“We have…” Reaching the kitchen, she opened a cupboard and found herself staring at half a dozen mason jars. “Honey.”
Adrian followed her into the kitchen and she could sense him behind her, staring into the mostly bare cupboard. She shut it and tried the next cupboard, discovering a box of unopened crackers and two cans of tuna fish. She dared not even pretend to look in the refrigerator—she’d opened it once when she first moved in and found the shelves mostly covered in mold. She hadn’t bothered to open it since.
She grabbed the box of crackers and held them up for Adrian to see.
“I’m okay, actually,” he said, and the look of confusion mixed with just a hint of pity was impossible not to notice.
Nova put the box back and shut the door. “We mostly eat out,” she said, by way of explanation.
Adrian’s eye caught on something through the back window and his brow furrowed.
Nova tensed, imagining that Ingrid was in the alley or that Honey or Leroy were in the yard. But when she looked, it was only …
Hives. And nests. And bees. Lots and lots of bees.
“That’s … um. My uncle’s?” she ventured. “He, uh … he heard there’s good money to be made in beekeeping these days. I guess honey is a pretty desirable … commodity. It’s”—she brushed a hand through the air—“sort of a new thing he’s trying out.”
Adrian’s eyes were still narrowed, but now there was humor along with the curiosity. “I’m pretty sure honey bees are the only ones that actually produce honey.”
She glanced out the window again. There were honey bees, but they were mixed together with a heady assortment of buzzing hornets and wasps, yellow jackets and even fat little bumblebees.
“I know. I know that,” she said. Then she threw up her hands, as if exasperated. “That’s what I keep trying to tell him, but he sort of does his own thing. Doesn’t always like to listen to me.”
“I’m very familiar with that feeling,” said Adrian. He grinned, and she could tell it was a look intended to comfort her, as if to say that he wasn’t judging her. That she could relax.
That, she thought, might be the funniest thing of all.
“Is your uncle home? I thought maybe I could introduce myself.”
“Oh. No. He’s … out.”
Adrian nodded. His gaze darted toward the small card table they were using as a makeshift dining table, even though Nova suspected not one meal had yet to be eaten there. There were chairs, too, but she dared not ask him to sit.
“I’m sorry,” Adrian said suddenly. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come.”
She stared at him, and though she could tell he was embarrassed, she wasn’t sure what was causing it—the sad state of her so-called home or her obvious lack of hospitality skills?
He fidgeted, tapping one knuckle idly against the countertop. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I just … was worried. When you weren’t responding to the messages…” He trailed off. Clearing his throat, he finished lamely, “Are you all right?”
She felt the knots in her stomach tighten even more. “Yeah, fine. I’m just not used to having company.” She was grateful that this, at least, was not a lie.
“No, I meant, are you feeling all right? The healers said they hadn’t released you yet. They were worried there might still be side effects, or even … I mean, we still don’t know for sure if…”
If Max took all your powers from you. We still don’t know if you’re a prodigy or not.
“I feel fine,” she said, trying to sound convincing. “Completely normal.” She attempted a more enthusiastic smile, eager to prove that everyone was concerned over nothing. “Wide-awake and full of energy!” She gave two encouraging thumbs-up.
Adrian grinned. “Well. If you do start to feel anything … not just tired, but … dizzy or weak or … anything. Just let me know. Or one of the healers.”
“Yeah, sure. Of course.”
He looked again at the card table and she could see him contemplating something. “Would you mind if I…” He took out his marker and motioned toward the table, as if this gesture adequately finished his question.
“If you what?”
Without responding, Adrian bent over the table and started to draw onto its dull gray surface. Nova cocked her head, mesmerized by the quick, confident movements of his hand. There was no hesitation, no uncertainty as to where to place the marker next, where to draw a line or a curve. Soon she saw a round vase emerge, overflowing with an arrangement of roses and lilies.
The moment he brought the flowers to life, their fragrance drifted through the room, pushing back the staleness of the house.
Adrian capped the marker and stepped back, frowning at the arrangement. “I really need to start carrying some more colors.”
Nova laughed. It was true that the monochromatic shades of gray lifted from the table lent a muted aspect to the blooms, but they still brightened the little table, the little kitchen, the little home.
And it was clear, to her, at least, how much they did not belong there.
“Will they die?” she said, reaching forward to feel the soft outer petals of one of the roses.
“Just like real flowers,” he said, though his mouth quirked as he glanced at her again. “But I can always make more.”
That look made warmth spread across Nova’s cheeks and she turned away, picking up the communicator band off the counter and busying herself by putting it back on. Ingrid’s words came back to her. I trust you’ve noticed how he looks at you …
“So, um, I had a thought,” said Adrian.
Nova lifted her eyebrows, but found she wasn’t quite ready to turn back to him fully. “About?”
“Winston Pratt.”
She stilled. Hesitated. Then straightened her spine, preparing for … what? An attack? An accusation?
She told herself she was being ridiculous. If Adrian had come here to cast accusations at her, it wouldn’t have taken this long for him to get around to it. And he certainly wouldn’t have drawn her a vase of flowers first.
“I think,” Adrian continued, “we should look in to Cosmopolis Park.”