabbed his notebook from his desk and threw it on the bed. I recognized the brown leather cover from the time we ran into each other my first day at the bookstore. He started turning pages, pointing to his notes and gesturing at the wall.

“Look at these newspaper stories. Unexplained fires and explosions. Look at the pictures.” His finger was shaking as he showed me. “2005, Burlington, New Jersey. 2008, Alabaster, Alabama. 2010, Houston, Texas. There was one two months ago in St. Martinville, just a few miles from here. Now you’re here. All these years collecting news reports, looking back in history, trying to track them, and I never found anybody else with powers. Until you. There must be a reason we met. Maybe together, we can find him.”

“Together?” Fear blazed through me. MawMaw made me promise to hide, but Kez wanted me to go searching. “No way! I can’t help you. I don’t even know anything.”

Kez shot me a skeptical look. “I know you’re hiding something. So if you’re not one of them, tell me what you know. Or work with me! I can help you stay away from them and you can help me get closer to them.”

I looked at Kez like he had lost his mind. “Are you listening to yourself? You can’t keep me away from them and get closer to them at the same time.”

“I . . .” He paused and looked up at the picture of him and his brother. “I have to find my brother,” he said softly. “The police stopped looking for him years ago.”

Suddenly I felt overtaken by the danger MawMaw had been warning me about. She had given me no details, but here in this makeshift apartment on the second floor of the bookstore, Kez had gathered pages and pages of information that his mysterious group of people really did exist—and they were out there looking for people like me.

I gasped. The dream! All this time I thought the image of my mother burning was just a dream, but what if it was a memory? What if someone had tried to take me when I was a baby and the dream was me remembering my mother fighting for me? I looked up to see Kez staring at me, as if waiting for me to say something.

“Please, Veronique,” he said, walking toward me. “We lost everything when Mal was taken. My father disappears for weeks at a time. When he comes back, he looks worse than when he left. My mom stopped leaving the house. I don’t know how much longer they can keep it together. I can’t quit. I have to find him. I have to do it for my family.”

The word family hit me hard. I would do anything for MawMaw—and now that I was living with Auntie Eve, Uncle Asim, Zaza, and Jabari, my family was even bigger. I wanted answers, yes, and I wanted to help Kez, but I couldn’t put them in danger. I wouldn’t.

I walked away from the wall, ignoring the wild whistling of the winds outside.

“I’m sorry to be such a disappointment, but you know more about all this than I do. I didn’t even know there were people out there with powers. I just—”

I looked back at Kez. The desperation on his face hurt my heart.

“I can’t help you,” I said quickly, and walked past him toward the door.

Kez ran up behind me.

“There’s gotta be something you know. Please. Something you can tell me that will help me find my brother.”

When Kez got close, the winds outside reached for me, rattling the glass as they strained to get close. Kez snapped his eyes toward the window, then looked back at me. He pressed his hands together in prayer.

“Please, Veronique.”

“It’s late,” I said. “I need to get back home.”

I stepped away from Kez and hustled to the door. When my hand was on the doorknob, he said, “I’ll tell Auntie Eve.”

I turned back to him.

“What did you say?”

“I’ll tell Auntie Eve that you snuck out tonight . . .”

I stared at him, angrily, but I didn’t say a word.

“. . . and I’ll tell her about your powers.”

For a brief second, the wind howled outside as anger blossomed in my chest. He didn’t know that Auntie Eve already knew about my powers. He’d say anything to try to force me to help him.

“You get me in trouble and you’ll never find your brother,” I growled. The moment I yanked the door open, the wind swooped close, delighted to grab hold of me at last. There was no escaping the things Kez had said, but I stormed down the stairs as if the strength of my legs and the fierceness of the wind could carry me to a place where I didn’t have to keep myself a secret and I didn’t have to hide to be safe.

22

When I made it back home, I closed the door behind me and paused to listen. The house was quiet, as if no one knew I had slipped away. As I returned to the bedroom and ranted at Kez in my mind, I changed for bed. How could he ask for my help, then turn around and threaten me? I was disgusted with Kez, but I refused to let my anger distract me from what I had learned. Sitting at Zaza’s desk, I used the light of Kez’s sculpture to scribble down as much as I could remember about Mal’s powers and the people Kez thought had kidnapped him.

When I was done, I pulled out my mother’s note and touched the symbol I had seen at Kez’s apartment. Of all the symbols on the paper, why had Mal chosen that one to draw over and over again? There was only one explanation I could come up with. I turned back to my notebook. I drew the symbol again. Underneath it I wrote: Fire?

I looked at the paper again. If one of the symbols meant fire, than another must mean wind. I traced each symbol as if I could unlock their meaning by pressing my fingers against them. As I stroked the symbols, I realized there were ridges all across the surface of the paper, as if something else had been written there. I ripped a blank sheet of paper out of my notebook and placed it on top of my mother’s note. I took a deep breath, then lightly dragged the pencil over the paper, using the side of the tip.

I gasped when I saw words emerge from the rubbing. I held the paper closer to the lamp and read: Not my daughter.

That night, my mother visited me in my dreams. Full of frustration, I tried to reach for her, but I could not grasp her. I tried to call to her, but I had no voice. Everything unfolded as it always did, with her holding me tight as she threw fireballs at whoever was attacking. This time, though, when she threw me in the air, she let out a loud growl.

“Not my daughter!” she yelled, and then everything went black.

I woke with a start, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Taking deep breaths to calm my heart, I stared at the tiny lights from Kez’s sculpture as they sparkled across the ceiling. They were still beautiful, but tonight, they didn’t look like a constellation of stars. Instead they looked like some mystical pathway, a network of clues that were too tangled for me to ever understand.

The next morning, when Zaza shook me awake, I groaned. My head was pounding and I wasn’t in the mood to face anything: not the teachers, not the other students, and definitely not Kez.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

I shifted the covers down so I could see her.

“I don’t feel good.”

Zaza came over and felt my head and my neck.

“You’re not hot. Come on, it’s the last day of school.”

I shook my head. “I can’t go.”

“I’m going to get Mama.”

In a few minutes, Auntie Eve came into the room with Zaza following close behind her. She pressed the back of her hand to my cheek, then my forehead.

“You’re not feeling well?”

“No,” I said softly.

“Well, you don’t have a fever.”

“It’s my stomach.”

“Did you eat something strange yesterday?”

“I don’t think so.”

“She said she can’t go to school,” Zaza said.

“Don’t even think of asking if you can stay home too.”

“Never!” Zaza said. “I can’t miss the last day of school.”

“Get dressed, then,” Auntie Eve said. “Veronique, I’ll make you some ginger tea. And I think I’ll call Cecily.”

I gave her a weak smile. She wasn’t MawMaw, but her taking care of me soothed me. Zaza buzzed around getting dressed and telling me what she had planned for after school.

“Feel better,” she said before rushing out.

When Auntie Eve came back into the room, she had her phone pressed to her ear and a steaming teacup in her hand.

“I think it’s just a stomach bug,” she was saying. “But I thought I’d better check with you to see if she had any allergies to medications—anything health-wise that she might not know.”

She was quiet as she set the teacup down on the bedside table.

“Okay, well, that’s good to know,” she said. “Did you want to speak to her?”

I looked up at Auntie Eve hopefully. After last night with Kez, it would make me feel better to talk to MawMaw.

Auntie Eve handed me the phone.

“I’ll be here for another hour, and then I’ll be just a phone call away if you need something,” she said.

I nodded and pressed the phone to my ear.

“MawMaw.”

“Sugarplum! You’re not feeling well?”

“It’s not what they think,” I whispered. “It’s not that I’m sick. I just . . . Remember you said my mother had a mission?”

“Just cuz I’m old don’t mean I’m forgetful,” MawMaw said, and for that brief second, she sounded like her old self.

“Well, do you think you’re ready to tell me the truth about her and the mission?”

“Hold on, let me get this straight. You over there worrying your aunt and you ain’t really sick?”

I sighed. “I’m really not feeling well, but I’m not . . .”

“So you’re homesick?”

MawMaw’s question caught me off guard. I missed her, of course, but her question made me realize that home was slowly shifting in my heart. I didn’t feel so heartsick anymore.

“MawMaw,” I said, sidestepping her question. “I know you don’t want me to be ignorant. You can’t let me be out here without knowing what’s going on.”

“Veronique.” MawMaw’s voice got sharp, letting me know I was dancing on the edge of her patience. “What are you talking about?”

“I know the truth,” I whispered.

MawMaw was quiet for so long, I thought she had hung up the phone.

“MawMaw?”

“What truth?”

“I know that my mother and I are not the only ones with powers.”

MawMaw inhaled deeply. “How do you know?”

“I met this boy. His brother can make fire.”

“He just came out of nowhere and told you about his brother?” Her voice was hard, and an unspoken accusation dripped from each word.

“No.” I paused, then said firmly, “I want the truth, MawMaw. I want to learn everything about keeping myself safe.” In the silence that swelled between us, I started telling MawMaw everything. I told her about meeting Tyree and the plan to go to the party. About sneaking out, losing Zaza, and using my powers. I told her about the symbol in Kez’s notebook, and about the motorcycle. I didn’t leave anything out. Not the kiss with Tyree, not Kez’s threats, and not the video of me protecting Zaza.

When I was done, MawMaw sighed. “You are your own person now. You sure you can trust this boy?”

Something in me cracked.

“Trust him?” I hissed. “He knows what’s going on, MawMaw. He knows so much about everything—and he doesn’t even have powers. At least he answers my questions. Why don’t you want to tell me who I am? It’s . . . it’s cruel.”

“You think my silence is cruel?” MawMaw’s voice trembled. “What’s cruel is raising you, then running out of time to watch you grow. You know what you need to know—you know how to keep yourself hidden. That’s how you keep yourself safe.”

“Did you know?” I asked. “That there were other people like us?”

MawMaw was quiet for a few breaths, and when she finally spoke, her voice came out in a whisper. “Yes.”

“So what else? There are four symbols on that paper. One of them is fire, and one has to be wind. What else can people control?”

“Water and earth,” MawMaw said.

Her response was simple and direct. I had demanded answers for so long, but hearing them now made my stomach cramp. I had to fight past the feeling that it was too much to hear. I had to keep going.

“And those people—the people who can do those things—those are the people looking for me? They want to kidnap me?”

“Those people don’t know you exist, chérie,” MawMaw said fiercely. “No one can kidnap you if they don’t know who you are. That is why I spent my life hiding you.”

“I don’t need you to hide me,” I snapped. “I need you to educate me. What exactly is this danger you’re always talking about? What will happen if they find me—will they kill me?”

MawMaw gasped. “No, dear heart. I didn’t hide you because someone wants to kill you. I hid you because I wanted you to be free. Because when they find you, when they discover what you can do, they will try to use you.”

I went quiet, and a weird calm washed over me as MawMaw’s words sank into my skin. She had said enough to convince me that Kez was right. I wasn’t safe.

MawMaw’s phone beeped.

“My doctor is calling. I have to answer.”

“Okay,” I said flatly.

“I’ll tell you more tomorrow,” she said. “I love you, Veronique.”

I told her I loved her and hung up the phone. As soon as she was gone, a tornado of emotions stormed through me. Suddenly the smell of smoke filled my nostrils and I felt something thick collect in my throat. I began to choke, gasping and coughing loudly.

Auntie Eve rushed into the room.

“Veronique? Are you okay?”

I couldn’t answer—the sensation of smoke running through my nose and mouth overwhelmed me. Auntie Eve grabbed me by the shoulders and tugged.

“Sit up!” she said. “Can you breathe?”

I still didn’t answer. Auntie Eve clapped in front of my face.

“Veronique, I need you to focus on me.” She held up one finger. “Breathe in.”

I put all my attention on Auntie Eve’s voice. She counted aloud, putting up one finger with each number. “One, two, three, four, five.”

She inhaled with me, keeping her eyes locked on mine.

“Hold it,” she said, keeping a firm grip on me. “Now let it out. One, two, three, four, five.”

We took deep breaths in and out, over and over until I stopped gasping and my panic eased. Little by little, the smell of smoke slipped away.

“Do you feel better?” Her face was serious. She looked like she was ready to breathe with me for as long as I needed.

“Better,” I whispered.

“You’ve got to tell me the truth. Was it just a coughing spell, or do we need a doctor?”

I shook my head. “It was just a cough. I’m better now.”

She picked up the teacup on the bedside table. “Drink,” she said. She stared at me as I swallowed a few sips of tea.

“So it passed?” she asked, rubbing my back. “Are you good now?”

I opened my mouth, then closed it. I wasn’t good, not at all. But the only person I could be truly open with was miles away. So I swallowed all the anger, fear, and worry that had collected in my body over the last few days, gave her a shaky smile, and said, “I’m fine.”

23

“Earth to Veronique.”

“Huh?” I said, pushing away the thoughts that had been swirling in my head. Thoughts about symbols and powers, kidnappers and missions—thoughts that were harder and harder to avoid. Especially with Kez staring at me from across the dinner table.

“I said, are you done with your plate?” Uncle Asim said.

I looked down. My plate was sitting in front of me, empty except for two slices of cucumber and a few pieces of pasta.

“Oh, yes. Done,” I said, handing my plate to Uncle Asim. He placed it on top of a stack of plates he had piled in front of him.

“Well, it seems like your stomach feels better at least,” Auntie Eve said. She flashed me a warm smile that made me feel guilt rather than joy. I was not a harmless niece; I was a ticking time bomb—and sooner or later, everything would come to light. I closed my eyes and said a short prayer that when danger eventually came, no one in this house would get hurt.

When I opened my eyes, Kez was still staring at me. I quickly looked away.

“Y’all ready for a treat?” Uncle Asim asked after Zaza had brought the plates to the sink.

“A treat? What is it?” Jabari asked, jumping to his feet.

Uncle Asim reached on top of the refrigerator and took down a dessert box. When he rested the box on the table, Jabari climbed onto the chair so he could get a closer look.

“Sit,” Auntie Eve said.

“Is it a pie?” Jabari asked.

“Sit,” Uncle Asim said, putting his hands on his hips.

Jabari collapsed into the chair and gave his father an expectant glance.

“It’s a peach cobbler,” Uncle Asim said.

“To congratulate you all for working so hard this school year,” Auntie Eve said, smiling broadly. For once, she had that same happy gleam in her eyes that Uncle Asim usually had. She opened the freezer and pulled out a gallon of ice cream.

“Cobbler and ice cream?” Jabari said with wide eyes. Everyone laughed as he rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

As I laughed along with everyone else, I felt myself surrender to the warmth in the room. This is why I’m not homesick, I thought. This family had a way of making me feel right at home. While everyone was busy scooping cobbler and ice cream into their bowls, I felt my phone buzz. I pulled it out and saw it was a text from Kez.

You can’t ignore this. We have to talk.

Without a glance at Kez, I slid the phone back into my pocket and flashed a smile at Uncle Asim after he handed me my bowl.

As I dug into my dessert, Zaza poked me with her elbow.

“That boy can’t stop texting you,” she whispered.

I smiled and shrugged. And just like that, I was keeping another secret. It was easier to pretend it was Tyree texting me than to explain what was so important that Kez would text me in the middle of dinner from the other side of the table. My phone buzzed again. I snapped my head up and looked across the table straight at Kez.

Stop it, I mouthed.

He glared at me. I knew he could tell everyone my secret, but I didn’t care. He had already stolen my sleep last night and made my morning miserable. I refused to let him ruin this dinner too.

I tuned in to Jabari’s high-pitched laughter, Uncle Asim’s jokes, Zaza’s teasing, and Auntie Eve’s sarcastic zingers. I focused on the buttery flakiness of the cobbler pastry and sweet juicy peaches in my bowl. For as long as we were eating, I was determined to feel joy.

But dessert couldn’t last forever. When the bowls were empty, Kez collected them all. He deposited them on the counter, returned to the table, and stood behind me.

“Baba Asim, Mama Eve, that was delicious. Thank you again for letting me share your meals with you.”

“I told you,” Auntie Eve said, “you don’t need to thank us. If Zaza was separated from her family, we’d want someone to take her in.”

“Don’t worry, you earn every single meal we feed you. Don’t forget we’re leaving early in the morning to go out to Baton Rouge to pick up the shelves and light fixtures,” Uncle Asim said, grabbing Kez by the shoulder and shaking him gently.

Kez nodded.

“See you tomorrow,” he said to Uncle Asim. He told the rest of us good night, then walked out.

“Veronique and Zambia, you need to rest up too,” Uncle Asim said, picking up the empty dessert box. “The two of you are opening the bookstore in the morning.”

Zaza scooped up the ice cream carton and headed for the freezer with a loud sigh.

“Summer is supposed to be for relaxing,” she said.

“You can relax when the family doesn’t need you,” Auntie Eve said. “But until further notice, you are on bookstore duty.”

Zaza didn’t make a snippy comment. Instead, she went to the sink and started washing the dishes. I joined her as everyone got busy doing their after-dinner chores. Once the kitchen was clean, Zaza and I returned to our room. Zaza threw herself onto her bed and scrolled through social media. I curled on my side and finally checked my texts.

The first three were from Kez.

We need to work together.

If I saw the video, someone else could too.

I can help you.

Zaza giggled at something on her phone. I looked over at her. She had no idea how lucky she was. She had something I never would—a normal life. I wondered what it would be like to have no fears about being snatched away. What it would feel like to fall in love with Tyree and have adventures with Zaza without worrying about a life interrupted or loved ones getting hurt. Pretending that I wasn’t in danger had worked for weeks, but now reality was closing in.

After a few seconds, Zaza looked up and caught me staring.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing,” I sighed.

She leaned up on her elbows. “Don’t tell me that boy is stressing you out already.”

I shook my head. “He’s not.”

“Well, don’t let no boy stress you out, no matter how fine he is. Boys need to be fun.”

“He’s not stressing me out,” I said, and flopped back on the bed.

Zaza squealed. “Oooooh, he got you fiending. It’s you. You stressing yourself out.”

When I looked over at her, she was giving me a sly sideways smile.

“Well, what you waiting for? Call him and get what you fiending for. Just go do it in the bathroom so I don’t have to hear you embarrass yourself.”

I rolled my eyes, but as Zaza went back to her phone, mine buzzed. It was Kez, and he was calling this time. I got up and rushed down the hallway to the bathroom. By the time I closed the door behind me, the phone stopped buzzing. Then Kez sent another text.

I’m sorry for being so intense. Please pick up. I want to apologize.

I sighed. Kez would never give up. And with summer here, I’d be seeing him all day every day in the bookstore. I picked up the phone and called him back.

“What do you want?” I asked when he answered the phone.

“We need to talk.”

“I thought you wanted to apologize.”

“I do. I’m sorry I threatened you. You can trust me not to talk to Auntie Eve or anyone about you.”

I didn’t respond, and for a few seconds silence swelled between us.

“I was wrong, Veronique. I know I can’t force you to help me find my brother.”

“Okay,” I said. I dug my toe into the fluffy rug on the bathroom floor.

“But I am really worried about you.”

“You are not worried about me. You’re just worried about yourself and your brother.”

“I’m worried they’re going to try to kidnap you—like they did to him,” Kez said firmly.

“What if they do? What’s talking to you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know, but if we can figure out who they are and find them before they find you, maybe you can stay safe.”

“And how are we going to do that?”

“We put together everything that you and I know and figure it all out.”

I plopped down on the closed toilet seat.

“And when are we going to do that without anybody finding out? In the middle of the night? So you can get me in trouble if you don’t like what I have to say?”

“No. I said I was sorry. I’m just desperate to find my brother. I swear I would never do that. I won’t say a word to anyone.”

I paused.

“I’ll think about it,” I said.

When I hung up, I stood and looked at myself in the mirror. I felt like I could see my two warring selves fighting within me. There was the part of me that wanted to cling to the way things were, to pretend I was a normal girl, to act as if hiding my powers would keep me safe. Then there was the part of me that knew I’d have to face the mysteries and my powers, because the world of secrets was coming for me, whether I was ready for it or not.

My phone buzzed again and I rolled my eyes, expecting to see another text from Kez, but it was Tyree. He had sent a voice note. I tapped play and heard a recording of his niece giggling. Her joy was infectious. A wide smile spread across my face. I called Tyree.

“Ain’t her lil laugh the best thing you ever heard?” he asked when he answered the phone.

“It’s the sweetest. I love her laugh!”

“Better than your little cousin’s laugh?”

“Why do I have to choose?”

“You right. We gotta keep all the kids laughing. How’s your night?”

“Good.” I told him all about the peach cobbler. He told me about the book he read to his niece that had made her giggle so hard.

“So I think we need to get back on a dance floor soon.”

I paused. That feeling, the pull in two different directions tugged at me again. My body was humming with the urge to make the next date, to wrap my arms around him while music swirled around us. But there was another voice, cold and hard, that said, None of this matters. Why pretend you could have a future with him when you don’t know your own fate?

“V? You there?”

I pushed the dark thoughts away. “Yeah, you know I love dancing.”

“With me.”

I laughed out loud.

“Yes, Tyree. I love dancing with you!”

“Good, my godfather’s having a birthday party next week. They gonna be playing nothing but old-school music.”

“Sounds fun,” I said.

“Mmmm, I can’t wait.”

A sweet tingling took over my body. My life was quickly becoming a quicksand of questions and choices, and Tyree was a comfort in the middle of my confusion. The feeling that it was selfish to get closer to him when there was so much uncertainty in my world nibbled at me, but I pushed it away. There would be plenty of time for stress. In this moment, all I wanted was to enjoy the small pleasures on the phone with him—to sink into this special space where he and I could be free.

