Splintered magic, p.1
Splintered Magic, page 1
Copyright © 2023 by Disney Enterprises, Inc.
All rights reserved. Published by Hyperion, an imprint of Buena Vista Books, Inc. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. For information address Hyperion, 77 West 66th Street, New York, New York 10023.
First Edition, July 2023
Designed by Marci Senders
Library of Congress Control Number: 2023932324
Hardcopy ISBN 978-1-368-04636-7
eBook ISBN 978-1-368-07550-3
Visit www.HyperionTeens.com
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
1: New York, New York—2000
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Other Books in THE MIRROR Quartet
To Grandpa,
I love you, I miss you,
and I hope I’ve made you proud.
The scream didn’t wake Tai, but it definitely pulled her out of bed. She threw off her blanket and raced across her semi-dark room—stubbing her foot on the desk chair along the way.
“Oh! Oh my god, ooooh.” Pain shot up one leg, and the other nearly gave as a result, but she managed to stay upright and hobble over to the door.
Yanking it open, she stepped into the hall just in time to see her father emerge from his bedroom. Dad stood in his boxers, a white tank pulled over his potbelly, and shaving cream smeared on one half of his dark brown head. He blinked at his daughter in confusion they both shared.
I don’t know, Tai mouthed, and shrugged. In the dim light, her attention was drawn to the closed bathroom door and the glow pouring out from under it. Nothing seemed out of place. Silence pressed in from all sides, thick and presently undisturbed. It was honestly kinda creepy. Goose bumps prickled her bare arms, and she rubbed to try and banish them. She wasn’t scary or nothing like that, but screams in the early morning hours would freak anybody out, right?
If it wasn’t for the fact Dad clearly heard it, too, she would’ve thought she imagined the whole thing. Her fault for staying up half the night reading Gundam Wing fanfic. Granted, she didn’t know this vampire AU was gonna be legit horrifying, but the Heero x Duo romance was worth it.
Another handful of seconds passed before Dad hefted a sigh and strode over to knock on the door. “Trey? Son, you okay?”
Silence.
Tai joined her father. “You may as well come out and show us.”
“It’s prolly not even that bad,” Dad offered helpfully.
For another few seconds there was still nothing. Then something shuffled on the other side of the door while a shadow danced beneath it. Finally the knob slowly turned, and light spilled into the hall.
Tai blinked a few times when confronted by the sudden brightness, but what she saw…She had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. That shit hurt, too.
Dad’s eyes widened, and he cleared his throat before breathing a soft “Oh.”
Standing in the doorway was Tai’s twin brother, Trey. Twins in birth and in looks. They shared the same brown skin, wide frames, slightly round faces, and brown eyes. Even had the same thick, shoulder-length coils growing out of their heads, though Tai usually kept hers pressed and Trey wore his in cornrows.
Except his cornrows were gone, and in their place sprouted a bright red, almost orange puff of synthetic strands that was closer to doll hair than anything else. It shined and everything.
His shoulders rose and fell as he took slow, deep breaths. “Prolly not that bad?”
“It…Well…it could be worse.” Dad’s voice pitched high in that way that meant he wasn’t trying to lie to his son’s face, but that’s definitely what was going on here. “It has been worse.”
Trey’s eyes flashed and his nostrils flared. Danger! Danger, Will Robinson! He might have seemed intimidating, if he didn’t look like somebody’s angry-ass Muppet Baby. The one that talks in beeps came to mind.
Tai covered a cough with a fist, then rubbed at her throat while struggling not to laugh.
It ain’t funny, it ain’t funny.
Dad’s eyes danced over Trey, lingering on the plume on his head. “Like I said, it’s been worse.”
“Worse? I look like Carrot Top!”
Tai couldn’t help a few giggles. “Maybe more Ronald McDonald?”
The look Trey shot her could’ve been a bullet to her heart with all the heat behind it. She lifted her hands and mouthed an apology, even as she half snorted, half choked on another snicker.
“What, uhm—what happened?” Dad asked in a now quiet tone that meant he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer, because said answer was likely “that hocus-pocus mess.”
Trey’s shoulders slumped. “I was in the shower telling myself today was just like every other day, and orchestra would be like every other—you know what I’m sayin’—’cept I’m lyin’. And I know I’m lyin’. And I know that I know, so while I’m knowingly lyin’ to myself I just sorta stop and…”
“And what?” Dad pressed.
This time when Trey sighed, his whole body heaved with it. “And I say, ‘Trey, you sound ridiculous, you f—uh, blanking clown,’ and then my hair did this.”
“I see.” Dad tilted his head and rubbed his beard. A wilting dollop of shaving cream was starting to run down the side of his face.
Another telltale quiver of humor rooted itself in Tai’s chest, and she had to release a slow breath to fight it. She won this battle, but she was swiftly losing the war.
Dad nodded as if he understood what was happening. He really didn’t, but he tried. “So you were in a heightened state of agitation, made a declaration—sort of—and your, uh…talent manifested by giving you literal clown hair.”
