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“This sucks.”
Kristen blinks awake and almost falls out of bed. “When the hell did you get here?!” she shrieks, ignoring the sore spot on her ass from where she crashed to the ground.
Fig stares over her. “Been here, like, an hour. Stole Jawbone’s coffee. Woke up Adaine by shaking her bunk bed, which was fun.” She sighs. “Didn’t expect Aelwyn to be there.”
“You’re terrible with boundaries,” Kristen says. She stands and wraps her arms around Fig, holding her as tightly as she can imagine. “I missed you.”
“Of course you did,” Fig says, patting her on the back. “I’m irreplaceable.”
“So, what sucks?” Kristen asks. And then she recognizes a very conspicuous absence. “Oh, Ayda didn’t –”
“Nah, she’s downstairs,” Fig says. “My mom wants her to try the pancakes she’s bringing to the brunch. What sucks is that you’re all graduating and because I love you guys I can’t nuke the stage.”
“She’s making a joke,” says Ayda, as she pokes her head in. “Fig, I thought we reviewed that interrupting Adaine while she slept didn’t go well.”
“Kirsten’s different,” Fig says. She reaches out and grabs at Kristen’s ponytail, and Kristen only slightly puts her in a headlock. “Hey!”
“Deal,” Kristen says. She adds a kiss to the top of Fig’s head, just for good measure. “You woke me up.”
“You love it,” Fig says, batting at Kristen. Eventually she lets Fig go, but not before ensuring that her hair was well and fully messed up.
“You deserved that,” Ayda says. “Kristen. It is good to see you.”
“You too, Ayda.” She opens her arms. “Hug?”
“I would prefer something with less contact.” Ayda comes up and bumps Kristen’s shoulder with hers, a wing extending to pat at Kristen’s back. It’s almost better than a hug. “Ah. That’s nice. Thank you.”
Kristen isn’t sure she’s ever been thanked for a hug before, but she’s got no problem with it.
They make their way downstairs where Ayda pronounces the pancakes the best she’s ever had, and Kristen grabs one as they dart out the door. They’re good, of course. But not quite the best she’s ever had.
“Kristen,” Ayda says, at her best attempt at a whisper. Luckily everyone in Mordred Manor is arguing about which of the Bad Kids is going to fuck up graduation. Kristen wishes her name was less frequently mentioned, but you win some you lose some. “Kristen, may I tell you something?”
“Yeah, Ayda, of course.” She leans in a little more.
“These are the best pancakes I’ve ever had because I have never had pancakes before,” Ayda says in a rushed whisper. Kristen turns to her and she looks genuinely concerned as they walk down the driveway. “Does that count as a lie? I’d hate to lie to my future mother in law.”
Kristen grins at her. “Not a lie. Also, you’re fucking adorable.”
A little flame sparks across Ayda’s cheeks. “Thank you. I will return to Fig now.”
“I’ve missed you like hell, Ayda,” Kristen chuckles.
Fig nearly kills all of them as she drives them to Fabian’s. They could hear Sandra Lynn from behind them yelling at her to slow down while she rode on Baxter, but it only made Fig gas it more.
“And be nice to Gilear,” she demands toward what Kristen hopes is the end of a rant. “When I got in last night he was covered in baby puke and had those little puff things stuck in his hair.”
“We can’t mention that?!” Kristen asks. Adaine whaps her gently in the arm. “Oh, come on.”
“He’s got a baby,” Adaine says. “He’s bound to be exhausted, especially since Fig’s been gone.”
“Hallariel still looks hot as fuck,” Kristen mutters.
Adaine hits her again on her arm, accompanied by an impressively flexible thwap on the forehead from Fig.
“Ow!” Kristen yells. “Pay attention to driving!”
“Stop hitting on my step mom!”
“You can’t hit on somebody who isn’t in the room,” Kristen retorts.
“Fine,” Fig hisses. She pulls into the driveway, already full with Gorgug’s van and Gilear’s car. “Stop being weirdly horny about my step mom.”
Kristen sighs. “Fine. God. Can I say it to Fabian though?”
“Actually?” Fig says, pausing as she opens the door. “Yes. Yes, you can. Once. Out of my earshot.”
“Hell yeah.”
They’re halfway into the house before Adaine dives away to go find Fig and Fabian’s baby sister.
“Let me kiss her!” Kristen yells after Adaine. “You don’t get to hog her!”