24

The next morning, I decided I would give myself a break from all the worry. With Kez gone for the day, I didn’t expect any surprises. I could relax and enjoy working in the bookstore with Zaza. As we got dressed, I told her about my conversation with Tyree and our plans to go to his godfather’s party. Zaza teased me about what I looked like dancing with Tyree, and I teased her back, pantomiming how she looked dancing at the party. We giggled all the way to the kitchen to pack lunch and snacks. When we got to the front door, Auntie Eve stopped me.

“We need to talk,” she said.

My body went cold as she took hold of my arm. Zaza plopped down on the couch to wait for me.

“Zambia, you need to get to the bookstore.”

A confused look flashed over Zaza’s face. “But me and V are supposed to go together.”

Auntie Eve shook her head. “No questions and no conversation right now. Go to the bookstore and get to work.”

Zaza looked at Auntie Eve in silence, as if trying to figure out if she was serious. Then she mumbled, “See you later,” and slunk out the door.

In the seconds that I waited for Auntie Eve to speak, it felt like the living room was quieter than it had ever been before. Auntie Eve walked over to the couch.

“Come sit down.”

She reached for my hands and held them tight in hers. For a few seconds, she just looked at me, a sorrowful expression on her face.

“Veronique.” With that one word, I went hot with fear. “Cecily passed away in her sleep last night.”

I shook my head. That couldn’t be right. MawMaw couldn’t be dead.

“The funeral is tomorrow.”

I thought of our last conversation. There was still so much more to say.

“I know it’s sudden.”

I shook my head again, searching for the words to explain why Auntie Eve had to be wrong, why it was impossible for MawMaw to be dead.

“No,” I said, and then I couldn’t stop saying it. “No, no, no, no, no, no.”

Auntie Eve wrapped her arms around me and held me tight.

“We’re going to help you through this,” she said. “Okay?”

I nodded even though I didn’t know what that meant. How could anyone help me make sense of a world that didn’t have MawMaw in it?

“I called Uncle Asim. He and Kez are going to turn back and pick you up. They’ll finish their errands after the funeral.”

I stared at Auntie Eve blankly.

“Did you hear what I just said?”

I nodded. I hadn’t heard anything, except for the words drive and funeral. But I was in no state to ask questions.

“It’s tomorrow. The funeral. We’ll get you back to the house as soon as we can. Okay? You won’t miss anything.”

I sat there, my emotions churning, my limbs locked in place, tears running down my cheeks as one thought looped around in my brain: MawMaw was gone—and I was truly lost.

When Uncle Asim arrived, I walked to the door with the blue duffel bag Auntie Eve had helped me pack and my numb heart. I paused before stepping through the doorway. The hot, wet summer winds surged and swept toward me.

This is the first time I’m going out into the world since MawMaw died, I thought.

I brushed the winds away, then forced myself down the stairs. As I moved toward the car, it felt like everything around me was bending and twisting, heavy with the horrible weight of MawMaw’s absence.

When I saw Kez sitting in the back seat, I felt nothing but grief piercing me over and over again. I pulled open the door, threw the bag onto the floor of the car, and dropped down in the passenger seat. Uncle Asim reached over and squeezed my shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Veronique.”

“Thank you,” I mumbled, staring straight ahead. I knew I would find nothing but kindness if I turned to look at Uncle Asim, but I didn’t trust myself to face him. I was doing all I could to hold myself together.

“We better hit the road,” Uncle Asim said with a sigh.

As we drove away from the house, I felt the winds gather close again. They pressed against the car windows, straining to reach me. This time, instead of pushing them away, I flipped one hand open and drew circles on my palm with my finger. They started to swirl, circling the car, gently rocking it back and forth. I felt a sob trying to surface, and I pushed it down by focusing on the awakening of the winds outside.

I wanted to jump out of the car and urge the winds to beat against my skin. I wished I could make them whip through my hair and wash away my rage, but all I could do was sit there and listen to them rushing around us.

Uncle Asim leaned forward and peeked at the sky through the windshield. “Might be a storm coming.”

Neither Kez nor I responded. I was sure Kez knew it was me, but I didn’t care. I kept my eyes straight ahead and imagined everything around me dropping away until there was nothing left in the world but me and the wind.

Five hours later, when we turned onto the long, narrow road that led to MawMaw’s house, the whispering of the leaves overhead sounded like a roaring in my ears. I took a deep breath and clenched my fists as Uncle Asim pulled into the yard and stopped the car in the same place Auntie Eve had parked when she came to take me to New Orleans. I stared at the house through the window. It had only been months since I left, but it felt like years had passed. I was suddenly uncertain if I still belonged.

I forced myself to get out of the car. The yard looked the same, with the old lawn ornaments, the metal fence, and the worn-down path that led around to the back. I listened for the rustling of the goats, pigs, and chickens at the back of the house, but I heard only silence. I lifted my hand to send the wind to investigate, but I remembered I wasn’t alone. Kez was leaning on the car, his arms crossed, eyes fixed on me.

“Be right back,” I said, and followed the dirt path around the side of the house.

I saw the chicken coops, the pig pen, and the goat pen, but they were all empty, no animals in sight. I wondered what else MawMaw had given away after I left. I returned to the front of the house with an even heavier heart. The empty cages made me realize I didn’t know what her life was like in her final days. Was she alone? Afraid? Did she miss her animals? Did she miss me?

I led Uncle Asim and Kez up the porch stairs, pulling out my key and unlocking the door. Running my hand over the walls and the furniture, I walked through the foyer and into the dining room. Everything was exactly where it used to be. Each touch reassured me that even though the house was full of a strange emptiness, it was real. MawMaw was real, my childhood was real, and even in her absence, I could hold on to my memories.

I stopped at the shelf where MawMaw’s quilts were stacked. Tracing the threads with my finger, I remembered the comfort of sitting next to her, cutting pieces of fabric while she pinned the squares together and sewed them into patches. Walking past the dining room table, I tapped the tabletop, remembering our quiet dinners and chatty breakfasts, when MawMaw told me about her dreams and I made up wild interpretations of what they meant.

I paused at the bottom of the stairs, my hand resting on the banister. Uncle Asim put his hand on top of mine.

“I know this is hard. You don’t have to go upstairs tonight. It can wait until morning.”

I closed my eyes. I wanted to follow Uncle Asim’s advice. I wanted to pull a quilt off MawMaw’s shelf, hide out on the couch, and pretend none of this was happening, but there was something pushing me to keep going—a magnetic force drawing me upstairs. When I didn’t move, Uncle Asim said, “We’ll get settled for bed down here.”

“The linen closet is upstairs,” I said without opening my eyes.

I heard Uncle Asim and Kez whispering, then felt a hand take hold of my arm. I opened my eyes and saw Kez standing next to me.

“I’ll go up with you,” he said. “To get the sheets.”

I nodded and looked up at the stairs. They loomed larger than I remembered. I took a deep breath and made the first step. Kez tightened his grip on my arm as we climbed, his warmth and closeness filled me with the energy to keep going.

At the top of the stairs, I pointed out the linen closet and left Kez in the hall. Wandering into my room, I was surprised that my dolls, curtains, and furniture seemed shabbier than I remembered—everything seemed to have a touch of gray.

The view from the window was exactly as I remembered it, though, that same ocean of trees. The fullness of my childhood swelled inside me. Memories of myself at different ages filled my mind. Dancing across the floor as I grew into my limbs, sitting on my bed cutting out pictures from magazines as I cycled through obsessions, and pushing my hands out the window, frustrated as I wrestled with my powers. Alongside the memories, I felt the presence of MawMaw, so vivid that it felt like she was whispering, “Come, come.”

As I left my room, I saw Kez going back downstairs, a pile of sheets in his arms. I walked down the hallway feeling the tug of MawMaw’s memory pull me to her room. The moment I stepped inside, her scent surrounded me, and I could see her sitting in front of the mirror at her vanity, brushing her hair and plaiting it for the night. I heard her voice rambling about all the tasks that needed to be done the next day. I stretched my hand out to stroke her containers, brushes, and combs—as if my touch could bring her back.

I pulled a quilt from the wooden chest at the foot of her bed and wrapped it around me. I fell onto the bed, and suddenly, I was free-falling through more moments with MawMaw. It felt sweet to remember her coming out of the kitchen with a freshly baked pie in her hands. Standing over me when I was stumped with my schoolwork, making up outrageous examples to help me understand the questions. Bringing me her specially brewed herb and garlic tea when I was sick.

But the sweetness didn’t last for long. Soon it hurt my soul to recall all the moments I would never have again. I reached across the bed and opened the drawer of the side table. Sitting on top of the photo album I was searching for was a white envelope with my name scrawled across the front. I held my breath and ran my fingers over the swoop and swirl of MawMaw’s handwriting. Flipping the envelope over, I saw that MawMaw had drawn one of the symbols that I had been studying. Prickling with anxiety, I ripped open the envelope.

Sugarplum, if you have found this, it means I am no longer here. I am so sorry, chérie. You are sunshine and light. I am so thankful God made us a family. I know you wanted more from me, but believe me, there is nothing I could have said to prepare you for your future. Telling you about what is out there before you needed to know would have only been cruel. I wanted you to have a childhood, and I did NOT want you to live in fear. I know you want answers now, though, so I leave you with this.

The people looking for you call themselves the Vaunted. They think they are here to protect Earth, but believe me: this planet is more powerful than any of us. They think anyone with powers should be with them. If they find you, they will try to force you to join their mission—and they will not give you a choice.

I am your forever grandmother, your fiercest protector, your family, but I am not your blood. I met your mother many years ago. We both joined the Vaunted because we believed in their mission and we wanted to protect Earth. Your mother with fire and me with my power—water. I left when I figured out how easily our mission could become twisted, dangerous. I hid everything to keep you in this world and out of theirs.

The letter fell from my fingertips. Not my blood? Those words stuck in my mind, and I struggled to make sense of them. My mind lurched through memories, desperately seeking clues, signs, contradictions to prove that what MawMaw had written wasn’t true. There was a lack of childhood photos, the lack of family, but nothing else. No sign that she was anything but mine.

It felt like there was suddenly less air in the room. MawMaw was what I held on to. She was my life raft, my compass, and my anchor. Growing up, I had no cousins, no parents, but I always had my grandmother. If our relationship wasn’t true, then nothing was.

I gasped for air, trying to push away the only true thing that was in the letter—that MawMaw knew. She knew this whole time who was looking for me. She knew they had a name and a purpose, and she never told me. My emotions felt slippery: anger, surprise, fear—it all throbbed through me alongside a deep shame that almost everything about my life was a lie.

After your mother left the Vaunted, she trusted me to take care of you. I did not keep you away from Eve and her family to hurt them. I did it because your mother asked me to keep you safe—and the only way I knew to do that was to hide. I swore to your mother I would do everything I could to protect you. Even if that meant lying to you. (And I would tell a million lies if it would keep you safe.)

Now that I am gone, it is time for you to protect yourself. No matter what happens, never stop fighting for your freedom. Don’t let ANYONE tell you what to do with your power. You are the only one who can decide that.

You are the best thing I ever did with my life. And you have a big mission written in your soul. I did all I could to stop you from seeking answers until you were ready. Now it is time. Remember, even if it feels like you don’t know what is happening around you, you are prepared for your destiny. You are smart, you are powerful, and you are loved. I will be watching out for you wherever I am. That is a promise. I love you.

I pressed my hand against my mouth, the words swimming in my mind: mission, Vaunted, powers, destiny. I thought about the Vaunted. They seemed like a fiction, some kind of story someone would make up to entertain themselves. I imagined my mother on the run, sneaking away to keep me hidden. And MawMaw raising me while keeping me in the dark with lie after lie. And here I was, manipulated by them all.

I smoothed the paper flat and flipped it over. On the back, scribbled at the bottom of the page were two sentences:

The metal box is for you. It’s all I have, and it’s yours.

I looked in the drawer again. Nestled in the back was a small metal box. I pulled it out and flipped the latch open. Just like the pouch MawMaw had put in my suitcase the day I left, the metal box was stuffed with money. Tucked behind the money was a picture of me and my parents. My mom was holding me in her arms, and my dad had his arms wrapped around us both. I held back my tears. Even in death, MawMaw was still trying to take care of me. I knew I should hate her for pretending we were related, for hiding her powers, for keeping me in the dark, but I couldn’t.

I tucked the letter into the metal box, wrapped the box in MawMaw’s quilt, and brought it all back to my room. Every inch of me—body, mind, and soul—was exhausted. I changed into my nightclothes, grief and anger twisting around inside me. Pushing away my pillow, I rested my head on MawMaw’s quilt and curled on my side, still as a stone. Hostage to the confusion and heartbreak rioting through me, I lay there, staring at nothing, until finally sleep swallowed me whole.

25

I woke up with the acrid smell of smoke in my nose and started coughing so hard my chest hurt. I got up and stumbled to the window to open it. In the darkness, I could see the kiss of moonlight on the treetops, which stretched from our house into forever. As I was trying to catch my breath, my eyes shifted to a tall figure standing in the grass by the fence, looking up at the house.

Suddenly wide awake, I dropped to the floor, my heart thudding in my chest. I flashed back to the end of my last phone call with MawMaw, when smoke filled my nostrils and a thickness collected in my throat. When I first smelled the smoke at Auntie Eve’s house, I didn’t know what to make of it. Now I wondered if the smoke was connected to a person—someone who was following me and who was now standing in MawMaw’s front yard.

My thoughts racing, I stretched up to peek out the bottom of the window. The figure was no longer looking up at the house, they were pacing back and forth in front of the porch. The shroud of night disguised the figure so much, I couldn’t tell if it was a man or woman, but I could tell their hair was covered with a scarf and they wore a long black jacket and slim pants. I watched them kneel and press their hand to the earth. They lowered their head as if praying; then, after a few seconds of stillness, they stood and walked out of the front gate, disappearing into the forest.

Maybe it was grief that made me reckless, but suddenly I had to know who this person was. Why they were here. If they had answers for me.

I threw on a pair of shoes and bolted down the stairs. By the time I got outside, the stranger—and the smell of smoke—had gone. Relief and anger warred within me, not knowing if it was danger I’d avoided or an opportunity I’d lost.

I turned back to return to the house, but then I felt something else: the wind. A breeze, heavy and humid, swooped down and caressed my cheek. I lifted my face to greet it, and it wrapped around me as if reminding me of who I was and what we could do together.

Overtaken by a wild urge to plunge into the forest, I returned to the familiar embrace of the trees. Memory guided me over tree roots and around tree trunks with ease. Slipping past tree after tree, I didn’t feel like I was chasing the strange visitor—I felt like I was communing with an old friend.

As the breeze swept through the trees, the rustling of leaves echoed through me sweetly, but it offered me no relief from my grief. Lifting my hands and waving my fingers, I called the winds to dive and dance overhead, but not even the antics of the winds could erase the painful truth that MawMaw was gone.

Flinging my arms wide, I moved faster, pushing to outpace my hurt. The winds whipped harder through the trees, and before I knew it, I was running, urging the winds to race alongside me. With a flick of my fingers, I unleashed them, and they rioted in response, shoving so hard at my back that I stumbled, barreling past me with so much force, they almost knocked me over, but I didn’t stop them. I needed them to thunder, like my sadness, my hurt, my rage.

When I found myself on the footpath to Deep Creek, I heard the snap of a twig behind me. I ignored it. I was too caught up in the vibration of the winds to pay attention. But I heard another twig snap, and another. Slowly, a sliver of awareness pierced my grief—something or someone was following me.

The next time I heard a sound, I whipped around and flung my arms forward. The winds lashed out, hurtling through the night air. There was a groan, then silence. I planted my feet in the dirt, my hands held out in front of me ready to fight, but whoever was following me did not move; they just lay like a lump on the ground. With my heart pounding, I crept toward the body—it had long limbs and a big shock of hair.

“Kez! What are you doing out here?”

Kez looked at me. His eyes were wary.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said.

I pulled him up and glared at him as he stared at the wind playing in my hair and rustling my clothes.

“Wow. That’s amazing,” he said. The wariness was gone, and there was nothing but excitement and wonder dancing in his eyes.

I quickly squeezed my hands against my wrists, and the winds disappeared.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” I said, wrapping my arms around myself.

“So that’s your plan? Keep hiding and hope no one ever finds you?” Kez asked.

I thought about the figure staring up at the house in the darkness. What would Kez say if he knew someone had come in the night while we were in the house?

“What will you do if someone does find you? Are you prepared to use your powers to fight?”

“Why is everything so hard?” I yelled without thinking.

I threw my head back and looked up at the sky. The stars glittering in the darkness above made me think of MawMaw. She wrote that she would be looking out for me. I wondered if she was watching now.

“I know you don’t trust me, V,” Kez said, “but you can’t face this alone. Let me help you figure out how to protect yourself. How would you fight them if they come for you?”

“What?” I looked at Kez like he had lost his mind, but maybe I had lost a bit of mine too, because I found myself thinking about how good it would feel to hit something and let out my rage. I shook my head. “I can’t hurt you, Kez. I ruined enough things already, and I don’t want to add hurting someone to the list.”

“I can handle a few scrapes.”

“I already knocked you down once.”

“You think that’s going to stop someone with powers like you? Show me what you can do.”

Without another word, I walked back a few steps and crossed my hands at the wrist. In a flash, two strands of wind crossed between us, thrusting Kez backward. A look of surprise burst across his face, but he ran back at me.

“Show me!” he yelled again.

I pressed my fingers against my palms and flicked them forward toward him, and a blast knocked him to the ground. Without hesitation, he climbed back onto his feet.

“Is that all you got?” he asked, brushing himself off.

I stared at him, seething with frustration and hurt. MawMaw’s death, the struggle to keep my powers a secret, Auntie Eve’s mistrust of me, and these people—whoever they were—who would hunt me down if they ever found out about me. It all swirled inside me, pushing at my chest, gathering into a ball of rage. I let out a yell, swirling my hands together as I held Kez’s gaze. I braided four strands of wind swiftly and thrust my fists in the air. They swept Kez off his feet and sent him hurtling high in the air.

The look of fear that took over his face before he jerked away yanked my conscience back into place. Before he flew too far above the trees, I waved my hands, drawing the winds down to change his direction. When his body neared the earth, I opened my hands and swept them slowly and softly outward in a flat line. He fell into the cradle of wind, and I turned away.

When I finally released the winds, Kez fell to the ground with a thump. I walked to the edge of the creek and stared at the leaping and crashing water, refusing to spare him another glance. Even when he walked up behind me, I didn’t turn to look at him. Facing Kez meant facing the truth.

I wanted to hold on to my dreams of a normal life, to my home with Auntie Eve and Uncle Asim, but everything I remembered about my life in New Orleans already felt so thin. This was it. When I turned and walked out of the forest with Kez, any fantasy I had about being able to avoid the danger that was hunting me would have to die. This was not just the end of MawMaw’s life. It was the end of the person I had been, and it was time to face the person I would have to become.

I held my silence, bracing for what Kez would say. But for once, he didn’t tell me what to do or demand information or threaten to reveal my secrets. He just stepped closer to me and put his hand on my shoulder.

“Veronique,” he whispered. “You’re not alone.”

26

During my first dinner back at Auntie Eve’s house after the funeral, the lively conversations that usually rocketed across the dinner table were dampened to a trickle. Even Jabari managed to keep his voice down as everyone talked in low tones while their eyes kept drifting toward me.

After dinner, the table was cleared swiftly and the dishes cleaned in silence. Only Kez lingered, looking as if he wanted to talk, but I kept my eyes fixed on the table and my hands clasped in my lap until he gave up and left. I barely noticed his absence. My thoughts—twisting through me, restless and wild—had all my attention. If the Vaunted found me, did I need to stay and fight, like Kez wanted me to? Or should I use the money MawMaw had left me to fly far away from here?

And the biggest question of all: If that figure outside MawMaw’s was one of the Vaunted, why hadn’t they attacked?

I felt a small pair of arms wrap around me and yank me away from my thoughts. Jabari pressed his cheek against my arm as he squeezed me into a tight hug, then he ran out of the kitchen. When I looked around, I saw everyone had left except Auntie Eve, who was leaning on the refrigerator looking at me thoughtfully.

“I don’t think you should go to the bookstore tomorrow,” she said. When I didn’t answer, she added, “Maybe no work for the rest of the week.”

She sat next to me. “I know it hurts. But ain’t no way to rush this.”

“What did you do when . . . ?”

“When your mother died?” she asked gently. “I lost it for a while. Lashed out at Asim. I couldn’t even stand to be around my family. The love was . . .” She drifted off as if trying to find the words. “The love was hard to handle after my sister was gone. Like I didn’t want any softness while I was going through something so hard.”

“It just feels like nothing is real,” I whispered. Even when MawMaw was alive, my life had become slippery and hard to hold, the shape of it shifting with every new thing I learned. And now I had to learn to live without her.

Auntie Eve grabbed my hand and squeezed. “Our world literally changes when someone leaves us. There’s a part of you that only exists with that person, and you have to learn how to live without that part of you. It’s not easy.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

Auntie Eve sighed and rubbed my back.

“Don’t try to figure it out now. Take it easy and the answers will come to you eventually. You have time.”

I smiled at her then. I wanted her to know how grateful I was to have her to lean on. But she was wrong. My grief, my future, the mystery of my past—it was all piling up. I didn’t have the space to let the answers come to me. And if Kez was right, if the Vaunted were getting closer, I was running out of time.

The next day, after everyone had left, I floated through the empty house like a ghost. I made the same cycles through the rooms. Bedroom to bathroom, bathroom to kitchen, kitchen back to my room. I felt like I was memorizing the contours of the house. Lines from MawMaw’s letter exploded in my mind as I wandered through the halls and rooms. No matter how upsetting the information was, I didn’t have the energy to hold any more anger in my body. All the new facts just made me feel numb.

