Torn. Part 32

He took a step toward me and closed his hand over my wrist. The connection flared up again, bright as ever, pulling me toward him. I jerked at the sensation but stood firm.

"See? I'm not hiding, but this isn't enough. You know I'm right." I drew away.

"You never let me explain," he said. "About Verity."

"It's okay," I said, despite the pain that came, fresh as ever. "You don't have to."

"I grew up believin' I was meant to be with the Vessel, Mouse. From the day my brother died, it was drilled into me the way you learned the Our Father. And I have to say, that was fine when Verity was alive. I was seventeen when her powers came through, and she was so beautiful, it didn't seem like a ch.o.r.e. Then she was gone, and you came blunderin' in, askin' your questions and mouthin' off all the time, never doin' what you were supposed to, and you were . . ."

"A ch.o.r.e?" It was a good thing I didn't have magic. I'd have dropped him where he stood.

"No! See, that's the thing-you were the one I would have chosen, even if there were no fate."

I took that in, testing the truth of it against everything we'd lived through. Regret welled up, tasting bitter and hard. "That's just . . . that's crazy."

He took my hand again, his voice urgent and hopeful. "I wanted you, even when I wasn't supposed to be with you. This makes it easier. Why does it have to be such a fight if we already know how it ends?"

My heart stuttered at his words, but I kept my voice even. "Because I don't know how it ends. Maybe I do have a destiny-in your world, or mine, or both-but for now, I want to make my own fate. I have to at least try."

His hair was falling into his face again, and I brushed it out of the way, remembering the first time he'd kissed me, back when I believed my only worth was as Verity's subst.i.tute. The mid-October light seemed to touch him with fire, and my throat ached at the sight. He turned my hand over and ran his thumb over the scar crossing my palm.

"Just because the Torrent's over doesn't mean we are. There's still a lot to be done. Think maybe you could make it part of your fate to lend a hand?"

I looked down at Verity's grave. For an instant, I wondered what she would have done, and then it struck me that it didn't matter. She was gone, and the prophecy was over, and my decision was entirely mine. The ties that bound me to Luc and the magic were ones I had created myself, of my own free will. And because I could say no, I told him yes.

Then I turned, in the fading light of the afternoon, and walked out of the graveyard into a world of my own choosing.

FOOD FOR THOUGHT.

1. At the beginning of the novel, everyone considers Mo a "good girl" because she is quiet and does what's expected of her. How does this perception help when she begins investigating Verity's death and her family's Mob connections? How does it hinder her? Does pressure to be "nice" cause problems for young women today?

2. Mo places a high value on the truth, but as she is drawn more deeply into both her uncle's world and the magic one, she relies on deceitfulness to accomplish her goals. Does her dishonesty serve a greater good, or make her hypocritical? Could she have solved Verity's murder and gotten justice without lying? How do her lies and secrets differ from her family's?

3. Luc believes fate determines who a person is, while Colin believes a person's life is a result of their choices. With whom do you agree? How can either philosophy alter a person's behavior? Is Mo now fated to live Verity's life, or can she successfully balance her own future with the role she has stepped into?

4. Everyone in the book keeps secrets from the people they care about-Verity kept the Arcs a secret from Mo; Mo does the same with Lena. Luc consistently holds back information about the Arcs, and Colin refuses to tell what he knows about Mo's father. Mo's entire family conceals the truth about their Mob connections. Is it ever okay to keep secrets in a relations.h.i.+p-whether family, friends, or romantic? Have you ever kept a secret from someone for their own good? How did it change things? Can Mo and Lena have a genuine friends.h.i.+p while Mo is concealing so much of her life?

5. To stop the Torrent, Mo had to be willing to sacrifice her life. At what point does the well-being of the group become more important than the life of the individual?

6. At one point, Mo says that the eleventh commandment of the Fitzgeralds is "Thou shall not make a scene." How do Mo's own feelings about "making a scene" change throughout the book? How does her family's insistence on this rule impact her relations.h.i.+p with them?

7. Luc and Colin bring out very different sides of Mo-and she brings out very different sides of them. What are these differences, and why does each guy appeal to her? How does each character become a stronger or better person when they begin to change? Are any of the changes negative? In any relations.h.i.+p-platonic or romantic-is it better to be with someone who challenges you, or accepts you?

8. Mo has a hard time admitting her attraction to Luc, because she believes he was in a relations.h.i.+p with Verity. Why does that belief affect Mo's feelings-even after Luc tries to rea.s.sure her? If Verity had told Mo about Luc before she died do you think that Mo would act differently?

9. In Torn, Mo is introduced to a world of magic, yet she herself is "Flat," without any magical power. Why do you think the author made Mo a Flat rather than an Arc like Verity and Luc? Does being Flat give Mo any advantage when dealing with Luc and the Arcs? Are there situations you've been in where what is perceived as a weakness is actually a strength? What, if anything, is the benefit of being an outsider?