“Try me!” Adaine calls back.
Fabian, looking bizarrely forlorn for a kid on the day of his graduation comes out. “Hi.”
“Who shit in your cereal?” Kristen asks.
“Nobody. I’m just miserable,” Fabian says. His battle sheet is draped over his shoulders. Kristen is pretty sure he still hasn’t showered.
“Why are you miserable?” Ayda asks. “Is there something we can help with?”
“Yeah,” Fig says. “Hey, what about a graduation party tomorrow night or something? The Maximum Legend’s major rager?”
“Yeah, Fabian,” says Kristen, and she swears she’s not trying to sound like a dick, “you love house parties.”
“I can’t have a house party!” Fabian says. “Those days are gone, Fig, because of her.”
Fig rolls her eyes. “She has a name.”
“Yes, and her name is my mortal enemy.”
“And your name is big fuckin’ baby,” Fig says.
“She is horrible!”
“Fiona is a baby,” Kirsten says, “and you are out of your mind.”
“Fiona is a demon!” Fabian says, and he throws his hands in the air. It’s more dramatic, now that he’s got a baby sister, the way he acts. Kristen likes to poke at it.
“She’s cuter than you,” Kristen muses. “Do you think you’re jealous she’s getting more of your mom’s attention?”
“Fucking hell, Kirsten,” Riz says, coming out from the kitchen. He shakes his head, the cap barely moving from where it sits between his ears.
Kristen is about to say the thing about Fabian’s hot mom but, before, she can say anything else, Fabian has her strung up, upside down from what seems to be some weird tangle with his battle sheet.
“Aha!” He says. “Take it back!”
“This is exactly what I was trying to do with that stupid ribbon in sophomore year,” Kristen says. She tries not to sound like all the blood rushing to her head is slightly screwing with her senses.
“Take it back,” Fabian says. If she squints, he may be smiling.
“Don’t take it back!” Adaine says in a squeaky little voice, and Kristen turns her head to see Fiona in Adaine’s arms.
“Oh, the baby is here,” Ayda says. Kirsten watches her expression catapult between multiple emotions. “Hello, Fig’s sister.”
Fiona replies somewhat favorably by giggling and wiggling the hand not held by Adaine.
“Oh,” Ayda says. Kristen can’t totally read her expression, but it’s unexpected. “The small baby waved at me.” She turns to Fig. “She is adorable. And much larger than last time. But not as adorable as you, of course. You are the most perfect.”
Kristen fake gags at the way Fig gazes at Ayda. It doesn’t go well. The sudden action makes her incredibly aware of the pressure in her head. “Alright, fine, I cave!” Kristen crunches up and grabs at the sheet, but it collapses as she tries to climb. “You suck, Fabian.”
“I don’t.” He reaches down to hold out a hand, and Kristen takes it. He hugs her quickly. “Now, up. We have a graduation brunch.”
They do, in fact. It’s fun and giggly, with Fig and Ayda sitting on either side of Fiona as she plays with her food. And Kristen allows herself to be just the tiniest bit jealous.
She and Fabian start tossing chunks of strawberry from the fruit salad into each other’s mouths, and they were on a 26 in a row record-setting run when someone walks in and smacks the strawberry slice out of the air.
“Damn, good aim,” Kristen says. She looks up at Adaine. “What’s up?”
“I need your help to make Fig do something other than the ponytail for graduation,” Adaine explains. “And, also…”
“Also you want me to do your hair,” Kristen guesses.
“Well if you insist.” Adaine grins, and it’s a level of relaxation in her eyes Kristen hasn’t seen in months. Finals took her through hell, and that was after midterms during their battles with the invisible armies of the dead. Her hair is longer now that she hasn’t cut it in months. “Come on.”
“Ah yes, I need to get ready too,” Fabian says. “Gorgug? Riz?”
“Are you asking us to come shower with you?” Gorgug asks. “Because I don’t know how Mary Ann will feel about that.”
Riz and Fabian laugh so hard that Fiona joins in, and it gives Adaine, Fig, and Kristen the cover to duck upstairs into Hallariel’s fancy bathroom.
Kristen twists and braids Adaine’s hair, pinning the braids up to mimic a crown.
“There,” she says, taking care of the last piece of hair. “Done.”