Even though I felt like I had nothing left, Kez’s words cut through the fog of my thoughts. He was right: I had to protect myself. MawMaw’s letter, the dark figure in her yard, Kez’s maps and timelines—it all showed me how serious everything was. Which meant that, run or fight, I had to be prepared if the Vaunted found me. I went to my room and emptied my backpack. I threw in a change of clothing, MawMaw’s quilt, and the metal box. I looked around the room, trying to think of what I would need in the worst-case scenario.

I heard a plink against the window. It rang out again and again. I rolled my eyes and rushed across the room, expecting to see Kez standing in the alley throwing pebbles. I yanked open the window and gasped—it was Tyree.

Even in the middle of all my grief, I still felt a thrill flutter through my body. His eyes, his cheekbones, his mouth—every feature had become so familiar, but now, after MawMaw’s funeral, I had to remind myself that we were close.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi.”

“Zaza told me . . .”

“Yeah.” I nodded.

There was an awkward silence.

“I just wanted to check on you,” he said. “I know it’s gotta be hard.”

I nodded again and sighed.

“Can I . . . ?” He put his hands in his pockets and looked down for a second, and then he looked back up at me with an intense stare. “Can I see you?”

Seeing him standing there was painful. A reminder of the world around me that was right there, yet out of my reach. He didn’t belong in a world of fake grandmothers and secret missions—he deserved to be with someone whose life wasn’t falling to pieces.

“Please,” he said when I didn’t answer.

“Come to the front,” I finally said.

I shut the window and threw on a long-sleeved shirt over my nightgown. When I opened the front door, Tyree was waiting for me with wide-open arms. I stepped into his embrace and immediately sagged against him, weak with relief. I didn’t realize how desperate I was to feel something other than hurt and worry.

“You okay?” Tyree asked.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” I whispered. I kept my head pressed against his chest as I pulled him inside. Tyree took my hand, and we clasped fingers together as we walked over to the couch.

“I know you miss her. You want to talk about it?”

“No,” I said sharply. I let out a ragged breath and flopped down onto the couch. “It hurts too much.”

Tyree nodded and sat next to me. His face was tight with concern.

“I found something out about her, though.”

“About your MawMaw?”

“She wasn’t really my grandmother.”

Tyree looked surprised. “For real?”

“She knew my mother. I think it was my mother’s idea.” I stopped short. For the first time, it hit me how MawMaw must have felt. She had lied to me all my life, but it wasn’t her idea. My mother made her do it. “My whole life, I thought she was my father’s mother. Turns out she was just a friend of my mother’s.”

“But she took care of you, right? She loved you?”

I nodded. “She took care of me like no one else could.”

As I said those words, the truth of it settled in my bones. What would Auntie Eve and Uncle Asim have done with me as a toddler, blowing winds through their house, breaking their glasses and windows? How could they ever have kept me secret? I always thought MawMaw had magically figured out how to teach me to handle my powers, but of course she didn’t. The truth was she knew what to do because she had powers too.

I fell back against the couch and stared up at the ceiling as the fullness of it overwhelmed me. Tears started to flow down my cheeks. Since Auntie Eve told me MawMaw had died, I had been crying painful tears. Tears that felt like they were dragging little bits of my insides with them as they slid out of my eyes. Tears that left me dry and aching, my throat and chest sore, but not today. These tears were different. Now I felt the sweetness of MawMaw as I cried. I felt the strength of who she had been and how lucky I was to have had her.

Tyree leaned closer and reached for me.

“Families keep secrets, ain’t nothing new,” he said, sheltering me in his arms. “Sounds like it was for the right reasons.”

“I don’t know what’s going to happen to me,” I said, pressing my head against Tyree’s shoulder.

“What’s going to happen is you’re going to get stronger. You’re going to let me and Zaza and the rest of your family help you with this. Everything is gonna be okay.”

I pulled away and looked at him. I burned with the need to tell him the truth. Not the truth of my mother and her secrets or the Vaunted and their mysteries, but the truth of me—that I was unreliable and confused, that I wasn’t sure if I should stay or go, that I had no idea how much longer I would be the V he knew.

“If I had to . . .” I paused. “If I had to go live with some other cousins, leave here and go be with another family, how would you feel?”

“I would understand because . . .”

“Because of your cousin.”

Tyree nodded. “And because I know that sometimes people go whether we want them to or not. I would want to enjoy the time we have.”

I nodded and looked down. The idea of enjoying anything felt completely foreign right now.

“And I know,” Tyree said, brushing the tears from my cheeks, “you’re going to be sad for a while. I might know a little something about this. I need you to let me check on you sometimes. Okay?”

“I can do that,” I said with a smile.

Tyree gasped. “Wait, is that a smile?”

I smiled wider, relieved I wasn’t fooling Tyree or tricking him into sticking around. There was still so much about me that he’d be shocked to learn, but at least if I had to disappear, he could remember this conversation and know that he had been warned.

“Let me get out of here before your people get home.”

He stood up. I grabbed his hand and pulled myself up.

“Thank you,” I said, squeezing him into a hug.

He leaned down and kissed me softly. He paused as if he wanted to linger, but then he pulled away and started walking toward the door. He turned back to look at me.

“You gonna answer the phone when I call?”

“I’m gonna be boring to talk to.”

“Just answer, okay?”

“I will,” I said, and I walked him out.

The next week, I tried to get back to work at the bookstore, but I struggled to focus. Battling a million thoughts, I’d put books in the wrong place, give out the wrong change, drop boxes. In the middle of the week, Uncle Asim decided I wasn’t ready to be back, and he told Kez to bring me home.

As we walked to the car, I realized that Kez had been quiet since we’d returned from MawMaw’s funeral. I had been so preoccupied with my feelings that I didn’t even notice he wasn’t texting or calling to demand that we talk. I was impressed that he had the strength to let me be.

When we got into the car, Kez turned on some music and started driving.

“Ummm, so . . .”

Kez glanced toward me. I took a deep breath and continued.

“My grandmother, um, my . . .” I paused. I didn’t know what to call her now that I knew she wasn’t actually my grandmother. “MawMaw left me a letter that I think you would be interested in.”

“Really? Is it about . . . ?”

I nodded. “Did you know they have a name? The group. They’re called the Vaunted.”

Kez grunted in disgust.

“And you were right. They do have some kind of mission. That’s why they’re kidnapping people. They’re trying to save the planet or something, and they want everybody with powers to join in. So, your brother—is it Malcom?”

Kez turned off the music. “Mal. We called him Mal.”

“If they took him, he’s definitely still alive. MawMaw said if they found me, they wouldn’t kill me. They would just try to use me.”

Kez grunted again. This time he sounded more thoughtful. I shifted to face him.

“So how do we fight them if they find me?”

Kez slowed the car to a stop and turned to look at me. “You serious?”

“Yeah.”

Kez narrowed his eyes. “Just like that?”

I fell quiet. After dodging Kez for weeks now, I didn’t expect him to challenge me. Looking out the window, I realized we were nowhere near home.

“I thought you were bringing me home.”

“I was, but I wanted to show you something first.” He drove us across a small bridge.

“This a river?”

“Nope, it’s Bayou St. John. And this . . .” Kez said, pointing to a broad spread of trees in front of us, “is City Park.”

I rolled down the window and was hit with a blast of hot, wet air, but there was something else too—the powerful scent of trees. The wind brought me hints of bark and leaves, the smell of damp earth and moss. Kez made a left and drove past the park entrance. Rounding the edge of the park, he eased the car into a parking spot.

When he turned the car off, I pushed the door open and climbed out of the car. Just past the sidewalk, there was a stretch of grass, then a row of oak trees so bent and gnarled, broad and tall, that they had to be ancient.

“Amazing, right?” Kez said, standing just outside the driver’s door. “This park has some of the oldest oak trees in the world. If you look close, you’ll see the damage from Katrina.” Kez pointed to the treetops. “Up top is kind of thin compared to the rest of the tree. The storm took beaucoup branches. A lot of them grew back, but they’re not the same.”

I stepped onto the grass to get a closer look at the row of old trees. Their crowns did look a little bare, but I was drawn to what was alive about them: a powerful explosion of bark, branches, and leaves. With patches of gray-green lichen on the bark and strands of silvery moss hanging from the branches, the trees seemed full of majesty and mystery.

“You up for a walk?” I heard Kez ask from behind me.

Without looking back at him, I started to walk toward the trees. Kez whistled, and I turned back.

“Not here. We’re too far from what I want to show you. We’ll park closer, then it’s a little bit of a walk.”

“Okay,” I said, doubling back.

Once we were back in the car, Kez said, “If it gets to be too much, just say the word and we’ll go, okay?”

I shot Kez a confused look as he put the car in drive. I wasn’t used to him being so calm and comforting. We passed an art museum, a sculpture garden, a mini golf course, and a playground before rounding a lake with swan paddleboats and canoes. The people fishing on the lake’s edge reminded me of MawMaw. I thought of her strong frame mirrored on the water’s surface as she cast a line to fish. Looking up into the sky, I wondered where she was, if she was watching me, if she approved of my plan to work with Kez.

After we parked, we set off walking across a huge field of grass, crossing bike paths and a track field. I ignored the tendrils of wind that were softly circulating around, but as we got deeper into the park, they grew more insistent. Blowing through my hair and pushing at my shoulders, they begged me to play. I glanced at Kez, wondering if I should push the winds away.

You have nothing to hide from Kez, a voice whispered in my mind. Not anymore.

When there was no one in sight, I curled a finger up into the air. A soft, hesitant burst of air swirled into the branches of one of the trees near us.

The breeze shot forward, spiraled through the air, then echoed back, carrying with it a high-pitched tinkling sound. I dropped my hands, and the winds went still.

“What’s that?”

Kez turned and looked back at me. He had a big smile on his face.

“Does it sound like wind chimes?”

“Wind chimes? Yeah.”

“That’s why I brought you here. It’s called the Singing Tree. You’ll see.”

When Kez turned to keep walking, I sent another blast of air curling over his head. It tumbled into the wind chimes again, and a beautiful trilling sound filled my ears.

“Can you hear it?” I asked.

Kez nodded, and I fluttered my fingers harder so that the winds pushed more forcefully against the wind chimes. The tinkling exploded in a wave of sound; this time it was melodic, almost like music.

“So you like it?” he asked, shooting me a hopeful smile. “I thought it might take your mind off . . .”

I was surprised. Kez looked like he actually cared about whether or not I was happy.

“It’s beautiful,” I said with a smile.

“Good,” he said softly.

Within a few steps, I could see the chimes in the distance. I flashed Kez a mischievous grin.

“Race you,” I said, and took off running toward the tree.

We both laughed as Kez chased me. When I reached the chimes, I whirled around, and he was right there behind me. Our laughter faded as we stood there, staring into each other’s eyes. The weight of it all—my grief, Kez’s loss—settled over us. Neither of us spoke, but it felt like we were making a pact, right there under the Singing Tree.

In the forest, Kez had told me I wasn’t alone, but I didn’t believe him until now. There was so much I didn’t know—but in this moment, with the grass under my feet, the tree branches overhead, and Kez standing before me, I promised myself I would try. I couldn’t just accept what was happening, I had to do everything I could to push away the threats, uncover the unknown, and find my own future.

I lifted my arm and swept my hand around in a big, slow circle. In response, a thick, heavy breeze crept underneath the tree branches and undulated through the chimes. Kez didn’t look away, and I didn’t try to hide. Our eyes locked as the chimes began to sway again and high-pitched tinkling rained down on us.

Kez reached his hand out to me. As the winds died down and the chimes stilled, I clasped his hand. Standing this close to him, I saw the sadness that had settled under the surface of his skin. I took a step closer and reached for his other hand.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, squeezing my fingers.

For the first time since I met him, I saw Kez for who he really was: someone as trapped and broken as I was. We weren’t so different, and maybe, just maybe, we could be stronger together.

27

After another week at home, I felt steadier. My grief wasn’t gone, but it wasn’t so heavy that it clouded all my thoughts. This time when I went back to work at the bookstore, I didn’t make so many mistakes. And after a few days of showing Uncle Asim that I was fine, he let me work in the back office with Kez while Zaza helped him in the front.

As soon as Kez and I were alone, I said, “I think I figured something out.”

“Hello to you too.”

I made a face. “Hello, Keziah,” I said dramatically. “Would you be interested in some information I have?”

“Of course,” he said, settling against the armrest of the office chair.

In all my grief-stricken hours, I began to wonder about those symbols.

“This is the symbol Mal drew around his room, right?” I scribbled the symbol on a piece of paper.

Kez nodded. “Right.”

“And somebody who has another power showed me this symbol.” I drew the symbol from the back of MawMaw’s last letter to me.

“There are more symbols?” Kez asked.

“And more powers,” I said.

“So are you saying . . . ?”

“I think they match.” I said, and wrote Fire under the symbol that Mal used to draw. Then I wrote Water under the symbol from MawMaw’s envelope.

Kez looked at me. I could see him tightening his jaw to hold back a million questions.

“What about your symbol?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Kez scrunched his brow tight.

“What are the other powers?” he asked.

“Earth is the only other one I know.”

“So fire, wind, earth, and water?”

I nodded.

Kez reached into the desk drawer and pulled out his notebook. He flipped through pages and stopped on a timeline.

“I’ve been tracking news stories, trying to figure out where strange disasters are happening. I thought if I could find a pattern, I could find my brother.”

“And?”

Kez flipped away from the timeline and folded out a sheet of paper that was stapled into the journal.

“You see these circles. These are all the places where things have happened. After about a year, I noticed that the weird events happen in clusters. There will be five or six strange things in one area, but then it stops. So they must move around, because after a few weeks, the cluster pops up in a new place.”

“So where are they clustered now?”

“Close to here. A few hours north.”

A spike of fear rushed through me, and instantly the wind from outside reached for me, tapping against the windowpane.

“What’s wrong?” Kez asked.

“That means they’re close. And maybe they’re here because they’re tracking me.”

“Or maybe it’s just their mission,” Kez said.

I shook my head. “I don’t know. Sometimes I think I can face this and sometimes it just scares the crap out of me.”

We were silent as the winds kept whipping against the window. Then I looked up at Kez. “Can I leave something with you? I think . . .” I paused, MawMaw’s letter and the memory of the figure standing in her yard drifted through my memory. “I think I need to be ready to leave if something happens. I packed a bag.”

“I’ll hold on to it for you.”

“Thanks.” I pressed my fingers against my wrists, and the winds fell away.

Kez grabbed my hand. “Don’t send the winds away. Since we’re alone, you may as well practice with them.”

“How?” I asked.

He looked around the office, then grabbed a book off the table.

“Let’s use this,” he said, holding the book in the air.

I looked from his face to the book and back again.

“So you think when they try to kidnap me, they’re going to attack me with a book?”

Kez rolled his eyes. “I think all your life you’ve been playing with your powers, but how much precision work have you done with it? You obviously can throw people in the air, but can you do tricky small stuff?”

“Like floating a book?” I said, opening my palm. “That’s easy.”

“Like putting a book on a shelf,” Kez said. “Between two other books.”

“How is that supposed to save anybody?”

Kez shrugged. “Might not be a book. Might not be a shelf. Might be something you need to get out of a room and bring to you through some window bars. Could be anything. If I had powers, I’d want to be able to use them in any way I could. The more you can do, the better off you’ll be.”

I shrugged and cracked open the window. A forceful breeze rushed into the office, circling around my neck and diving through my hair. He pointed to the shelf behind him. It was full except for one empty slot where the book could go.

“Put this book in that space on the bookshelf.”

I lifted my hand and let the winds circle around my wrist. Flipping my palm up, I rolled my fingers, sending a breeze to go sliding toward the book. With the other hand, I coaxed the winds to form a flat raft that could stop the book from falling.

The book floated out of Kez’s hand. He turned to watch it drift toward the bookshelf. My mind went tumbling through hand motions and maneuvers, trying to figure out how to make the winds slide the book into the empty spot. I flipped my hands to face each other and sent two soft gusts pushing inward on either side of the book, but each time I pushed the book forward, it clunked against the book next to it.

I tried it again and again, lining it up perfectly, but each time it thunked against the shelf or the other books and fell to the floor. After four or five tries, I felt like a child again—unable to make my powers do what I wanted them to.

“The space is too small,” I complained. “The book can’t fit in there.”

Kez swiveled around to the shelf. With exaggerated motions, he tipped the book backward and wiggled the bottom corner in, then slid the rest of the book in. I pushed away my frustration to dissect what was happening. If I was doing it with my hands, I could push the space open with one hand and wiggle the book in with another, but these were the winds. If I wanted it to work, I couldn’t just pop the book in the space. I’d have to figure out a way to mimic muscle power.

I took a deep breath, then unfolded my fingers so that my palm was facing up. When I lifted my fingers, the book hovered above Kez’s hand. With a flick, I sent it drifting forward. With my other hand, I made two quick swats—one to the left and one to the right. Instead of making a small shift, the books went flying. The shelf rattled so hard, it made the whole bookcase shake violently. A plaque that sat on top of the bookcase crashed to the floor with some of the other books.

I covered my mouth, holding back a giggle while Kez leaned over the desk laughing quietly.

“Y’all okay?” Uncle Asim yelled. It sounded like he was halfway toward the office.

Kez cleared his throat. “All good.” He scooped the plaque off the ground and replaced it on its stand. “Maybe we should stop.” He still had a grin on his face.

“No.” I shook my head. “I almost got it.”

Just then, the office door popped open. Uncle Asim stepped into the office with a look of concern. Zaza peeked her head in behind him. His concern turned to confusion when he saw me and Kez laughing and a pile of books scattered on the floor.

“What happened?” Uncle Asim asked.

“I don’t know,” Kez said, wiping tears of laugher from his eyes. “The shelf fell. I think a peg might be missing.”

“And that’s funny?” Zaza asked, her face screwed up in disbelief.

Kez shrugged. My face instantly went serious.

“There are more pegs in the drawer,” Uncle Asim said. “Can I trust y’all to clean this up?”

We both nodded, swallowing the remains of our laughter.

“Well, get it together, because as soon as y’all are done, we’re cutting out early.”

“And I don’t want to be here longer than we need to,” Zaza added.

When they left the office, Kez and I looked at each other and broke into laughter all over again.

“We can try again tomorrow,” he said as he searched the drawer and found a new peg for the bookshelf. “We didn’t even start working.”

“I think you were right,” I said while he leveled the shelf. “I do need to learn how to do more with my powers.”

“What?” Kez said, cupping his ear. “I didn’t hear you.”

“I said I do need to learn to do more with my powers.”

“No, the other thing you said.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, that you were right?”

We crouched on the floor to pick up the books. I grabbed Kez’s shoulder and looked him in the eyes.

“You were right, and I want to try one more time.”

Kez looked over at me and held my gaze. Suddenly I became aware that we were inches away from each other. I blushed and let my hand drop from his shoulder. We busied ourselves reshelving the books. Then Kez cleared his throat and held up a book.

“This is the last time. Next thing you know, you’re gonna knock the whole bookshelf down.”

“Give me some credit,” I said, going back across the room.

Before I sent the book floating, I took a moment to look at Kez—his hopeful face, his wild hair, his encouraging eyes. My heart did a little somersault I didn’t understand. I was finally seeing another side of him. Past the parts that were stubborn and annoying, there was something more. There was someone who was fierce and determined—someone who didn’t want me to fail.

“We doing this?” Kez asked, shaking the book and interrupting my thoughts.

I nodded and took a deep breath before lifting my hands. With a steady hand, I flicked the book up and forward. The pressure I had used last time sent the books flying off the shelf. So this time, instead of swatting the books apart, I wiggled my fingers, easing the space open a little wider. Then, with a quick tap in the air, I shoved the book in place. It made a satisfying swish as it slid into the open space. When it was flush with the other books, Kez raced up to me and gave me a big hug.

“What did I tell you?” I said with a wide grin.

The thrill I felt wasn’t about the book—it was about hope. There was no map, no guidebook, and no plan, but instead of hiding myself away, maybe I could figure out what my powers were for—and maybe I could learn how to keep myself safe.

28

In the sticky days of summer that followed, I tried to pretend nothing had changed, but the shape of my days quickly shifted. Little by little, I drifted away from trying to keep up with Zaza and her friends. I let the hazy whirlwind of laughter and friendship slip away, no secret jaunts to the French Quarter or top-secret missions to attend late-night parties. Following MawMaw’s death, it felt like I only had space to dig deeper into myself.

Life suddenly revolved around the bookstore and experimenting with my powers. Kez started giving me random challenges: putting coins in a bottle, stacking rocks, removing one leaf from a tree. Every time he thought of something new, he’d send me a text and I’d find a way to meet up with him. At home, I found myself fiddling with my phone in the evenings, waiting for Kez’s next text the way I used to wait for Tyree’s calls.

One afternoon about a month after MawMaw’s funeral, Zaza burst into the back office, where Kez and I were working.

“Guess what,” Zaza said, her eyes gleaming like old times. “We have the afternoon off!”

I looked at Kez, then back at Zaza. “Why?”

Zaza put her hands on her hips and tilted her head like she was trying to figure me out. “What do you mean why? Drop the books, let’s go.”

“Great,” said Kez. “I’m supposed to finish this up by myself?”

“I don’t know what you’re supposed to do, Kez, because I’m not your boss. But me and V”—she took my wrist and pulled me toward the door—“we’re going to hang out. Later!”

After we had said goodbye to Uncle Asim and walked out of the store, Zaza turned to me, a concerned look on her face.

“What’s going on with you two?”

“With me and Kez? Nothing?” But my shaky voice didn’t match my words, making it obvious I was lying.

“I mean, he’s so annoying and boring—what are you always talking about?”

