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“You’d think they’d make an exception. This is Santa Cruz. Even the library lets you in barefoot.” He caught himself. “Not that I know from experience.”

“Surrrre you don’t.” I swung my leg around my cruiser, about to push off with the other.

“Hey, River,” he cooed. Full of mischief, those eyes, and I already knew the words that dared to be spoken, dancing in their carob twinkle. “Don’t think I forgot it’s your birthday.”

I groaned. “Tomorrow.”

“What better way to celebrate your eighteenth lap around the sun when we’re already out celebrating freedom?” That arm rose again in a full-blown flex.

I could think of a million other ways to spend my birthday that didn’t involve rubbing elbows with every single teacher and student who got a front row seat to my graduation tumble.

“Guess we’ll just have to put a candle on top of the funnel cake. But that’s as far as I’m going, Jav.” I squinched my brows together, trying to be stern while he held in a smile, no doubt already plotting.

“Alright, alright. Meet you at the main entrance at six?” The corners of his mouth stretched up and out, unable to resist a grin.

“As if I have any say in the matter,” I teased as I pushed forward, swerving between the dried-out eucalyptus bark and crumbling potholes. Steadying myself on the wheels, I picked up speed as I biked across West Cliff Drive.

The breeze’s subtle howls wove through my hair like natural whispers, stirring the first voice from wherever she burrowed. “I’ve never understood these earthborn rituals.” I could’ve sworn I heard a yawn, as if she was…bored?

“That’s because they’re utterly pointless.” The third voice nipped with the wind stinging my ears.

“Oh, loosen up, it’s just a bit of fun,” I murmured, trusting no one could overhear me as I wove through the groups of joggers, surfers, and bikers. “You might find it entertaining. I mean, who doesn’t love a good Shakespeare festivity?”

Who was I kidding? Me, for starters. My fingers curled into the rubber handlebars.

“They’ve done these things since the beginning of time,” the second voice said, tsking with the clink of the pedals. Not an approval, but at least she didn’t pick apart my life choices in the aimless way I picked at my cuticles—like the other two did. “Nothing new here.”

“Hapless mortals,” the first sliced in as I faltered over a natural speedbump.

I clenched my teeth. “Despite what you all think, this hapless mortal might actually enjoy getting out and experiencing the world.” It came out a touch too loud, earning very confused glances from a walking group I passed. Their raised brows did one thing for me at least—they caused me to take a long, purposeful breath. Getting riled up on a cruiser on a busy cliff path was not in my best interest.

“Keep telling yourself that.” Laughter rang through the disturbed bits of gravel, the first voice’s cackle catching on my tires. “We’re a part of you, Watcher. You think we can’t tell how you really feel?”

That was probably the most annoying part.

“But maybe I’m biased—I’ve never been a fan of William’s.” She dropped his first name like it was no big deal.

“Same.” The third groaned with the rough brake of the car at the stop sign on my left. “That’s beside the point though—the end is nigh.”

I huffed out a sigh. Before, it might have made my chest grow tight, but after years of it, this “end of the world” talk was getting really old.

“Ah, so you want her to put her big girl pants on?” the first voice chimed with the bell of a passing bicycle.

“Don’t we all,” the third muttered, voice growing with power as it latched on to the siren of a speeding fire truck. “If she ignores her past any longer there will be no more gatherings. No more ceremonies. No more Earth.”

“Really—”

“Okay.” I spoke soft but swiftly, cutting the second voice off. “I get it. Bad River for going to school, for hanging out with friends, for doing everything a teenager is supposed to do. Can you stop being a buzzkill? You don’t get to tell me what to do.” And why should they be? They were nothing but air! Nothing but a delusion.

Then the red flash of the fire truck flashed across my vision, and its rumble swept through my veins. The siren devoured all other sounds, wailing:

No more Earth.

No more Earth.

No more Earth.

The words punctured my mind like tiny corkscrews, pinning reality beneath. I pedaled backwards to brake and leaned to the side, careful not to plow through the fence lining the cliffs.