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The orange glow of birthday candles bloomed over a white grocery store sheet cake. The swirling blue lettering made it official: Happy Birthday, Faber—21! Their flames flickered and danced in celebration, but as Faber blew them out, he knew it was only a matter of time.

 

The scent of cloying grocery store vanilla clashed with the greasy smell of pepperoni pizza, creating a tug-of-war that mirrored the one inside him. He watched as the other foster children bounced and chattered excitedly with each slice of cake being distributed. Faber, however, stabbed at his, before smashing the severed chunk into the plate. Eating it felt like accepting his fate.

 

While most young adults looked forward to their twenty-first birthday, the milestone meant something different to those in the system—the end of the line.

 

Faking a smile, Faber nodded a thank-you to his caretakers, the Stevens’s. They were decent enough people. Last month marked his fifth anniversary in their home, but that occasion had passed without celebration. For Faber, lasting this long without getting kicked out was an achievement of its own.

 

They smiled back at him from over the table and offered the same half-hearted happy birthday they gave all the others.

 

It wasn’t so long ago Faber had overheard them speaking about him when they thought everyone was asleep.

 

“Don’t get attached,” Mr. Stevens had said to his wife. “You know they aren’t ours.”

 

Faber couldn’t blame them. A foster home was only meant to be a safe harbor for children until the time came to leave.

 

Unfortunately for him, there was nowhere to go next—no family to fall back on, no future planned. He’d spent so much of his childhood bouncing around from home to home, he never got around to making long-term plans. Now that choice nipped at his heels. Soon to be out on his own with nothing to run towards, just the prospect of keeping his head down and finishing his Liberal Arts degree.

 

Like so many before him, he would be shoved into the world with a handful of well-wishes and a faded backpack.

 

The rumble of a motorcycle drew his eyes past the window in the living room to the street outside.  Past the porch, lampposts bathed their suburban Greensboro neighborhood in a blueish florescence. Not his neighborhood, Faber reminded himself, the Stevens’ neighborhood. Faber wouldn’t be there much longer.

 

He picked a slice of pepperoni off a nearby plate and chewed it, trying to convince himself he wouldn’t be stuck in that small town forever.

 

The thought suffocated him. There had to be something more out there than seeing the same people day over day and having the same conversations about TV and whatever was on their social media feed.  He’d considered moving to the city after graduating—at least it would be a challenge to survive—but even that sounded like more of the same, just at a higher volume.

 

His stomach flopped, propelling him to his feet. Faber grabbed the empty pizza boxes and hurried through the kitchen. He couldn’t waste this evening eating cake with his foster family.

 

“I’m going out,” he shouted as he reached for the door to the back steps.

 

“Take Paul with you,” Mr. Stevens called before the screen door clanged shut.

 

Faber sighed heavily, rolling his eyes as he lifted the lid to the recycling. With a resigned shrug, he pitched the greasy boxes into the bin, watching them tumble to the bottom.

 

“Yeah, I’m right there with you,” he mumbled to the discarded cardboard before turning back to the house.

 

With his eyes fixed on the ground, Faber cut back through the house.

 

He’d barely made it inside when he started to protest. “I’m perfectly capable of getting home on my own.”

 

“You know the rules,” Mr. Stevens said sternly over his steaming cup of tea. “Buddy system.”

 

There was no point in fighting. Faber knew better.

 

Kids scattered from the dining room to whatever nook or cranny they called their own to tick away the night. Not one of them would miss Faber when he left, they were too young. Paul, the young man he shared a room with, was the only exception. Tall, blond, and terminally awkward, Paul had wedged himself into Faber’s life out of proximity more than choice. Whatever he was to Faber, it definitely was not a wingman—and that’s what he needed if the party would be worth it.

 

Leaving wasn’t all about avoiding reality, the opposite, actually. He was going to see her—Jenna, an enigmatic girl who kept showing up on campus when Faber least expected. She was the only girl in town he’d seen with dyed hair, bright purple, and colored contacts to match. It was refreshing to see someone not care about shaking things up a little. The town needed it.

 

The living room at the Stevens’ spoke of hand-me-down comfort and foster home practicality. Lamps with crooked shades cast an uneven light over an oval coffee table covered in scuffs and old drink rings. Mrs. Stevens sat perched on the sofa’s edge, organizing the morning’s craft projects still scattered on top, like brightly colored band-aids covering years of scarring.