I wished I could explain it all to Zaza. Even if I could tell her about my powers and reveal that Kez was helping me grow stronger, there was so much of it I didn’t understand myself. I couldn’t explain how spending time with Kez was helping me more than I expected. I wasn’t surprised that experimenting with my powers was making me stronger, but I never expected it to make the pain of losing MawMaw easier to handle. Pushing myself to learn new things about the winds made edges of my grief become less sharp, and it made the hurt of MawMaw’s lies soften into an ache. The more I practiced, the easier it was for me to think of her without wanting to curl up into a ball and disappear.

“He’s helping me with the stuff with my MawMaw,” I said.

She looked at me like she knew I was telling her only half the truth.

“I know I’m loud, but you can talk to me about that stuff too, you know.”

“I know,” I said quietly, then quickly changed the subject. “Where we going anyway?”

“Arcade,” Zaza said, and fell silent.

We walked together, the sounds of passing cars and kids ringing in our ears. We were together, but it was only our bodies that were side by side. Our thoughts were keeping us miles apart.

“Catch!”

I felt something soft crash against my head. I looked up and everyone was staring at me.

“Girl, how are you going to drift off in here?” Macy asked. She spread her arms, motioning to the flashing bright lights, arcade games, and loud buzzing surrounding us.

“And how you going to miss my victory?” Dawn asked. She held up a stuffed toy snake with a bright yellow belly. “I won!”

“We ain’t seen you since school ended. You could at least act like you happy to hang out with us,” Toya said, gently pushing my shoulder.

Zaza put her arm around me. “Y’all act like it ain’t normal to be spacey after what she’s been through. You lose somebody and you see how you act.”

“We just playing,” Macy said. “Right, y’all?” She looked at everyone with an aggressive glare.

“Of course!” Dawn said.

“Follow us,” Macy said, grabbing Toya’s arm. “Let’s go play another game.”

Dawn rushed over to me and slipped her arm through mine. Together, she and Zaza pulled me forward. We stumbled through the maze of machines with Toya’s and Macy’s laughter floating in the air in front of us. The weight of Zaza’s arm resting on my shoulders and Dawn’s elbow on my hip helped me stay grounded, reminding me the real world was out here, inside the arcade, and not in the drifting tangle of my thoughts.

We stopped in front of a row of machines that had big screens and a platform attached to each game. Zaza and Dawn let go of me and jumped on one of the machines.

“You know how to play this, V?” Macy asked, swooping up next to me.

“What about me?” Toya asked.

“You can play the next round. Come on, V.”

Macy stepped on the platform next to Zaza and Dawn. I joined her.

“Look,” she said, elbowing me. “If you don’t, I’m gonna kick your butt.”

She dissolved into a giggle that reminded me of Jabari and how excited he got when he beat me in one of his video games.

Macy stomped her foot on an arrow. “You see the arrows on the screen, you gotta do the same with your feet.”

“I got it,” I said, pulling up the waist on my jeans.

“Show her what’s up, V,” Toya said, clapping.

Macy put a few tokens in the machine.

“You think you ready, but you ain’t,” Macy said, standing straighter as the lights on the machine started flashing wildly.

I looked over at Dawn and Zaza, who were already giggling and stamping wildly on the platform next to us. Macy and I were completely still as the screen counted down. Then, for three giddy minutes, Macy and I dissolved into laughter as we raced to stomp our feet on the squares that matched the arrows flashing on the screen.

When it was over, I collapsed against the railing out of breath.

“Did I win?”

“Ha,” Macy said. “Not even close.”

“You did good,” Toya said, patting my shoulder. “For your first time.”

As I was leaning over, trying to catch my breath, I felt a whoosh of breeze rush past us. We all turned around together.

“They really blasting the air in here,” Dawn said.

Zaza leaned forward and squinted.

“Not again,” she said, then jumped off the platform and stormed toward the exit.

I saw a person standing in the doorway. When they saw her coming, they turned and rushed away.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Oh, you don’t know?” Dawn said.

“Some creep has been following Zaza,” Macy said.

My body went cold. “What?”

I rushed after Zaza. She had pushed open the exit and was standing on the sidewalk. Her face flushed with anger.

“You alright?” I asked.

“Yeah, some fool been stalking me.”

“For how long?” I asked.

“Since you been . . .” She looked at me and stopped talking.

“Since I been what?”

“Hanging with Kez.”

I sighed. “You know, it’s not . . .”

Zaza held up her hand. “Don’t explain. You can get over your grandmother’s death however you want.”

“Should we see where they went?” I asked.

Zaza walked to the curb and looked in both directions.

“He’s gone,” she said.

“What does he look like?” I asked.

Zaza looked at me, confused. “What does it matter? He’s creepy and he’s following me around.”

Dawn and the girls came out of the arcade behind us.

“Y’all found him?” Dawn asked.

“No,” Zaza said.

“We need to call my cousin,” Toya said.

“What he gonna do? We don’t even know who it is,” Zaza said.

“True,” Toya said.

The five of us stood there without speaking, the weight of danger pressing on our shoulders.

“So y’all done?” Toya asked, breaking the silence.

“No way,” Zaza said. “We’re not going to let him ruin our good time.”

“Darts! Darts! Darts!” Toya said, clapping her hands. “I’ll even let you win.”

Zaza sucked her teeth and shoved Toya. “You know you never let me win. I could beat you with my left hand.”

“Do it, then,” Toya dared.

Together, we trooped back into the arcade. Everyone seemed more relaxed, but I was a wreck. After a few uneventful weeks, learning about my powers had become a game for a distant threat. Now I knew how wrong I was. There was no way whoever was following Zaza was a random person. I was convinced that the Vaunted were here, and they were just a few steps away from finding me.

After the arcade, Zaza and I said goodbye to the girls.

“I’m gonna meet you at the house,” I said to Zaza. “I forgot something at the bookstore.”

Zaza shot me a sour look.

“It’s like you don’t even want to hang out with me anymore.”

“No, Zaza,” I said, grabbing her in a side hug. “It’s not like that. It’s not gonna take long. I’ll just go pick up . . .”

Zaza waved her hand.

“Whatever,” she said. Then she turned and walked away.

On the way to the bookstore, I texted Kez. He was waiting downstairs when I arrived.

“What happened?” Kez asked.

“I think they’re here.”

Kez looked around, then turned and pushed open the front door.

“Let’s go inside.”

Upstairs, everything looked just like I remembered it—a messy table, a neatly made bed, walls covered with scribbled notes, photographs, and newspaper clippings.

“So,” Kez said, grabbing his notebook. “Tell me what happened.”

“We were at the arcade, and Zaza saw this guy standing in the entrance. I guess he was watching her or something. She yelled and then ran after him. When I asked her about it, she said he’d been stalking her.”

“So why do you think it’s them?”

“Who else could it be? They must have seen the same video of the motorcycle you did, but they picked the wrong girl to follow.”

Kez was silent. I let out a huge exhale.

“I know I have to do something. But what? They’re invisible. We’re no closer to finding them. They probably know more about us than we know about them.”

“True, but maybe we can stalk them back.”

“What?” I looked at Kez like he was crazy.

“If they’re following Zaza, then we know where they are. So we can follow them back.”

I thought about it, but it seemed so dangerous. It was one thing to prepare for danger—it was another to knowingly walk right into it. I walked over to the bed and collapsed in a slump on the edge of the mattress.

“I can’t let anything happen to her.” I looked up at Kez. “She knows something’s going on. She knows I’m lying to her and hiding things from her—and she thinks it’s because I don’t want to be around her anymore.” I took a breath. “MawMaw lied to me my whole life. But now . . .” I trailed off as Zaza’s hurt face flashed in my mind. “. . . now I understand.”

As soon as I said I understood, a huge release broke inside me and the tears came spilling down my cheeks. Kez rushed over and pulled me onto my feet.

“I get it now,” I said, my voice breaking. “She just wanted to protect me. But she’s gone, and there’s no one left to protect me.”

Kez pulled me into a hug. “I’m here. I got you. I’m gonna protect you.”

“You?” I pulled away to look him in the face. “How are you going to protect me?”

“I’m serious,” Kez said. His voice grew stronger, bolder. “I promise I will.”

As he wiped the tears from my face, his eyes held mine. He held me like he wasn’t afraid of anything, like together we could fight anyone. I felt his energy, strong and certain, rush through my body. I was suddenly aware that we were face-to-face again. For a few seconds, I lost myself in the deep brown of his eyes, in the maze of freckles on his cheeks. His mouth was close enough to kiss . . . if I wanted to. Did I want to?

The realization of what I was thinking swept through me, and I broke away, leaving the shelter of his embrace.

I walked over to his wall, my arms still tingling from where he had held me.

“Any new clues?” I asked, riffling through the newspaper clippings and scribbled notes on the wall. The symbols and his handwritten questions were familiar, but as I scanned the wall I saw two words that made me go still.

Daphne Roman

My mother’s name.

“What is this?” I asked, pointing to the wall.

Kez walked over. When he saw what I was pointing at, his face went pale and he was quiet for a long time.

“Talk!” I yelled, shoving him. At the same time, a gust of wind banged against the side of the house. “What is my mother’s name doing here?”

When he didn’t answer, I started reading the papers aloud and yanking them from the wall.

“Stop!” Kez said. “I’ll explain.”

He sighed and walked over to his desk. He pulled a box from the top drawer, opened it, then handed me a photograph.

I saw a woman and a young man standing together in front of a brick building. Looking closer, I saw that the woman was my mother’s height but she looked like she was Auntie Eve’s age, an age my mother never reached.

“Who is this?” I whispered, my hand shaking as I stared at the photo.

“That’s your mother.” Kez’s voice was firm but pained.

I shook my head. “No. My mother is dead. She died in Katrina.”

“That’s your mother,” Kez repeated. “I followed her here.”

I looked up at him. The photo slipped out of my fingers and fluttered to the bed. It felt like the room was swimming. Memories, old photos of my parents, the dream . . . all of it bombarded me, hammering me like a hurricane.

“She’s alive?” The words hurt my throat and my heart.

“I wasn’t sure at first. I didn’t want to tell you if I was wrong.”

I inhaled a short, sharp breath. Everyone was walking around with knowledge about me and my life, knowledge I didn’t have. MawMaw, Auntie Eve, and now Kez . . . I felt like a puppet the world was intent on manipulating.

“So you were using me?” My voice shook. I was just another clue, another stepping-stone to Kez’s goal. I may as well be pinned to the wall.

“What? No! I wasn’t using you.” Kez’s voice was full of protest.

When I met him, he was rough, rude. It was obvious that the only thing that mattered to him was getting the information he needed. But since MawMaw had passed, he had changed . . . or did he just change his game?

“You’re still lying to me.”

“You have to understand . . .” His voice broke. “I need to find my brother.”

“Are you serious? So all of this . . . You couldn’t force me, so you thought you would make me like you? Make me want to help you?”

“What? No!” Kez held his hands out, shaking them in the air like he was desperate for me to understand. “I wasn’t trying to make you like me. I didn’t want to like you. I . . . I just wanted to find my brother.” He slumped his shoulders and pressed his hands together in prayer. His voice softened as he pleaded. “I wanted to tell you the truth. I planned to, but you couldn’t even handle it when I told you I knew about your powers. Please believe me. I was just waiting for the right time. . . .”

“No.” I shook my head. “This can’t be true. She can’t be alive.”

“After my brother disappeared, I found this picture of him with your mother in his room. I tried to find out who she was. I did photo searches. I looked for news reports of strange fires. I didn’t know what I was looking for, but I needed to find something, anything, to tell me where he was. Then I found this.”

He reached into the box and pulled out a folded piece of paper. I snatched the paper from his hand, unfolded it, and saw a newspaper story with the headline “Teen Survives Fire.” The news story had two pictures—one of a warehouse on fire and one of my mother as a teenager.

“I couldn’t believe it,” Kez said after a pause. “The exact same thing had happened to my brother. He survived a fire, then he could make fire. And now this woman was in a photograph with him that I found in his room? It had to be connected. She had to be connected.”

He broke off abruptly and stared at me. I could tell there was more that he knew, more that he wanted to keep hidden.

“I can’t hate you any more than I do right now. So just finish the story.”

Kez frowned. “I knew she had to know what happened to him. So I did more research about her. I was shocked to find her name in a newspaper story about Uncle Asim reopening his bookstore after Katrina. It had mentioned that his sister-in-law and her husband died in Katrina, but I knew that couldn’t be true. I was looking at a picture of her.”

My mouth fell open in shock.

“Wait, so you’ve been using Uncle Asim and Auntie Eve this whole time,” I said, anger making my voice sharp.

Kez looked anguished. “I didn’t mean to become friends with the family. I thought if I worked in the store, I’d be close enough to learn more about your mother. But then they liked me, and . . .”

“And they gave you a place to stay and made space for you in the family. And you . . .”

Kez spread his hands. “What am I supposed to do? I hate that I’m lying to them. That’s why I try to be the best I can, in the bookstore, at the house.”

I backed away from Kez, from his wall, from the photograph of my mother.

“You’re a horrible person. You’re a liar and a user, and—”

“I’m a desperate person who loves his brother. He might be in trouble, and I just want to find him.”

I spotted my backpack under his table. I couldn’t believe I had left everything that was most valuable to me with him for safekeeping. I scooped it up.

“Good luck with that,” I said, and stalked toward the door.

“Don’t leave!” Kez said, following me. “There’s more. Your mother, she . . .”

I stopped short, but I didn’t turn around. I couldn’t look at him.

“She’s working with them.”

I felt Kez walk up behind me.

“I think your mother is the one who kidnapped my brother. She took him or brainwashed him or something. She’s the link between him and the Vaunted. She’s hiding him somewhere. If I find her, I find him.”

“No,” I whispered. My mother wasn’t alive. She wasn’t a real person. She was a feeling, a presence in my dreams. She couldn’t be working with the Vaunted. She couldn’t be the reason his brother disappeared. She couldn’t be anything but a memory or whisper, an idea or a wish—anything but flesh and bone.

Without another word, I ran to the door.

“Don’t leave!” he yelled.

I whirled around and flipped my hand up. A gust of wind shoved him away.

“Don’t follow me!”

I yanked the door open. As it slammed behind me, I threw my backpack on, then stumbled down the stairs as quickly as I could. I heard Kez open the door, but I didn’t look back. Plowing through the bookstore, I struggled to fight the barrage of his lies. When I was outside, I did the only thing I could do—I ran, and I urged the winds to race alongside me, to help me break free.

29

For a few blocks, I ran, blind to the world around me.

My mother was alive.

But how? How could she still be walking, talking, breathing without telling me, or Auntie Eve, or anybody?

The questions swirled in my mind, pounding through me—and the winds exploded with them, surging as furiously as my emotions, snaking through trees and slamming into houses as I ran. I had spent my life hiding the winds from the world, but in this moment, I was powerless to chase them away.

My mind kept reaching back into the past, digging through the stories MawMaw had told me. I thought about the last days of my parents. MawMaw said they had spent three days stuck in our house, surrounded by water. She’d told me how long it had taken for rescue to come. How the neighbors had found me, floating all alone on a homemade raft. MawMaw said that no one knew exactly what happened—that my father’s body was found alone, and my mother gone. Drowned or starved, no one knew. She had just disappeared. How many more lies had MawMaw told me? Would I ever uncover them all?

Little by little, awareness came seeping in. I felt the panicked pulsing behind my eyes; the force of my hands, whipping up the winds each time they swung forward and back; the gasp of my breath, tugging at my chest and throat. And I caught the flash of surprise on people’s faces as I raced past.

I thought of Kez then, the only other person I could talk to about any of this. His name pierced me like an arrow. I drew in a sharp breath, then let out a huge exhale that shook my entire body. The slap of my feet against the concrete grew slower and slower until finally I was walking.

I quickly pressed my fingers against my wrist and calmed the winds, then looked around. Dusk had deepened, making the air soft and gray. The houses around me seemed dark and vacant; the parked cars seemed abandoned. There was no one in sight. For a few seconds, the world was quiet, like I was the only person alive.

Suddenly, the wind kicked up again. Diving past my face, darting wildly around me. I lifted one palm to the sky, and—for the first time in my life—the winds did not draw near. They pulled away from me, scattering outward. Then they gathered into a huge gust and disappeared behind me. I looked over my shoulder in shock, watching them whoosh down the middle of the street, before wheeling around to barrel toward me.

I skittered into the street, jumping sideways quick enough to miss the full blast. The whirlwind skimmed my shoulder, knocking me off-balance as it rumbled past, violently ruffling leaves and shaking trees as it swept by. In a flash it twisted, swirling back on itself to hurtle in my direction again. Terror blossomed as I realized with horror: this wind was hunting me.

I turned and sprinted away, but my feet were no match for the winds. They shot past me, blocking my path, circling around me in a chaotic loop. The winds kept whirling until I was cut off from the world, trapped in a mini tornado with me at its center. There was nothing but concrete and parked cars within reach—and there was nowhere left to run.

I took a wide stance, stiffened my legs, and lifted both hands. Everything I’d practiced with Kez had disappeared from my mind, but I needed to find a way to fight. Bracing my right hand, I pointed two fingers and shot out a blast of wind as hard as I could. It sped through the air and crashed into the tornado. It pulsed, then sent the wind flying back at me. My own blast slammed into my chest, shoving me backward and stinging my skin.

As I shook off the pain, the tornado shifted, slowly winding tighter. I flung my arms wide, flattened both hands, and twirled, releasing two sharp blades of wind as I sent myself spinning. The tornado roared, picking up speed as it sent each blast careening back at me. I stumbled, struggling to stay on my feet, as shards of wind ricocheted against my limbs, burning me everywhere they hit. A wave of helplessness plunged through me. How could the winds—this power that had been a part of me all my life—be the thing that destroyed me?

Legs weak and arms lifeless, I slumped to the ground. I couldn’t tell how long I had been battling, but I felt like I had nothing left. Defeat thick in my throat, I closed my eyes and prepared myself to be pummeled by the tornado. MawMaw and Zaza, Auntie Eve and my mother, Uncle Asim and Jabari—they all flashed through my mind.

As I was tensing myself for the final onslaught, the sharp odor of gasoline interrupted my thoughts. I opened my eyes. There was a dusty blue car sitting a few feet away from me. I pressed myself up from the concrete as all the objects I had practiced on with Kez went flickering through my mind. If I had learned anything from moving around pencils and boats, books and skateboards, it was to keep trying and never accept failure. If my winds weren’t strong enough to rip this trap apart, maybe metal could break through.

I scrambled over to the car, grabbed its bumper, and pulled myself up on its trunk. Finding a handhold in a crease between the back window and the trunk, I gripped with all my might, threw one hand up in the air, and circled it overhead. Relief flowed through me as a stream of winds stood at attention, awaiting my command. Mimicking the swirling winds around me, I unleashed my own whirlwind at my back, using it to power the car forward. The wheels lurched, and I tightened my grip as the car slid into motion.

Gaining momentum with an intense push of my winds, the car barreled forward until the hood collided with the tornado. The entire car shuddered, but I pushed harder, building more and more pressure until finally the front of the car ripped through. I tensed, ducking low as the car tore through—icy strands of wind slapped me like angry hands as I broke free.

The car shot forward, and I clung to the trunk, wrestling my panic under control as we drifted away from the tornado. Little by little, the sights and sounds of the neighborhood filtered into my consciousness. I slowly became aware of what I must look like—a girl, battered and terrified, hair wild, eyes full of terror, gripping the back of a moving car with no driver.

I lowered my hand and brought my fist to my chest, sending the winds sailing away. The car slowed to a stop, and I jumped down. Praying no one had pulled out their cell phone, I threw my hood over my head and sprinted onto the sidewalk. Hunched behind a tree, I dared to look back only once. The whirlwind was still there, swirling in the middle of the street, empty and ominous, like a storm with no destination. And next to it I could make out the silhouettes of two figures. They lifted their hands in unison, and in response, the winds disappeared into nothingness.

My eyes grew wide, then I gripped the straps of my backpack and ran.

30

When I was sure no one was following me, I slowed to a walk. I started toward home, then froze as the realization dropped sudden and hard in my heart: I couldn’t go back to the house. I couldn’t lead the Vaunted to Auntie Eve and Uncle Asim’s house. They were already following Zaza, but now that they had attacked, they knew for sure it was me they were looking for. What if I went back and they hurt the family when they came for me?

I ducked into an empty driveway and slumped against the fence. Pressing my hands to my face, I tried to think, to come up with a plan. A car sped by, and fear flared through me. I crawled farther into the driveway and dug out my phone. I couldn’t call Auntie Eve or Zaza.

That left Kez or Tyree. And Kez was not an option.

I took a deep shaky breath, typed a few words, then pressed send.

Can you talk?

Within a few seconds, my screen lit up in the dark. I gulped and answered the phone.

“You must be reading my mind. I was just about to call you.”

The relief of hearing Tyree’s voice was overpowering. I shoved against my stress and terror, trying hard to sound normal.

“You were?”

“I’m about to roll out to my aunt’s place. You home?”

“I . . .”

“I just wanted to give you a hug before I go.”

I took a ragged breath. Everything I was running from pushed at my throat. It all wanted to burst out, but I held my lips tight, afraid that if I opened my mouth to speak, it would all come rushing out.

“I’m not home,” I whispered.

“Just text me where you at. I’ll come and get my hug, okay?”

“Okay,” I said, shaking my head. A few tears escaped my eyes.

I texted him my location, then pressed myself against the fence, feeling like a tiny speck of desperation dwarfed by the dark of the night.

When Tyree pulled up to the corner, I dragged myself up from the ground and limped out of the driveway. He jumped out, his face alarmed at the sight of me.

“You’re limping.” He touched my cheek, and I winced. “And your face is all scraped up. What happened?”