“Thank you,” Adaine says, beaming. She looks so happy that Kristen doesn’t even want to mention that this may be one of the last times that Adaine wants her to do her hair. “Now, let’s go get Fig up to snuff.”
Kristen fiddles with her collar as Adaine puts Fig’s hair in a pretty good set of French braids.
“You two match,” Kristen says. “It’s cute.”
“Are you going to wear your hair down for once?” Fig asks. “Because it’s about time you quit it with the ponytail.”
“It’s functional!” Kristen says. “And I wear it down all the time.”
Adaine rolls her eyes. “Two or three times a year isn’t all the time.”
Kristen immediately loses the battle, as Adaine knocks her out at the knees and Fig shoves her in a chair. She complains the whole time, just for good measure.
When Adaine is done, she takes a look at herself. Her hair is holding a soft wave. She looks different, she guesses. Her hair is neater than usual. It looks nice. It looks. Different.
“Guys, do I have curly hair?” she asks. She tugs at it. “Do – what do I do with my hair like this?”
“Deal with that crisis later,” Fig says, clapping Kristen on the back. “Come on. We have places to be.”
“Wouldn’t you rather make a big entrance and, like, interrupt things?” Kristen takes the jacket Fig is shoving into her hands. It goes on perfectly, and Kristen once again must acknowledge that Fabian was right about the tailoring idea. “That feels more your vibe.”
Fig shrugs. “Maybe I don’t want to be late for once.”
Kristen makes the executive decision not to think too far into that.
~
As she walks across the stage, she disconnects a little bit. She hears Cassandra and Ankarna cheering for her in her mind. She sees herself shake Arthur Aguefort’s hand. She feels the hard wood of the stage under her sneakers. She can smell Griffothy Andrews’ excess body spray. She can taste the mint that Adaine had given her to get her to shut up mid-rant in line right before she crossed the stage.
She is graduating, and the world did not end. She fought battles and defeated Helio and Sol and, hopefully, Galicaea and her general are about to take out the last of their soldiers in Fallinel.
She won’t think too hard about that general. It’s been long enough that missing her feels natural. And she has the crystal messages. When they come.
It’s okay.
She wipes a rogue tear or two from her cheeks as she catches Jawbone taking a photo of her and beaming.
“Good job, kid,” he says. “Oh, screw it.” He reaches out and yanks her into a hug, and Kristen lets herself cry, just the tiniest bit, onto his shoulder.
“Thanks, Dad,” she whispers.
“Goddamnit, Kristen, did you and Adaine plan that?” he chokes out. “I’m supposed to be professional here.”
He guides her out of the way and toward the steps as the next guy behind her goes up to get his diploma, and Kristen catches up to the line to get back to her seat. She’s fully settled and back in her own body once it’s Riz’s turn across the stage, and she finds herself incredibly grateful for the chance to do this with her best friends. She knows Fig and Ayda are in the audience, cheering her on. She hopes Bucky’s there, too, but she won’t hold too hard to that. Disappointment has no business here today.
It’s friends and acquaintances in between Fabian, Mary Ann, and Gorgug crossing the stage, and then it’s over. They stand. The throw their various hats in the air. They have graduated.
She didn’t expect to feel a little bit empty about it.
“Kristen!” Fig crashes into her from the crowd, and there’s a chance she threw a little magic into her trek through the giant number of people. “Kristen, over here!”
Kristen squeezes between where Gertie is hugging her dads and where Lucilla Lullaby is weeping over one of Fabian’s bard friends. She dives into Fig’s arms and lets Fig spin her. “You did it!”
“I did it!” Kristen replies. “I’m done! I graduated!”
Fig pulls back and glances over Kristen’s shoulder. “You did!”
“What are you looking at?” Kristen tries to glance behind her, but Fig yanks her into a hug again.
“Nothing,” Fig says. “Making sure nobody was trying to hex my president.” She winks, and Kristen realizes just how much she’s missed her over the past few months. Fighting next to each other in battle is very different from talking during dinner. “Let’s go find everybody else.”
Ayda pops up from behind Fig and grabs her hand without a second thought. “Yes, we have to make sure everyone is here.”
“Everyone is here,” Kristen corrects. “We were all either getting ready to graduate or in the crowd.”
Ayda’s expression goes confused for the briefest flash of a moment before Fig grabs her and kisses her so hard Kristen has to look away.
“Oh, my god, you two,” Kristen grumbles.
