“I’m confused,” Mariel said as they walked along Jersey Highway at 35th Street. The solar-charged lamps cast interlocking rings of golden light on the sidewalk. Up ahead Eris could see the hulking form of the Intrepid naval museum, an enormous old ship anchored to the Hudson’s floor. They’d gone on a field trip there in third grade. She still remembered how Cord had tried to dare her and Avery to jump off the side, to see whether the water would give them mermaid gills. Cord—she hadn’t really thought about him in weeks, had she?
“All your questions are about to be answered, I promise.” Eris stepped up to a gate marked PIER 30: EMPLOYEES ONLY. She entered the code she’d paid for online, and the door swung open.
They stepped out onto a wooden dock, with rows of corrugated iron doors on either side. Water lapped softly under their feet. Eris couldn’t stop smiling. She loved this sensation: the delicious thrill of setting out on a wild quest for something you may or may not find, all the while knowing that whatever happened, the night itself would certainly be wonderful.
She punched the same code into one of the doors, which retracted up into the roof overhead, revealing a small space filled almost entirely by a four-person hoverboat. Its shape reminded Eris of the top of a mushroom, propeller jets peeking out from under the sleek white hull. The only decoration was a peeling American flag decal. “Put this on,” she said, tossing Mariel a silver inflato-belt.
“Whose boat is this?” Mariel stepped onto the tiny enclosed dock, snapping the belt around her waist. Eris pushed a button and the hoverboat began to lower onto the water.
“We’re borrowing it,” she said simply. The after-hours rental she’d paid for was, she felt pretty certain, illegal. The lights around the boat turned the water in the slip a brackish green.
Eris kicked off her shoes before grabbing Mariel’s hand and pulling her inside, onto the white vinyl seats that circled the interior of the boat.
“Do you know how to drive this thing?” Mariel asked, watching her. She seemed torn between skepticism and enthusiasm.
“It has autopilot. At least, that’s what I was told.” Eris grinned and pushed the start button, and the hoverboat took off into the night.
They skimmed across the surface of the water, which was as dark and impenetrable as the surface of a black mirror. Eris’s hair whipped around in a reckless tangle. Spray flung up into her face. The sting of it felt shockingly good. Across the river in New Jersey, scattered lights twinkled warmly.
Mariel was looking out over the water, watching their progress. There was something almost regal in the shadowed line of her profile, her long nose and high brow. Then she turned and winked at Eris, and the illusion was broken.
“Where are you taking us, O intrepid captain?” Mariel raised her voice over the sound of the wind and the motor.
“Somewhere we can see around that.” Eris pointed back at the Tower, which stretched impossibly high into the darkness.
They passed the shrouded form of the Statue of Liberty, heading south around the seaports, where Eris could hear the sounds of music and raucous laughter. Finally, when they were far enough away that the Tower no longer filled the whole sky, Eris killed the motor. She leaned over the side to trail her fingers in the water and pulled them quickly back. It was bitter cold.
“I love this. It’s an amazing surprise,” Mariel said, in the sudden quiet.
“This isn’t the surprise,” Eris said, “at least, not all of it.”
The cheers from South Street were getting louder. Eris could hear music playing, and saw the pink dancing lights of halluci-lighters across the water. “Is there some kind of rave going on tonight?” Mariel asked.
Eris laughed. “They’re all here for the same reason we are,” she said, and drew her arm around Mariel. “Look.” She pointed up, and they both tipped their faces to the stars.
A comet sliced through the velvet-dark sky, its tail streaming after it like a fan.
“It’s beautiful,” Mariel breathed.
Eris drank in the sight, trying not to think about the University Club, how Avery and Leda were probably pressed up against the windows this very moment, wearing expensive gowns and holding champagne flutes as the comet blazed past. Stop it, she told herself. This was so much better.
“It’s almost named after me, you know,” she said, recalling what she’d read earlier. “Eros instead of Eris. Supposedly it won’t pass Earth again for a thousand years.”
“The god of love.” Mariel laughed. “Eris, on the other hand, is the goddess of—”
“Chaos,” Eris said ruefully. She’d always teased her mom about that. Caroline claimed she hadn’t known, that she’d picked the name because she thought it was pretty.
“Sometimes love and chaos are the same thing,” Mariel said softly.
Eris turned around and kissed her in reply, blocking the comet from her view.
Mariel responded eagerly, slipping her arms around Eris’s shoulders. There was something new in the kiss, a tenderness Eris wasn’t familiar with.
Eventually Mariel pulled back. “Eris. I’m afraid.”
“What? Why?” The comet had faded from the sky. Downtown, they could hear the screams of revelers toasting its arrival. Eros, the love comet.
“I just …” Mariel seemed about to say something. Eris could feel nervousness crackling across the surface of her skin, like electricity. “I don’t want to get hurt.”
Eris felt for some reason that hadn’t been what Mariel originally meant to say. But she just leaned in, resting her head lightly on Mariel’s shoulder. “I’ll never do anything to hurt you. I promise,” she said softly.
The cynical, worldly part of Eris laughed at herself for saying that, for making a promise she could never hope to keep. Well, she would just have to keep it this time, she thought firmly.
She felt Mariel relax a little next to her. Their boat rocked back and forth, gently buffeted by the waves. “I promise,” Eris said again, and the words drifted up like smoke into the darkness.
AVERY
“THANKS FOR THE ride home,” Avery said when the hover pulled up to her apartment. Her parents had left the party hours ago, and she wasn’t sure where any of her friends were by now, not even Leda or Atlas. She’d been too distracted by the dancing, the laughing, the swirl of coordinated excitement surrounding the comet. And by Watt.
She’d had fun with him tonight, far more fun than she’d expected to. He was somehow earnest without being serious, confident without being an asshole. As he walked her to the front door, Avery realized that Watt would have to go almost eight hundred floors downTower after dropping her off. She tried to picture his home life and drew a blank. Why hadn’t she asked more questions about him? she thought, a little embarrassed at how self-centered he must think she was.
“Of course.” Watt reached gingerly behind her ear for the incandescent. It was dried and brown now, its fragrance cloyingly sweet. Just hours ago it had been a living star.
“I guess the night’s really over, isn’t it?” she remarked wistfully. Watt made a move to throw the flower away, but she stopped him. “No, don’t—not yet. I want to keep it. Just for a little while.”
He obediently held out the incandescent, his eyes on her, thoughtful. Avery reached for the dead blossom and held it tight in her palm. She felt like she could hear Watt’s heartbeat echoing across the space between them.
Ever so lightly, Watt leaned down to place his lips on her forehead. He paused, giving Avery time to pull away. She didn’t, but she didn’t lean in either. She just stood still, and waited.