Black Bead: Book One of the Black Bead Chronicles by J.D. Lakey Page B

her upturned face, “Where are they going?”
    “I remember reading that their summer range is in the high meadows,” Tam said, trying to keep his pet lizard captive for one more moment. The lizard could not be persuaded to stay, ignoring his proffered berry. Soon, Tam let it go. It leapt away, the sun flashing on the membranes of its wings. He sighed, happy and content, and lay back on the soft moss.
    Alain nodded, heavy-eyed, in the shade of a gorgeberry bush.
    “Do you think we can come back here when they return to lay their eggs?” Megan asked sleepily.
    “That would be fun,” Tam said, nibbling lazily on the last of his berries.
    Cheobawn did not want to waste a moment in sleep. She heard Connor whooping in delight further up the glen. The grove held more fun than just berries and lizards, it seemed. Leaving the others to rest in the heat of the midday, she ran towards the sound. At the far end of the grove a tumble of boulders hid a series of pools connected by miniature waterfalls. She found him waist-deep in the largest pool. He was rapidly ridding himself of all his soaked clothing and tossing it up on the bank.
    Cheobawn laughed, feeling giddy and light-headed with happiness.
    “No, no, you have it all backwards,” she yelled. “You take a bath after you get undressed, not before.”
    “Come in. It’s perfect!” shouted Connor.
    Cheobawn shed her clothes, leaving them on a flat rock high above the wet and jumped into the water, naked except for her omeh.
    Connor had lied. Having only just emerged from the bowels of the mountain, the water was shockingly cold after the heat of the sunny summer afternoon. She rose to the surface and let out a strangled screech. Connor grinned at her, his teeth chattering. She splashed water in his direction as payment for tricking her. An all-out war ensued to see who could douse the other more. When they could no longer feel their fingers and Connors lips had taken on an alarming shade of blue, they called a truce and hauled themselves out to dry,  bellies pressed flat onto the heat of the nearby boulders. Cheobawn hugged the stone, letting it bake her while she listened absently to the ambient. The midday air hung heavy over the grove as the lizards buzzed softly somewhere out in the tall grass and the birds in the gorgeberry bushes chirped at each other, too lazy to even sing their songs properly.
    Cheobawn opened one sleepy eye and found Connor’s eyes fixed on her omeh, a slightly befuddled look on his face.
    “Can I ask you something?” Connor said, propping his chin on his fist, as if holding his head up was very hard work.
    “Sure,” Cheobawn said. Here it comes, she thought, the questions she could not answer.
    “You are the best Ear ever. How did you manage to … ya know?”  
    “How did I mess up my Choosingday?”
    “Yeah,” Connor said, the look on his face one of honest puzzlement. “You can see across five clicks of forest and find a swarm of glasslizards on hatching day. How could you not see into two stupid boxes? No offense intended but the Choosingday psi test is so easy even half the boys can pass it.”
    Perhaps the sunshine and laughter had softened the walls around her heart. Perhaps it was because Connor had played with her with child-like abandon, as no other child of the domes ever had. Perhaps it was the way he asked, without judgment or revulsion. Perhaps she owed her Pack an explanation. Perhaps friends were supposed to share their most intimate secrets, secrets never ever shared with another living soul.
    “I hate dolls,” Cheobawn said simply. This was not the whole truth, being only the first layer of a very complicated secret, but it was a start.
    “Huh? What do dolls have to do with taking a dead simple test? Pick the good, leave the bad. How hard is that?”
    “I wanted a pet, but Mora always gave me dolls, instead. I was mad at her that day and they did not know that I could see into the boxes.”
    Connor began to