 

Two end tables, one made of oak and the other painted white, flanked the sagging plaid sofa, whose faded fabric clashed with the nearby armchair. Nothing matched, but everything worked. The only exception to the modesty was the sleek flat-screen TV mounted above the fireplace. Mr. Steven’s prized possession, pristine and gleaming as if it belonged in a different house entirely.

 

It reeked of the mundane to him, made him antsy to escape. But first, he would need to sever the ties between Paul and his phone. It was one more obsession Faber never understood—those pixel-deep friendships with people you could never be sure truly existed. Still, he felt a pang of pity for Paul, trapped in the glow of a lifeless screen. If he had to be the catalyst to Paul’s change, so be it—if only so Faber could chase what he wanted most.

 

 Leaning into the corner of the sofa, Faber tapped Paul on the shoulder.

 

“Let’s go. I don’t have all night; it is already eight-thirty, and we have a fifteen-minute walk across the park to get to Taylor’s.”

 

Paul did not budge. His body slumped into the faded La-Z-Boy as if he’d been swallowed by the cushions. He grazed the glass surface of the phone in his hand, swiping upwards on a stream of videos. He laughed out loud at a clip of huskies howling at their owner.

 

Two younger kids tore through the room in a blur of socked feet and sugar-fueled chaos. One bumped hard enough to knock Faber into the end table, the other dove behind the couch in a fit of giggles.

 

“Parties aren’t really my thing,” Paul answered vaguely. “I think I’ll stay in.”

 

“Faber has a tattoo,” Julia giggled as she climbed over the back of the sofa.

 

Embarrassed, Faber yanked his shirt down, covering the gap between his jeans and shirt. The markings were a cross between runes and hieroglyphs with no translation. They had been there for as long as he could remember, and it never became easier when someone noticed.

 

Faber glanced back at the phone in Paul’s hand and a faint static pricked his scalp. He needed to get outside, out to the real world. He drew in a breath, collecting the words that could tip the moment his way.

 

“Paul,” Faber said softly, the hint of a forced smile in his tone, “just imagine the music pulsing, lights swirling, everyone’s happy to see you, laughing, talking like they’ve known you forever. You’re right in the middle of it.” Faber leaned in closer, murmuring his final words just over Paul’s shoulder. “You’re having a great time.”

 

Paul stopped scrolling, his eyes glazing over as if caught in a daydream. Faber watched him intently and leaned into the feeling, like plucking a single string on a silent instrument. It was a gift he had since he was a kid, convincing people of things.

 

“You’re standing there, a drink in your hand. That girl you like, Abby, is across the room. She looks your way and smiles. The music pulls you together. It’s like everything clicks into place.”

 

Paul’s head swiveled slowly, his lip twitching to a smile at the corner, his eyes a thousand miles away.

 

“You think Abby will be there?” He asked wishfully.

 

Faber steadied his breath, drawing on his own desire to leave to feed Paul’s.

 

“Absolutely,” he replied quietly, coaxing Paul from his seat. “It will be the kind of night you never forget.”

 

Paul stared ahead, and Faber knew Paul wasn’t seeing the wall anymore; he was seeing the picture Faber painted in his mind. The hum of excitement, the promise of something better.

 

“Abby’s waiting…” Faber dangled the idea like a piece of cheese in front of a mouse.

 

Paul inched himself to the edge of the sofa and rose to his feet. He barely glanced at Faber before leading the way to the front door.

 

“Fine, but if it’s boring, we are coming home.”

 

Faber grinned. “Deal. But trust me, you won’t want to.”

 

Before they could make their escape, they were called back by a familiar demand.

 

“You know the rules. Be home by eleven,” Mrs. Stevens instructed, easing onto the sofa as she clicked on the television.

 

Faber slowed his pace and cut his eyes at his foster mother. He studied her expression to see if there was room to negotiate.

 

“Eleven thirty,” he plucked at her hypnotized stare into the idiot box.

 

“Not a minute later.”

 

Pleased, he stepped out the front door and darted after Paul.

 

***

 

Faber ditched Paul at Taylor’s the second they wormed their way through the door. The music thumped, fellow college students laughed and danced, but they were only a distraction to him. Faber scanned the living room and the kitchen. A string of girls paraded down the staircase, spinning him around to his disappointment. Down the hall, he checked the game room. Three guys stood in the corner ogling a group of girls circling a pool table with a cue. Faber rolled his eyes, none of them had a clue as to how the game was played. He circled back to the kitchen, Jenna was nowhere to be found. His heart sank. What if she didn’t come?

