The Passage to Mythrin 2-Book Bundle Read Free Page A

in a fold of her scarf. “I saw something up there again, that’s all. Above the lights. A — a face. A strange face.” She heard the quaver in her voice and was angry with herself. “No, don’t bother looking, it’s gone.”
    â€œSomebody fixing the lights, maybe.”
    â€œYeah, probably.” Weird face, though, in that half-second. Too long, shaped wrong, you’d almost think itwas one of those carvings, only it moved, and it looked right at her, and...
    I must be really, really tired.
    â€œUm, there’s a coffee shop.” Simon pointed across the square. “D’you want —”
    â€œNo! I’m perfectly fine.”
    He looked at her hands wrapped in her scarf, then took off his mitts and held them out.
    â€œI said I’m fine!”
    â€œYou sure?”
    â€œYes!”
    â€œOkay.” He put his mitts back on.
    Ike plopped down on the bench beside her.
    â€œAmmy, can I see that ring?”
    She fished it out of her pocket and handed it over.
    â€œBe careful with it.”
    â€œYou bet.” He held it up sideways to his eye and looked at one of the streetlights through the curve of the stone, which rose a quarter-inch above the band. “Cool!”
    â€œLet me see.” Simon got it away from him and squinted through it with one eye. He panned the ring slowly across the square. “Neat! Everything’s red. And it’s all changed, all towers and mountains and things.”
    â€œJust as I suspected!” Ike hissed. “It’s an alien artifact!”
    Spare me!
Amelia was suddenly too angry to be scared. That felt good. She gazed up at the black sky. “Please tell me, why, oh why am I hanging out with two geeky little boys?”
    â€œLittle?” Simon threw the ring into her hand. He looked as close to mad as she’d ever seen him. “I’m bigger than you!”
    â€œYes, but it’s not size that counts, is it?”
    â€œI’m older than you, too.”
    â€œTwo months! Big deal!”
    â€œYeah, and look at you trying to look like a teenager! You —” He bit off whatever he’d been about to say and stared straight ahead. She’d swear he was counting to ten. Ike had scuttled away to the edge of the rink again.
    â€œYou see, Simon,” she said in her kindest, most adult voice, “in the last two years I’ve matured, while you —” She looked him over, an outsized kid in parka and mittens and sensible boots, with his hair falling into his eyes. “I bet you still play with Lego.”
    â€œI do not!”
    â€œBet you do! Ha! You’re turning red!”
    He got up and stamped away a dozen steps, then stamped back. “Let’s go home.”
    â€œGo home without me.” She waved an airy hand.
    â€œNo. I promised Celeste. I’ll stick with you if it kills me.”
    Â§
    â€œWhy can’t she make her own supper?” Simon spread mustard on one half of a whole-wheat kaiser roll, lined it with lettuce, added a slice of tomato, and centred a piece of salami on it.
    â€œBecause she’s far from home and tired and lonely. And she’ll be getting hungry about now,” Celeste said. “She didn’t eat a crumb when I took her to lunch in Toronto. Nerves.” She was sitting at the kitchen table wearing her black Indian caftan with the little mirrors bordered in silver embroidery, her long grey hair in a single braid. She nursed a cup of chai and watched him make his supper. Celeste never cooked, but she made sure he ate.
    Simon cut cheese slices and slapped them down on the salami. “I still don’t get why she has to stay with us. Wouldn’t it be better for her to stay with that friend of hers in Vancouver?”
    â€œNot while she’s got us. It wouldn’t be right. Family is family.”
    â€œTell
her
that. I don’t know what’s the matter with her.” He slashed another kaiser