Fig pulls away, leaving Ayda a little dazed and looking a little less put together herself. “What? Like we didn’t have to suffer you doing this with Tracker for a year and a half?”
Kristen shakes her head and makes herself smile. “Alright, Bad Kids together. We’ve got to get some pictures.”
Ayda helps collect everyone by flying above the crowd, and it only takes a few minutes to wrangle the whole crew. They shove at each other and get into a terrible facsimiles of family photos, adults and kids alike. Kristen’s up on her toes to try and shove Fabian out of the way, but this might be the right way for the photo to be set up.
“Get here out of here!” Fabian snaps as Fig grabs Fiona.
“Nope!” she says. She places Fiona on her shoulders, and Adaine reaches out to settle a reassuring hand on Fiona’s back. “She’s a Bad Kid. A Bad Baby, maybe.”
“No,” Adaine says.
“Absolutely not,” Riz says. “Not when we have the other connotation for Bad Baby.”
Gorgug shudders, and Kristen is pretty sure he’s thinking about Fabian’s rager for Gorgug’s and Riz’s eighteenth birthdays. “Never again. No more bad baby milk.”
Fabian pouts through all of the pictures. But Kristen does catch him reach out and hold Fiona’s foot with the tiniest smile in between pictures.
“Alright, that should be enough,” Aelwyn says, sliding her phone into her pocket. “I’ve made a folder for all of us to share, in case there are other pictures.” She points to everyone. “It’s linked to everyone’s crystals with a notification triggered any time additional photos are added.”
“When did you become techy?” Gorgug asks.
Aelwyn raises an eyebrow and stares at Gorgug. Menacing is the wrong word, but it’s close. “When did you determine you were allowed to speak to me like that?”
Kristen opens her mouth to intervene, but another person steps to Aelwyn.
“Are you flirting with my boyfriend?” Mary Ann asks.
Kristen has to slap her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.
“Excuse me?” Aelwyn asks, staring down at Mary Ann. “Who the fuck are you, pipsqueak?”
“It’s weird you think you’re cool,” Mary Ann says. “Gorgug, can I kick her ass?”
“She’s my sister,” Adaine explains. “I’ll do it.”
“What?!” Aelwyn says. “I’m sorry, I do you all a favor and somehow I’m the bad guy?”
“Let’s just go get – I don’t know, a water or something.” Adaine grabs Aelwyn’s arm and steers her away.
“What’s her deal?” Mary Ann asks. She takes a sip of her soda. Kristen doesn’t even know when she could have gotten it.
“Easy way to say it is she and Fabian had a thing two summers ago and it fucked both of them up,” Fig offers. “Hard way to say it is she was raised by the same people who raised Adaine except she’s still learning how to be a person about it.”
Mary Ann shrugs. “Cool. Gorgug, let’s go to the van.”
“The van?”
Kristen notices an expression cross Gorgug’s face. “Yes,” he says, a little too carefully. “The van.”
The two of them walk away, hand in hand.
“I still don’t get it,” Fig says, almost in awe. “I mean, I love it, but I don’t get it.”
“Philosophically or anatomically?” Ayda asks.
“Philosophically it makes perfect sense,” Fig says. “Anatomically…I have never been more confused.”
“Okay,” Kristen says. “Nope. Don’t need to hear it.”
“Unfortunately you now understand our feelings when you get naked around us.”
“Huh,” Kristen mutters. “Damn.”
Hallariel, Gilear, Fabian, and Fiona take some family pictures while Kristen waits. She decides not to look around. She knows nobody else is coming.
“Are you feeling uncomfortable?” Ayda asks.
Kristen shrugs. “A little. Kind of weird to be here with everybody’s parents.” She offers he best attempt at a smile.
Ayda’s expression goes a little weird for a second. “Oh. I understand, to a degree.” She reaches out and touches Kristen’s hand, just the littlest bit. “Figueroth and I had dinner with my father last night and it…it went alright. But I expressed to him that I would prefer space today in order to recover from the time we spent together.”
“Damn,” Kristen says. “Fair. Me and my parents can’t exactly have those conversations. Every time I talk to them it kind of feels like that battle in the Nekronomikron in March.”
Ayda nods sympathetically. “A losing fight against those who cannot lose.” She rests her forehead against the side of Kristen’s. “Never again, Kristen. We won.”