 

Taylor nodded at Faber when they crossed paths, her  freckle-covered cheeks rose into a smile as she tipped her head to the back door.

 

Turning, Faber caught a glimpse of purple hair through the French panes, and his feet froze in place. Jenna.

 

The arched door handle waited for the weight of Faber’s hand. A flutter ran through his stomach, setting off a chain reaction that trickled down his arm, and before he knew it, he’d stepped outside. A warm spring breeze kissed his cheek. Today was one of those odd North Carolina spring days when everyone sported summer clothes but understood the promise of freezing rain before the week’s end.

 

Nervous, Faber stuffed his hands into his faded denim pockets. The backyard thrummed with music and laughter, filling the evening air with a sense of celebration. Multicolored string lights crisscrossed the air above the patio, illuminating the pulsing mass of young adults carrying solo cups. As he moved into the rhythmic commotion, the flickering lights washed over the faces around him, all beaming with pride as they danced and made summer plans.

 

Flowering trees lined the fence, their petals scattered across the lawn like confetti, but everywhere he looked for Jenna, he didn’t find her. He ignored calls for his attention as he moved deeper into the yard, finding an unlit fire pit lined with empty beer bottles and kids swapping stories. He sighed in disappointment, letting his eyes scan the party.

 

The moment his eyes landed on Jenna, everything else faded into the background.

 

Faber spotted her at the edge of the patio, under an orange umbrella. Her hip leaned against a highboy chair as she, too, seemed to search the crowd for someone. Her dazzling purple eyes flitted to him just long enough to quicken his heartbeat. An uncontrollable joy curled his mouth into a grin. It seemed like she always had that effect on him. Strands of her purple hair seemed to shift colors under the light, from violet to electric blue, then red to radiant pink. She laughed effortlessly.

 

He first saw her get into Taylor’s car during Christmas, but they didn’t actually speak until about a month later when they bumped into each other. After that, she was everywhere. They had only shared glances or a brief hello, but they always seemed to find each other.

 

No one had ever caught his attention like her. He was sure she wasn’t a student at UNCG, yet she always seemed to be on campus. Every Friday, he saw her coming out of the library after hours—as if her party-girl persona was a cover for being a book nerd. He couldn’t puzzle her out, and it made it hard not to think of her. And now she was directly in his orbit, and finally free enough to talk to.

 

As he approached her, someone stepped into his path. Nathan. Everything about him, from his oversized platinum watch, crisp collared shirt, and perfectly pressed khaki shorts, screamed money.

 

Faber watched the boy’s hand slide around her waist, pulling her close. Nathan sneered down at her like she was a prize at the end of a hunt.

 

Jenna returned his smile with something tight and polite. With a step on her heel, she escaped Nathan’s arm and strode just out of his reach. Her eyes caught Faber’s, and for a second, his breath caught. To his surprise, the corner of her mouth twisted with glee.

 

“Nice to see you, Nathan. Taylor was actually just looking for you inside.”

 

Nathan’s grin faltered out of focus along with his gaze.

 

Faber blinked. What just happened? A strange pull stirred in his chest—something about the way she spoke felt familiar.

 

“You don’t want to be talking to me—you want to go inside and see what Taylor has to say.”

 

Faber watched as Nathan’s eyelids fluttered. Jenna glanced towards him with a conspiratorial wink.

 

“Imagine her leaning up on her toes to tell you she likes you. She asks you to get her a drink. You dance and laugh.”

 

Suddenly, it made sense. Jenna was doing the exact same thing Faber had done to Paul.

 

Just like Paul, Nathan seemed to take Jenna’s suggestion and head inside without a fight.

 

Faber couldn’t help but grin with recognition as he closed the gap between him and Jenna.

 

“I knew I liked you,” he said before he managed a hello. “Nice job getting rid of Nathan.”

 

“What can I say, it’s a gift,” she said with a dramatic flip of her hair, smiling. “Took you long enough to show up. I was beginning to wonder if you were even coming tonight.”

 

“I had to make an entrance,” Faber replied, reaching out to brush his fingers along the soft skin of her bare arm.

 

The music shifted to a slower tempo, and people began pairing off.

 

Jenna boldly took his hand in hers.

 

“Dance with me?”

 

Faber didn’t hesitate. He squeezed her hand and led her toward the makeshift dance area under the metal gazebo.  

