For my birthday, my friends found out about the hook.
It was Monday, and we were supposed to meet at the lobster place in town where you have to wear a bib and share buckets of seafood and they keep bringing you sides of potatoes. They were only open in the summer, when you could get fresh seafood and there were enough tourists to make it worthwhile. It was one of those quiet, dry nights, not too hot, moon shining down like a spotlight through the restaurant windows. I was the last one of us to turn seventeen; in fact, Diana would be eighteen in two months, so we’d all be the same age for a short window. Everything was lining up.
Mina and I waited an hour for Ari and Diana. They didn’t text or email or call; I thought I might’ve told them the wrong time. Finally we ordered, and I texted them under the table.
“Maybe they’ve gotten held up somewhere,” Mina said, attempting to be kind.
I bristled at her pity. They didn’t get held up. They couldn’t get held up. Eventually the hook would bring them to me, because it worked. It always worked.
The first one to show up wasn’t even invited.
Cal Waters stood at the door to the restaurant, blinking and looking around the room. He still looked terrible: thinner, twitchy, sweating. I waved him over; what else could I do? He’d only look worse if I ignored him. When he reached us he stank of tequila.
“Hi, Cal, I’m Mina,” Mina said, smiling and reaching out her hand. “We were in eighth grade algebra together?”
He looked at her outstretched hand but kept his own by his side.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
He opened and closed his mouth without speaking. “I don’t know. I just . . . sort of ended up here.”
Behind Cal, I could see the door open, and Ari and Diana stepped through. I jumped up, pushing drunk Cal aside. “Ari! Di!”
Ari turned to me, her face set in anger. She grabbed Diana by the arm and dragged her to our table. Diana seemed to be in shock.
“Ari Madrigal,” Cal whispered, taking a step back.
“Where have you guys been?” I asked.
Ari glared. “Cut the shit, Kay. We know about the spell.”
“You do?” Cal slurred. He’d gone even paler under the thin sheen of sweat.
Ari barely glanced at him, nose wrinkling. “Yeah. We know Kay gave us a hook and we aren’t allowed to leave her. You, me, and Diana.”
“Oh,” Cal said, swaying slightly. “Oh, that’s not good.”
“What’re you talking about, Ari?” Mina asked from her seat in the booth.
Ari explained how her hekamist friend had told her what I’d told the hekamist, that day I’d tried to get her to undo Cal’s part of the spell.
“Gee, thanks,” Cal said. “More spells.”
“Oh my god,” Mina said.
I sat back in the booth and crossed my arms over my chest. “So what?”
“So I want to go to New York and dance. Diana wants to be able to drive out of town without bashing her face in.” Ari gestured at Di, but she stared at a point on the wall and didn’t seem to notice. Ari looked briefly worried, then turned back to me, anger back in place. “It isn’t right.”
“What do you want me to do about it?”
“Break the spell. Let us go.”
“Breaking spells is nearly impossible. Don’t you know that?” I asked. Ari flushed and pressed her wrist against the edge of the table. “And anyway I don’t want to break it. We’re friends.”
“No, we’re not.”
“We’ve all made mistakes. Diana lied about being with Markos. You lied about forgetting Win—and we forgave you. So forgive me and let’s move on.”
Mina shook her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you did this.”
“What do you even care, Mina?” Too loud. The tables next to us turned and stared.
Ari shot a look at Mina. “You better watch out Kay hasn’t given you the hook, too, because if you try to go to India again, you’ll probably end up back in the hospital.”
Mina stopped breathing, went still.
The waiter approached the table with a cupcake crowded with candles, but when he saw our faces, he blew out the candles himself and backed away slowly.
Everyone seemed to be waiting to for me to say something, but I knew whatever I said would be wrong.
“Happy birthday to me,” I said.
“Something’s still wrong,” Cal said. He exhaled alcohol over the whole table. “Not you and your hook. Something else. I’m so . . . hungry. D’you have anything to eat?”
“Shut up, Cal,” I said.
“Might not be a memory,” he said to Ari as if she’d asked him a question. “Might not be. I could be delusional, schizophrenic. I can’t tell.” He looked between our faces as if not quite seeing us, stopping on mine. “Did you give Markos a hook, too?”
My stomach dropped. “No, of course not. Cal, why don’t you go home?”
Diana grabbed Cal’s sleeve and stepped closer to him. He didn’t seem to notice. “Why did you ask if she spelled Markos?”