us?”
“After a kiss like that, mister, you can ask Brooke about that itsy-bitsy detail yourself.”
“No joke, Elise, I really need your help. You’re closer to her than I am, and she’s been avoiding me like I’ve got Dengue fever.”
Elise growled at him, but he could tell she’d do it. Will squeezed her hand and headed for the door.
“You think we can pull this off, West?” asked Elise. “Just the five of us?”
“Hey, it’s not like we’re your average Breakfast Club,” said Will, reaching for the door. “And, between you and me, I’ve been practicing.”
“So have I,” said Elise, raising an eyebrow.
With that, she shot an image into his mind. Will staggered momentarily, then looked at her in amazement.
“Now that, ” he said, “I’ve got to see.”
As Will headed back across campus, he realized Elise was right about this much: He had been grieving in the months since the accident, but not in any conventional way. He had every reason to believe that his dad, at least, was alive, but he’d never told anyone—not even his roommates—about the text he’d received from Jordan West after the plane went down. He was too frightened that giving voice to that hope might jinx it.
“Grief is a doorway through which we pass to realize that the sun is always shining.”
That was the only thing Ira Jericho had ever said on the subject of his parents’ disappearance, and now that he’d snapped out of his dazed state, Will realized he’d been grieving for a way of life that had been lost forever—the blissfully ignorant existence he’d lived before black cars and dead chopper pilots and discovering the elaborate fictions his parents had built around their family. In spite of their lies, he still missed them like a phantom limb. All he had left of his fifteen years with them was a single photograph from their wedding and Dad’s Book of Rules.
What if my parents were somehow involved with the Paladin Prophecy? How can I miss them so much if I never really knew who they were?
Will’s school pager buzzed in his pocket. Someone on campus was trying to reach him on the Center’s centralized phone system. He ducked into the nearest building and picked up one of the omnipresent black courtesy phones in the lobby.
“This is Will,” he said.
“One moment, Mr. West,” said one of the cheerful, ever-present female operators.
Will heard the call get connected.
“Meet me behind Cumberland Hall,” said the voice, almost in a whisper. “Five minutes.”
Will hung up.
Brooke.
The first words she’d spoken to him in over a month. The first sign she wanted to speak to him in almost half a year. Will felt his heart bonk around in his chest like a pinball.
What did she want?
Cumberland Hall was on the other side of the campus, a small building directly behind the campus’s physical services complex. Will turned on the jets and arrived there in two minutes.
The last glimmers of sunset still filled the western sky. She was already waiting for him behind the building, visible in a soft slice of light from a streetlamp at the corner, highlighting her cameo-perfect profile. Brooke turned when she heard him take in a sharp breath of air. She held out her arms and wrapped herself around him.
It was the first time she’d touched him since December.
She felt soft and warm, and the clean scent of her shampoo—hints of citrus and freshly mown grass—made Will a little dizzy.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
“About what?”
“They made me do it, Will. They made me promise not to get involved with you.”
“Who did?” asked Will.
“My parents, ” she said, pulling back so she could look him in the eye.
“How?”
“When I was home over the holidays. It ended up being impossible not to tell them how I felt about you, or I guess I couldn’t hide it. Besides, they somehow already knew all the details, from the school I assume, and they sat me down and told me they’d decided I
“After a kiss like that, mister, you can ask Brooke about that itsy-bitsy detail yourself.”
“No joke, Elise, I really need your help. You’re closer to her than I am, and she’s been avoiding me like I’ve got Dengue fever.”
Elise growled at him, but he could tell she’d do it. Will squeezed her hand and headed for the door.
“You think we can pull this off, West?” asked Elise. “Just the five of us?”
“Hey, it’s not like we’re your average Breakfast Club,” said Will, reaching for the door. “And, between you and me, I’ve been practicing.”
“So have I,” said Elise, raising an eyebrow.
With that, she shot an image into his mind. Will staggered momentarily, then looked at her in amazement.
“Now that, ” he said, “I’ve got to see.”
As Will headed back across campus, he realized Elise was right about this much: He had been grieving in the months since the accident, but not in any conventional way. He had every reason to believe that his dad, at least, was alive, but he’d never told anyone—not even his roommates—about the text he’d received from Jordan West after the plane went down. He was too frightened that giving voice to that hope might jinx it.
“Grief is a doorway through which we pass to realize that the sun is always shining.”
That was the only thing Ira Jericho had ever said on the subject of his parents’ disappearance, and now that he’d snapped out of his dazed state, Will realized he’d been grieving for a way of life that had been lost forever—the blissfully ignorant existence he’d lived before black cars and dead chopper pilots and discovering the elaborate fictions his parents had built around their family. In spite of their lies, he still missed them like a phantom limb. All he had left of his fifteen years with them was a single photograph from their wedding and Dad’s Book of Rules.
What if my parents were somehow involved with the Paladin Prophecy? How can I miss them so much if I never really knew who they were?
Will’s school pager buzzed in his pocket. Someone on campus was trying to reach him on the Center’s centralized phone system. He ducked into the nearest building and picked up one of the omnipresent black courtesy phones in the lobby.
“This is Will,” he said.
“One moment, Mr. West,” said one of the cheerful, ever-present female operators.
Will heard the call get connected.
“Meet me behind Cumberland Hall,” said the voice, almost in a whisper. “Five minutes.”
Will hung up.
Brooke.
The first words she’d spoken to him in over a month. The first sign she wanted to speak to him in almost half a year. Will felt his heart bonk around in his chest like a pinball.
What did she want?
Cumberland Hall was on the other side of the campus, a small building directly behind the campus’s physical services complex. Will turned on the jets and arrived there in two minutes.
The last glimmers of sunset still filled the western sky. She was already waiting for him behind the building, visible in a soft slice of light from a streetlamp at the corner, highlighting her cameo-perfect profile. Brooke turned when she heard him take in a sharp breath of air. She held out her arms and wrapped herself around him.
It was the first time she’d touched him since December.
She felt soft and warm, and the clean scent of her shampoo—hints of citrus and freshly mown grass—made Will a little dizzy.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
“About what?”
“They made me do it, Will. They made me promise not to get involved with you.”
“Who did?” asked Will.
“My parents, ” she said, pulling back so she could look him in the eye.
“How?”
“When I was home over the holidays. It ended up being impossible not to tell them how I felt about you, or I guess I couldn’t hide it. Besides, they somehow already knew all the details, from the school I assume, and they sat me down and told me they’d decided I
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