Reckonings by Carla Jablonski

Author:Carla Jablonski
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780061973888
Publisher: HarperCollins

I don’t know how to tell you this, because I think you will be upset, but I also know I must. I ran into Tim yesterday while I was out walking the puppy, and he looked truly terrible. He was upset and admitted he was confused. After I left him, I realized that he knew the puppy’s name was Daniel! I didn’t figure it out at the time, but the only way for Tim to have known that was if he had somehow been there that night and saw the Body Artist work her magic. Which means…

Molly crumpled the paper, unable to read another word. She knew exactly what that meant. It meant that Tim had heard everything she and Marya had said. That he now knew all about what he might grow up to do. And he knew she was thinking of breaking up with him for it.

Molly dropped Marya’s letter and covered her face. He must feel so awful, she thought. Tim felt things so strongly, and with all he was going through now, finding out that he might grow up to be evil—that he could become a dragon—might push him right over the edge. “And I’m not there for him to talk to,” she murmured. Then a new thought chilled her. “Will he even talk to me after what he heard me saying? And can I be brave enough to talk to him?”

She pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them tightly. Why hadn’t she just been honest with him and told him all she knew when she had the chance? To find out this way was so much worse. Tears sprang into her eyes. “Poor Tim.”

What must it have felt like to have overheard that conversation? Like betrayal, that’s what. To have to listen to someone you trust talking about abandoning you like that. A total stunner. And worse, he’d been given no way to defend himself to her. And worse than that, Molly thought, stacking up worse and worsers, must have been hearing that he could grow up to be evil!

Molly found herself standing, pacing. “I have to talk to him.” But how? She stopped abruptly. It’s not like Gran’s wired for telecommunication. She doesn’t even have a phone, not to mention e-mail. And it’s not likely that Tim will come strolling up the lane out here. “I wish he would. Or I wish I could go see him.”

Wishes. Didn’t Gran always say you could ask the fairies for wishes? On the top of Leanan Hill, as a matter of fact.

She tried to remember everything her gran had ever told her, all those stories she had dismissed as, well, fairy tales. There were nursery rhymes and bedtime tales and strange little folk sayings, and now Molly scolded herself for not paying more attention. Still, she couldn’t be too hard on herself. How could she possibly have known that Gran might have been on to something—that all those stories might be real? Or realish.

Molly

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