“I think you look like you’re going to freeze to death, Em. Let’s go inside.” Drea pulled open the door to the theater. Em was grateful to not see the gang of singing drama kids who usually called that zone home, and she was equally relieved that JD, who occasionally worked his techie magic lighting school plays, wasn’t hanging around either.
“All right,” Drea said, once they’d sat down on one of the slatted benches that lined the lobby. “So what? We have to sacrifice a lamb or something? I don’t know, Em. Sounds bogus to me.”
“It’s not like that,” Em said, although she didn’t know that for certain. “Come on, Drea, at least consider what this could mean.”
“I’m sure that some people think there’s a ritual that works, Em.” Drea was gentler now. “But I’ve read so much about the Furies, and I’ve never seen specific instructions, like how you’d actually do it.”
It was true, the book Em had seen in the library didn’t offer a spell or a chant or information about what the rite might actually entail. But Em wanted so badly to believe that there was some way to get rid of the Furies. There had to be.
“Okay, I hear what you’re saying,” Em said, in the same über-rational tone of voice she’d used when trying to convince her parents to at least let her have the car on weekdays, when they wanted to take away her access for good. “But aren’t you the tiniest bit curious? When’s the last time you actually tried looking for a way to get rid of them? It’s like you want to know everything about them except the most important piece—how to get them the hell out of our lives.”
She’d hit a nerve, she could tell. Drea’s face fell slightly. Em watched as she fiddled with one of the safety pins in her ears, and swallowed hard and fast like she’d bitten into something sour. Then she gave in. “Okay. What do you want to do?”
Em exhaled. “Let’s go to that library in Portland. The antiquities library you were telling me about?” She’d already written off the rest of the school day, and she hoped Drea would too. Tomorrow she’d start fresh, she told herself. Rededicate herself to her work and her normal life. But for today . . . today, she had to do this.
“Do you have your car?” Drea asked. It was the only answer Em needed; Drea was in. “I don’t have mine, obviously.”
“Well, yeah, but you know I can’t drive it all the way to Portland,” Em said with a sinking sense of disappointment. She’d forgotten that Drea only got the use of her dad’s car on weekends. “My parents will kill me.”
“Crow.” Drea slapped Em’s leg. “He’ll drive us.”
Em thought back to band practice and Crow’s aggressive way of being “friendly.” She felt a flicker of apprehension, but she shrugged. “If you call him, sure.”
? ? ?
Crow’s ride was a dark red pickup truck with silver stripes down either side. Em and Drea had taken Em’s car home; now Crow, who had band practice later anyway, was going pick them up there and drop them at the library. Drea’s dad, who worked on the docks of Portland hauling bait for local lobstermen, would drive them home later that evening. Em was happy her parents weren’t home to raise their eyebrows at Drea’s dyed hair or Crow’s revved engine.
“You squeeze in back, Feiffer,” Crow said out the passenger window as the girls approached his truck.
Drea looked at Em, then back at Crow, and then asked indignantly, “Why does she get shotgun?”
“Because I don’t know where we’re going, and you’re a shitty navigator,” Crow answered, leaning back in his seat and drumming mindlessly on the steering wheel. “Remember when you got us lost out near Sebago last summer? Not again, Fifes. I’m trying a new copilot.”
Drea rolled her eyes and started climbing into the backseat.
“Plus this one’s got longer legs,” Crow added with a smirk as Em followed Drea into the car.
As they drove out of Ascension, Em leaned her head against the cold window and watched the trees blur by. With Crow’s music—some drum-heavy loud stuff that didn’t have any discernible melody—blaring on the car stereo, Em was grateful for a few minutes to tune out.
But once they were on the highway, Crow turned down the volume. “So, what’s so special about this antiques place?” he asked.
“An-tiq-ui-ties.” Drea overenunciated the word, tapping Crow’s shoulder with every syllable. “As in, related to Greece and Rome. Basically, it’s a really quiet room in the USM library with a lot of really old books.”
Em waited for him to ask why in the world they would want to go there, but Crow just nodded, as if it was a totally normal place to visit. “Sounds cool,” he said. He cast a sideways glance at Em. “Secret’s out. I always knew deep down you were kind of a nerd. And not just about lava volcanoes.”
“I guess I’m more than a spoiled princess,” she tossed back.
Her self-satisfaction doubled when she was able to direct Crow to the library parking lot using only the map—no GPS, no smartphone. You can still do something right, she told herself.
The girls hopped out of the truck. “Take care of this one, Drea,” Crow said, nodding his head toward Em. “She doesn’t leave the compound much.”