I collapsed against him with a sob. He wrapped his arms around me, and for a few seconds, I felt the sweet sensation of safety sweep through me. Then I remembered that the Vaunted were close—safety no longer existed for me.

“Let’s go . . .” I said, pushing away from him. I took two steps, then my knees went weak.

He caught me before I fell, his eyes full of worry.

“Lean on me.”

He tightened his arms around me, eased my bag off my back, and helped me into the passenger seat. As he closed the door behind me, I wrapped my arms around myself. Even with Tyree close, I still felt alone.

When he got into the driver’s seat, he turned and said, “Where am I taking you?”

“I . . .” My mind spun. The only place I could go was MawMaw’s. I imagined myself hiding out there until the Vaunted found me. Or maybe . . . I thought about the money in my backpack. Maybe I could buy a plane ticket and disappear.

“The airport,” I said.

Tyree shot me a confused look. “You running away?”

“Not really,” I said with a shrug. “I gotta take a trip.”

“Just like that? No suitcases, no goodbyes, nothing?” He stared at me for a moment. “V, are you serious? What kind of trouble are you in?”

I peeked out of the windshield, then turned and squinted through the back window.

“Can we just go?” I asked, fear flitting across my face. I had a bag full of money, the photo of me and my parents, MawMaw’s letter, my mother’s note, and some clothing. But I didn’t have a plan.

We drove in silence, my stomach twisting with guilt. Just by sitting in his car, I could be opening the doors of disaster in Tyree’s life. We stopped at a red light, and I felt Tyree brush my hair back from my face. I turned to look at him.

“Talk to me. Let me help you figure this out.”

I smiled softly, warmed by his concern. “I wish I could.”

Tyree shook his head. “So you leaving? You not even telling Zaza?”

“I’ll text Auntie Eve. She’ll understand.”

Tyree nodded. Worry sat heavy on his face. I reached out and grabbed his hand.

“Thank you for picking me up. I’m glad I got to see you one more time.”

Tyree pulled over and turned to face me. “What are you talking about, one more time?”

“It’s better for everyone.” I shrugged.

“Not me.” Tyree’s voice was hard. “It’s not better for me.”

I shot him a fierce look. “Trust me, it is.”

He squeezed my hand. “You obviously need help, Veronique. Let me help you.”

“How?”

Tyree paused. “Come with me to my aunt’s house. She’ll know what to do.”

When I didn’t speak, Tyree pressed harder. “You can still disappear. Come with me, just for a while. Take a second to breathe. Heal up. Make a plan. You’re in no shape to go anywhere by yourself.”

As he talked, the resistance seeped out of my body. I touched his face.

“I don’t want you to do this,” I whispered. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’m not saying I can fix anything. I’m not gonna get in the middle of nothing. I just want you to take a second to think—and for us to say goodbye the right way.”

After arguing with Kez and battling the tornado and panicking about what to do, I had no more fight left in me. I sank back against the seat.

“Okay.”

Tyree gave my hand one last squeeze, then started driving again. As he focused on the road, I pulled out my phone to text Auntie Eve. Staring at the screen, I had a flashback to the moment when she told me she couldn’t keep me if I was going to bring trouble to her house. Back then, I thought she was just being mean, that she didn’t want me around, but now that I knew what danger looked like, I saw her for who she really was—a fierce protector of her family. And I knew she was right—I had to stay far away.

Something happened. I can’t come home. I will call when it is safe. Thank you for taking care of me.

I love you.

I pressed send, then rested my head against the seat and closed my eyes.

31

I woke up curled against the car door with a stiff neck. I stretched and looked over at the driver’s seat, but Tyree wasn’t there. I jolted up and looked around. It was still night, but the car was covered in light. With every shift of my gaze, I saw something new: another car, a trash can, a gas pump, and a small concrete store a few feet away from the pumps. Just as I realized we were at a gas station, Tyree pushed open the door of the store and walked toward the car. When he saw I was awake, he held up two plastic bags like he had found a treasure.

“They got po-boys in there,” he said after he opened the car door. “And crawfish.”

He tossed the bags onto the back seat and dropped down into the driver’s seat.

“We’re bringing it to your auntie’s house?” I asked.

Tyree shook his head.

“We wouldn’t get there till one or two in the morning. Can’t roll up on her in the middle of the night like that. They got a motel close by I usually stop at when I drive out here. We can have dinner and rest, then head out in the morning. You cool with that?”

I nodded, and Tyree looked relieved. He had no idea that I would have agreed to whatever he suggested. I had no one and no choices. I would do anything to put off having to face whatever was coming for me.

Tyree kissed me on the cheek, then put the car in drive. When we got back on the highway, I pulled out my phone to check my texts. There was no response from Auntie Eve. As we turned off the highway, the whisper of car tires surrounding us disappeared. We drove past closed businesses, to a long strip of short brick buildings. When we turned into the driveway, I saw the building was marked with a tall sign that read MOTEL in big black letters.

“Be right back,” Tyree said, turning off the car.

As I stared at Tyree through the glass windows of the motel office, my brain started to catch up to the present. Slowly reality pushed away the fog of my problems and what I was about to do burned through my mind. I was about to spend the night in the same room with Tyree. We had no homes to get back to and no adults to answer to. Just me and him, together, with no end.

In that moment, he turned around and peered through the window to check on me. I lifted my hand and waved at him. He gave me a grin and turned back to the man behind the counter. A few minutes later, he came out of the motel office and held the key up as he returned to the car.

“Ready?” he asked, settling in the driver’s seat.

I nodded, and he drove around the motel to find our room. Tyree grabbed the food and his duffel bag, I grabbed my emergency backpack, and we slammed the car doors shut. As I followed Tyree to the room, a few playful strands of wind swept up behind me, caressing my hair. A riot of emotions exploded in my chest, and my eyes slid closed briefly. I hadn’t even reached for the winds since the attack. After so much violence from them, I was shaken and confused, but here they were reminding me that, yes, they still belonged to me.

When we stepped into the room, we were assaulted by the odor of cleaning products and cigarette smoke, and I was dragged back to the present moment. Tyree crossed the room, pulled the curtains to the side, and worked the window open. A warm gust of air blew into the room, and Tyree walked away to put his bags down. He turned the air conditioner up as I slipped off my backpack and walked to the window with determined steps. Whatever happened with the tornado, I couldn’t forget who I was. I opened my palms in surrender and let the breeze sweep over me, circling my body. It felt so soft and comforting that I wanted to cry.

After standing there for a while, I realized the winds weren’t the only thing washing over me. Moonlight illuminated the sky, bathing me in its light. I leaned in the window, staring up at the beautiful glow of the moon. Tyree joined me and wrapped his arms around me.

“You okay?” he whispered.

“Yeah, did you see the moon?” I put my head on his shoulder.

“She showing out tonight. You ready to eat?”

I nodded. Together we turned away from the window. My hand found Tyree’s, and we walked over to the table hand in hand. There were two po-boys sitting in the middle of the table.

“So I got a half shrimp, half oyster. And this one is hot sausage,” Tyree said as he unwrapped them.

“And?” I asked, motioning to a bag sitting on the table close to the wall.

“Half a pound of crawfish,” he said, pulling back the plastic.

Inside was a paper bag taped closed and a white Styrofoam container.

“And potato salad?” I asked, pointing to the container.

“Just a little.”

I laughed. “You think we need all this food?”

“I didn’t know what you wanted,” he said with a shrug.

I pulled the bag of crawfish toward me and sat down. He grabbed the hot sausage po-boy. I flattened an empty plastic bag and spilled some of the bright red crawfish onto the bag. Suddenly layers of home washed over me: zydeco picnics with MawMaw, dinner with Auntie Eve’s family.

We ate in silence, the cracking of the crawfish shells, the crunch of the bread on Tyree’s po-boy filling the room. When his sandwich was done, Tyree balled up the paper the sandwich was wrapped in.

“You done?” he asked. I nodded, and he tied up the crawfish shells in the bag. After I helped him clear the table, I followed him into the bathroom, where we washed our hands. When we returned to the main room, Tyee stood in front of me with his arms crossed.

“Now it’s time for you to keep your promise.” He grinned, playfully challenging me.

“My promise?” I looked up at him confused, my mind spinning through our conversations.

“You don’t remember?”

He went over to the table and grabbed his phone, still grinning as he typed. Then he tapped the screen and put the phone down. The bouncing beat of a zydeco song came through his speakers.

“You promised to teach me how to zydeco.”

I threw my head back and laughed.

“What if you don’t have rhythm?” I asked, my hands on my hips.

“Me? No rhythm?” He dipped down in front of me, circling his arms around my waist. “You don’t remember? I’m a god on the dance floor!”

He lifted me and spun me around. When he put me down, I reached over to his phone and turned the volume up. The music washed over us like rain. Not until those familiar sounds were filling the motel room did I realize how long it had been since I had danced to zydeco.

“Ready?” I asked, pulling him into a spin.

For about an hour, I switched back and forth between standing next to him, showing him steps, and dancing in his arms to practice. By the time we were done, he had learned a few steps and invented a few of his own.

“I could dance with you forever,” he said, pulling me into a fast spin.

I fell off-balance, and we stumbled around trying to catch our footing before tumbling onto the bed. We held on to each other, laughing wild and free. Tyree gripped my waist and rolled onto his back, pulling me with him. For a few seconds, we were still, staring into each other’s eyes. I wondered if mine glinted in moonlight the way his did. Remembering all the moments he had smiled at me, joked with me, and reached for me sent me spinning through everything we had been and everything we could be. In that moment, kissing him felt like the most important thing in the world.

When our lips touched, an electric energy exploded around us, drenching my skin and shifting my sense of space and time. As we drew closer and closer, my troubles felt like they were miles away. All I was aware of was Tyree’s body and mine.

That all-consuming energy raced through me. I became dizzy with the power of my hands on Tyree and the press of his hands on me. When I felt the energy would pull me under, I broke away, taking a deep breath. Tyree sighed as I sat up. His eyes searched my face in the dark.

“You okay?”

I nodded and climbed off the bed. Tyree leaned up on his elbow and watched me walk across the room and shut the window.

“I got you a toothbrush and some bathroom stuff. I didn’t know what you had in that bag.”

“Thank you,” I said with a smile. I didn’t trust myself to say more. Not while I was still trembling from being so close to him; not while I was so terrified of what I could bring to us if I let myself be free.

I grabbed the bag and took it with me into the bathroom. Behind the closed door, I changed into my nightclothes and brushed my teeth. After splashing my face with water, I stared at myself in the mirror. The cuts on my face and the exhaustion in my eyes made me almost unrecognizable. I turned away from my reflection and tried to erase what I had seen in the mirror. Since I had left MawMaw, I had seen too many different Veroniques staring back at me.

I stepped out of the bathroom and dropped my clothes on an empty chair. Without a word, Tyree went to the bathroom, and I crawled into bed, working to push my thoughts away. Now was not the time to drown in my worries. Tonight I was here with Tyree. As I slipped under the covers, I noticed that he had put white T-shirts over the pillowcases and lit a candle with a sweet vanilla scent on the side table. With the sound of the water running in the bathroom soothing me, I finally closed my eyes and slipped into sleep.

When I felt the bed moving, I blinked my eyes open. Tyree slid under the covers and wrapped his arms around me.

“It’s okay, you know?” he said softly.

“What?” I asked, my voice thick with sleep.

“It’s okay to be lost.”

“It is?” I asked.

Then I snuggled close to Tyree. Maybe I was a danger and a terror, maybe I would always be in hiding, living on the run, but in this moment—curled up with Tyree—I didn’t need to hide. I could relax into his closeness and let disaster wait for another day.

32

It wasn’t sunlight or a kiss from Tyree that woke me in the morning. It was my phone buzzing. I rolled over and grabbed it. The call was from Kez. I sent it to voicemail and checked my missed calls. There were five from Kez and two from Zaza. There was also a text from Auntie Eve.

Come home. We can figure this out together. Call as soon as you can.

I stared at her message with a soft sadness. No matter how good her words felt, I knew her invitation was a weakness. Love made her welcome me back, but me returning would only open the family to danger. I would have to be strong for both of us.

I am safe. I will call when I can. I love you.

The next time my phone buzzed, Tyree sat up and stretched. When I saw Kez’s name on the screen, I silenced the phone.

“Sleep good?” he asked.

I nodded. “Did you?”

“Yeah. We gonna roll soon. You good with that?”

“Yeah,” I said with a smile. But the smile was forced. Of course Tyree wanted to help me, but bringing whatever was coming for me to his aunt’s house was as bad as bringing it home to Auntie Eve and the family.

My phone buzzed again. I ignored it. Tyree looked at me.

“You ain’t gonna get that?”

I grabbed the phone to silence it again.

“Nope.”

Tyree glanced at my phone.

“Kez,” he read. “Ain’t that the dude that work in the bookstore?”

“Yep.”

Tyree leaned up on his elbows and shot me a suspicious look. “Y’all got something going on?”

“No.” The word burst out of me loud and quick. “He just thinks he knows everything.”

“He trying to help you too?” Tyree’s suspicion had softened, but he still sounded concerned.

“Something like that,” I said. “Can we just go?”

Tyree nodded, and we both got out of bed. We quietly gathered our things, moving through the spaces where we had laughed, danced, and talked the night away. When we were all packed, I tucked my phone in my back pocket and followed Tyree out of the motel room. It buzzed again while he was returning the key and again as we drove onto the highway, surrounded by the rosy hue of dawn.

“Must be important,” Tyree said, his jaw tight. He didn’t turn to look at me; instead he stared through the windshield at the road ahead.

“It’s not,” I said. “I’m turning it off.”

Kez had already destroyed my trust. I didn’t need him ruining my relationship with Tyree too. Of course, I didn’t need Kez to ruin my relationship—I was the disaster that destroyed everything in my life.

As silence stretched between us, it felt like my secret was ballooning, sucking up all the air in the car. I had left Zaza’s family to save them; it wasn’t fair of me to put Tyree and the people he loved in danger, especially without him knowing why. I took a deep breath, thinking of what MawMaw had said all those months ago about who to trust—and then I leaped.

“Tyree, I have to tell you something.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

I sighed. “Everything’s wrong. And I have to explain why you can’t bring me to your aunt’s house. Why you have to let me go.”

Tyree shot me a sideways glance, as if checking to see if I was serious.

“How many times I gotta beg you to let me help you?” he asked.

“You don’t understand,” I said.

I flashed back to the terror I felt when I was fighting that tornado, and how weak and insignificant I felt afterward. Since MawMaw’s funeral, that tension had been there—run or fight. I had been preparing for both, packing my emergency bag and strengthening my power and control with Kez. Underneath it all, though, I think some part of me always thought I really could stay hidden. That I could escape my life, my destiny, as MawMaw had called it. I saw now that I had been fooling myself—the choice had already been made for me.

“Some dangerous people are after me,” I said, looking at him with pleading eyes. “I can’t lead them to your aunt’s house. I can’t even get caught with you.”

Tyree shot me a skeptical look.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m different,” I said. “I can do things that other people can’t.”

“Like what?”

“I’ll show you. Can you pull over somewhere?”

The car was quiet as Tyree guided us off the highway. He drove us toward a gas station.

“Not there,” I said. “Somewhere . . . private.”

We rolled past the gas station, and Tyree turned onto the entrance road to an abandoned-looking, ramshackle building. The dirt path curved behind it to a small empty parking lot edged by huge, beautiful trees. He parked, then turned to me.

“So now you’re ready to tell me what’s going on?”

I shifted my body to face him. I would never be ready to tell anyone about my powers, but I realized he would never leave me if he didn’t know the truth. Instead of talking, I leaned toward him and brushed my lips against his. He looked at me, his eyes wide with questions, but he surrendered to the kiss, leaning in to press his lips to mine. When our soft kiss sparked that electric energy in me, I didn’t stop the winds from reacting. I let them slip in through the car vents and ripple and rustle around us. They tumbled through my air and brushed against Tyree’s cheeks.

“Do you feel that?” I asked, pulling away.

“What? This?” He took my hand and pressed it against his chest. I could feel his heart thudding.

“No.” I shook my head. “The winds.”

He looked at me confused. “Winds?”

I lowered my window and reached past him to lower his. Then I held my hand between us and unfurled my fingers. As he watched, I twirled my fingers, then flicked them forward. Following the motion of my fingers, a strong string of winds whirled into the car, whipping around us before shooting out of his window and diving through the thicket of trees that surrounded the parking lot. A loud rustling rose up as Tyree stared at the trembling trees outside, then turned back to me.

“What . . . ?”

Whatever question Tyree had did not form. His voice dropped off, and he looked from me to the trees, then back to me again. I squeezed my eyes tightly and sighed. In the silence, I felt my heart breaking. I didn’t want to look at him or see his feelings for me disintegrate and turn to disgust on his face. But I forced myself to open my eyes and look at him again.

“I . . . I have a connection to the winds.”

Tyree looked at me, confused. “You did that?”

I nodded, unable to speak.

“But that’s impossible. Nobody has superpowers. Not in real life.”

“But you saw it. You felt it. And . . .”

I covered my face with my hands. Tyree pulled my hands away from my face, but he didn’t say a word. For once he was silent. Just when I needed him to reassure me that I made the right choice telling him, he was at a loss for words.

“You’ve felt it before,” I said.

“No, I haven’t.” Tyree’s words whipped through the car as if I was accusing him of something.

“Yes, you have. The first time we kissed. My . . . my emotions got out of control and . . .”

“At the party? The DJ?”

Tyree looked away as he thought about it, then turned back to me, his face incredulous. “That was you?”

“I didn’t do it on purpose. I . . . It was my first kiss, and I just had so many feelings. The winds react to my emotions. If I don’t control them—”

Tyree cut me off. “So if I kiss you right now . . .”

I looked down at my lap and let out a huge sigh. He put his hand under my chin and lifted my face up.

He stared at me like the answers were in my skin. “If I kiss you right now, will it happen?”

I gave him a determined look.

“Try it,” I said.

We leaned toward each other, and I started to tremble. There had been so many kisses between us but none like this one, none had the power to change his mind—to convince him that I was as dangerous as I said I was, and that he was better off without me. As our lips got closer, every inch of my skin felt electrified. It was like I could feel each molecule of air press against my face. My mind ran wild with possibilities—if I let go completely, the winds would shatter the glass and destroy the car, but if I held them back too much, Tyree wouldn’t feel anything and he wouldn’t believe me.

When our lips finally touched, I let out a sigh. With that one tiny sound, the winds swept close and started swirling, diving in and around the car. I felt Tyree tense up, but I kissed him harder and didn’t let him pull away. I grabbed on to him with one hand and guided the winds to curl under the car with the other. Then, with the slow lift of my fingers, I made the car gently rise into the air. Tyree gasped, but he didn’t let go of me. I squeezed him with both arms, pouring everything I couldn’t say with words into the kiss. The car went spinning as I melted into Tyree. He gripped me tightly—whether with terror or passion, I didn’t know. As our kiss softened, I slowed the car’s spinning and lowered it gently back down onto the parking lot concrete.

When the car settled back into stillness, we separated, staring at each other in silence. My skin itched as I waited for Tyree to speak.

“This can’t be real.” His hands gripped the steering wheel as if he was fighting to stay in touch with reality. “I mean, everyone has secrets, but this—this is—”

In the quiet, my skin prickled, as if Tyree’s silence was an accusation, a judgment. My shame pushed me deeper and deeper into the seat.

“Everything that popped off at that party . . .” he said, finally turning to look me in the face. “And yesterday? What happened before I came and got you?”

I squeezed my hands together in my lap. It was my turn to look away.

“They found me.”

“And . . . ?”

Here in the quiet of Tyree’s car, I allowed myself to drift back to the explosion of winds that had been so many things—it had chased me, pushed me, scraped against me, and trapped me. And I didn’t know why.

“And they used the winds against me.”

Tyree’s face contorted in surprise. “There’s more . . . more like you?”

I nodded.

“I never met anybody else with powers before.” I paused. That wasn’t exactly true. MawMaw had powers—I just never knew about them. “And now they’re here. They found me, and I don’t know what they want. I don’t know if they were trying to trap me, hurt me, or test me. I got away, but they will catch me sooner or later.”

He reached out his hand as if he were going to caress my face, then pulled his hand back abruptly—as if touching me could wound him.

“This whole time.” Tyree cut me another glance. “All this was going on between us, because of us, and I didn’t know nothing about it.”

He tapped his hand on the steering wheel, fast and irregular, like it was the rhythm of his fraying nerves, his confusion, his fear.

“I never wanted to lie to you.” No words I had ever spoken had felt so useless. It didn’t matter whether or not I wanted to lie, or whether or not he still cared for me—he didn’t trust me anymore.

“You did, though.” Tyree’s voice was soft.

“Yeah, but now do you understand why?”

“Yeah,” he said. He was back to staring out the windshield, refusing to face me. “But I deserved to know. It’s not like all this has nothing to do with me. It could have . . . ended my life.”

I felt tears well up in my eyes. Just like that, he said the worst of it—my powers could have hurt him, could hurt anyone I loved, anyone I was close to, anyone I just happened to be standing next to. Guilt squirmed in my chest, making it hard to keep still. I was so used to feeling light and electricity when I was with Tyree; now I just felt heavy and dull as the weight of my lies pressed against me.

Tyree bowed his head. “You right about one thing. I can’t bring nothing like this to my aunt’s.”

I kicked the backpack at my feet. After trying so hard to convince him that he shouldn’t try to help me, hearing him push me away was a wounding I wasn’t ready to bear.

“Is there an airport near here? A bus station?” I grabbed my phone and started searching for airports, buses, anything that could get me far away—from danger, from lies, from heartbreak.

