Clockwork Twist : Dreamer Read Free

their hair in a mess of short blond points the way that Jonas always did.
    “Can you see those?” Jonas asked Twist, pointing out to sea.
    “I don't think so,” Twist said, unable to imagine what he meant.
    “Those islands out there,” Jonas clarified.
    “No, not at all,” Twist answered, sipping at his ice water.  There was a slice of cucumber in it that confused him slightly.  “Are they pretty?”  He fished the cucumber out of his glass with his fingers and ate it.
    “I suppose so, for lumps of rock in the sea,” Jonas said, still staring. “Sometimes I wonder how far I really can see.  With my Sight, it's not easy to tell.”
    Twist pulled his small copper globe out of a pocket and opened it.  A tiny mote of blue light sprang into existence on the western edge of America as he did.  He moved the shifting layers of copper gently until the image of the Pacific Ocean filled the surface of the globe.
    “Do you suppose it could be Hawaii?”
    “No, it couldn't be,” Jonas toned, not sounding totally sure.
    Their waitress appeared with a silver tray and placed two steaming cups of coffee and one large slice of chocolate cake with lemon-yellow frosting on the table between them.  She then smiled at Twist—the ends of her short dark hair falling against her neck as she tilted her head to one side.
    “Would you like anything else, sugar?” she asked with a clearly American accent.  The sound of it still surprised him, no matter how often he heard it around him.
    “No, thank you,” Twist said. “I don't like sugar.”  Jonas seemed to get something caught suddenly in his throat.  He recovered quickly and then pointed to the horizon.
    “Are there islands out there?” he asked the waitress.
    “Oh sure,” she responded, glancing off into the haze. “The Farallon Islands.  On a clear day, you can see them.  Looks too hazy today,” she said with a sigh, looking back at Twist.  The waitress's eyes seemed to wander in a way that made Twist feel suddenly quite self-conscious.
    “Thanks,” Jonas said, pulling the plate of cake in front of himself.
    “Call if you need anything,” she said pleasantly, directly to Twist.
    Once she walked away, Twist gave his shoulders a small shake, feeling as though the waitress's gaze still clung to him like dust.  Jonas was watching him now, smiling.
    “Are all Americans weird?” Twist asked him softly.
    “Yes, of course,” Jonas answered certainly. “Everyone knows that.  But that's not your problem with that one,” he added, nodding after the waitress.
    “What do you mean?”
    Jonas gave Twist the sort of smile that always came before a truly devious remark. “She thinks you're cute,” he said with way too many lilting notes.
    Twist's face blanked and his whole form went suddenly still.  Jonas laughed.
    “Well you have such pretty, dusty blue eyes,” Jonas said with far too much joy. “You'd better get used to it, sugar.”  It was only now, hearing it again, and from Jonas, that Twist caught the pet name the waitress had used.
    “But, but I … I mean … Now see here!”  Twist pointed an angry finger at Jonas's continued laughter.
    “Is this a bad time?” a voice asked from beside the table.
    Twist snapped his glare away from Jonas's smiling face to see Myra and Tasha standing together, watching them carefully.  Myra's copper skin shone brightly against the gently ruffled, pure-white dress that clung tightly to her slender, clockwork form.  A wide-brimmed hat sat on her maroon wire hair, framing her face in a heavenly white sweep.  Standing beside her in an emerald sateen gown, black lace gloves, and a short black jacket, Tasha looked far better suited to a candle-lit evening than the bright light of day.
    “Myra!  Great timing!” Jonas said brightly. “Tell me, don't you think Twist is cute?”
    “Will you shut up?” Twist snapped at him angrily.  Jonas fell into laughter again.
    “Should we come back later?” Tasha asked