10. Mo is repeatedly forced to choose between her obligations in the Flats' world and her promises to Verity and the Arcs. For example, she jeopardizes her chance to get into her dream school to stop the Torrent. What are some of the competing pressures facing teens today? When you have to choose between them, how do you make your decision?

If you enjoyed Torn, you'll want to check out.

Touch of Frost, by Jennifer Estep.

coming next month from K Teen. . . .

My name is Gwen Frost, and I go to Mythos Academy-a school of myths, magic, and warrior whiz kids, where even the lowliest geek knows how to chop off somebody's head with a sword and Logan Quinn, the hottest Spartan guy in school, also happens to be the deadliest.

But lately, things have been weird, even for Mythos. First, mean girl Jasmine Ashton was murdered in the Library of Antiquities. Then, someone stole the Bowl of Tears, a magical artifact that can be used to bring about the second Chaos War. You know, death, destruction, and lots of other bad, bad things. Freaky stuff like this goes on all the time at Mythos, but I'm determined to find out who killed Jasmine, and why-especially since I should have been the one who died....

Chapter 1.

"I know your secret."

Daphne Cruz leaned closer to the mirror over the sink and put another coat of pale pink gloss onto her lips, pointedly ignoring me the way all the pretty, popular girls did.

The way everyone did at Mythos Academy.

"I know your secret," I repeated in a louder voice.

I pushed away from the statue of a sea nymph that I'd been leaning against, strolled over to the door that led out of the girls' bathroom, and locked it. I might not care who knew Daphne's dirty little secret, but I was willing to bet that she would before we were through. That's why I'd made sure that all of the white marble stalls were empty and had waited for the rest of Daphne's friends to leave their spots on the cus.h.i.+oned settee in the corner before I'd approached her.

Once Daphne was satisfied that her lips were glossed to a high sheen, she dropped the tube into the depths of her oversize pink Dooney & Bourke purse. Next, she drew out a hairbrush and went to work on her smooth, golden locks. Still ignoring me.

I crossed my arms over my chest, leaned against the door, and waited. The intricate, raised figures of warriors and monsters carved into the heavy wooden door pressed against my back, but I ignored the odd lumps and b.u.mps. The two hundred bucks I was getting for this job meant that I could afford to be patient.

After another two minutes, when her hair had been brushed a dozen times and she realized that I wasn't actually, you know, leaving, Daphne finally deigned to turn and look at me. Her black eyes flicked over my jeans, graphic T-s.h.i.+rt, and purple zip-up hoodie, and she let out a little snort of disgust, obviously offended that I wasn't wearing the latest designer threads like she was. That I didn't have the matchymatch look down pat that she and her friends had going on.

Apparently, today's theme had been argyle, because the pattern was on everything that Daphne wore, from her pink cashmere sweater to her black pleated skirt to the printed black-and-pink tights that showed off her legs. The contrast of light and dark colors made her perfect, amber skin look that much more luminous. So did the s.h.i.+ny lip gloss.

"You know my secret?" Daphne repeated, a sneer creeping into her voice. "And what secret would that be?"

So the Valkyrie wanted to be snotty. Not a problem.

I smiled. "I know you took the charm bracelet. The one that Carson Callahan was going to give to Leta Gaston as a will-you-go-to-the-homecoming-dance-with-me present. You s.n.a.t.c.hed it off the desk in his dorm room yesterday when he was helping you with your English lit paper."

For the first time, doubt flickered in Daphne's eyes, and disbelief filled her pretty face before she was able to hide it. Now, she was looking at me-really looking at me-trying to figure out who I was and what I wanted. After a moment, her eyes narrowed.

"You're that Gypsy girl," Daphne muttered. "The one who sees things."

That Gypsy girl. That's what everyone at Mythos Academy called me. Mainly because I was the only Gypsy trapped here in this school for magical warrior freaks. The middlecla.s.s girl whose strange ability had landed her here among the rich, popular, and undeniably powerful. Like Daphne Cruz, a spoiled, pampered wannabe princess who also happened to be a Valkyrie.

"What's your name?" Daphne asked. "Gail? Gretchen?"

Wow. I was impressed that she even knew it started with a G.

"Gwen," I told her. "Gwen Frost."

"Well, Gwen Frost," Daphne said, turning her attention back to her purse. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Her voice and face were both just as smooth as the gilded silver mirror in front of her. I might have even believed her, if her hands hadn't clenched the tiniest bit as she put her hairbrush back into her purse. If I hadn't known just how good girls like her could lie.

Just how good everyone could lie.

I reached into my gray messenger bag and drew out a clear plastic bag. A small silver charm shaped like a rose glinted inside. I might as well have shown her a bag full of pot, from the way Daphne visibly recoiled.

"Where-where did you get that?" she whispered.

"Carson hadn't finished putting all the charms on Leta's bracelet when he showed it to you during your tutoring session yesterday afternoon," I said. "I found this one way, way back behind his desk in his dorm room. It fell down there when you grabbed the bracelet and stuffed it into your purse."

