Gansey swiftly retrieved the leaking snow globe and disappeared for the front counter. He returned with a receipt and a roll of paper towels.
Ronan asked, “What was up with Parrish?”
“He saw a woman in his apartment. He said she was trying to talk to him. He seemed a little freaked out. I think the ley line must be surging.”
He didn’t say, Or maybe something terrible happened to Adam that day he sacrificed himself in Cabeswater. Maybe he’s messed up all of Henrietta by waking up the ley line. Because they couldn’t talk about that. Just like they couldn’t talk about Adam stealing the Camaro that night. Or about him basically doing everything Gansey had asked him not to. If Adam was stupid about his pride, Gansey was stupid about Adam.
Ronan echoed, “Ley line surging. Right. Yeah, I’ll bet that’s it.”
All the whimsy of Dollar City was ruined. As Gansey led the way out, Noah said to Ronan, “I know why you’re mad.”
Ronan sneered at him, but his pulse heaved. “Tell me then, prophet.”
Noah said, “It’s not my job to tell other people’s secrets.”
10
I was thinking you could come with me,” Gansey said carefully, two hours later. He pressed the phone to his ear with one shoulder as he unrolled a massive scroll of paper across
the floor of Monmouth Manufacturing. The numerous low lamps through the room made an array of search lights across the paper. “To the party at my mom’s. There might be an internship in there, if you’re good at it.”
On the other end of the phone, Adam didn’t immediately reply. It was hard to say if he was thinking about it or being irritated about the suggestion.
Gansey kept unrolling the paper. It was a high-resolution print of the ley line as seen from a casually interested satellite. It had cost a fortune to get the images spliced and then printed in color, but it would all be worth it if he spotted some oddity. If nothing else, they could use it to track their exploration. Also, it was pretty.
From Ronan’s room, he heard Noah’s laugh. He and Ronan were throwing various objects from the second-story window to the parking lot below. There was a terrific crash.
Ronan’s voice rose, exasperated. “Not that one, Noah.”
“I’d have to see if I could get off work,” Adam replied. “I think I can. Do you think I should?”
Relieved, Gansey said, “Oh, yes.” He dragged his desk chair onto the corner of the print. It kept trying to roll back up on itself. He put a copy of Trioedd Ynys Prydein on the other corner. “Have you heard from Blue?” Adam asked.
“Tonight? She has work, doesn’t she?” Roll, roll, roll. He nudged it with his foot to keep it straight. It was surprisingly satisfying to see acres and acres of forest and mountains and rivers unrolling across his floorboards. If he were a god, he thought, this would be precisely how he’d create his new world. Unrolling it like carpet.
“Yeah. I just . . . has she ever said anything to you about me?”
“Like what?”
A long silence. “About kissing, I guess.”
Gansey paused in his rolling. As a point of fact, Blue had confessed a lot about kissing. Namely, that she’d been told her entire life that she’d kill her true love if she kissed him. It was strange to remember that moment. He’d doubted her, he recalled. He wouldn’t have now. Blue was a fanciful but sensible thing, like a platypus, or one of those sandwiches that had been cut into circles for a fancy tea party.
She’d also asked Gansey not to tell Adam about her confession.
“Kissing?” he repeated evasively. “What’s going on?”
Another crash from Ronan’s room, followed by diabolical laughter. Gansey wondered if he should stop them before vehicles with strobe lights did.
“I dunno. She doesn’t want to,” Adam said. “I don’t blame her, I guess. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Have you asked her why she doesn’t want to?” Gansey asked, though he didn’t want to hear the answer. He was abruptly tired of the conversation.
“She said she was very young.”
“She probably is.” Gansey had no idea how old Blue was. He knew she’d just finished eleventh grade. Maybe she was sixteen. Maybe she was eighteen. Maybe she was twenty-two and just very short and remedial.
“I dunno, Gansey. Does that sound like a real thing? You’ve dated way more than me.”
“I’m not dating now.”
“Except for Glendower.”
Gansey couldn’t argue that point. “Look, Adam, I don’t think it’s about you. I think she likes you fine.”
Adam clearly didn’t like this answer, though, because he didn’t reply. It gave Gansey enough time to remember the moment he’d first approached her at Nino’s on Adam’s behalf. How disastrous it had been. Since then, he’d considered a dozen different ways he could’ve done it better.
Which was foolish. It had all worked out, hadn’t it? She was with Adam now. Whether or not Gansey had made a first-class prat of himself the moment they met didn’t change anything.
“No way, man!” Noah shouted, but he didn’t sound like he meant it. His words were most of the way to a laugh already. “No way —”
Gansey kicked the rolled print hard enough that it teetered crookedly out to its end, yards away, out of the circles of light. Standing, he walked to the windows on the eastern wall of the factory. Leaning an elbow on the frame, he pressed his forehead against the glass, gaze on the great, black spread of Henrietta below.
Once, he had dreamt that he found Glendower. It wasn’t the actual finding, but the day after. He wouldn’t forget the sensation of the dream. It hadn’t been joy, but instead, the absence of pain. He couldn’t forget that lightness. The freedom.
“I don’t want things to get ugly,” Adam said finally.
“Are they ugly?”
“No. I guess not. But somehow they always seem to get that way.”
Gansey watched tiny car lights diminish as they left Henrietta, reminding him of his miniature version of the town. An early, illicit firework sprayed up in the foreground. “Well, she’s not really like a girl. I mean, sure she’s a girl. But it’s not like when I was dating someone. It’s Blue. You could just ask her. We see her every day. Do you want me to talk to her?”
This was something he definitely, 100 percent felt certain in his guts that he had no interest in doing.