“There’s something else I want to tell you,” Cath said before she could think it through. “There’s, I mean, I think there’s … this guy.”
Wren raised her eyebrows. But before Cath could say anything more, they heard voices and a key in the door. Wren let go of Cath’s wrists, and the door swung open. Reagan barreled in and dropped her duffel bag on the floor. She rushed out again before Levi even made it into the room.
“Hey, Cath,” he said, already smiling, “are you—?” He looked at the bed and stopped.
“Levi,” Cath said, “this is my sister, Wren.”
Wren held out her hand.
Levi’s eyes were as wide as Cath’d ever seen them. He grinned at Wren and took her hand, shaking it. “Wren,” he said. “Such fascinating names in your family.”
“Our mom didn’t know she was having twins,” Wren said. “And she didn’t feel like coming up with another name.”
“Cather, Wren…” Levi looked like he’d just now discovered sliced bread. “Catherine.”
Cath rolled her eyes. Wren just smiled. “Clever, right?”
“Cath,” Levi said, and tried to sit next to Wren on the bed, even though there wasn’t enough room. Wren laughed and scooted toward Cath. Cath scooted, too. Reluctantly. If you give Levi an inch …
“I didn’t know you had a mother,” he said. “Or a sister. What else are you hiding?”
“Five cousins,” Wren said. “And a string of ill-fated hamsters, all named Simon.”
Levi opened his smile up completely.
“Oh, put that away,” Cath said with distaste. “I don’t want you to get charm all over my sister—what if we can’t get it out?”
Reagan walked back through the open door and glanced over at Cath. She noticed Wren and shuddered. “Is this your twin?”
“You knew about the twin?” Levi asked.
“Wren, Reagan,” Cath said.
“Hello,” Reagan said, frowning.
“Don’t take any of this personally,” Cath said to Wren. “They’re both like this with everyone.”
“I have to go anyway.” Wren slid cheerfully off the bed. She was wearing a pink dress and brown tights, and brown ankle boots with heels and little green buttons up the side. They were Cath’s boots, but Cath was never brave enough to wear them.
“Nice meeting you, everybody,” Wren said, smiling at Reagan and Levi. “See you at lunch tomorrow,” she said to Cath.
Reagan ignored her. Levi waved.
As soon as the door closed, Levi popped his eyes again. Bluely. “That’s your twin sister?”
“Identical,” Reagan said, like she had a mouth full of hair.
Cath nodded and sat down at her desk.
“Wow.” Levi scooted down the bed so he was sitting across from her.
“I’m not sure what you’re getting at,” Cath said, “but I think it’s offensive.”
“How can the fact that your identical twin sister is super hot be offensive to you?”
“Because,” Cath said, still too encouraged by Wren and, weirdly, by Abel, and maybe even by Nick to let this get to her right now. “It makes me feel like the Ugly One.”
“You’re not the ugly one.” Levi grinned. “You’re just the Clark Kent.”
Cath started checking her e-mail.
“Hey, Cath,” Levi said, kicking her chair. She could hear the teasing in his voice. “Will you warn me when you take off your glasses?”
Agatha Wellbelove was the loveliest witch at Watford. Everyone knew it—every boy, every girl, all the teachers … The bats in the belfry, the snakes in the cellars …
Agatha herself knew it. Which you might think would detract from her charm and her beauty. But Agatha, at fourteen, never used this knowledge to harm or hold over others.
She knew she was lovely, and she shared it like a gift. Every smile from Agatha was like waking up to a perfect sunny day. Agatha knew it. And she smiled at everyone who crossed her path, as if it were the most generous thing she could offer.
—from chapter 15, Simon Snow and the Selkies Four, copyright ? 2007 Gemma T. Leslie
EIGHT
“Have you started your scene yet?”
They were in the subbasement of the library, the sub-subbasement, and it was even colder than usual—the wind was making Nick’s bangs flutter over his forehead. Do guys call them “bangs”? Cath wondered.
“Why is it windy in here?” she asked.
“Why is it windy anywhere?” Nick answered.
That made her laugh. “I don’t know. Tides?”
“Caves breathing?”
“It’s not wind at all,” Cath said. “It’s what we feel when time suddenly jolts forward.”
Nick smiled at her. His lips were thin but dark, the same color as the inside of his mouth. “English majors are useless,” he said, twitching his eyebrows. Then he elbowed her—“So. Have you started your scene? You’re probably done already. You’re so fucking fast.”
“I get lots of practice,” she said.
“Writing practice?”