Daphne let out a laugh, still keeping up the act. "And why would I do something like that?"

"Because you're crazy about Carson. You don't want him to ask Leta out. You want him for yourself."

Daphne slumped over, her hands dropping to one of the sinks that lined the wall below the mirror. Her fingers curled around the silver faucets, which were shaped like Hydra heads, before sliding down to the basin. Her French-manicured nails sc.r.a.ped across the white marble, and pale pink sparks of magic shot out of her fingertips. Daphne might only be seventeen like me, but Valkyries were incredibly strong. I knew that if she wanted to, Daphne Cruz could rip that sink out of the wall easier than the Hulk could.

Maybe I should have been scared of the Valkyrie, of the weird princess pink sparks, and especially of her strength and what she could do to me with it. But I wasn't. I'd already lost one of the people I cared about most. Everything else dulled in comparison to that.

"How do you know all that?" Daphne asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

I shrugged. "Because, as you put it, I see things. And as soon as I found this charm, I knew that you were the one who took the bracelet."

I didn't tell Daphne anything else about my Gypsy gift, about my ability to know an object's history just by touching it, and she didn't ask.

Instead, the Valkyrie kept staring at me with her black eyes. After about thirty seconds of silence, she came to some sort of decision. Daphne straightened, reached into her bag once more, and drew out her wallet. It matched her designer purse.

"All right," she said. "How much will it take for you to give me that charm and forget about this whole thing? A hundred dollars? Two?"

This time, my hands were the ones that clenched into fists. She was trying to buy me off. I'd expected nothing less, but the gesture still made me angry. Like everyone else at Mythos Academy, Daphne Cruz could afford the very best of everything. A few hundred dollars was nothing to her. She'd spent that much on her freaking purse.

But a few hundred dollars wasn't nothing to me. It was clothes and comic books and a cell phone and a dozen other things that girls like Daphne never had to worry about.

"Carson's already paid me," I said.

"So?" she said. "I'll pay you more. However much you want."

"Sorry. Once I give my word to somebody, I keep it. And I told Carson that I would find the charm bracelet for him."

Daphne tilted her head to the side like I was some strange creature that she'd never seen before, some mythological monster masquerading as a teenage girl. Maybe it was stupid of me, not taking her up on the cash that she was so willing to give me. But my mom wouldn't have taken Daphne's money, not if she'd already made a promise to someone else. My mom, Grace, had been a Gypsy, just like me. With a gift, just like me.

For a moment, my heart ached with guilt and longing. My mom was gone, and I missed her so much. I shook my head, more to push the pain aside than anything else.

"Look, just give me the bracelet. That's all I want. That's all Carson wants."

Daphne's lips tightened. "He-he knows? That I took the bracelet? And why?"

"Not yet. But he's going to if you don't give it to me. Right now."

I opened the top of the plastic bag and held it out to her. Daphne stared at the rose charm glinting inside. She bit her pink lip, smearing her gloss on her teeth, and looked away.

"Fine," she muttered. "I don't know why I even took it in the first place."

I did, because I'd flashed on Daphne when I'd touched the charm. As soon as my fingers had brushed the silver rose, an image of the blond Valkyrie had popped into my head. I'd seen Daphne sitting at Carson's desk, staring at the bracelet, her fingers tightening around the metal links like she wanted to rip them in two.

And I'd felt the other girl's emotions, too, the way that I always did whenever I touched an object or even another person. I'd felt Daphne's hot, pulsing jealousy that Carson was thinking about asking out Leta. The warm, soft, fizzy crush that Daphne had on Carson herself, despite the fact that he was a total band geek and she was part of the popular crowd. Her cold, aching despair that she didn't like someone the rest of her sn.o.bby friends would approve of.

But I didn't tell Daphne any of that. The less people knew about my gift and the things I saw and felt, the better.

Daphne yanked the bracelet out of her bag. Carson Callahan might be a band geek, but he had money, too, which was why the bracelet was a heavy, expensive thing loaded down with a dozen charms that jingled together. Daphne's nails sc.r.a.ped against one of the charms, a small heart, and more pink sparks of magic fluttered like fireflies in the air.

I held out the bag again, and Daphne dropped the bracelet inside. I closed the top and tied off the plastic, careful not to touch the jewelry itself. I didn't want another slide show into Daphne Cruz's psyche. The first one had almost made me feel sorry for her.

But any sympathy I might have had for Daphne vanished when the Valkyrie gave me the cold, haughty stare that so many mean girls before her had perfected.

"You tell anyone about this, Gwen Frost, and I'll strangle you with that ugly purple hoodie you're wearing. Understand me?"

"Sure," I said in a pleasant tone. "But you might want to pull yourself together before you go to your next cla.s.s, Daphne. Your lip gloss is smeared."

The Valkyrie's eyes narrowed, but I ignored her venomous dirty look, unlocked the bathroom door, and left.

end.