Trey’s whine started at the back of his throat, then dropped into a distraught “Whyyyyyy?”
Usually, Tai made all the distressed noises. He must really feel a way. She reached to give his shoulder a supportive squeeze and pat. As supportive as she could muster while trying not to laugh in his face. Gotta be a good big sister.
“Well, you want me to call off school for you?” Dad asked. “Unless you think you can change back in time.”
Trey shook his head so quick his clown–well, they weren’t exactly curls, but they still bounced around. “Not today, I can’t miss orchestra.”
Dad bobbed his head again. He nodded a lot when he wasn’t sure what to do or say about a situation. “Right, right. Your audition thing.”
“You can’t just do it another time?” Tai asked while still patting Trey’s shoulder. There, there.
“I can for the grade, but not for the seating arrangement. We got a competition next month, and solos need to be assigned ASAP.”
Tai arched an eyebrow. “So, you tryin’a get your spotlight?”
“I’m trying to secure my rightful spot. Danielle Firestone graduated last year. She was the only person better than me, so now I finally got a shot at first chair.” Trey talked with his hands most of the time, gesturing every which way. Now he was practically conducting his own performance. Tai had to step aside to keep from catching a stray elbow.
“Being first chair junior and senior year means I get the solos and the flashy arrangements,” Trey continued. “Some of the judges for the competitions teach at Juilliard, Berklee, Thornton. One dude impressed them so much he ended up going to the Royal Academy of Music in London. London, Tai!”
Dad made an impressed oh face, still nodding. His eyebrows lifted and the shaving cream dipped a little lower.
Tai sniffed. “But does he have tea with the Queen?” She curled her tongue around a ridiculous accent.
There was a breath of a moment where Trey pursed his lips and looked close to tears. Or as close as he could get. He didn’t really cry no more. “This ain’t a joke. This is my legacy we’re talking about. Ruined by some damn—”
“Language,” Dad snapped as his eyes narrowed.
“Sorry. Ruined because I am, in fact, a clown.”
This time Dad was the one to reach for Trey. He set both hands on his shoulders and gave him a little shake. “It’ll be okay, son. You’ll get through this, just like you get through Everything. Remember that time you thought you messed up at the church talent show?”
Oof. That had been bad. Poor Trey was anxious for days leading up to what would be his first public performance not tied to school. On top of that, it was his first time playing by himself. He was a mess of nerves at the start of the show, and it worsened with each passing act.
By the time his turn came around, Trey was wound so tight he couldn’t breathe. Panting like a dying bull and clutching his cello until the wood creaked, he could barely move a muscle. And he certainly couldn’t play a sonata.
“Instead of sounding ridiculous, I’ll only look the part,” Trey countered, not looking the least bit pepped by Dad’s talk.
“All I’m sayin’ is, when people hear you play, it’s not gonna matter what’s on your head.”
For a moment, it didn’t seem like anything Dad said was getting through. But soon Trey’s fingers uncurled from fists and his shoulders slumped just a little. “I guess not.”
A big grin split Dad’s face, teeth showing and everything. “You’re a great musician today, and you’ll be one tomorrow, a year from now, ten years from now. Clown hair can’t stop this train!”
Another groan escaped Trey, and he dropped his face into his hands. But he was nodding. And that meant he was calming down, at least a bit.
Funny as the situation was, Tai couldn’t help feeling bad for her brother. Normally she was a little jealous. Of the two of them, Trey wound up with the more active, and thus more invasive, power. Powers? It’s hard to tell whether he had multiple abilities, or it was the same one manifesting in different ways. He could knock things over, make things happen—like changing his hair—or break things, like the cello at the talent show. And it wasn’t like they could ask an expert about all this, but the running theory was something to do with molecules. Whether Trey had one power or a dozen, it was still clear that—as he got a handle on them—they’d be useful in some way.
Tai’s abilities were…decidedly not. Visions always sounded cool in the myths and legends. The Fates. The Oracle. The white boy from Final Destination. Tai didn’t see anything useful like someone’s destiny or their future, unless future pain counted. Her visions were often confusing and usually predicted bad things eventually happening. Or that were presently happening. If she looked directly into a reflective surface for too long, a sort of fog would push her sight sideways, revealing whatever depressing thing was waiting beneath. No lie, she would trade this “gift” for pretty much anything else.
“Now then, back to school,” Dad said, drawing Tai out of her thoughts. “What if I call and tell them to let you wear your do-rag for medical reasons or something? Like it’s applying pressure to a bandage.” He reached to run a hand over his head in worry and too late remembered half of it was still covered in shaving cream. He snatched his fingers down to examine them, then made a face. “Damn it.”
Trey sidestepped into Tai to make room in the doorway, and Dad slipped by with quiet thanks. While he hastily finished up the shave he’d started in his bathroom, she turned to face her slightly less distraught but still clearly panicked brother.