Tyree drew in a sharp breath. “So I’m supposed to just leave you somewhere?”

“Look . . .” I said, reaching out to grab his hand.

He yanked his hand away from me. “Sorry,” he said.

I wrapped my arms around myself. I couldn’t tell if he was apologizing for jerking away from me or because we were at a dead end.

He shook his head. “This don’t feel right.”

“I know. But this is the way it has to be.” I reached out to him, risking another touch. This time he let me grasp his wrist. He turned and stared out the window again.

“I can’t take you with me, but I don’t want you out there all alone.” He spoke so low I could barely hear him, and he kept his head pointed straight ahead. It seemed as if he was talking to the windshield. Or maybe he was talking to himself. After a few seconds of silence, he faced me again, his gaze piercing. Finally, he let out a long breath.

“I wish I could protect you.”

“You can’t. And I can’t change who I am,” I whispered. I felt like the edges of my body were disappearing. The truth had exploded between us, and now there was nothing left to say.

“So what’s it gonna be?” I asked, making my voice hard so I wouldn’t change my mind.

He looked at me. “Huh?”

“Bus station or airport?”

He shook his head. “I can’t.”

“You can,” I said. I turned forward and put my seat belt on. “You have to.”

Tyree accepted my last words in silence. Then he turned on the engine, shifted the car into drive, and guided us out of the parking lot.

We drove for an hour without speaking until finally the bus station appeared ahead. Tyree turned into the parking lot and slowed along the outer edge.

“Does everybody know?” he asked as he turned off the engine.

“What?” I asked.

“Does everybody know about your . . . ?” He swirled his hands in the air, then fell silent.

I shook my head. “No. Just Auntie Eve.”

He nodded and turned back to the windshield.

“And Kez,” I added.

When I said Kez’s name, Tyree deflated. His chest collapsed, and he rested his forehead on the steering wheel. Tears pushed at the back of my eyes.

“I’m not a monster,” I whispered. “I was just born different. I wish I could change it. I wish I could erase everything that happened so we could . . .”

He turned and looked at me, his face creased with pain. I had seen so many expressions on his face, but this one was new to me—this one broke my heart.

“You made me feel like there was nothing wrong with me. Like . . .” I paused. Misery thickened in my throat. “Like I didn’t have to worry about being different and I could just . . . breathe.”

Tyree’s expression shifted. The pain melted into sadness. He looked like his heart was breaking too. He reached over and cupped my face. A tangle of confusion and hurt burned in his eyes. Grief, deep and dark, settled in my chest. I risked a quick kiss on Tyree’s cheek. Then I jumped out of the car, clutching my backpack, and I didn’t look back.

As I stepped into the bus station, the fear and desperation that I had been battling clawed at my throat. Looking around, I saw nothing that was reassuring. The terminal was drab and ghostly—it looked like a place where things could only get worse. I forced myself past the peeling metal benches toward the ticket counter, but my legs felt weaker and weaker. Making a U-turn, I stopped trying to cope and headed for the information counter.

“Where’s the bathroom?” I asked the teenager at the counter.

My tears held as I took the bathroom key and walked toward the back of the station. They held as I struggled with the lock, then finally yanked the door open. They held as the door shut behind me and I searched for the light switch.

I flicked on the light, walked toward the dirty sink, and stared at myself in the scratched-up mirror. My face hurt, my heart hurt, but the tears I had expected to fall refused to come. My reflection echoed Tyree’s distrust. What did you expect? my eyes seemed to be demanding. No one can handle your truth.

The bathroom door opened behind me, and I hurried to splash water on my face and grab a few paper towels to pat my face dry. I looked in the mirror again and jumped as a face stared back at me—a face that had haunted my dreams for sixteen years.

It was my mother—tall, terrifying, and very much alive.

33

“Veronique,” she whispered.

I collapsed against the sink, my muscles limp with shock.

I had long ago created a picture of my mother in my mind, patched together from my dreams, from details of MawMaw’s pictures and Auntie Eve’s face, even the photograph of her with Kez’s brother. But the person standing in front of me was a stranger with sharp features and a cold expression.

“Veronique,” she said again, louder, and I flinched. I wanted to shove her away and run. I wanted to blow down the bathroom and surround us in rubble. I wanted to throw myself into her arms and plead for her to never let go.

“You’re terrified,” she said.

I cleared my throat. My tongue felt thick. “So you really are alive.”

She took a step closer, and the smell of smoke invaded my nostrils. I held up my hands as if warning her to stop.

“I know this is shocking,” she said. “There’s a lot to explain, but we can’t stay here.”

“How did you find me?” I asked.

She smiled. It was almost warm, but it came and went too quickly to hold any comfort.

“I could always find you,” she said. “But now they know where you are too. We need to go.” Her voice turned urgent and she gestured for me to follow, but before I could move, the door swung open again.

A slim man wearing all black stepped in. “Is this her?”

My gaze swung wildly between my mother and the man. For a few seconds, her expression was sad and defeated, like she didn’t know what to do. Then, right before my eyes, her expression hardened and she turned to the man with a triumphant smile.

“I told you we would find her,” she said.

“Took long enough.”

“No.” I stumbled backward. “Leave me alone.”

My mother lunged. I jerked away, but she caught me with one smooth dart of her arm. The tiny bit of hope remaining in my body shriveled as my heart sank like a stone. After everything I’d been through, after all MawMaw had done to keep me safe, my mother was the dagger that was bringing me down.

As the man got closer, a wave of recognition washed over me. I had seen him in the picture with my mother, and in so many other pictures on Kez’s wall.

“Mal?” I said.

He paused and looked at me, confused.

“Your brother is looking for you,” I said.

His eyes darted toward my mother, a frightened look flaring across his face.

“I don’t have a brother,” he said. Then he set his mouth into a determined line, plunged a needle into my arm, and everything went dark.

I felt myself floating in nothingness, helpless and lost. Then, little by little, the dream formed around me. My mother’s arms, large and soft, rocking me back and forth tenderly. But when her arms grew insistent, everything familiar about the dream shredded around me.

Her gentle grip tightened until she was crushing me. Looking around for an escape, I struggled to break free. Surrounding me, enclosing me in a tight circle, were many versions of my mother. Her face repeated over and over again until, one by one, each version of her started to burn, her many heads erupting into flame. Their open mouths billowed a scorching heat. Finally, a fireball hurtled straight at me. Terror yanked me out of the dream, and I woke with a loud scream.

Darkness.

I blinked, gasping to calm my breath. I couldn’t see anything around me. When I lifted my hands to rub my eyes, I heard a clicking sound, and the lights flashed on overhead. I pushed myself up and groaned. My head was pounding and my limbs ached. The cot beneath me creaked, filling the space with sound.

“Hello?” I called nervously.

There was no answer. All I could hear was the sound of water dripping far in the distance. Other than the cot I was sitting on, the room was empty. The walls were covered in a clear plastic tarp. I looked down and was surprised to see my clothes were gone. Someone had dressed me in a dark blue jumpsuit.

I lifted my hand and twirled my fingers, calling the winds, but the air didn’t move. I tried again—still, I felt nothing. After a few tries, panic started building in my chest. I lunged off the cot and hurled myself at the wall, pounding against the plastic, yelling as loud as I could. But the sound went nowhere.

The image of my mother’s eyes glinting in the darkness of the bus station bathroom exploded in my mind. I slid to the floor. MawMaw had said my mother left me with her to protect me. Why would she work so hard to protect me, then help them find me? I squeezed my eyes shut and imagined MawMaw standing over me, whispering lines from her letter. You are sunshine and light. The words were like a dagger in my heart. I was locked in a dark room with no sunshine, just creepy lights hanging from the ceiling. You are prepared for your destiny. This empty, gloomy room couldn’t be my destiny. This couldn’t be where my story led.

I thought about Tyree, and my heart clenched. I knew he would be wild with worry, but I hoped he was safe, hoped that they had a reason for waiting to grab me when we were apart. I prayed they didn’t want him involved.

I suddenly heard a loud scraping sound. A few feet away, a door opened behind the plastic. The thinnest stream of breeze entered the room, and I scrambled to my feet. As someone pushed the plastic flap aside, I lifted my hand, reveling in the brush of wind against my fingertips.

Then the door shut, the weak wind died down, and I was, once again, face-to-face with Kez’s brother.

“How was your sleep?” Mal asked, crossing the room with a smirk. His voice was deeper than Kez’s and his skin was lighter, but he had the same wild hair and freckled face.

“You drugged me and you’re calling it sleep?”

He shrugged. “We do what we have to for the cause.”

MawMaw had called it a mission of some kind. Mal was calling it a cause. I put my hands on my hips.

“And what is this cause that you’re so committed to?”

“We’ll bring you upstairs to explain everything. For now, I’m just here to see if you need anything.”

“My freedom.”

“Cute,” he said dryly. “I mean like water or food. The bathroom?”

He paused, waiting for a response, but I just stared at him. The similarity between him and Kez was striking.

“How could you say you don’t have a brother?”

That look of fear flitted across Mal’s face again. “Easy. Because I don’t have one.”

Then I understood. He wanted to protect Kez.

“I’ve seen pictures of you,” I said, changing my approach. “And some stuff you left in your room. He misses you. Your whole family does.”

The fear disappeared as Mal’s face hardened.

“Enough,” he hissed. “If you don’t need anything, I’ll come get you when Aster is ready to talk.”

“Why are you doing this?” I asked. “Kez—” I paused. “People love you out there. You don’t have to stay with these . . . these . . . kidnappers.”

“Kidnappers!” Mal laughed. “We’re liberators. We’re helping you. And we’re going to help the world.”

“By locking me in a plastic-covered room?” I asked.

“That’s temporary. Until you understand the cause. Until we know you won’t try to hurt anybody—or yourself.”

“Yeah, like I said: kidnappers.”

Mal let out a breath of frustration and shook his head.

“Don’t act like your life was perfect. Out there, you have to pretend you’re like them. You have all these powers and can only use them in secret. Don’t tell me you don’t want to know more, do more, be more.” His eyes flashed as he talked, his voice lifting with passion. “Our powers are here for a purpose. We can show you who you were meant to be.”

I shook my head. “I know I wasn’t meant to disappear from my life! Lose my friends and family. Live in the shadows.”

Mal looked at me as if I was a child. “Your friends and family can’t help you live up to your potential.”

“So that’s it. Kez doesn’t exist. Your family doesn’t matter. Life is all about the cause and the real world is dead to you.”

Mal clapped, his eyes gleaming and serious. “This is the real world. The world out there is flimsy, unreliable.” He paused, calm suddenly washing over him.

My mind whirring, I walked away from him and sat on the bed. MawMaw was right; they didn’t want to hurt me. That meant I had time—time to find out where I was and how many people were here; I had time to figure out what they wanted; and I had time to build a plan to escape.

The sound of the door scraping called my attention. Mal had crossed the room again while I was lost in my thoughts.

“You’ll see,” he said confidently, then shut the door behind him.

34

Time became foggy. At different moments, scents would enter the room and lull me to sleep or snap me into alertness. When I woke, I’d always be fresh, as if I’d been bathed and fed—and I didn’t have long to figure out what was happening because, before I knew it, I’d be asleep again.

I don’t know how long it was—hours or days—when Mal finally returned. But when he opened the door and waved me out of the room, I was so relieved that I didn’t ask questions. I followed him upstairs, staying silent as we walked through a maze of hallways. The farther we walked, the stronger the winds grew. The dip and dive of them skimming across my shoulders made me itch to attack. My mind went wild with ideas. I could call the winds to shove him in the back, slam him against the ceiling, drag him along the floor, but I resisted. Taking deep breaths and clasping my hands tightly, I reminded myself that I had no idea where we were, who else was in the building, or where the exit was. Attacking him would just be setting myself up for another spell in the plastic-lined room.

When we made it up yet another flight of stairs, Mal opened a heavy metal door and led me into a narrow passageway. “You seem calmer now,” Mal said.

I shrugged and looked around, taking note of how tall the ceiling was and how solid the bricks were on the wall lining the left side of the hallway. Curiosity made me break my silence.

“Is this some kind of warehouse?” I asked.

Mal didn’t respond. I quietly examined the long row of mesh cages that stretched as far down the hallway as I could see. Inside the cages were rows and rows of shelves piled high with bags and boxes. I squinted to read the labels: Potatoes. Corn. Beans. Crackers.

“What is this?” I asked.

Mal looked over his shoulder and saw me pointing to the shelves. “Food.”

“Obviously, but for what?”

Mal didn’t answer. He just led me to the end of the hall and turned the corner. The next corridor looked exactly like the last one—a long, narrow walkway lit by bare light bulbs, lined with more mesh cages holding shelves of bags and boxes.

“More food? Is the world about to end?”

Mal chuckled. “If the world was going to end, we wouldn’t need food, would we?”

As we continued on, a closer look showed me something different along this corridor. These boxes and bags seemed to hold water, bandages, and medicine. Uneasiness spread through me as images of disaster filled my mind. Why would anyone need all these supplies?

We turned the corner once more and paused in front of a set of tall wooden doors. Mal looked at me with a cutting glance.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed that there’s no way out. No exits, no windows. Just walls and shelves. Got it?”

As I nodded, I couldn’t help but think of Kez. He had spent all this time looking for his brother, and not once had he considered that maybe Mal was exactly where he wanted to be.

I followed Mal through the doors into a huge open room. A collection of tables and chairs was clustered in the middle of the space.Three people sat together at one of the tables, dressed in dark blue jumpsuits just like me and Mal.

“Veronique,” I heard someone say.

I turned toward the voice. There, coming in through a large metal door behind me, was my mother. A white-haired man dressed in all white walked in at her side.

He pressed his hands together at his chest and gave me a slight bow. “Hello, Veronique. I am Aster,” he said in a deep, gravelly voice. “We are happy to have you join us.”

My eyes slid over to my mother’s face. It did not explode into flame as it had in my dream, and it did not soften with warmth. A hint of pain flashed over her face when our eyes met, but she quickly folded it away, making her expression blank again.

The people at the tables drew near.

“This is Flora,” Mal said, motioning to a short, pale woman with sharp black bangs. “Rajesh,” he said, nodding at a man with deep brown skin and shiny, curly black hair. “And this is Bliss,” he said, pointing to a girl about my age with thick, long locks.

Aster looked at me, his gray eyes cold and piercing. “We are the Vaunted, and with your help, we are going to save the world.”

I stared at Aster, fighting to stifle a laugh. MawMaw had told me they had a mission, but being here, in what could only be described as a doomsday shelter . . . it just felt comical. The six people in this room were going to save the world?

I threw a look at my mother, but her expression was stony and unreadable. Aster took a breath and swept his hand out, inviting me to walk. “Please, Veronique, come with me. I’d like to show you something.”

I followed Aster to the other side of the room. We stopped in front of a wall covered in a huge dark green shape. At first I thought it was a big patch of moss attached to the bricks, but when I stepped closer, I could see it was made of living plants that rustled softly, as if a current of wind or water was flowing over them.

“What is this?” I asked.

“Pangea,” Aster said with a grin.

“Pangea?” I looked at him. “Like the continent from millions of years ago? Before it split?”

“Precisely.” Aster nodded. “It was the world before it was touched by man. When the only forces at work were those of nature. I made this so everyone here could understand the depth of the cause, exactly what we are fighting for.”

I reached toward the plants, and they fluttered under my hand. “Your power is plants?” I asked.

“My power is earth, but what grows on the earth is my specialty.”

Aster stayed silent as I turned back to the wall. The swaying of the plants was hypnotic. I felt like I could sense their movement in my body. Not only could I see the swaying of their leaves, but I could also feel the twisting of their roots in the dirt. As I stood there, the plants drew me into a deep silence, and my awareness of the room around me faded.

The plants swallowed all sound and sent a fine spray splashing across the front of my body. I jumped back as the mist hit me and looked down at my arms. My skin was covered in yellow specks. Pollen, some distant part of my brain told me, but the thought had to fight through a thick and hazy fog that was clouding my mind. My mouth filled with a sharp bitterness as the air around me became heavy. The dense flavor of greenery danced on my tongue.

Staring at my hands as if in a trance, I ran my finger through the yellow dust coating my skin. It streaked across my palm, glowing like some otherworldly paint. I looked back at the wall and saw that it had come alive, swaying, swirling, spiraling. My body was swaying too, vibrating with life. I felt like the whole world was moving with me, like I was so much more than myself.

“You are so powerful, Veronique,” Aster said, his voice low and hypnotic. “You have spent your life in the shadows, but you don’t need to run from who you are. All of us together are the most powerful forces on Earth. We don’t need to stand idly by and wait for life to happen—we can decide for ourselves, for the world.”

His words did something to my body. My limbs felt heavy and weightless at once. My feet were rooted in place, but my brain felt like it was crawling through the universe. The moisture of mist, the sharp cold of ice, the dry heat of desert. I could smell wet wood, the scent of rot, the creaking of glaciers, and the breaking of trees. And my heart, it beat so loudly that its echo seemed deafening in my ears.

“Make yourself very still. Reach past the concrete we’re standing on to imagine the solidness of the dirt below the building. Tune in to its soft richness, feel how it’s holding you up, supporting you.” I felt Aster’s hand on my shoulder. He took a deep breath, and I mimicked him, as if our bodies were connected. “Imagine roots coming down from your feet into the earth,” he continued. “Imagine yourself rooted like a tree.”

I was surprised at how quickly the images sprouted in my mind. Instantly, I saw roots growing from the soles of my feet. I felt them tug me firmly downward as they twisted through the dirt to go deeper into the earth.

“Now bring your energy to Pangea in front of you. Follow it until you feel the whole of the planet—its width, its strength—your strength, Veronique. All of us with powers can tap into the earth. You have no idea, Veronique, what you are actually capable of. What I can teach you.”

Following Aster’s words, I stretched my consciousness toward Pangea. At first, I only sensed it as a shadow—a solid presence with contours I recounted from memory. But as my thoughts went deeper, I saw the entire planet pulsing with threads of light, connecting every inch of the globe. I took deep breaths, letting the light flowing through the planet shoot into me. With a zing, it leaped from one part of my body to another, flashing and sparkling as it filled me with power. Something inside me shook loose, and I could feel tears spring to my eyes.

“Are you ready to continue?” Aster asked, his voice gentle.

I nodded. For years I had been so isolated, and so, so scared. I had wished I was different, I fought my destiny, but why would I ever fight this? This feeling of expansion, of connection.

“Now scan the planet, look for places where something’s wrong. Where the flow is interrupted.”

At first all I saw was light, but after some time, I noticed interruptions all across the planet, spots where the light disappeared. The light currents ran around those dark spots, as if something physical was there, interrupting the flow.

With my eyes closed, I slowly reached my hands out to Pangea. I moved my hands over the dark spots I saw in my mind. Each time my hands hovered over them, I could feel them pulse; then I heard a breaking that sounded like weeping. I yanked my hands away and opened my eyes, looking at Aster for an explanation.

“Those are all the areas of the planet that need our help. That’s what we do. Reverse the destruction, restore, and refresh.” Aster’s voice hardened. “I want to destroy anything that is harming the planet. The air, the water, the people. So much of the earth is suffering. Who is going to protect the land if not us?”

When I looked back at Pangea, the tears returned to my eyes. For the first time in a long time, my tears weren’t from sadness or anger. I wasn’t out of place, and I didn’t have to wonder why I was born this way. I had a reason for existing. A purpose in the world.

Aster responded to my emotions as if I had spoken.

“Good,” he said with a pat on my shoulder and a nod. “Now get some sleep. We’ll begin our work tomorrow.”

This time when I looked around the room, things looked different. I no longer saw a place of captivity. Instead, I saw those threads, the same ones I saw shooting through the planet, stretching out from my body and connecting me to the others. One thread lifted and drifted up to the balcony, connecting me to Bliss, who was leaning on the railing, staring down at me. Another stretched across the room, connecting me to Mal, who was walking toward me. And yet another stretched between me and my mother. I was connected to all these people, and to the earth. I was powerful, and I had a purpose that I had never known.

35

Darkness, again. I heard a clicking, then the lights flashed on, ripping me out of my sleep. I sat up and looked around, but it wasn’t Mal standing in the doorway. It was my mother.

“Let’s go,” she said, rushing toward me.

She kept talking, but I wasn’t listening. I was too busy looking at my hands, looking for the shining strands of light that connected me to her.

My mother dropped her hands and looked at me with a sigh. “What are you doing?”

“The light, it was . . .”

My mother shook her head. “Veronique, you are high.”

“What?”

“Pangea, the plants, the yellow pollen. It’s a hallucinogenic.”

“What?” I whispered. I remembered the emotions washing through me, the certainty that I had finally found my place in the world. I shook my head. “No, it was real. I felt a connection to the planet. We’re all here for a reason.”

“I’m not saying we’re not, but the light connecting all of us—that’s in your mind. We aren’t tethered to each other. We aren’t tethered to Aster. He just wants you to think you are.”

“But it’s still here,” I said, flexing fingers as the light flickered around my hand.

“You are your own person, Veronique. With the power to make your own choices. We can leave, disappear before you have blood on your hands.”

My head spun. It had felt so . . . so real. But as my mother took my hands, pressing on my wrists as she pulled me to my feet, everything came crashing back. The lies and the secrets, Aster’s plans, even Kez and Zaza flashed through my mind. Then MawMaw’s energy came and cleared everything away. She did not speak, but she cut me a commanding look that said, “Stop acting a fool.”

“Oh my God,” I breathed, horrified at how easily Aster had manipulated me. Then my mother’s last words filtered into my mind. “What are you talking about, blood on my hands?”

