Blue Lily, Lily Blue by Maggie Stiefvater

Author:Maggie Stiefvater [Stiefvater, Maggie]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Juvenile Fiction, Legends; Myths; Fables, Other, Love & Romance, Fantasy & Magic
ISBN: 9780545424967
Google: UaWOoAEACAAJ
Amazon: 0545424968
Barnesnoble: 0545424968
Goodreads: 17378508
Publisher: Scholastic, Inc.
Published: 2014-09-16T16:00:00+00:00

26

B

lue woke up angry. She didn’t remember what she dreamed, only that it was about her mother, and when she woke up, she could have hit something. She remembered when she had visited Adam one afternoon that summer and he’d kicked a box — that was how angry she was. Only it didn’t seem to be worth kicking anything when there wasn’t anyone around to see her do it. She lay there and told herself to go back to sleep, but instead,

she got angrier. She was tired of Persephone and Calla and her mother withholding information because Blue wasn’t psychic. Of not being able to daydream of fancy colleges because she wasn’t rich. Of not being able to hold Gansey’s hand because they couldn’t hurt Adam’s feelings and not being able to kiss Gansey’s mouth because she didn’t want to kill him. She was tired of knowing that he was going to die and being afraid that her mother would, too.

Over and over, she heard Adam guess the truth: Gansey. She threw off her blankets and angrily got dressed and angrily stormed into the phone room.

Orla sat there, painting her nails at one o’clock in the morning.

Blue froze in the doorway, intention written on her face. “What?” Orla said. “Go ahead.”

Blue didn’t move.

“Oh please. I’m not going to stop you. I was just trying to keep you from breaking your heart, but whatever, go do it,” Orla said.

Blue stepped across the room and picked up the phone, glancing at Orla again suspiciously. Her cousin had returned to painting tiny mandalas on her nails. She didn’t pretend not to be listening, but looked otherwise untroubled.

Blue called Gansey.

He picked up at once. “I wasn’t sleeping.”

“I know,” she replied. “Come get me.”

There was something unfamiliar about him when he arrived in the Pig. Something ferocious about his eyes, some sort of bite in his faint smile. Something altogether hectic and unsettled. She stood on the ledge of his smile and looked over the edge.

This wasn’t the Gansey she’d seen in the kitchen earlier; this was the Gansey she secretly called at night.

He didn’t ask where she wanted to go. They were not allowed to speak of this, so they said nothing at all.

The Camaro idled on the silent late-night street. She climbed in and slammed the door.

Gansey — heedless, wild Gansey — tore into another gear as soon as they were out of the neighborhood. He sent the car hurtling from stoplight to stoplight and then, when he got to the empty highway, he let the car frantically climb in speed, his hand a fist over the gearshift.

They were driving east, toward the mountains.

Blue turned on the radio and messed with Gansey’s music until she found something worth playing loudly. Then she wrestled down her window so that the air screamed over her. It was too cold for that, really, but Gansey reached in the backseat without taking his eyes off the road and dragged his overcoat to the front. She put it on, shivering when the silk lining chilled her bare legs.

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