Page 35

My alarm goes off, its shrill warble screeching loudly for me to wake up. I scramble for my runebook, but I can’t find it. Why in the world would I set an alarm? I never set an alarm, there’s nothing worth waking up this early for—

A soft voice mumbles next to me and my eyes snap open, and the events of yesterday come sweeping back to me in a flood.

Brenda, her hair a tangled mess, is curled up on top of the blankets next to me, her eyelids fluttering as she reaches around her for the noise.

My runebook is charging on the side table by her, and she swipes at it until it quiets.

She yawns and opens her eyes, blinking at me.

The Compendium is lying open on her lap, almost as if she fell asleep reading it halfway and started using it as a blanket.

She gives me a small smile, and my heart seizes up with some newfound softness, unexpected and warm.

She looks so cozy and sleepy and cute, and I want to wrap the blanket back around her or, like, go get her all the breakfast things she wants.

I don’t even know what she likes, but I would do it in a heartbeat.

I would summon hot coffee and a giant breakfast burrito from Polly’s down the street, or all the dim sum delicacies from the cart with that awful line on Garfield, every single morsel perfectly steamed or fried and in its little tray.

I want to bring her everything that makes her happy.

And I meant what I said last night, about this, about seeing each other, about this being worth it. I want to know her, I want to know everything about her and to keep this beautiful smile on her face.

“Hi,” she says softly.

“Hi back.”

Great. Very smooth. I cringe, but she giggles, and it’s the most delightful sound in all the world.

“How was your reading?”

Brenda yawns. “Oh, fascinating, I wish I could take a whole class on this chapter on runic symbols alone.”

“You can borrow it, if you like. It’s really only a reference book, and I’m not working on anything right now.”

She beams at me, her smile widening.

I want to reach over and be suave and cool, but instead I feel awkward and shy.

Everything about my hookups, about this part—this part was always the part I was afraid of the most, that someone would see me as I really was and not who they thought, the person I crafted myself to be—the always tough, never caring Chosen One who might as well have fun before it all ends.

To them, I would only be a good story to tell their friends.

It’s not really waking up if you didn’t sleep, or if you were mentally calculating how long it would take for them to notice if you left. I’ve never had this, never really fallen asleep with anyone, and certainly never had anyone in my own space before.

I could have been more gallant about the chair thing, but she said she was going to read, and she just fell asleep here next to me like it was comfortable and safe—

There’s part of me that’s pleased, that stirs with affection and warmth and satisfaction, that whispers to me, She stayed because you said you would protect her .

I feel all fluttery, my stomach in twists from her being nearby and comfortable enough…

I mean, I wasn’t expecting to sleep at all; I was going to pretend to fall asleep and then mentally run over everything I learned about the Order and plans to investigate Mom’s research in my head, and wait and see if Brenda would fall asleep and then take the chair.

I guess it means I was comfortable enough, too.

Bolstering myself, I reach across her to grab my runebook.

“Sorry, I thought that was my alarm,” Brenda says sheepishly. “Did I mess it up?”

“No, just turned off the alarm. Guess most devices have that in common.”

Brenda grabs her own—not a runebook, a phone —the electronic communication device from the table. She flicks the screen and sighs. “Hopefully I’m not in too much trouble for staying out late, and everyone isn’t too worried.”

Right. She has to get back home.

I pull out the schedule and coordinates. “It’s five… I wanted to make sure we had enough time to get there. The early streetcars are hourly right now, but we can take Buttercup.”

Brenda tilts her head curiously. “What kind of magic is that?”

I laugh. “Come on, you’ll see.”

Brenda’s astonished and awed face as I lead Buttercup out of the stable is entirely worth not telling her that Buttercup is a horse.

Brenda had peppered me with all sorts of questions about transportation spells, giddy off reading so much of the history book, as we got ready to go and walked down the street to the communal stables for my neighborhood, the questions getting wilder and wilder until we finally got to the stable.

I try not to laugh, but it’s hard. She’s just so cute. “You sure you don’t have horses in your world?”

“Well yeah, we do, but it’s not like most people just have them or just have a stable in their neighborhoods!” Brenda steps forward carefully, reaching her hand out. “Can I pet her?”

I nod. “She likes to be scratched right here.”