 

They moved in sync. The tenderness of her fingers slid up his neck, and the space between them narrowed with each subtle step. The music pulsed softly around them, a steady rhythm that gave their movements shape without demanding precision. Faber barely registered the melody—only the way Jenna smiled when their bodies brushed, the light pressure of her fingers against his chest.

 

They talked, but he couldn’t recall a single topic. It wasn’t about the words. It was the way her voice curled around them, the way she leaned in when she laughed, like she wasn’t pretending to enjoy his attention. Her eyes were more than purple, up close, they were an impossibly rich violet that held him there like the sun. He wasn’t sure how long they’d been swaying, only that he didn’t want it to end.

 

“I love how your hair always looks so messy,” she said softly. “Wind swept, like one of those billboard things in town. Too bad it often hides the best part.”

 

She brushed away a dark curl that had fallen into his eyes. When it was gone, Faber could see Jenna’s chin tilting upwards, her lips suddenly inches from his. He wanted to kiss her.

 

“There’s nothing all that special about blue,” he countered.” Now, your eyes, on the other hand …” For a second, he was lost in them all over again. “They are so unusual and magical.”

 

He didn’t dare ask her if they were colored contacts. He guessed he didn’t care. Something about seeing them up close like this made him believe they were natural.

 

“Careful,” she teased, her smile turning playful. “You know, people would be surprised how close that word hits.” Her gaze drifted over his shoulder, as if she were checking to see if anyone heard them. “This may be one of my last visits. My mother thinks it’s time I commit. Choose my path, follow the family legacy.”

 

She rolled her eyes, but Faber didn’t sense any hidden meaning under her words.

 

What about family legacy?

 

“You don’t have to do what she wants,” he said before he could stop himself. “It’s your life. You should get to choose your own path.”

 

Jenna’s gaze flickered with surprise, maybe even recognition.

 

“You make it sound so simple,” she murmured. “But it’s complicated. I can’t live in my mother’s shadow, and coming here is more than a rebellious streak—or she says so. I’m not ready to choose. And my mother? She thinks I don’t get one.” She shook her head as if to clear it. “What about you? Planning to pledge?”

 

He shrugged, smiling faintly. He wanted to know more about her mother and this legacy issue. It was something Faber couldn’t understand himself.

 

“I don’t have anyone pressuring me. I’ll do what I must when the time comes. Which is not tonight.”

 

He pulled her closer.

 

The music seemed to melt into the space around them, and for a second, it was like it was just the two of them. Her cheek brushed his as she leaned on his shoulder. For the first time in a while, he felt himself relaxed with another person.

 

Just as he was considering revisiting the urge to kiss her, a hand clamped around Faber’s arm, wrenching Jenna from his grasp. Faber stumbled back, bumping into a gazebo post as he looked to see Nathan. A few heads turned from the patio crowd, laughter faltering as all eyes turned on them.

 

“Mind if I cut in?” he asked, stepping between them and taking Jenna’s hand. “I have been looking for you everywhere.”

 

Faber took a step forward in warning. Up close, his height forced him to look down his nose at Nathan. He liked it.

 

But before Nathan could put his clenched fist to use, Jenna stepped between them.

 

“This is not the place, Faber,” she tried to pull him away, but he slipped through her grasp. “Fine, do whatever you want. Just don’t look for me if you get in trouble. I thought you actually cared about more than this stupid stuff.”

 

She huffed in frustration before disappearing into the crowd.

 

“What’s your deal?” Faber seethed.

 

“Me? This is all you. You’re my problem,” Nathan challenged. “I saw Jenna first, and I turned my back for two minutes, and you snaked her like a creep.”

 

Faber tried not to roll his eyes at how perfectly Nathan still fit the high school Nathan cliché, right down to beckoning to the gathering crowd for his fellow former football players to join him. Faber couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. He’d never been a team sports kid, but cross-country running had kept him strong for a long time.

 

“That’s an interesting way to say you think you own women.” Faber jabbed Nathan in the chest with two fingers while eyeing the three boys moving in their direction. “You and your lap dogs still stuck in that fantasy?”

 

A figure stepped in behind Faber, and when she spoke, Faber realized it was Taylor.

 

“Come on, Nathan, let it go. I will kick you out if you can’t keep your cool.”

 

She reached her arms between the two boys to add space while eyeing the situation.

 

With a sneer, Nathan stepped back. “Relax, Taylor.” He said airily. “We can settle this the old-fashioned way.”