It’s a strange thing, her friendship with Ayda. Sometimes it feels like Ayda prefers Adaine. Sometimes it feels like she just talks to Kristen because Kristen is Fig’s friend. And sometimes it feels like this: family.
“I shouldn’t be sad today, right?” Kristen asks. “It’s supposed to be a happy day.”
Ayda pulls away and gets herself right in front of Kristen. “If there is anything I’ve learned, it’s that there is no right or wrong way to feel.”
Kristen opens her mouth to respond, but she and Ayda see the ball of excitement and strawberry blonde hair barreling toward them at the same time.
“Hey, Bucky!” Kristen wraps her arms around her little brother. “Where the hell did you come from?” She can’t stop herself from looking for their parents. Hope is strong, but doubt is stronger. Cassandra wraps herself around the thought like a hug, and Kristen comes back to what’s actually happening.
“Oh,” he says. “Oh, no. They, um. They aren’t here.”
Kristen won’t let herself be disappointed. She knew Mac and Donna wouldn’t be here. There was no doubt in that. Not even a little. “Right.” She nods and steps back. “You look great, Bucky. New suit?”
Bucky nods. “For church,” he says, rolling his eyes. “But I snuck out and brought it to wear today.” He adjusts the lapels. “Feels better like this.”
“I’m glad you feel good in it, Buck,” Kristen says. She gives him another squeeze. “Let’s get some pictures.”
“I can do that!” Ayda says. “Give me one moment.”
Ayda manages to come up with about two dozen poses until she determines she’s satisfied, and she gives Kristen’s phone back with a bit of a flourish.
“Bucky, you have a wonderful sister,” she says. “It’s good to see you again.”
Bucky beams at her. “Same, Ayda.”
Kristen squeezes him on the shoulder, another reminder that he’s here and this is really happening. “Do you want to come to dinner with all of us?”
“Oh,” Bucky says. “Oh, I’ve already – it’s been two hours. They’re going to start wondering where I am.”
“Right,” Kristen says. “Of course. I get it. Thank you for coming. It really means a lot.” She hugs him again. She hopes it’s enough. “Love you, Bucky.”
“Love you too, Kristen.”
One last squeeze and then Bucky is waving as he walks to the bike rack. He’ll bike home and change next to the trellis. Probably stores the bag under the shrubs by the window and throws it over his shoulder before he climbs back up the wall.
There’s a lot of things Kristen wishes she could have saved her brothers from. But at least they’re figuring out a little bit without her.
“You okay?” Fig asks. She reaches down and squeezes Kristen’s hand.
Gorgug bumps her other shoulder.
“I’m okay,” she says. “Bucky came. My parents and my other brothers didn’t.”
“Aw, Kristen.” Gorgug pulls her in and hugs her. She lets it go on longer than she usually likes. Gorgug will be gone for a few weeks in the summer at an artificer internship, and it could be a while before they get to do this again. If he likes it enough, he might be even longer.
She’s sick of missing people.
She’s sick of people leaving and not coming back.
Kristen sighs and pulls away from Gorgug. “It’s okay,” she says. “I mean. I have all of you, right?” It has to be enough.
Someone clears their throat, and Fig’s face lights up.
“Oh, no, Kristen,” she says, sounding in no way upset about the way she shoulder checks Kristen backward. Usually Kristen would be able to flatten her to the ground, but there’s something about this a little too weird for her to react in time. Kristen bumps into somebody. “So sorry for bumping into you.” It’s followed by a hilariously excessive wink. Ayda looks as baffled as Kristen feels, but then somebody puts their hand on her shoulder to steady her.
Kristen turns to a bouquet of flowers in front of her face. “Oh,” she says, a little confused. She takes them. “Thanks.” She sniffs, and almost falls over when she moves the bouquet from her face. “I – you’re here.”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” Tracker says. Her eyes a sparkling, just the tiniest bit. Kristen remembers that look. “I wouldn’t miss this if the world depended on it.”
“It kind of did,” Kristen says. She doesn’t know what to do with the way Tracker is looking at her. It’s poking at memories Kristen usually only pulls up when she’s alone. “How’d that war in Fallinel end?”
“It hasn’t,” Tracker says. “Almost. But Galicaea’s got it. Those Sol nutters are gonna cave any minute now.”
Kristen stares. “You left a war where you’re a general to come to my high school graduation?”
