The Casquette Girls by Alys Arden Page B

shutter burst open and glass rained down in sparkling shards.
    It was a miracle I had walked away unscathed . A trapped breath escaped.
    I leaned out the window and tugged at the shutters. Neither budged; both were securely fastened open. I’m not sure what else I expected to happen. With my upper body still hanging outside, I noticed a bird perched on our neighbor’s balcony: a large black crow, staring. I yanked myself back inside, banging my head, and slammed the window shut.
    Touching the bandage on my face, I looked back through the glass with a little spite, but only the moon stared back at me. “Come on, Adele, it’s just a stupid bird.”
    I shoved the window open and turned back around, ready to clean.
    “Dad! Are you trying to scare me to death?”
    My hands went to my knees, pulse exploding.
    “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I called your name when I walked through the front door, but I guess you couldn’t hear me all the way up here. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He pulled me up. “What’s wrong?”
    I hesitated as the day’s events sped through my head. There was no real need to tell him about the dead body. It would only make him worry, and might even result in stricter attempts at parenting, an experiment in which I didn’t want to be a test subject. And there was no way to explain the bizarre events I had seen in the convent courtyard; I felt insane just thinking about them.
    “Nothing’s wrong. You just startled me. How was your day?”
    “Okay, considering all things. No leads on finding someone to fix the wall. The supply and demand ratio for labor is already way out of whack. It’s going to be mayhem when the masses return.”
    “And the bar?”
    “Looks like it got a couple inches of water, just enough to damage anything that was resting on the floor.”
    “Oof, that’s good? I guess?”
    “Yeah, it could have been a lot worse, I suppose. The smell was the worst part, but I managed to drag most of the rank furniture outside. Did you make it to school?”
    “Uh, no.” I braced myself for the onslaught of guilt after lying to my father, but I didn’t want to open that can of worms tonight. I moved my bandaged hand behind my back.
    “What’s that smell?”
    “It’s sage. Oh, I ran into an old friend of yours… and Mom’s.”
    His left eyebrow raised into a question mark.
    “Ana Marie Borges.”
    “Wow, that’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time. Where did you run into her?”
    “In their shop. That place is so cool! I can’t believe you’ve never taken me there before.”
    “What were you doing in Vodou Pourvoyeur?”
    “Nothing, really. I moseyed in because it was actually open.”
    He looked a little more uncomfortable than usual.
    “It was kinda weird.”
    “How so?”
    “Just, they kinda acted like they knew me.”
    “Ana and Morgan have a daughter about your age.”
    “Désirée. We met. She’s delightful .”
    He laughed. “Well, I’m sure she’s grown up wanting for nothing.”
    “That’s an understatement.”
    “Let me guess, the Storm went easy on their shop?”
    “To quote Désirée, the Borges ‘don’t have problems with Storms.’ Oh, I have some more sage if you want to bring a bundle to the bar.”
    He gave me a funny look.
    “You know, for the rank smell?” I looked down at my watch. “Whoa, where have you been all night, Dad? It’s after midnight.”
    “I told you, at the bar—”
    “But what about the curfew?”
    “It’s not like I was out loitering or looting, Adele. People have lives; people have to work. Damn curfew.”
    “Jeez, sorry I asked.”
    “And that doesn’t give you permission to be out past curfew.”
    “All right.”
    “We should go to bed. It’s late.”
    “I took an epic nap, so I’m not really tired.”
    He moved to the window and pushed it shut.
    I sighed, switched off the light, and followed him down the stairs to my bedroom door.
    “Try to sleep. It’s the only way you’ll get back on Central