 

Faber waited, expecting Nathan to square up again, but instead, he grabbed some ping-pong balls from a plastic bin near the cooler and pointed toward a folding table lined with red Solo cups.

 

Beyond the string-lit yard, music thumped from speakers hidden in fake rocks. The heavy bass beat matched the thunder building in Faber’s mind. Alcohol had never been his friend.

 

He shook his head.

 

“I don’t play.”

 

He wouldn’t admit it in front of Nathan, but the stuff always left him feeling sick and anxious rather than relaxed.

 

“Scared you’ll lose, or just scared I’ll embarrass you in front of Jenna?”

 

Faber gritted his teeth. A fistfight would’ve been easier and far more satisfying. At least then he’d have a chance to knock the smugness off Nathan’s face. Instead, he stood there, locked and loaded, knowing he couldn’t afford another misstep in front of Jenna. Not again. This little tiff cost him enough points already.

 

“Fine. One game.”

 

Somewhere behind Faber, Paul stepped from the crowd.

 

“Dude, what are you doing?” he whispered.

 

Paul’s concern did nothing to alter Faber’s decision. He barely glanced back at his only friend before he looked back at Nathan and set his jaw. A small plastic ball was pinched between his fingertips.

 

Paul’s hand landed on Faber’s shoulder, pulling him gently backward.

 

“The only reason Mr. Stevens lets us come to these parties is because you don’t drink anymore. You’ve had what, one beer? You’re playing with fire, dude. It already cost you your last foster placement—you really want to lose this one in the last few months you have?”

 

Faber rolled his eyes. He didn’t need a babysitter.

 

“Four beers,” he countered. “And I was a kid then. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not sixteen anymore. I’m fine.”

 

Paul pulled Faber away from the table.

 

“And what if you lose? You’ll have to drink three beers. All for some girl who isn’t even watching. Forget what I said before, this isn’t a bad idea, it’s a stupid one.”

 

But Faber was spared the rest of Paul’s lecture when Abby whisked Paul back to the mass of dancing bodies.

 

As the game began to take shape, Nathan and Faber stood on opposite ends of a long white table. Taylor popped the top on several beers and handed them to Nathan to fill a set of red Solo cups.

 

As Nathan began to pour fill them, he cut his eyes at Faber with a sneer forming on his lip.

 

Taylor stepped toward Faber, placing a hand on his arm.

 

“You don’t have to do this, you know Jenna doesn’t care about this. About Nathan,” she said under her breath.

 

“Yeah, but I kind of do,” he responded. “Nathan’s never going to stop until someone makes him. Besides, how bad could it be?”

 

Even as he argued his case, he knew he would pay for drinking.

 

Nathan slid six cups across the table, which Faber accepted with a mix of curiosity and concern.

 

With the table set, Nathan took the first shot to a chorus of cheers from his friends. He missed.

 

Faber snatched the bouncing ball and chuckled to himself. He’d always had a knack for games, and he was sure this would be no exception. He eyed the red triangle of cups and tossed the ping-pong ball with a feather-light touch. It dropped cleanly in.

 

Taylor cheered, and the crowd clapped in appreciation while Nathan eyed Faber narrowly. He removed the ball and downed his beer.

 

“Lucky.”

 

Nathan burped and tossed his next shot, sinking it into one of Faber’s cups. Despite her warning, Taylor howled in equal support for Nathan.

 

Faber plucked the soaking beer-covered ball from his cup and curled his lip at the thought of what came next. He wasn’t just sensitive to alcohol, he’d never really liked the taste of beer specifically. He only held a bottle at a party to fit in, pouring a little out each time no one was looking.

 

His gaze fell on the amber liquid. Before he could wince, he gulped it down as the crowd behind him cheered like he was doing a keg stand.

 

As the chorus of “Chug, chug, chug!” faded, Faber took his next turn, and he didn’t miss. He managed to sink the next round as well. And the one after that. Nathan, meanwhile, found his cocky smirk starting to fade. Before long, they were four to one in Faber’s favor, and yet again Faber sank the shot, setting him five to one. The crowd cheered, and Nathan drank.

 

Just as Faber felt his victory was assured, Jenna appeared beside Nathan. She eyed Faber as if she was seeking permission as Nathan sank his next shot.

 

“Looks like all I needed was my lucky charm,” Nathan smirked as he winked at Jenna.

 

Faber grabbed his second cup and drank the foul liquid. He wiped his mouth and stacked his empty on top of the last one.

