“What does that mean, ‘walk the corn’?” I asked, peeling a rose petal off my shoulder.
“At the wreathing ceremony, the Larkin girl chooses a Mendoza boy—the boy of her heart. Then, at high noon on the summer solstice, Katia leads the couple into the corn, to a barren sacred circle of earth—the spiritual heart of Quivira. There, Katia tests the girl’s blood, hoping to find her vessel—the perfect match, so she can be free of her bond to Coronado and be reunited with Alonso.”
“But what will happen this year? To my mom, and my . . . dad.” Just saying the word dad out loud made my heart ache in a way I hadn’t expected.
“Nina and Thomas will walk the corn—for the last time. Katia will take them to the sacred circle. As Katia’s soul enters the vessel, she’ll shed her body, like a cocoon. When that happens, Coronado will be forced out of his own body. Without a vessel of his own, his soul will be forced to wander the earth alone, always searching, always longing. The Great Spirit will deliver Alonso’s soul into the Mendoza vessel and they’ll live happily ever after.”
I couldn’t help thinking of the dead girl, the wound on the palm of her hand. “What happened to all the Larkin girls and Mendoza boys who went to the sacred circle before my mother and father?”
Lou’s fingers stiffened in my hair. A look of regret seemed to pass over her face. “People don’t speak from beyond the corn,” she said in a hushed tone.
The woman with frizzy brown curls came near and Lou’s whole demeanor changed. “The unchosen Larkin girl and the Mendoza boy leave the safety of the corn to live their lives in the outside world. But this year is special.” She leaned back, resuming her scrubbing duties. “After the ritual is complete, we’ll be one big happy family. Forever.”
I couldn’t help thinking I was missing something. Why was this such a big deal to them? What were they getting out of it?
An explosion of giggles pulled my attention to the center of the room, where girls of every age were scrambling around trying to get ready—brushing one another’s hair, doing last-minute mending. I think that’s what made it so unsettling; it was all so ordinary, like they were getting ready for a school dance, not preparing for a cult ceremony.
“What exactly do I have to do at this wreathing thing?” I asked as Lou began to work my tangles out with a wide-toothed wooden comb.
“Girls, bring the basket, please.”
Lou made room for Beth and another girl to step forward and kneel in front of the tub; they were carrying a large basket brimming with dark green leaves from the cornstalks.
“This is Lauren Mendoza, and you know our Beth.” I liked the way she said our Beth like she belonged to everyone. There was something so endearing and goofy about this girl.
Beth extended the basket to me. “Please, take a leaf.” I noticed a scar on her inner wrist—an unmistakable C branded into her delicate skin. I looked around for the same mark on the other girls, but only Beth had one.
“The girls will show you how to make the wreath,” Lou said as she dried my hair with a cloth.
The other girl, Lauren, was stunning—olive skin, long dark hair parted in the center, showing off her widow’s peak. The last bit of light streaming through the window seemed to bend to her face as if it wanted to be there. But there was no warmth in her; she gave off the acrid scent of mourning.
“Take three leaves and braid them together, one after the other,” Beth said.
I tried to do it, but my wet fingertips slipped and fumbled.
Beth was patient and encouraging, but Lauren countered that with a lot of heavy sighing and eye rolling.
“When the ceremony starts,” Beth said, “we’ll cover your eyes with a sash and I’ll lead you to the line of eligibles. The Larkin women have a heightened sense of smell. Under different circumstances you’d use your senses to recognize your soul mate.” Beth leaned in as if she were going to tell me some deep dark secret. “Katia chose for you. Number nine.”
Lauren accidentally crushed one of the leaves in her hand. Beth gave her a wide-eyed look of horror.
“I’m sorry.” Lauren whispered so quietly, I wondered who the apology was for.
I went back to work on the wreath, but it felt like the leaves were wrestling against me.
Beth kept glancing back at my brother, who was being doted on by a girl with two long coppery braids. She had taken it upon herself to clean and re-bandage Rhys’s skinned knee. He looked like he was going to pass out.
“Who’s that?” I asked as I leaned forward in the tub, trying to get a better view.
Beth turned back to me, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Oh, that’s my half cousin Betsy Grimsby. She’s unintended, too.”
Clearly, Beth had a little crush on my brother. “So, tell me about number nine,” I said, trying to distract her.
“You’re still not braiding the leaves right.” Lauren glared at me through her shiny black lashes.