I guide Brenda’s hand to Buttercup’s head, showing her the spot between her ears that she likes.

Buttercup snorts happily, swishing her tail.

She accepts the carrots I brought for her and nibbles affectionately at my fingers as I feed her.

Her big soulful brown eyes regard Brenda with curiosity, although it might be the cat snuggled safely in her bag, her little face peeping out of the opening.

“Are you hungry? We could do a ride-thru.”

It takes three tries for Brenda to make it up onto Buttercup, who patiently waits and snuffles at me. I climb up in front of her, grabbing the reins and gently guiding Buttercup onto the street.

“Whoa, we’re up so high,” Brenda says. “This is so weird and cool. Are you sure she’s okay? Does she like me?”

“She is very old and very patient,” I say. “And definitely strong enough to support both of us.”

Brenda leans forward, clutching the back of my shoulders gingerly.

“You can hang on to me if you want.”

“This is okay?”

“Yeah, absolutely.”

She shuffles closer, wrapping her arms around my waist, so close I can feel her breath on the back of my neck.

I try to concentrate and make it to May Lin’s shop, which I’ve done so many times with Buttercup that I could do it in my sleep, yet somehow I end up going around the block twice because I miss a turn.

“Ride-thru,” Brenda chuckles, looking at the various fast food places that already have lines of people on their horses or a few in their carriages waiting to get their breakfast or coffee.

“Amazing. We have drive-thrus, since everyone has cars. Wait, so do most people not have cars then? What were those things I saw in the Target parking lot?”

“Those are cars,” I respond. “Horseless carriages. Powered by magic. Expensive to maintain with how much mana they need. My dad has a really old one, but usually we either ride Buttercup or take streetcars, or teleport if we really need it.”

Brenda laughs. “I mean, at home, horses are kind of a rich-person thing.”

“Why would everyone have a car? That’s ridiculous.”

“We don’t exactly have the amazing public transportation you do,” Brenda says. “The electric streetcar system got shut down by the automobile industry so they could sell more cars to people.”

“That’s awful.” I shudder, thinking about life without the streetcar system.

“That’s how most people get around. In other areas of the world I think most people do have horses or ponies, especially if there’s more grazing area.

In the city there are communal stables and grazing areas if you have a horse.

But most people don’t bother, since it’s easier to use the streetcars. ”

Buttercup whinnies softly as I guide her through the ride-thru at May Lin’s.

It’s just a tiny building on the side of the road and literally has a sign that says OPEN UNTIL MAY LIN DECIDES TO GO HOME OR WE ARE OUT OF FOOD and it has always had the best dim sum.

There’s even banquet halls and restaurants that try to buy her out specifically for their weekend orders instead of making bao in-house.

It’s early still, but there’s already a short line of people in front of us.

The air is full of the delicious smells of freshly baked pastries, savory cha siu bao and more, and it only gets stronger as we approach the window.

Through the glass in the soft glow of the tiny kitchen, we can see trays stacked high with delicacies: sesame balls, pan-fried turnip cakes, har gow and siu mai, shining dan tat, glistening rice noodles, and those are just the ones I can see.

Brenda sighs happily. “I’m so excited!”

I count out cash and push it through the tiny window at May Lin, who barely reaches the height of the window. “Extra dan tat for you,” she says.

“Thank you, auntie!” I grin at her. “Keep the change.”

The paper bag is almost translucent with oil by the time we get to the railroad tracks.

As I predicted, it’s empty, and a quick detect-life spell tells me there’s no one around except for a few sleeping rabbits and mice in the shrubberies.

I dismount and help Brenda down, and we enjoy cha siu bao and hot, crisp dan tat, the custard with a perfect amount of wobble and savory goodness.

“These are so good,” Brenda mumbles around her mouthful. “I could have sworn we have a dim sum shack like this in the same place.”

“Delicious baked goods must be a constant.” I laugh.

“There’s another opening on Saturday—looks like the top of Echo Mountain.

” I grin. That would be a great date; I’m already imagining us having a romantic lunch overlooking the view of Los Angeles in the hotel restaurant.

“Want to meet in the hotel lobby and then we can get lunch?”

“Key Club is having a trail cleanup day Saturday at Echo Mountain,” says Brenda. “There isn’t a hotel there—it’s just ruins.”