 

“Come on, Faber, you got this, just one left.” Taylor encouraged.

 

Faber took a deep breath and tried to zero in on the last cup. It should’ve been easy, but his eyes wouldn’t focus. Squinting against his foggy mind, he flicked the ball across the table, and for the first time, he missed. The crowd sighed in disappointment, but Nathan grinned and pitched it back in Faber’s direction—a slam-dunk.

 

As the hoppy third beer slid down his throat, his stomach turned, and his head swam.

 

Why am I doing this?

 

Leaning on the table, he stacked the cup into the previous two. Paul was right, this was a stupid idea, but he’d really look like a coward if he backed down now. His eyes darted to Nathan and his friends laughing, and then Faber glanced at the remaining cup.

 

His vision blurred as the final shot left his hand. It struck the rim, but not in his favor, and bounced into Nathan’s hand. Nathan laughed triumphantly, but he missed his next toss.

 

After Faber downed his fourth drink, he knew he was in trouble.

 

Across the table, Nathan grinned as he picked up the ball.

 

“This one’s for you,” he said smugly to Jenna before kissing the white plastic for good luck.

 

Faber watched Jenna move closer to Nathan, her hand grazing his arm as she leaned towards his ear, yet her eyes were focused on Faber. She muttered something into Nathan’s ear, and, though it could have been the alcohol, Faber swore he saw Nathan’s expression flicker like before. When Nathan turned to look into Jenna’s eyes, she mouthed a few more words, and the boy’s shoulders slumped. His eyes drifted back to the table, glazed and unfocused. Nathan hesitated.

 

All the while, Jenna stared intently at Faber, her brow knit as she gave him a reassuring nod.

 

Faber squinted. What was she saying? He shook his head no. He didn’t want to win by her distraction. Jenna glared back at Nathan and whispered one last imperceptible message to Nathan, just as he raised his hand to throw his shot. Then, she stepped back into the crowd and out of his line of sight.

 

Instantly, Nathan’s energy returned. He waved his hands in the air to stir the crowd. “You ready, boys? I think we have a winner here.”

 

Nathan sank his next shot with ease, crowing his victory and offering the crowd an exaggerated bow.

 

“You haven’t won yet.”

 

Faber plucked the ball from the cup and reached to drink his fifth glass, but Jenna’s hand appeared and grabbed it from his lips. Her expression was unreadable as she tilted the glass back and drank, slamming the empty cup on the table. She grabbed the sixth and final cup on Faber’s side and downed the contents. This one she flicked in Nathan’s direction.

 

“Game over,” she said dryly, taking Faber’s hand, she led him away. “We need to go home,” she insisted, opening the back door to the house.

 

Faber followed her without a thought, desperate to ease her disapproval. The music inside thumped and pulsed, wreaking havoc on his swimming head while he scanned the crowd for Paul. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he knew it was his curfew reminder.

 

As if on cue, Paul appeared at his side and tugged Faber’s arm.

 

“I’m not going to get in trouble for your stupidity. I tried to warn you not to drink.”

 

Jenna cut her eyes at the interloper. Still holding Faber’s hand, she lifted the other and cupped Paul’s cheek. A static pulse coursed through Faber’s palm and raced up his arm as the green inlay on her dark ring began to glow. Paul’s eyes glazed over as he stared into Jenna’s.

 

 “Go home and sleep,” she whispered, “Faber is done playing for the night.”

 

Faber steadied himself against the kitchen island, watching as Paul turned and left.

 

“You’re so good at that,” he whispered in awe.

 

With Paul out of the way, Jenna marched out of the house with Faber in tow. The laughter and music became nothing more than a memory as the night’s excitement faded behind them.

 

“Slow down, Jenna,” Faber called, but she wouldn’t listen. “We should talk.”

 

They crossed the street and entered the moonlit park. Her amethyst hair shimmered under the moon as she avoided the pools of light in the parking lot. Each stumbling scuff of his shoes against the sidewalk reminded Faber how his ego got the best of him with that stupid game.

 

Without warning, Jenna dropped his hand and bolted for the shrubs.

 

The sour smell of vomit hit Faber’s nostrils seconds after she started retching. He fought to keep his composure, reaching one wobbly hand out to steady her. A cool breeze swept through, tussling his hair and carrying the memory of their dance, the warmth of her cheek against his. What he wouldn’t give to undo the disaster the night had become.

