Theea
yla
The stars are finally honest about it—no smear of dusk left to bargain with—when I cut through Haulani’s upper streets toward the meeting spot. Lanterns hang from cables and eaves, throwing warm gold across wind-chimed shopfronts and the gleam of wet wood. The air is a tangle of salt and sugar: grilled pineapple, caramel taffy, a whisper of frying oil from somewhere I can’t see, all tangled in the ocean breeze.
Nova is impossible to miss—she’s a comet that learned to walk, all stars and color and curls and that constellation of freckles that always makes me smile. I’ve seen her around enough to peg her as fun; trouble, probably, but the good kind. The help-wanted poster at the Hanged Man snagged me because odd jobs are how I eat, but seeing her grinning at a stack of glittering flyers tells me this is going to be… an adventure.
I sidle in as she whispers like we’re about to rob a dragon. My eyebrows creep higher the longer she explains. Tear down a rival’s flyers. Buy out all the best materials. Shady? Sure. But my parents’ bar for “shady” is in the Mariana Trench; this barely makes the shallows. Besides, I like the Marin triplets—Vesper was kind to me when he didn’t have to be, and Caly’s a friend. Odds are good Nova will be great too.
When she thrusts an armful of papers my way, I take a stack—then immediately grimace as glitter detonates across my hands, my shirt, the wind, the rest of the street. Tiny stars cling to my knuckles like they’ve found religion. I flick my fingers uselessly and deadpan, "We’re all going to be implicated in this."
Still, I can’t help the crooked smile tugging at my mouth as I tuck the flyers under my arm. ”What’s our route?”
Nova is impossible to miss—she’s a comet that learned to walk, all stars and color and curls and that constellation of freckles that always makes me smile. I’ve seen her around enough to peg her as fun; trouble, probably, but the good kind. The help-wanted poster at the Hanged Man snagged me because odd jobs are how I eat, but seeing her grinning at a stack of glittering flyers tells me this is going to be… an adventure.
I sidle in as she whispers like we’re about to rob a dragon. My eyebrows creep higher the longer she explains. Tear down a rival’s flyers. Buy out all the best materials. Shady? Sure. But my parents’ bar for “shady” is in the Mariana Trench; this barely makes the shallows. Besides, I like the Marin triplets—Vesper was kind to me when he didn’t have to be, and Caly’s a friend. Odds are good Nova will be great too.
When she thrusts an armful of papers my way, I take a stack—then immediately grimace as glitter detonates across my hands, my shirt, the wind, the rest of the street. Tiny stars cling to my knuckles like they’ve found religion. I flick my fingers uselessly and deadpan, "We’re all going to be implicated in this."
Still, I can’t help the crooked smile tugging at my mouth as I tuck the flyers under my arm. ”What’s our route?”
Know I'm gonna get there somehow, take it all in and breathe out
I got everything I need now, think I'm done looking down,
got my head in the clouds
I got everything I need now, think I'm done looking down,
got my head in the clouds