“The do-rag thing might work,” she offered. “Especially if it’s just for one day. And not even a whole one.”
This time the look Trey gave her wasn’t as hot but still equally annoyed. “In what world does that even begin to make sense?”
Tai cleared her throat before putting on a deep, dramatic voice. “In a world where you hit your head really hard, so you have to wear this butt-ugly bandage. To save yourself from the shame and ridicule of your peers, and to make sure the bandage stays in place, you don a do-rag to conceal the unbecoming dressing, thus allowing you to move among the masses unharassed.” She waved her hands theatrically and aimed a smile Trey’s way.
While he didn’t fully return it, one corner of his mouth pulled upward slightly. “You’re such a weirdo.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s those cartoons you watch. They be saying dramatic shit like that.”
“That was more movie-trailer guy, but they do indeed be saying dramatic shit like that.”
Trey chuckled lightly, and the red-orange of his hair flickered just so before fading more to a brownish, less clownish color.
Tai pointed. “Hey! It’s changing back. Kinda.”
Blinking in surprise, Trey hurried to push in beside Dad, who grunted but didn’t say anything more. Trey examined his hair, running his fingers through it a little before sighing softly.
“It’s a start,” he complained, though his words were softer, his tone gentler. He joined her in the hall again and, to her surprise, wrapped one arm around her in a quick hug. “Thanks, Tai.”
Dad emerged from the bathroom, wiping at his head with a towel. He glanced back and forth between them, his gaze lingering on Trey’s now brown but still very much doll-looking hair. “So, what’re we doing?”
Trey dropped his head forward with a heavy breath. Still, some of the tension seeped out of his shoulders. “I guess we split the difference. Orchestra is this afternoon. I stay home and try to undo this. If I can, I just go in. If I can’t, we go with the medical do-rag. Just long enough for me to land the audition.”
“What about quartet practice?” Dad asked. “That’s today, too, right? I remember that one.”
On top of being the best cellist in the school’s orchestra, Trey had to go and gang up with the best musicians from the other sections to form some classical music Voltron. All in the name of that legacy he was talking about earlier. Tai was suddenly glad her extracurriculars weren’t so…involved.
“It is,” Trey said. “But that won’t be a problem. The audition is all I’m worried about.”
“Then you’ll be able to ride the subway home with your sister?”
“Yeah.”
“Sounds like a plan. Hurry up and finish so your sister can have her turn.”
With his own nod, Trey disappeared into the bathroom. The door shut behind him.
Crisis averted, Dad sighed just like Trey did a second ago, only his was a touch more resigned. Then he aimed a finger at Tai. “You still need to get ready. Your hair is fine. You go to school.” Declaration made, he headed back down the hall, mumbling something about it being too early for a Dungeons & Dragons mess.
Any other day, that little, throwaway, totally-not-meant-to-be-hurtful-but-still-kinda-stung comment might’ve put a chink in Tai’s armor, but not today. Today, she was determined to focus on doing things that strengthened her armor, that brought her joy. Like her plans to check out the Fall Festival after school while Trey was at practice. Or how it was her turn to pick birthday-eve dinner. Or how she definitely maybe might be finally getting a new camera for her birthday. Dad had only asked her about it “covertly” every other day for a month now.
She would focus on all the good, for now. There would be plenty of time to wallow in the negative after, especially since there was always negative. Two good things followed one bad. Every time.
The bathroom door swung open with a creak, and Trey stepped out, holding his bath basket in one hand and his rolled-up pajamas in the other. He looked surprised to see her still standing there but didn’t say anything as he stepped around her and headed for his room.
“I was thinking tacos,” Tai called after him. “From that place around the corner from school?”
Trey paused long enough to shoot a confused glance over his shoulder. “Tacos.”
“The birthday-eve dinner?”
“Oh, oh yeah.” Trey nodded, then continued on his way. “Sounds good to me.”
His bedroom door thunked closed behind him, and Tai was left standing in her pajamas in the hall. Man, he must be pretty worried about this audition if he didn’t wanna at least put up the pretense of fighting with her about the choice. Trey loved tacos, too, but it was tradition for them to go back and forth a few times before the choice was made officially.
He’ll feel better after he gets his first chair or whatever, she decided.
Then she made her way back to her room to start getting ready for the day. Which may or may not have included getting to the end of the current chapter in her fanfic.
Half an hour (twenty minutes of it spent reading), a quick change of clothes, and a second to make sure her hair fell right after she took it down, she met her dad at the car with her jacket on one arm, her backpack on the other, and a Toaster Strudel hanging out her mouth. She was only halfway through it when Dad started drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel and humming along to a song that wasn’t playing.
That meant he wanted to talk. Great.
May as well get this over with. “Trey okayed my choice of tacos for dinner.”
“He did?” Dad glanced in the rearview mirror at nothing most likely. “I’ll confirm that with him when I get home.”