 

Jenna straightened, finally breathing deeply again.

 

“I’m fine,” she assured him, wiping her mouth with the crook of her elbow.

 

She reached for his hand again, dragging him off before he could protest. Faber, meanwhile, eyed the ring on her hand as it gripped his. What else could she do?

 

Leaves rustled nearby, pulling his attention away from the path. He stumbled on the uneven sidewalk, and Jenna caught his arm.

 

“Really, Faber,” her soft tone carried a hint of disappointment. “Drinking over an earthling. Like our kind care about their trivial lives. We come here to play, escape, not get involved. You should have let me obscure Nathan’s mind so we could just leave.”

 

A wave of nausea rolled through him, and he found himself looking up at the night sky to avoid vomiting. He would never drink again.

 

It took a few seconds for her use of the term earthling to register with him, and by the time it did, he was certain he didn’t want to ask. All he could think about was how she talked to Nathan—how Faber had spoken to Paul.

 

She tugged him along until they were beyond the reach of the streetlights, tucked into a nook of dense trees.

 

 Jenna released his hand and raised hers into the air in front of her, the ring lighting up again. She traced a complex shape in the air and whispered something he couldn’t catch. He turned his head as a strange shadow began gathering beside the shrubs. In his drunken haze, what first appeared to be an ordinary patch of darkness gradually took shape, its edges shimmering with gold.

 

Jenna looked back at him, took his hand, and, without warning, jumped into the growing void.

 

“Jenna!” Faber shouted as the world was yanked out from under him.

 

The glittering oval swallowed them whole.

 

When Faber’s feet hit solid ground again, he was stumbling in front of the UNCG library, dazed.

 

He opened his mouth to ask what had happened but the words tangled on his tongue. He took two steps and found himself suddenly feeling disoriented and tired. Too tired.

 

Before Faber could stop it, bile rose in his throat. The sour taste of beer-laced frosting burned his tongue as he doubled over and puked on the grass.

 

“Let’s just get home,” Jenna said, patting him gingerly on the back. “You’ll feel better there.”

 

The word home drew him to the girl before him.

 

“Why are we outside the UNCG library?”

 

Her head snapped back to him.

 

“I couldn’t focus on the library,” she pressed her hand to her temple. “Like you could have done better! We need to make sure nobody is watching before we jump inside.”

 

Jump inside?

 

She led him down the brick path, up the steps between the white columns. She wobbled, and he caught her before she hit the doors.

 

“I’m fine,” she muttered, pressing her hand to her lips.

 

“Yeah, no,” he replied, steadying her. “You are definitely not fine.”

 

“You’re one to talk, you had twice as much,” she slurred. Her lavender brows pinched as she let out an acrid hiccup. “I don’t know what you were thinking. You know it doesn’t sit well in Polarian bodies.” Again, she hiccupped, this time bracing herself, swallowing hard. “Does it always feel like this?”

 

“Always,” he said slowly, but Faber was stuck on something else she had said. “Right, Polarian bodies.” His blue eyes searched hers before he forced a chuckle. “Guess I’ve just built up a tolerance.”

 

“Tolerance or not,” she said, standing a little straighter, “you should know better. Don’t get me wrong, I love coming here as much as you, but Earth and beer are not worth risking our future. It’s bad enough I stole a ring, but coming home drunk? My mother is going to kill me.”

 

Again, Jenna raised her hand, tracing a slow arc through the air. The black band on her index finger began to glow. Shadows slithered from the corners, coalescing into another oval edged with shimmering gold. She extended her hand, and he took it, stepping through as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

 

A kiss of cool caressed his skin as they landed deep in the heart of the library. Books towered around them in narrow aisles, and the space smelled faintly of paper, ink, and cleaning fluid. Somewhere in the distance, the hum of the air vents rattled against the silence.

 

“I’ve always loved libraries,” Faber said, trying his best not slur.

 

Jenna steadied herself against a bookshelf. Her hand lovingly grazed a few spines.

 

“I can feel Polarian magic coursing through them. They whisper of home.”

 

Faber’s eyes widened as small specks of gold rose from each spine at her touch. Instantly, her cheeks regained their color, and the clammy sweat of alcohol dried on her skin. It was as if the library itself revitalized her.

 

“I am never drinking beer again,” she swore. “Let’s cross back to Polaris. Ginger tea should help us both feel better. And we will never speak about this again.”

 

Polaris, again? Faber held back a barrage of questions. The way she spoke made it sound like a place, but not one he’d ever heard of.