Tracker shrugs, and Kristen feels her heart do one of Fabian’s weird dances. “You’re worth it.”
Kristen has a million questions, all of them surely eloquent and smart or whatever, but what comes out of her mouth is, “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why did you come?” Kristen knows what she hopes for. She’s also done enough in her eighteen years in Spyre that she knows hope often isn’t enough.
Tracker’s face goes a little weird. “I figured it was obvious, Kristen.”
“The thing I think is obvious seems kind of impossible.”
Tracker sighs and looks a little frustrated, but it’s not exactly unexpected. “Fucking hell, Kristen.”
Before she can move, before she can think, Tracker’s grabbed her around the waist, yanked her in, and is planting a reality shattering kiss on Kristen’s lips.
Kristen swoons – actually fucking swoons – and has to throw her arms around Tracker’s neck to keep from falling over. Her brain is frying in the best way possible, familiarity and a strange flicker of novelty recalibrating her entire system. Tracker’s arms are bigger against Kristen’s back than they used to be, stronger than ever, and it strikes Kristen that, just maybe, she should be asking some questions about whatever is happening.
“What?” Kristen asks as she pulls away. Tracker’s hair has gotten longer. It looks good.
She has got to focus.
“Not – okay?” Tracker drops her immediately, and Kristen is fully considering a temper tantrum over the loss of the touch.
“I changed my mind about talking. Get back here,” Kristen says. Words can wait. She throws herself into Tracker’s arms again and gets an arm around Tracker’s waist. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed Tracker. She doesn’t think she let herself know how much she’d missed Tracker. She still kisses the same way – firm and determined, holding Kristen so tightly it’s like she’ll never let go. The desperation feels different now, though. It doesn’t feel as frantic. It feels more focused, more intentional.
Kristen will not swoon. Not again.
She pulls back again for the sheer sake of breathing, which seems like it doesn’t deserve priority right now, and stares at Tracker. “You’re here.”
“I’m here,” Tracker says. She tucks some hair behind Kristen’s ear. “I like your hair down,” she murmurs. “It’s cute.”
“Tracker!” Kristen turns around to see Adaine bounding toward the two of them away from Gorgug, Mary Ann, and Fabian. “You got here!”
“Thanks for helping me get here,” Tracker says, grinning.
Kristen blinks. “Helping?”
“Surprise!” Adaine says. She half dances in front of Kristen and Tracker. It’s kind of new, after all her time hanging out at Fabian’s house both with and without him, but Fiona has somehow shifted a lot of Adaine’s anxiety. And, Kristen assumes, being done with her advanced honors level Wizarding classes. That probably will do it.
“You knew?” Kristen asks. “How the hell did you know?”
“Tracker contacted me first,” Adaine says. One of her braids is threatening to break free of the bobby pin holding it to her head, and Kristen thinks that she’ll let it fall in revenge for Adaine not telling her.
“And you didn’t tell me.” Kristen sighs. “We live together, Adaine.”
“Which makes it even more impressive I was able to keep it from you for a month.” She leans in and kisses Kristen on the cheek. “We did it. We’re done. You deserve some celebration. Let yourself enjoy it.”
Kristen raises an eyebrow at her. “What are you letting yourself enjoy?”
Adaine shrugs. “Fig and Fabian actually did plan a rager at Seacaster, but tomorrow? Probably going to watch a movie with Aelwyn. Get ice cream from Basrar’s.” She sighs, looking impressively relaxed for a person surrounded by a couple hundred people. “A couple days without saving the world or studying sounds pretty great.” She squeezes Tracker’s shoulder. “It’s really good to see you again.”
Despite the noise and the chaos around them, Kristen wants to hold on to this moment for a while as she watches Adaine walk away, and memorizes the feeling of Tracker by her side again. “So,” Kristen says. She turns back to Tracker, a hand on her waist. “You left your war for my graduation.”
“It’s not that dramatic,” Tracker says. Kristen knows that tiny flicker of yellow in her eyes. There’s suddenly a wave of heat over her skin that has nothing to do with the setting sun. “Winning the war was a given. You graduating wasn’t.”
“Hey!”
“I meant that you almost die, like, twelve times a month,” Tracker says. “It’s not that I didn’t believe in you. It’s that the world is deadly.”
“The world is deadly and I graduated high school,” Kristen says.
Tracker nods and presses her lips together, eyes looking over Kristen’s shoulder.