“Didn’t you hear what Aster was saying? Do you think this mission is to heal the planet without taking any lives? He believes people are the problem, that we are killing the earth. He’s not wrong, but he thinks that we’re gods and that it’s up to us to decide what is right for humanity, no matter the cost. He believes that if he can collect enough of us, we can wipe the slate clean, bit by bit, until Earth is as it once was. He has lost his mind, Veronique. And if he succeeds, everyone you love, life as we know it, will be gone.” She looked at me, her eyes pleading. “We have to go, Veronique.”

I crossed my arms and glared at her. Even though her words had the ring of truth, I felt like I was running from one trap to another—Kez, my mother, Aster. “So I’m supposed to trust you? How do I know you’re not setting another trap? How do I know Mal’s not waiting on the other side of the door with another syringe?”

“I know you’re confused and angry. And I know you have no reason to trust me. But . . .” When she turned back toward me, her face was full of sorrow. “Don’t you see? You’re already trapped. He needs you to join his cause, to hand over your powers to him. I’m trying to set you free.”

Indignation and irritation blossomed in me. “If he’s so horrible, why are you here?”

“Please, Veronique, I’ll explain everything after we leave.”

“No. No more waiting. Tell me now.”

She took a shuddering breath. “Aster and Cecily created the cause together.”

My heart stuttered at the mention of MawMaw, but I stayed quiet.

“Aster got his powers when he was seven years old, during a hurricane. He was stuck up in a tree when his neighborhood flooded, and he was trapped there for two days before he was found. When they got him down, he had developed this special connection with the earth and plants. By the time he was eighteen, his whole family had died of cancer—and he blamed the chemical plants nearby. Immeasurable amounts of chemicals that had leaked into the water during the storm.

“Since everyone was gone, he left and started traveling the world. He met Cecily in India, where she was staying in an ashram. She was twenty-five years old and had gotten her powers during a storm too, but she was stuck on a lake off the coast of Indonesia. She thought her powers had something to do with Asia, but when she met Aster, they realized it had to do with natural disasters and storms. They started traveling the world together, teaming up to help the local environment—to lessen the effects of natural disasters after they happened and to help local people recover afterward. They found me . . .”

“In New Orleans after the fire.”

My mother nodded. I tried to imagine MawMaw, young and standing shoulder to shoulder with Aster. It was easy to imagine her helping people around the world, but I could never imagine her here in this warehouse with Mal and the others.

“When I met them, they were all about the environment and helping people. There was no question of harming people. But being back in Louisiana, driving through Cancer Alley and seeing how many more chemical plants there were, seeing news stories about people dying of the same cancer his family had, seeing news stories about natural disasters . . . it all built up. I don’t know exactly when Aster turned dark, but by the time the tsunami happened in the Indian Ocean, his opinion on harming people had changed. People were destroying the planet, he said. So why should we protect them? He drew up plans and showed us data that proved that environmental disasters and climate change were killing way more people than we would if we made bigger attempts to save the planet.

“And that’s when Cecily disappeared. She didn’t tell me where she was going. She just left. Her disappearance didn’t help Aster’s mental state. That’s when he learned how to manipulate plants to make them hallucinogenic, to better control us and get us to buy into his vision, to make us think hurting people was the only answer. Around the same time, I met your dad and I took a break from traveling. Aster took off and said he’d be back. As soon as he left, Cecily came to me, trying to convince me that I had to leave. . . .”

“Like you’re trying to convince me,” I said. My mother looked up at me and nodded, a heavy look of heartbreak on her face.

“Then Katrina came. The storm took your father—and left you with powers. I found my way to Cecily, and she helped me with my grief. A few weeks after the storm, I came back here for supplies, and Aster was here with Rajesh and Flora in tow. They had both been influenced by him—whether by his words or his plants, I don’t know. It took me only a few hours to see that he had become single-minded in his pursuit of destruction, of control—over the earth, over our powers. On instinct, I hid you. I told him neither you nor your father survived the storm. The next day, I asked Cecily to raise you and I rejoined Aster. I’ve been with him ever since, pretending you didn’t exist.”

“But he knew.”

My mother nodded. “He pretended not to, but somehow he did. Just like he knew you’d be strong. He never told me, but since you were born, every time we came back this way, he sent someone looking for you. I found out from Mal. That’s how I knew I had made the right decision. I would do everything in my power to keep you from him, and if I failed, I’d have to find a way to escape with you.”

My mother paused and looked me in the eyes, waiting to be sure I understood every word she had said. Then she leaned toward me.

“Do you remember when Cecily wouldn’t let you leave the house without her? It was before you learned how to control the winds. . . .”

My chest got tight. Each time I thought I had reached the bottom of the lies, the floor dropped out beneath me again.

“So you were spying on me,” I said sharply.

She stopped talking, confused.

“You’re telling me that MawMaw was in touch with you my whole entire life? And you . . . you . . . you knew everything about me, but I couldn’t even know you were alive?”

“Veronique.” She took a breath. “I know it hurts to learn everything you didn’t know,” she said. Her eyes glittered, with determination or pain, I wasn’t sure. “Cecily always wanted to tell you the truth, but it seemed too cruel. A sense of safety was all you had. We didn’t want to take that away from you.”

I’d had enough. I crumpled onto the cot and curled into a ball, tears burning in my eyes, bitterness filling my mouth. I was so sick of everyone making choices for me, of telling me what to do. Of hiding me away, keeping me small, blocking information I deserved to know, all in the name of protecting me like I was nothing more than a mindless shell. I didn’t want to be anyone’s pawn: not Aster’s, not MawMaw’s, not Kez’s—and definitely not my mother’s.

Rage thickened, building into an intense pressure in my brain. Soon my whole body was pounding with anger as I beat on the cot with my fists. Then, suddenly, my wrists were trapped—and they felt like they were on fire. I opened my eyes and saw my mother’s fingers were wrapped around my wrists, burning me where she touched my skin. I tried to jerk away, but she tightened her grip. She leaned her face close to mine.

“Veronique, focus! You don’t have to like me or trust me, but you have to listen to me. We need to go. Now!”

I had no more words left. I threw my head back, kicked my legs, and screamed. The sound was like a release, vibrating everything it touched. It shoved at the emotion inside me, smothering the hurt and squashing the lies as it went whirling through me. Then I felt it slip out of my skin and snake through my mother, diving straight through her feet into the ground.

My rage spread underneath us like tree roots and made the ground shake. My throat burned, but I didn’t stop screaming. I yelled against my mother, who was nothing but a fiery iron grip around my wrists. I yelled against the room, which was nothing but a plastic-coated cage. I yelled, until I shredded everything around me and the only thing that felt real was the scream.

The room couldn’t hold me anymore. My yell yanked me out of my body, and I became pure sound. My body raged on, still trapped underground, while my consciousness slipped out of the warehouse. My mind went swirling through the night air, spinning so hard I felt like I was the winds. I did not have to call them; I had become them.

As I danced and dove with them, they strained to reach my body. They became a rumble, breaking through vents and plowing through underground tunnels. They pounded at layers of brick and insulation, pushing through miles of dirt and debris until the concrete floor beneath us started to crack.

After all the stories and the lies, the secrets and the mysteries, I had nothing left to hold on to but my rage and the winds. When they ripped through the walls, I felt no fear, just satisfaction. Their destruction made the world make sense. The shaking of the floor and cracking of the walls was delicious, matching the anger I felt inside. The winds ripped right through everything that was boxing me in, telling me what to do, separating me from the truth.

A loud bang finally yanked me out of my scream. With a deafening thud, a massive chunk of the wall crashed to the ground, landing at the foot of the bed. I stood and looked around. Destruction and debris surrounded me, but my mother was standing firm.

She didn’t shy away from the chaos—and she didn’t turn away from me. But it was the winds that filled me with a fierce strength. They whipped around me, reminding me of my power. With every twist and turn, they promised that they would always rage beside me and inject me with power as I forged my own path forward.

36

The dust of debris lingered in the air. I pressed my hands to my head, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

“Did I . . . ?” I could find a way to believe the winds could rip a hole in the wall, but there were three jagged craters in the floor. How could my winds have done that?

“You can figure everything out later,” my mother said. “We have to go now.”

I looked at her dazed. I knew she was real, but she seemed like a ghost, and the destruction around me seemed like a nightmare.

“Veronique, please,” my mother said, her voice growing more urgent. “Either we go now or we stay and get roped into Aster’s mission.”

And suddenly, I could hear it. The sound of feet running upstairs.

“I won’t leave you again,” she said. “Whether we stay or go, it’s your choice.”

Your choice. Those words snatched me out of my confusion. Whatever I thought of my mother, I needed to make a choice—it was time to act. I nodded, and she turned, racing toward the hole in the wall. Heart pounding, I followed her, running toward escape.

Chased by the sound of distant voices, I felt a new understanding spark between me and my mother. By staying by my side, she promised she would be true; by following her, I told her I would fight. She ducked her head, crawled through the hole in the wall, then turned and reached her hand to me. I took it. Gripping her fingers, I threw one leg through the hole and then the other.

Once outside, my mother pressed her back against the wall. She still held my hand tightly, her face shrouded in the shadows of night.

“Aster is going to fight to keep you. Bliss, Mal, Flora, all of them—they’ll do whatever he tells them to, so . . .” She paused. “I need you to promise me you’ll keep moving. Even if I go down.”

My heart clenched and the winds gathered around me, rustling around my neck and diving through my hair.

Shouts rang out from the windows above. She glanced up, then looked back at me.

“Promise me,” she repeated, her voice throbbing with urgency.

“I’m not going to make a promise I can’t keep,” I said, my voice steady. “If you want me to trust you, then you need to trust me to make my own decisions.”

She nodded, clearly unsatisfied, but she accepted my words. “There’s a back gate behind those trees,” she said, pointing to a row of potted plants splitting the clearing in two. Beyond the plants was a cluster of trees and low hills in the back of the yard. “We just need to get past the hills.”

Without another word, my mother bent into a crouch and crept forward. I followed, dipping around the potted plants to race toward the cover of trees. When we were halfway across the yard, a bright spark of light shot past us. It skimmed my mother’s shoulder and struck the ground, sizzling the grass where it touched.

My mother whirled around and grabbed me, dragging me the last few steps to the thicket of trees. When we were huddled behind the nearest tree trunk, I peeked up into the sky.

“Was that lightning? Can they do that?”

“That was Mal with an assist from Bliss. Our powers can do all kinds of things when we mix them together. That’s why Aster won’t want to let you go. With each new member, our powers only grow.”

She stared up at the building.

“Damn, he’s here already,” she muttered.

I followed her gaze and saw Aster standing on the second-floor balcony, his silhouette distinctive in the dark. I looked at my mother. I couldn’t help thinking that if it wasn’t me out here, she would probably be standing up there next to him, helping him call the shots. All these years she’d stayed by his side to protect me, she’d sacrificed her own freedom for mine.

Another streak of light rained down. It illuminated my mother’s face as it sizzled past.

“Let’s keep moving,” she said. “Stay close to the trees.”

I ran to the next tree and crouched to wait for my mother to follow. She clasped her hands together, then moved them apart slowly. Between her palms, a ball of fire grew larger and larger. She flung it forward, sending the ball of fire hurtling through the air.

As it exploded, she turned and ran toward me. There was a large blast, then voices screaming. When she joined me, everything went silent. A few seconds later, Aster’s voice burned through the night.

“Daphne!” he yelled.

My eyes grew wide.

“Stay focused,” my mother said. “It’s not that much farther. At the far corner halfway down the wall, there’s a loose brick. You’ll have to feel around for it. When you pull it out, you’ll find a lever that will open the gate.”

I nodded, wondering if I could ever find it in the dark.

“You go, and I’ll hold the others. . . .” Before she could finish talking, a sizzling sound swallowed her words. We looked up just in time to see a fireball hurtling toward us. I ducked behind a tree, but the fireball rammed into my mother, sending her body flying backward. With a loud thud, she slammed against the tree trunk.

“No!” I shouted. She lay slumped against tree bark, the flame burning on her shoulder. I huddled over her, flapping my hands, but before I could fan the flames away, she grunted and threw her hand over the fire, snuffing it out.

From the edge of the thicket, a rustling sounded snaked through the air. I whirled around to see someone dip between the trees. With the hair blending into the night and the face lost in shadow, I couldn’t tell who had found us, but within seconds, a blast of water came hurling toward us, the deluge glistening in the moonlight.

My mother lay there limp as the water barreled toward her. Before it could reach her, I swept a half circle in the air, collecting the winds into a curved shield. When the water banged against my shield, I felt it shudder, then the water splashed backward and splattered into the dirt.

“Flora!” my mother yelled. “This isn’t your fight.”

“The cause is my fight,” Flora said. “It used to be yours too.”

Another fireball came hissing in the air. It flew over Flora’s head and dipped toward us. Standing over my mother, I grabbed a fistful of air and, with quick fingers, wove it into a net. I flicked my fingers open and sent the net unfurling overhead. As the fire blast hit my net, I sent it hurtling back where it came from.

A loud yell rang out.

“Good,” my mother said. Then she finally shifted, pushing herself up from the ground and leaning back on the tree. She kept a tight hold on her shoulder.

“You had a choice, didn’t you, Flora? Don’t you think Veronique deserves a choice?” my mother yelled.

Flora didn’t answer. She just kept creeping toward us. She sent another blast of water our way, but my shield held firm, holding back her attacks.

“What if she reaches us?”

My mother shook her head. “You have to hold the shield, Veronique.”

Her words made me shiver. I felt a quick flash of gratitude for Kez. Everything was snowballing so quickly, but thanks to him, I had so many more tricks left. When she was just a few feet away, Flora stopped and focused on trying to destroy my shield.

I grabbed a few seconds to drop down next to my mother.

“Are you hurt?” I tried to check her arm, but she pushed me away.

“Stay alert. We haven’t seen all of them yet.”

I stood, my hands lifted as I stared into the darkness. All I could see was Flora still battling my shield—and lights coming from the building in the distance.

“It’s too dark. I don’t see anyone except Flora,” I said.

My mother flung her arm over her head, sending a few flares of fire shooting up to light the night sky. In the flicker of her flames, I saw a silhouette standing at the edge of the trees. It seemed as if the figure was rising up as it lifted its hand. Then the night went dark again.

“There’s someone—” I began, but a loud rumbling swallowed my words. The ground shook as large dark spheres rolled into the grove of trees, tumbling toward us.

“Rajesh,” my mother said. “Brace yourself.”

Groaning, she pulled herself to her knees and scooted behind the tree. Part of me wanted to listen, to follow my mother to safety, but I was tired of hiding and tired of running. I was exhausted from being lied to and jerked around. Instead of escaping danger, I wanted to end it.

Before Rajesh’s boulders could reach us, I spread my fingers and shot a powerful blast of wind twisting through the trees. Then I closed my hand into a fist, calling the winds to whip backward and bang into the tree trunks, uprooting them and sending them crashing to the ground. I quickly wrapped strands of wind around the fallen trees and used all my strength to drag them closer.

“You need to leave me, Veronique,” my mother groaned.

I could barely hear her over the rumbling of the earth, which had grown louder. Determined to hold off Flora and Rajesh, I jerked my hands up and down, sending the wind rising and falling to lift the trees and balance them, one on top of the other.

As soon as the trees were stacked, the hard-packed earth crashed against them with a sickening crunch. The entire wall shook, but the winds held them firm. I kept my hands raised, waiting for the next attack, but there was only stillness.

“Can you walk?” I yelled without turning to look at my mother.

She shifted toward me, but a loud crack swallowed her answer. The wall of trees trembled; then, moments later, water leaked between them, seeping into the dirt underneath us.

My mother held up her palm, and a small, bright flame appeared. The light illuminated her scraped cheek and the blood dripping from her shoulder, darkening her jumpsuit.

“Flora and Rajesh are still out there, but there’s been no more fire,” she said. “That means Mal is hurt. You need to be ready for Bliss. Can you see if she’s out there?”

My heart clenched. The thought of Mal being hurt made my stomach turn, but I pushed the sick feeling away. I crept to the corner of the stacked trees and peered out into the night. The grove of trees where we had sheltered was badly battered. Trees were uprooted, branches broken, and scattered flames were burning the leaves.

“What do you see?” my mother asked.

For a few seconds, my vision was blurred. In that moment, the yard around me seemed to morph into my fiery dream. I wasn’t an infant in her arms and we were being attacked by water and earth, along with fire, but she was here—my mother was fighting for me, protecting me. I looked back at her, wounded and fierce, bleeding but still fighting back. All the lies she had told twisted inside me. I thought she was hard-hearted and cruel. But I was beginning to believe that she was telling me the truth. Maybe she really would sacrifice everything for me—even her life.

“Who’s out there?” my mother asked again.

I looked back across the grove of trees. At the edge, there were three of the Vaunted standing shoulder to shoulder: Flora, Rajesh, and Bliss.

“Bliss is with them. Flora and Rajesh. I think . . .”

I went quiet as the three of them raised their arms together. Flora cupped her hands, forming a huge globe of water. It glimmered in the moonlight. At the point of Rajesh’s fingers, sharp stones wiggled their way out of the earth and embedded into Flora’s creation. When Bliss drew her hands back, every muscle in my body tensed.

“It’s coming,” I said, and widened my stance.

With outstretched arms, Bliss rotated her arms around in circles. In response, the water split and went spiraling, streaking toward us like it was shot out of a cannon. I flattened my hands and chopped downward, crossing one hand over the other again and again. Spears of wind darted forward, chipping away at the streams of water. My frantic defense weakened the water but couldn’t stop it. When it was upon us, the jagged stones ready to pummel us, I dove toward my mother. Creating another shield, I hunched over her. The fort shook as the barrage of water and stones battered it. The streaks of water that arced high enough to curve over the fort banged against my shield, rattling me to the bone.

My mother winced as a few stones hit the ground and bounced back up, stinging as they grazed us.

“You should leave me, Veronique,” she said. “We’re outnumbered.”

“No! I can’t leave you here.”

I grabbed her hand, planning to help her stand, but when I touched her, the spark of her heat leaped into my palm and ran through my arm like electricity. I gasped and let go. The heat pulsed in my chest.

“Did I hurt you?” she gasped.

I shook my hand as if I could throw off the charge. “We should try it again,” I said.

“What?” my mother asked. She winced as she shifted position.

“If they can work together, why can’t we?”

I stood and anchored my feet in the grass.

“Grab my ankles.” I turned to glance down at my mother. “And don’t let go.”

The instant she grabbed my ankles, heat crackled through my shins, shot up into my thighs, and spiraled inside my belly. I felt like I was on fire, but I pushed away the panic and took a deep, desperate breath. Drawing the heat up into my chest, I pushed it down my arms, then threw my hands forward with a wild scream.

With a huge whoosh, the wind went barreling forward in a blinding flash of light. It crackled through the air, searing the leaves of the trees it whizzed past. When Flora, Rajesh, and Bliss saw it blazing toward them, burning everything in its path, they rushed to hurl water, blast winds, and send rocks hailing, but nothing could stop the electric combination of our energy. It crackled as it collected their assault, shattering then consuming everything Flora, Rajesh, and Bliss threw at it.

Our burning blast grew, sparking outward as it burst through the night air. By the time they tried to escape, it was too late. It cut right through them, knocking them off their feet as it shot past. But even as they lay on the ground, limp and lifeless, the white-hot wind was not done. It kept arcing through the air until it collided with the warehouse, sending an explosion of sparks splintering into the sky. Flames showered to the ground as the back of the building collapsed with a loud crash.

My heart felt like it was shattering right along with the warehouse, but I finally understood my mother’s urgency. I couldn’t stop to think about Flora, Rajesh, and Bliss, or wonder about Mal. I didn’t have time to think about anything other than escape.

“Can you run?” I said, reaching down to help my mother to her feet.

Her eyes glittered with pain as she struggled to stand. She was scraped up—her arm mangled, her clothes singed, and her breathing shaky, but her face was full of awe.

“You don’t even know what you just did, do you?” she asked.

“What I did? I used your powers, just like Bliss, Flora, and Rajesh were doing.”

She shook her head.

“No, it’s nothing like that. They layer their powers. You absorbed my power. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“What does that—” I started to ask, but my mother cut me off.

“He’s here,” she muttered as the air around us suddenly grew cold. She tensed and lifted her hands. Without hesitation, I mimicked my mother and prepared myself for another fight.

37

Aster approached with his arms spread wide. When he walked past the trees that were still standing, their leaves shifted toward him, churning the air until it grew even colder. As he neared us, the burning trees extinguished, their branches trading flame for smoke.

“Betrayal,” Aster said, stopping a few feet away from us. “After all these years.”

My mother stepped in front of me as she glared at Aster.

“You are the betrayer, Aster. We never disregarded human life. And now you expect me to become a murderer because you’re impatient with how long it’s taking the world to change.”

“It is they who disregard human life,” he said. “I am shifting the planet back to where it should be. But you know this already, and yet you choose, what? Oblivion? Are you going to limp off into the sunset with your daughter and disappear? Huddle in some dark corner of the earth while the planet implodes? We have a duty, Daphne.”

“Whatever I do, wherever I go, will be better than the mass destruction you’re planning.”

Aster’s pale eyes slid toward me. “And you dare turn your daughter against the cause, just when she is finally learning what her powers are for.”

“I know what my powers are for,” I said coldly.

“You’re not her parent,” my mother spat. “And you’re not God, Aster.”

Aster drew back as if my mother had slapped him. “You’re turning your back on everything we believe in.”

“I’ll find a better way.”

“How? You and Veronique alone?” He laughed bitterly. “It’ll never work.”

I looked around at the destruction that surrounded us. “We just showed you what we can do,” I told him defiantly.

“And we will find others who think like us,” my mother added.

Aster shook his head. “That’s precisely why I can’t let you go. Not when we’re so close to making a real difference.”

