the page. I don’t want to keep reading, not if it’s upsetting Devyn.
“It’s okay,” Devyn says.
I clear my throat and whisper. ” ‘Eventually, the boys die, their bodies overcome by the horrors brought upon them by the pixies. The pixies, this narrator might add, have no will to fight this overwhelming need. The pixie king can be without a queen for only so long before he succumbs to the dark, torturous side of his nature, and with his weakness the other pixies also become more debased and deprived, roaming the woods, hunting for potential queens and blood tributes.’ ”
“Look,” Nick points. “In the margin.”
“What’s it say?” lssie asks.
I squint at the faded pencil marks. ” ‘Stay out of the woods.’ ”
“Good call,” Nick says. His hand drops from my shoulder. I feel abandoned, colder somehow. I go to the back of the book where the due dates are stamped. No one has taken it out since they’ve pasted in a new sheet on the back page. But there’s writing underneath it.
I start peeling off the edges while lssie says, “I am really not into this pixie thing. You guys think this is right, don’t you? About the blood tributes?”
“Yeah, I know it’s right,” Devyn says. “But what does it mean that he’s pointing at Zara all the time?”
“That’s obvious,” Nick adds. “He wants her to be his queen.”
I swallow, but I don’t look at Issie when I talk. Instead I stare into Nick’s eyes. “Why not? It doesn’t say that the pixie queens are bad.”
“It doesn’t say they’re good!” Devyn almost yells.
The magazine guy throws his [_Economist _]on the table and stomps away.
Issie lowers her voice. “We probably just haven’t read the part about the pixie queens being murdered and raped and turned into blood tributes.”
“Right,” I say.
“Zara…,” Nick warns. “You’re thinking something.”
“No, I’m not,” I lie, standing up. I grab the book we’ve been reading and a couple others. “I’m going to go check these out. It’s almost dark. Betty’ll kill me if I don’t get home before dark.”
“Do you think she knows?” Devyn asks.
“Knows?”
“About the pixies?”
I imagine Betty with her gruff flannel shirts and her fact-gathering nature. “No way.”
Nick gives me a ride home to where Yoko waits alone since we carpooled. We are silent a good part of the way.
“I don’t know if I really believe this,” I finally say.
“But?”
“But if it’s true…”
“It sucks.”
“Basically. Yeah.”
He puts the MINI in park. “Maybe once we figure it all out we can set a trap.”
“A trap?” I pick at the back of the book, where the due date is. The little wheels in my head are working overtime.
“What are you doing?”
“Nerves, I guess,” I say and then it peels away, revealing the way that people used to take out books from libraries. There’s a list of people who had the book, all their names handwritten in neat lines. I gasp.
Mick leans over, dark and forest smelling. “What?”
The words blur on the paper. “On the take-out list. The last name.”
“Matthew White?” He looks at me.
A tear escapes out of my eye before I can trap it in there. Nick reaches out with his thumb and wipes it away.
“That’s my dad,” I stare at the name, written in his scratchy tall letters. “That means…”
“He knew.”
“He knew about the pixies?”
Nick nods, “But look at this.”
Written in pencil scratch around all the names like a border or something, it says,
Don’t fear. Here there
be tygers, I57.
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“Is might know. It sounds familiar, doesn’t it?” Nick says, but his eyes shade as he pulls out his cell phone.
“You’re not telling me something.”
“What?”
“You’re hiding something.”
“And how would you know that? You’re psychic now?”
“Your cheek is twitching. I have this, um, this theory that your cheek twitches when you lie or you’re
“It’s okay,” Devyn says.
I clear my throat and whisper. ” ‘Eventually, the boys die, their bodies overcome by the horrors brought upon them by the pixies. The pixies, this narrator might add, have no will to fight this overwhelming need. The pixie king can be without a queen for only so long before he succumbs to the dark, torturous side of his nature, and with his weakness the other pixies also become more debased and deprived, roaming the woods, hunting for potential queens and blood tributes.’ ”
“Look,” Nick points. “In the margin.”
“What’s it say?” lssie asks.
I squint at the faded pencil marks. ” ‘Stay out of the woods.’ ”
“Good call,” Nick says. His hand drops from my shoulder. I feel abandoned, colder somehow. I go to the back of the book where the due dates are stamped. No one has taken it out since they’ve pasted in a new sheet on the back page. But there’s writing underneath it.
I start peeling off the edges while lssie says, “I am really not into this pixie thing. You guys think this is right, don’t you? About the blood tributes?”
“Yeah, I know it’s right,” Devyn says. “But what does it mean that he’s pointing at Zara all the time?”
“That’s obvious,” Nick adds. “He wants her to be his queen.”
I swallow, but I don’t look at Issie when I talk. Instead I stare into Nick’s eyes. “Why not? It doesn’t say that the pixie queens are bad.”
“It doesn’t say they’re good!” Devyn almost yells.
The magazine guy throws his [_Economist _]on the table and stomps away.
Issie lowers her voice. “We probably just haven’t read the part about the pixie queens being murdered and raped and turned into blood tributes.”
“Right,” I say.
“Zara…,” Nick warns. “You’re thinking something.”
“No, I’m not,” I lie, standing up. I grab the book we’ve been reading and a couple others. “I’m going to go check these out. It’s almost dark. Betty’ll kill me if I don’t get home before dark.”
“Do you think she knows?” Devyn asks.
“Knows?”
“About the pixies?”
I imagine Betty with her gruff flannel shirts and her fact-gathering nature. “No way.”
Nick gives me a ride home to where Yoko waits alone since we carpooled. We are silent a good part of the way.
“I don’t know if I really believe this,” I finally say.
“But?”
“But if it’s true…”
“It sucks.”
“Basically. Yeah.”
He puts the MINI in park. “Maybe once we figure it all out we can set a trap.”
“A trap?” I pick at the back of the book, where the due date is. The little wheels in my head are working overtime.
“What are you doing?”
“Nerves, I guess,” I say and then it peels away, revealing the way that people used to take out books from libraries. There’s a list of people who had the book, all their names handwritten in neat lines. I gasp.
Mick leans over, dark and forest smelling. “What?”
The words blur on the paper. “On the take-out list. The last name.”
“Matthew White?” He looks at me.
A tear escapes out of my eye before I can trap it in there. Nick reaches out with his thumb and wipes it away.
“That’s my dad,” I stare at the name, written in his scratchy tall letters. “That means…”
“He knew.”
“He knew about the pixies?”
Nick nods, “But look at this.”
Written in pencil scratch around all the names like a border or something, it says,
Don’t fear. Here there
be tygers, I57.
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“Is might know. It sounds familiar, doesn’t it?” Nick says, but his eyes shade as he pulls out his cell phone.
“You’re not telling me something.”
“What?”
“You’re hiding something.”
“And how would you know that? You’re psychic now?”
“Your cheek is twitching. I have this, um, this theory that your cheek twitches when you lie or you’re
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