It’s an igneous rock, I think. Rhyolite, maybe? Could this stone have been born from the eruption of

Mt. Taupo 27,000 years ago?

Maybe, but how did it end up on the side of the road at a bus stop of all places? Unless Jace picked

it up somewhere else?

But why would he do that? Why lie about it if he did? Why am I still picturing his hopeful

expression when I said I’d go to Dad’s party?

I rub the stone until Mum asks me what’s up. She knows I’m imbuing the stone with my memories,

letting it soak up all the day’s events, the highs and lows. I relax as the stone releases my tight knots and

settles the fluttering in my belly.

Mum is hovering over the fruit bowl that’s on the dining table. Annie isn’t home yet. She got off

the bus a few stops earlier with Mr. Thinks-He’s-Getting-Lucky-But-Hopefully-He-Isn’t.

“Are you still angry with Dad?” I ask quietly.

Mum leans back in her chair and sighs. “Yes. No, not really. I wish things could have been

different, but they weren’t. It might not seem fair to you, but for him and me, it is. We tried to make it

work for you kids, but it wasn’t working.”

“He cheated on you. He made you look like a fool.”

“Well, thanks for that.” Mum hops off the chair and rounds the kitchen island to put on the tea

kettle. She shakes her head. “I thought Dad talked to you about what happened. He didn’t cheat.”

“He had a whole other life, Mum! Five years with them.”

“Lila and your father have been friends forever. But, yes, I suppose five years is when things broke

down and couldn’t be repaired.” Steam curtains her expression, but her words are softly spoken. “Look,

Cooper, we had an arrangement that we thought would work until you and Annie finished school, but

like I said, it wasn’t working. Your father was right to break it up. Right to go and live with the woman

he’s probably always loved. Right to let me have a chance to find someone of my own.”

“Well that’s . . . that’s . . . an arrangement? That’s fucked up.”

“Cooper, watch your tongue!”

I laugh, squeezing my stone as if I might be able to juice it. “They’re not better than us, Mum.

They’re not . . .” I wish Mum would rush over and wrap me into a hug, but hugs have always been

Dad’s thing.

Mum places a cup of tea before me. “Drink up, love,” she says. “He misses you, and I think it’s

time you and Annie went to your dad’s.”

Relief overwhelms me. Someone else making the decision to see Dad for me? Perfect. Because the

truth is I miss him too. So much. But I don’t want anyone to think I’m taking his side over Mum’s.

“I don’t want to,” I say pitifully. But it’s a lie, meant only to comfort her.

And maybe my mum does know me the best, because she smiles and says, “You have to.”

citrine

Halloween.

Mum drops me off. Annie is in the back seat, muttering under her breath. She’s refusing to attend

the party.

I open my visor to check my face paint—zombie face like always—and dip a finger into a thicker

splotch of fake blood to draw it down as if it’s dribbling from my mouth. The rest of my face is pale,

except for my eyes, which Mum thought should be darkened with eyeliner. Disconcertingly, my eyes

look brighter than normal, especially the one on the left. Then again, it’s Halloween so I can get away

with anything.

I angle the visor and look at my sister’s reflection. She’s staring toward the mansion much like I did

the first time. She blinks and lifts a finger to dab her eyes.

I avert my gaze and snap the visor away.

My belly gurgles as I take in the haunted manor. Tens of jack-o’-lanterns with eyes like citrine

gemstones line the path toward the flickering light at the front porch. I gulp.

It looks scarier than our house used to be. Scarier, better.

But their house is big—it has the advantage of looking creepy all on its lonesome. Inside will be the

real test.

I crack open the car door. Faint, eerie music leaks from the manor and the moat glimmers as if

being resurrected by it. We’re better than you.

I hesitate. Do I really need to put myself through this?

The front door opens, and Frankenstein’s monster steps out. Dad calls us over with a friendly,

excited wave, one that hopes we’ll race up and leave the past in the dust.

Wouldn’t it be nice if life were that easy?

I smooth my ripped and dirtied shirt. It hangs out of my tattered jeans that are smeared with blood

and ominous yellow ooze. “Pick me up in a couple of hours.”

I drag my feet the way Dad taught me to zombie walk last year. I cock my head and let my tongue

loll. I’m rewarded with a deep laugh. Maybe forcing myself out of the car was worth it.

“Stay away from me,” Dad jokes, backing into the house. He shrugs and grabs me into a hug,

whispering gruffly, “Thank you for coming. It’s good to see you again.”

My throat is tight. I swallow. “Happy birthday, Dad.”

I don’t have a gift for him this year. Does he notice? Does he care? Does he remember last year

when I gave him opal cufflinks?

“Opals represent Zeus’s celebratory tears after he defeated the Titans.”

“Really?” he asked, putting them on despite being dressed for Halloween.

“It’s also believed that the owner of this stone has the power of foresight.”

He laughed. “See, it means I’m wise and you have to listen to me.”

But would a wise man have fractured his family?

Despite that, I don’t want him to let go. I want to stand on this cold porch with the light flickering

above us for the rest of the night. Eventually, Dad pulls away. “Go on in. Take the tour. I’m going to

scare this next lot.”

Over my shoulder, a group of teens strut giggling up the path.

I duck inside. It’s dark, the music’s loud, and cobwebs hang over the windows. Signs written in

blood direct the guests.

I follow the bloody signs to the staircase, where giant wetas hang from the ceiling with antennae

that seem to be moving. Mum would have freaked out; she hates cockroaches and spiders, and the weta

is both creatures combined.

A few people at the top of the stairs discuss which path they should take. They decide on slinking to

the right, so I go left. I turn into the first room. Ghosts and werewolves and vampires hide in the

shadows. Most are props but the vampire is real. He lies in an open casket, wedged into the corner of a

room. His eyes spring open when a witch passes him and she jumps, knocking into a pile of fake

chainsaws.

I catch one as it falls. It’s made of rubber, but solid—

Something moves behind me. The hair at the back of my neck prickles. When I turn, though, it’s

gone. So is the vampire.

I shrug it off. I’m pretty sure this is an act to freak us out.

Isn’t this whole thing ten times better than anything you and Annie ever did?

I drop the rubber chainsaw onto the table and leave the room. I wish I didn’t have to wait for Mum

to pick me up. I want to leave.

A door creaks behind me. A narrow slit of green light spills from a partially opened door. Someone

whispers my name over the music. Cooper. Cooper. Cooper.

I slink toward it and pull on the handle—

I gasp. Inside the small closet, my name is glowing in the dark. Cooper. An illuminated arrow

points to one corner. It takes me a moment to recognize the familiar shape—my old magnifying glass,

laying on top of my journal.

I open the door wide and shuffle toward my name. It’s hard to see in here. Coats are heaped in the

corner and a shelf above my head forces me to squat.

Just as I grab for my journal, the door slams shut. I jerk around and feel for the handle.