“So, I didn’t ask you how your dad is doing, yesterday. So rude!” She’s still wearing the sunglasses and earrings, but she’s now in a pair of cargo pants and a green T-shirt. Where these changes of clothing come from is a mystery to Faith; it never occurred to her to ask her mother, until it was too late, and Vivian doesn’t ever want to talk about anything to do with having a skin, until this thing with Mark.
She doesn’t feel ready to ask Marika, either. “He’s still speaking to me. More’s the pity.”
“That implies that you’re still speaking to him.”
“Now you sound like Dr. Kravitz.”
“She was right sometimes.”
“It would upset Vivian if I just cut him out of my life.”
Marika nods and pushes her sunglasses up to perch on her head. “Vivian is still making your dad out to be the good guy.”
“In her mind it’s easy. One person ran away, and it wasn’t Dad. Plenty of people agree with her.”
“It’s the number one question I have to field at readings, you know. Your mom ran out on you. Tell us how mad you are at her, how much it fucked up your life.”
“Must make you crazy.”
“Nah, I was already crazy, just ask Dr. Kravitz.”
“Vivian’s getting married soon.”
“Yeah, I believe I may have heard a little something about that, when I stopped by to see her Monday night.” Fifteen-year-old Marika would have rolled her eyes, and fifteen-year-old Faith would have been mad at her for it, so maybe they have both grown up a little.
“Her fiance’s dad was a bull.”
“Heard that, too.”
“They have some kind of big plan where instead of her just giving him her skin, they’re going to swap.”
“Let me guess. Then they’re going to hyphenate their names.”
Faith sighs. “I just don’t see how it’s going to be any better. I mean, it is better. He didn’t outright steal her skin the way Dad stole Mom’s. But she’s still going to be trapped.”
Marika is silent for a moment, the wind ruffling her earrings. A drop of rain hits the upturned lens of her glasses. “And you ran away to sea.”
“That I did.”
“Are you looking for your mom?”
“No, Dr. Kravitz. Gannets live in the Atlantic Ocean.”
“And yet, here you are. In the blue Pacific.”
“I just like it out here.”
It’s raining for real, now, and they retreat inside by wordless mutual consent.
After dinner the rain tapers off. Out on deck, Marika is leaning carelessly against the rail, and Faith has an image of her sunglasses falling off and sinking through the cold water, tumbling, to end up miles below in the silt. Of course they don’t.
As she gets closer, she realises that Marika is muttering.
“…when my dimensions are as well compact, my mind as generous, and my form as true as honest madame’s issue?” She turns, and doesn’t even pretend to be embarrassed by Faith’s presence. “One of the few good things about getting locked up in an all-girl’s boarding school at sixteen is that we got top play all the boys’ roles too.”
Faith looks at her, at the swing of her hair brushing her shoulder, at her earring.
“So I was Edmund in King Lear.”
Faith nods. The earring sways in the breeze.
“You know: ‘Thou, nature, are my goddess…’”
“Sounds cool. The only Shakespeare we ever did in high school was Romeo and Juliet. I hated it.”
“You never had King Lear in college?”
“I mostly took science classes.”
Marika shakes her head and chuckles. “All work and no play…”
“The ocean is play. The ocean is beautiful.”
Faith isn’t looking at Marika at all now, but she feels her moving in, feels the air get warmer and moister in the moment before they kiss.
In the morning, Marika isn’t in Faith’s cabin. Her skin is, though, neatly draped over the chair where Faith sits to write her blog posts, the only place in the room where something that size could be neatly draped, impossible to miss.
Faith hesitates for a moment before even picking it up. The feathers are warm, which doesn’t seem like it should be possible. They leave a fine powder on her fingers like a butterfly’s wings.
Marika didn’t leave it behind by mistake, that’s impossible. She must have wanted Faith to see it, to have the opportunity.
Faith folds it—her clumsy inexperienced fingers can only get it down to the size of a bath towel—and takes it to Marika’s cabin. No one is inside. She puts the skin on the bed and locks the door so that no one but Marika will find it. Hook evaded.
Maybe she should ask Vivian for a plus-one for the wedding. It would be nice to have someone there who understands.
But that’s months away. Today, they’ll have to head east.
CONTRIBUTORS
Holly Black is the bestselling author of the Spiderwick series. Her first book, Tithe: A Modern Faerie Tale, was an ALA Top Ten Book for Teens, received starred reviews in Publishers Weekly and Kirkus Reviews, and has been translated into twelve languages. Her second teen novel, Valiant, was an ALA Best Book for Young Adults, a Locus Magazine Recommended Read, and a recipient of the Andre Norton Award from the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America. Her third teen novel, Ironside, the sequel to Tithe, was a New York Times bestseller. Her new novel, White Cat, received three starred reviews. She lives in Amherst, Massachusetts. Visit Holly at www.blackholly.com.
Richard Bowes has published five novels, two collections of short fiction, and fifty stories. He has won two World Fantasy Awards and the Lambda, International Horror Guild, and Million Writers Awards. Recent and forthcoming stories appear in The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, and the anthologies Digital Domains, Beastly Bride, Wilde Stories 2011, Haunted Legends, Naked City, Best Gay Stories, Nebula Awards Showcase 2011, Supernatural Noir, and Blood and Other Cravings.
Marie Brennan is the author of the Onyx Court series of London-based historical faerie fantasies: Midnight Never Come, In Ashes Lie, A Star Shall Fall, and the forthcoming With Fate Conspire. She has published more than thirty short stories in venues such as On Spec, Beneath Ceaseless Skies, and the acclaimed anthology series Clockwork Phoenix. More information can be found on her website: www.swantower.com.
Nadia Bulkin is a writer and political science student. Her short fiction has appeared in ChiZine, Strange Horizons, Fantasy Magazine, and elsewhere; more information is available at nadiabulkin.wordpress.com. When she lived in a dorm in New York City not long ago she was her apartment’s designated exterminator, but a very bad one.
Stephanie Burgis listened obsessively to 1940s recordings of her own grandpa and great-uncles’ Youngstown family band while writing “Blue Joe.” She’s taken the family immigrant tradition along one more step by moving to Wales, where she lives with her husband, fellow writer Patrick Samphire, their son, and their crazy-sweet dog. Her fun Regency fantasy adventure for kids, Kat, Incorrigible, was published by Atheneum Books in April, 2011. To find out more, please visit her website: www.stephanieburgis.com.