“Maybe you can fool yourself into believing that’s what you’re doing—maybe you can fool the others, but not me. You don’t want to save anything. You want to burn it all down. You want to kill millions of people for a chance of rebirth.” She spat out the word.

Aster clasped his hands and started to walk in a circle around us. I itched to turn and watch him as he disappeared behind our backs, but my mother was still—so I held myself still too.

“All those nights we sat up talking about destruction and rebirth, all the ecosystems we studied, all the debates—you see it’s part of the natural cycle of life. Were you pretending?”

“I don’t share your conclusions, Aster. It’s that simple. I don’t want to blow anything up. I don’t want to commit mass murder. I don’t want to make humanity suffer for decades to rebalance the planet.”

“This is why you’re taking these drastic measures? Why you destroyed everything we built here?” His voice was as cold as ice.

“The only measure I took was to walk away. The rest of this could have been avoided if you had let me go. You still have a chance to let us go.”

Aster threw his head back and laughed, the sound echoed around us. “You can’t truly believe you’re walking away from here. And taking Veronique.” Aster shook his head. “No. Let’s talk about this, Daphne. Like we should have done in the first place.” All of a sudden, Aster’s tone switched from commanding to warm and welcoming, like his voice had been when he was showing me Pangea.

“So you can control me and my daughter?” My mother shook her head. “No. Not anymore.”

He lifted his hand, and I could feel her entire body go stiff, preparing for his attack.

“I’ve worked too hard and I’ve come too far,” he said. “We are going to save the planet. And destruction is the fastest way to do it. We will all be here to witness the planet rebuilding itself. If some need to die for life to continue, that is the trade we have to make.”

As my mother and Aster’s argument ping-ponged through me, something MawMaw always said flashed through my mind. Every time we faced a difficult decision on the farm, she’d say, “Keeping balance means some things need to be saved and other things need to be destroyed.” My mother wanted to save me, even though the planet was slowly being destroyed; Aster wanted to destroy everything and everyone to save the planet.

Both were right and both were wrong. But who had decided that they were the ones who got to choose? For me? For the rest of humanity?

I realized then that all my life I’d been waiting for people to tell me who to be and what to do, to make my choices for me. I’d chafed against MawMaw’s rules and begged for answers, but I’d discounted my voice time and time again. And here I was, still waiting—waiting for Aster to make a move, for my mom to tell me what to do.

I was done handing over my power.

“Enough!” I shouted. I flexed my fingers to call the winds to me, but Aster acted before I could make my move.

He turned his hands palms up and raised them. As his hands lifted, cold spread through me, freezing me in place and freezing the wind around me. My body went numb, and I crashed face-first into the dirt.

My mother yelled, then crashed down next to me, her voice abruptly silenced. I struggled to fight off the cold, but it was too intense. My limbs tingled as if I were being pricked and poked as the cold sank into my skin. When it invaded my muscles, my arms and legs began to tremble violently. The shaking took over my entire body, and my eyes rolled back in my head; then dark spots and flashes of light exploded behind my closed eyelids.

As I was slipping into total darkness, I heard MawMaw’s voice saying: “I prepared you for this. You have the answers.” Gathering all the strength I had left, I forced my eyes open. Overhead, I saw the stars clustered in the night sky. I felt my arms being pulled over my head and my body dragging across the grass. I rolled my eyes sideways and saw my mother being pulled alongside me.

When we reached the building, they dropped our arms. Their voices hovered over us, discussing what part of the warehouse was still intact and where they could keep us. Lying in the dirt, I felt like some kind of unearthed discovery, an object that wasn’t quite human—that didn’t deserve to be spoken to or cared for, just dragged around and propped in place until it was time to perform.

While they were distracted, I tried to move my arms and legs, but they didn’t budge. All I could do was wiggle my fingers and tilt my head. My heart lifted when I felt a soft gust of wind blow through me. I tensed my fingers, my mind lurching through possible attacks, but without being able to move my head to see, or lift my arms to create bigger bursts of wind, it was pointless. I let my fingers fall slack again.

I tipped my head to look at my mother. She was lying stiff and still next to me, but her eyes were trained on me. Slowly I realized her fingers were free too, and she was digging them into the dirt. I squeezed my eyebrows as if asking her a question. She blinked, her eyes shifting up to her hands and back to my face. Without understanding why, I copied what she was doing; I tented my fingers and pushed them into the dirt as deeply as I could. As soon as my fingertips had moved past the top layer of dirt, I understood. I felt heat—all the sun’s energy from the day that had seeped into the ground—radiating against my skin.

It was exactly as Aster had said. All of us could draw from the strength of the earth. You have no idea, Veronique, what you are actually capable of, he’d said.

Well, now it was time to find out.

As the voices of the others continued arguing above us, I felt a slow thaw climbing from my fingers into my palms and wrists, then up my arms. When the thaw reached my knees, I shifted slightly so my mother could see that I was almost free. She gave the tiniest of nods, then we slowly started to sneak our hands toward each other, moving at a glacial pace. We were so close, but it felt like I was reaching for her across a huge gulf, covering a distance of a million miles.

When we finally touched fingers, there was no time to talk or plan. All we could do was stare into each other’s eyes and trust that we were stronger together than apart. With my free hand, I gathered a huge explosion of wind. With her free hand she gathered a huge ball of fire. Each crackled with the other’s power. We took a breath, then flung them into the air. They collided, then exploded, diving and twirling around each other until they were a firestorm—a tornado of sparks, a wild whirling.

The others screamed as hot electric winds whipped through the air around us. We pushed ourselves up and faced each other. Aster tried to react, but neither he nor the others could match my speed. I spun my hands overhead, blindly thrashing at anything the winds could touch. Through the torrent, I saw Bliss and the others turn to run, but Aster stood rooted to the earth, his face in a determined grimace.

Burning bright, I felt like a tornado unleashed. I was a fiery wound, hell-bent on flattening everything and everyone within reach. I didn’t try to match Aster’s power; I slammed through him, straining to break anything that resisted my winds. I didn’t distinguish between people and concrete, buildings and trees. With every hammering explosion, I forced the world to shudder around me. With every crashing implosion, I fought to be free.

Soon, I was blinded by the tempest storming inside me. I kept raging until an intense heat radiated on my shoulders, pulling my attention away from the battle. Through the haze of the winds, I felt my mother standing next to me, her hand on my back. I turned to see that her mouth was moving, but I could not hear her over the roar of my blasts. Slowly, I released the winds, and they fell away, one strand at a time.

When the air was still, my mother gently took my hands. Finally my head cleared, and I could hear my mother’s voice—a voice that had been foreign to me just a few days ago but was, in this moment, the sweetest sound. “Veronique, it’s over.”

A rush of dizziness trampled through me, and I slumped forward, falling into my mother.

“It’s over?” I repeated.

“Look around,” my mother said.

When I turned, my mouth dropped open. My mother and I were standing in a small, untouched circle of grass—everything around us was completely destroyed. We were surrounded by overturned trees, their branches cracked and broken, their roots exposed. The warehouse was flattened, shattered down to the foundation, its brick walls crumbled into piles of debris. Tucked among the debris and the fallen trees was Aster’s body.

“Is he . . . ? Is everyone . . . ?” The others were nowhere to be seen.

“The others ran off. . . . They’re safe, I think. But Aster . . .” She shook her head. “He left us no choice.”

Overhead, the dark was softening with the arrival of daylight.

“We’re free, Veronique,” my mother said, and engulfed me in her arms. We were reunited in the grimy bus station bathroom, but this was the first time she showed me warmth—as if Aster’s death had freed her to be my mother.

I reached up to hug her back, but I had no strength left in my arms. I burst into tears as awe, disgust, pride, and relief collided inside me. I stood there trembling as the new knowledge of who I was filtered through my body. I had always known that the winds would never abandon me, but now I knew that I could flatten buildings and uproot trees. I knew I could make my own choices and call forth destruction to save myself and the people I loved. I was a force as powerful—and as dangerous—as the wildest of thunderstorms, and I would never be silenced again.

38

Leaning our weight on each other, my mother and I walked away from the compound and started a slow shuffle down the side of a narrow, curving road. We didn’t talk, but my mother hummed constantly and desperately, as if the vibrations of her voice could distract her from the pain. When it felt like we had traveled a mile with not a car in sight, I lifted my hand and rolled my fingers. The winds came instantly. I made a braid of them and sent them flying forward; they unfurled, then split in different directions, seeking and searching. When they doubled back, they brought the smell of leaves and smoke, the sound of snores and bellows, the creaking of trees. One strand brought back the smell of gasoline.

I pointed in the direction the wind had come from.

“I think there’s a gas station that way.”

I was bone-weary, but I would push through any exhaustion to find my way back to Auntie Eve and the family. I hadn’t seen my phone since I was kidnapped. I was sure it was lost in the rubble of the warehouse, but all we had to do was reach the gas station and I could call Auntie Eve, Tyree, even Kez, anybody who could take us far from here.

“We don’t need a gas station,” my mother said, guiding me off the road into a driveway marked only by a sturdy metal mailbox on a pole. I stiffened, unprepared for more discoveries.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Somewhere where we can rest—and I can clean my wounds.”

I sighed. “Will there be a phone?”

“Is that the only way you’ll follow me?” she asked. For a second, she sounded like the mother I had met in that bus station bathroom—cold and commanding. Then she flashed a smile and cupped my cheek. “Of course there’s a phone.”

So, once again, I followed her lead. I turned with her and helped her limp down an unfamiliar path. We eventually arrived at a small blue house. She reached underneath a loose brick on the stairs and pulled out a set of keys.

“Just a little place I keep when I need to be close to home.”

I stepped inside. There was a couch, a love seat, and a small coffee table in the living room, but not much else. No photos, no books, no art.

“Just the necessities,” she said, closing the door behind us.

She walked away and disappeared through a doorway. Looking around, I felt a soft sadness flutter in my chest. This wasn’t a place of comfort or joy; it was a base from which to leave and return, a place to hide and to rest while keeping a distant eye on me. This is how she was living while I was on MawMaw’s farm.

When she returned, she handed me a T-shirt, a pair of sweatpants, and a towel.

“The bathroom is down the hall and to the left.”

In the shower, my mind spiraled through everything that had happened. Aster and MawMaw, my mother and Mal. They were all caught in this deadly swirl driven by powers that everyone was determined to control. I turned off the water and dried myself.

No one has the answers, I thought, staring into my reflection. Not Kez, not Aster, not my mother.

I thought of how I’d felt back in New Orleans, when I was desperate for answers, uncertain where to turn. I’d been so sure that there was a right path, a perfect solution. I just knew that if I could fix myself, blend in, ignore my powers, hide better, I could avoid disaster. I could see it now. There was no choice I could make to avoid the mess that erupted when I was finally kidnapped. I flashed back to Aster’s determination, Mal’s certainty, and my mother’s iron will. We all thought we could carve a path through the chaos—we were all fools.

Now I understood. There wasn’t ever going to be any one choice that could solve everything. Each step leads to a million new choices as the world changes around you—a grand orchestration of people trying and failing, searching and hoping, seeking and destroying. I can’t create the plot—not me alone. We are all pieces of the puzzle. The earth is one spinning globe of millions of choices shifting and moving as we each take a step on the journey. The world is just as alive as the planet is. It’s a growing, living thing—and I get to choose my part in it as I take each step along the way.

When I came out of the bathroom, my mother was sitting on the love seat, waiting for me. She had on a tank top, and her arm was bandaged.

“You can take the bedroom. I changed the sheets. I’ll sleep on the couch,” she said. “We both need rest, but tomorrow we can figure out what to do next.”

“I know what we need to do next,” I said.

My mother blinked at me, but nothing could shake my confidence now. I had spent too much time looking everywhere for the answers—and I had looked everywhere, except inside myself. It was time for me to be my own guide.

“We need to go to Auntie Eve’s,” I said. “I never said goodbye. And it’s time for you to tell her the truth.”

A flash of fear crossed her face. But after a moment she nodded.

“No more secrets,” I said.

“No more secrets,” she echoed.

I nodded and turned to go, but then I heard her say my name so low it was almost a whisper.

When I turned back, her eyes were wet with tears that had sprung up while I wasn’t looking. “I’m so happy to have finally met you.”

I could see clearly now what bound MawMaw, my mother, and me together. Through a heartbreaking series of imperfect choices, we were united by the same force. Not water, not fire, not wind—but love.

I gave her a smile that I hoped showed her all the love I felt and said, “Me too. Good night.”

In the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed, I was briefly overcome by a parade of beds cycling through my mind. My bed at MawMaw’s, where I had slept with the forest right outside my window; my bed in Zaza’s room, where we had spent so many nights laughing; the bed at the motel, where Tyree sheltered me from the world. A whirlwind of questions and tears, worries and fears had brought me here—to a woman who I didn’t think existed, after a battle I never thought I would survive.

Driven to make sense of all the contradictions I had discovered, I tried to untangle my thoughts, but my brain felt like it would splinter to pieces if I forced it to sift through any more memories. I lay back on my mother’s bed, curled into a ball, and closed my eyes. The world was a chaotic swirl—but in this moment, I was safe.

I was where I was meant to be.

We didn’t go home right away. My mother needed time to heal. I needed time too. Needed to figure out exactly what I was going to share with Zaza, how to tell Kez about his brother, whether Tyree ever wanted to see me again. Just last week, I would have been devastated if the people I loved didn’t accept me, but now I knew I was strong enough to handle whatever was coming next.

At first my mother and I danced around each other, tentative and awkward. She knew so much more about me than I did about her. MawMaw gave her regular updates, and she admitted that she had been checking up on me at Auntie Eve’s. That she had been the figure in the dark at MawMaw’s, watching me and paying her respects. But over the next few days, I got to know her too. How she hummed as she cooked eggs in the morning. How she wiped the counter in slow circles, one eye always out the window. How she worried about Mal and the others, hoping they’d find their path forward now they were no longer under Aster’s control.

How she’d held me in her heart since the day I was born, even if I hadn’t known it.

When my mother was finally healed, we drove to New Orleans and parked at Lake Pontchartrain. She crossed her arms as soon as we got out of the car and kept them crossed as we walked. I followed her, brushing the breeze across the trees that lined the curving concrete walkway.

When she stopped short, hands gripping her sides, I thought she’d sensed some danger, but there was no threat. She had spotted Auntie Eve leaning on a concrete bench, holding it tight for support. The sisters seemed unable to move.

Auntie Eve shook her head as I ran up to her.

“This isn’t real,” she said, trembling.

I wrapped my arms around her. “This is real,” I said, hugging her tight. “It’s really her.”

My mother finally drew near. “Eve,” she said, reaching out her hands before collapsing in tears.

Auntie Eve and my mother held each other, crying, with me squeezed between them. As their tears wet my face and shoulders, the hard stone of guilt that had grown inside me started to break. All this time, I had hated myself for being the reason that Auntie Eve had lost her sister. I was the reason my mother had disappeared—and now I was the reason she had returned. Bringing them back together was the medicine I needed to heal my heart.

I tried to wriggle out of their arms, but neither of them would let me go. It was as if they were saying I was stuck with them. There would be no more abandoning or disappearing, hiding or pretending. I may have grown up a girl with no one but MawMaw to depend on, but now I was theirs, and we were a family—one that would never let each other go.

Acknowledgments

Embedded in the journey of every book are layers and layers of conversation, questions, confidences, and encouragement. As a younger writer, I never understood the simultaneous tension of writing being both a solitary and a communal project. Writers work alone—there’s no one there to look over your shoulder and make sure you’re taking all the tiny little steps that writing a manuscript requires. But we draw on community, for the encouragement to continue; editors, for the shaping and evolution of the book; and agents, for the visioning of what’s to come. Join me as I acknowledge this army of supporters—not by name, but by impact, as I celebrate their contributions.

Earth

One of the biggest things writers need is grounding. They need firm earth to stand on, and they need faith that with each step they take, there will still be earth under their feet. For grounding, I thank my friends.

I thank every friend who read a trauma text while I was at the café procrastinating (sometimes for hours) and who gently encouraged me to carry on.

I thank every friend who listened to me talk about plot fixes, plot holes, and editorial conflicts. Without knowing the story, you let me talk away the friction so that I could return to the work.

I thank every friend who listened to detailed reports of what I was able to fix and what I left undone; every worry about whether or not I would be able to tackle the stubborn tangles in the next draft; and every concern that I had not done enough.

I thank every friend who told me there would be an end to this journey. It was many years long, with lots of stops and starts and questions and resolutions. I appreciate each vote of confidence, each assurance that I would get to the end and that one day this book would be complete.

Thank you, friends, for praising my efforts, acknowledging how hard I was working, and promising me the outcome would be worth the work. Each assurance was a balm to my troubled soul.

Water

One of the elements of writing that fascinates me is the editorial relationship. Each editor’s approach and perspective have an impact on the book. There is an alchemical relationship between the writer and editors that imprints on the final manuscript. Water can take on many shapes depending on the weather and the container. For their collaboration in the work of shaping the container of this project, I thank this project’s editors.

I thank the editorial team with whom I partnered to bring this vision to life. We cycled through many shapes and possibilities to contain the beating heart of this book until it finally took on the form that brought this story to you.

I thank the developmental editor, who kept an eye on beats and rhythm, making sure the story unfolded step by step, conflict by conflict.

I thank the acquiring editor, who had a vision for the pacing of the novel—long or short, this novel has a powerful fingerprint, and by keeping a tight pace to the plot points, the story gained a racing heartbeat.

I thank the copy editors, who took a deep dive into the world and unearthed repetitions, misstatements, typos, and grammatical issues, hunting out the manuscript’s weak spots one word at a time.

I thank the proofers, who applied the final polish to find those slippery errors that evaded notice until the final moment.

Thank you, editors, for being partners on the journey, for uncovering holes and weak spots, and for building a stronger end point. Each contribution was a gift to the novel’s final form.

Fire

Every project needs inspiration—the fire burning that keeps you going. For inspiration, I thank my family and my hometown.

I thank my parents for being both examples and encouragers.

They built their own world at a young age and used their vision to create a community that nurtured, educated, and inspired. With their example as a guiding light, I am always reminded that my own visions can make a difference. Through effort, dedication, and consistency, I can create amazing things.

My parents always manage to feed my spirit with the most inspiring visions of myself—they celebrate all I have done and constantly cheer me on as I move forward toward the next vision and the next. They remind me of my possibilities, my successes, and my brilliance. For that, I am eternally thankful.

I thank my daughter for always telling me I can do it. For reminding me that I have the energy when I’m exhausted. For showing me faith when I’m uncertain about the next steps. And for showering me with confidence as I strive to meet my goals.

I thank my nieces and my nephew, who shared their adolescent experiences with me. The New Orleans they grew up in is very different from the New Orleans I grew up in—and both those iterations of New Orleans are very different from New Orleans today. I thank them for sharing their lives with me as a starting place for V’s New Orleans adventures.

I thank my cousins and high school friends with whom I roamed the city when I was a teenager. We covered a lot of distance, found some trouble, and made some trouble—and we did it all with a sense of curiosity, creativity, and joy. The spirit of those times lives in Zaza and her crew.

Finally, I thank New Orleans. It’s a unique and contradictory place full of life, laughter, death, and struggle. It’s a never-ending well of inspiration, and I hope to be writing about its mysteries for decades to come.

A big thank-you to my origins for being a wellspring of creativity and audacity, for being a bounty of culture and swagger, and for being full of adventure and possibility. The collective adventures of my family members and the adventure of existence in my hometown are the rich roots that fed this book.

Air

We all need breath. We need the life-force of air to draw on to allow us to continue on. For giving me the foundation from which to create, I thank my writer peers, collaborators, teachers, and publishers. And I thank the readers, for continuing to show up to read the words that I put down on the page.

I thank my peers from all the writers’ workshops, retreats, and groups that I’ve attended. Collectively and individually, you’ve given me the blueprint for what’s possible; you’ve collaborated with me as we’ve collectively worked to strengthen our writing, our vision, our voices; and you’ve inspired me with the strides you’ve made and the successes and accolades you’ve earned.

I thank the teachers who marked stories and chapters, who shared encouraging words, who promised me that even if it’s so much harder than I imagined, writing is a worthwhile pursuit—and it’s my job to keep going.

I thank the readers whose authentic appreciation is a reminder of the point of it all. For those of us who have stories to tell, we are in cosmic connection with the ears that are listening. They have my deep gratitude for reflecting back at me the value of engaging in the work.

A massive thank-you to the writing community for being both engine and mirror, for being both lifeblood and stepping-stone, and for being both fascination and fuel. The existence of everyone who participates in this dance of literature forms a beautiful, brilliant network that powers my ever-evolving engagement with the written word.

About the Author

K. IBURA is a writer and visual artist from New Orleans, Louisiana. The middle child of five, she grew up in a city full of music and culture, a neighborhood full of oak trees and mosquitoes, and a home full of arts and activism. She has written two short story collections for adults: Ancient, Ancient—winner of the James Tiptree Jr. Award—and When the World Wounds. Her debut novel and first book for young people was When the World Turned Upside Down. Find her online at kibura.com.

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Copyright

Quill Tree Books is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.

Tempest. Copyright © 2025 by Alloy Entertainment LLC. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable 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 hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins Publishers.

Without limiting the exclusive rights of any author, contributor or the publisher of this publication, any unauthorized use of this publication to train generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies is expressly prohibited. HarperCollins also exercise their rights under Article 4(3) of the Digital Single Market Directive 2019/790 and expressly reserve this publication from the text and data mining exception.

Cover art © 2025 by Charles Chaisson

Cover design by David DeWitt

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023943866

Digital Edition JUNE 2025 ISBN: 978-0-06-308105-5

Print Edition ISBN: 978-0-06-308103-1

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