 

“You are right,” he said cautiously. “I think going to Polaris is a great idea.”

 

She raised her hand, moving it in a deliberate sweeping motion.

 

“Aperi velum—House Obscura. Take me to my mother, Vandora.”

 

A sliver of golden light bloomed before her, and the air trembled as it grew. The hair on his arms and neck stood at attention as Faber sensed something ancient and wild waiting within.

 

She looked up at him, her features softening into a quiet smile as she reached for him.

 

Lost in the depths of her violet eyes, he took her hand and stepped into the portal.

 

Somehow, this threshold was different than the last.

 

His vision blurred as foreign energy rippled through him. The pleasant cool of earlier crossings replaced by waves of raw, unbearable pain. A searing current ignited at the base of his neck and carved down his spine, like liquid fire dribbling through his body.

 

It felt like he was being torn apart cell by cell. Something slithered around him. In agony, he clutched his head, his back arching as his watery vision fractured into a kaleidoscope of colors.

 

Just when he thought he couldn’t endure another second, his feet struck solid ground, and he collapsed to the floor.

 

The portal behind Faber shimmered as glittery tendrils of light lashed out and tethered him. The golden claws didn’t just hold him, they pulled, demanding his return.

 

He dug his fingers into the thick burgundy rug, anchoring himself to the floor as best he could.

 

Straining, he risked lifting his head to view the space around him.

 

It was not the UNCG library.

 

As his vision cleared, a wall of stained-glass began to take shape. Tears ran down his cheeks as he struggled in agony, his gaze taking in the full scope of the three-story atrium. The sweeping staircase, carved from dark mahogany, ended in a curl around a seven-foot-tall golden-scaled egg. He’d barely caught his breath when his eyes locked on a striking figure descending the staircase. Two military guards hot on her heels.

 

Jenna teetered unsteadily, inching away from Faber with each spare second.

 

The figure, a woman with cascading lavender hair, framed her angular features. Her plum-colored gown danced around her as she moved, and a silver filigree crown topped her regal head. Even in her haste to reach them, she carried an air of nobility.

 

Jenna stiffened as something seemed to dawn on her.

 

“No. No—no.” Her confusion was suddenly directed at him and quickly turning to suspicion. “You tricked me. I should have seen this coming. I thought you were just visiting like the rest of us, but you actually live on earth, don’t you?”

 

Faber fought to find the words to reply but his mind refused focus. He glanced back at the approaching woman.

 

“I know what you are,” Jenna snapped, clicking her fingers. “We learned about Polarian children who get banished to Earth. You are an Unwanted.”

 

She slowly stepped back as if he were a snake ready to strike.

 

The word struck like a hammer to an anvil. Suddenly, all Faber could think about was the taste of sheet cake and the days remaining before he was forced to leave the Stevens’s house. He’d always known it, but to hear it from the one person who seemed to understand his gifts felt like a dagger through the heart.

 

Words bubbled up inside him before he could stop them, white hot as they ripped their way out of his mouth.

 

“I AM NOT UNWANTED!” he thundered.

 

Jenna stared at him strangely, as if seeing him for the first time.

 

“The barrier is trying to drag you back,” she explained flatly. “That should tell you everything. Not even the portal wants you here. You have a bad omen.”

 

Although her words hurt, they stitched together all the gaps in Faber’s life. The feeling of never belonging, his connection to libraries. Meeting Jenna and being so drawn to her.

 

He reached for her despite the clawing pain.

 

“Please, Jenna, help me,” Faber begged, fighting against the forces trying to drag him back.

 

“Mother,” Jenna cried, pointing a shaky finger as the other woman reached them. “He is an UNWANTED.”

 

The woman’s eyes narrowed on Faber, and fury clenched her jaw. Without hesitation, she raised a hand, lifting Faber from the floor with unseen force.

 

He hovered above the ground for a few seconds before being sent, hurtling, back through the portal.

 

He crashed onto the UNCG library floor with a bone-jarring thud. Books tumbled down around him in a storm of paper and defeat. The glimmering portal folded in on itself, and the pain carving through his skull vanished, replaced by the dull ache of finally knowing the truth. He belonged on Polaris.

 

As he lay among the fallen books, a soft current of energy stirred the pages. It pulsed within their spines, and a faint glow emanated from the open covers. And through them, the hidden world of Polaris whispered.

 

And he knew nothing would ever be the same again.

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