“What?”
Tracker nods again toward where she’s looking. “Fabian’s holding a baby that makes me worry he’s about to throw it.”
“That’s Fiona,” Kristen explains.
“That’s Fiona?!” Tracker says. “Wasn’t she born, like, last week?”
“She was born back in November, but okay,” Kristen laughs. “I guess it has been a while since Christmas.”
“It has.” Tracker’s eyes flicker down to Kristen’s lips, then back up. “A long while.”
Kristen remembers what happened during Christmas. Tracker had been gone for weeks, after being back for an awkward summer of trying to be friends. And then – well, similarly to what happened right now, Tracker showed up out of nowhere. But it wasn’t in front of other people. It was in Kristen’s bedroom, in her bed, on what used to be the altar.
And then Tracker left again.
Kristen takes a step back. “Let’s – go talk,” she says. She can’t meet Tracker’s eyes.
“Yeah,” Tracker says. “Of course. Mordred Manor?”
Kristen nods. “I think everybody else will be busy here for a while. Pictures. Family stuff.”
Tracker’s lips part for the briefest of seconds. “Yeah,” she says quietly. “Yeah, I can – yeah.”
Kristen follows Tracker to a beat to shit sedan. Boxy, grey, probably ancient.
“New car?” Kristen asks as she slides into the passenger seat.
“Yeah, there’s not a lot of options last minute,” Tracker says. “Jawbone helped me find one. Been in that extra driveway at Mordred for a few months.”
Kristen nods. “I think I remember seeing it, but I thought it was just a pile of junk.” She throws a smile at Tracker, praying for one back. If there isn’t one, she might be done for.
Tracker, to Kristen’s relief, smiles and laughs, if a bit darker than she’d like. “Yeah. It looks better than it did when I first started driving it, though.”
Kristen nods, and the car falls into a strange silence. Tracker’s music starts playing, and Kristen recognizes the voice but not the song.
“Did The Growlers come out with a new album?” she asks.
Tracker nods. “Sort of. About a year ago.”
“Oh.” Kristen missed it, because they’ve barely talked in the past year and half. “Right.”
The silence grows uncomfortable, and Kristen feels like she’s about to crawl out of her skin. They pull into Mordred. Kristen doesn’t even wait for Tracker to throw the car in park before jumping out and half running to the door.
“Are you good?” Tracker asks. She’s far less frenetic than Kristen, which feels almost embarrassing. “You’re being weird.”
“I’m being weird?” Kristen asks. She fumbles with the key, incredibly aware of how close Tracker is behind her. “You showed up and didn’t tell me.”
“It was a surprise!” Tracker says as they walk through the door. Tracker pushes past Kristen, just a tiny bit, and starts walking toward Kristen’s bedroom. “You like surprises!”
“You don’t know that,” Kristen grumbles. It’s slightly annoying how Tracker knows exactly the path to Kristen’s bedroom, how to get there without stepping on creaky boards or tripping over unexpected dips in the old floor.
Tracker throws a grin over her shoulder as she pushes open Kristen’s bedroom door. “I don’t? Officer Kristen says differently.”
“Okay,” Kristen says. She kicks off her shoes and leaves them next to the door, and then pulls the door shut. “Officer Kristen says shut up.”
Tracker sits down on Kristen’s bed. “You gonna make me?”
There are two very clear paths in front of them right now. One leads to what happened over Christmas. One leads to a conversation about 3 years too late.
“Tracker,” Kristen says, as carefully as she can.
It doesn’t work. The hurt flashes across Tracker’s face before Kristen can say anything else. “Oh,” Tracker says. Her voice is tiny. “I’m so sorry.”
“No, it’s – it’s not that,” Kristen says. She starts walking back and forth, pacing a familiar path in the floor of her bedroom. “You and I both know it’s not that I don’t want – this is a lot, okay? And I know I suck at dealing with things, but I’ve been working really hard on taking things seriously ever since you called me out that Christmas junior year about looking for the easy way out.” She yanks her hair back in a ponytail, about to start searching for a hair tie before Tracker hands her one from the bedside table drawer. “Thanks. Anyway, I’ve been doing the hard stuff. But that means I’ve had to look at why I didn’t want to do the hard stuff before, and that’s because it all goes away, no matter how hard I work.”
Tracker looks at her, blank. Kristen decides to wait, because maybe Tracker is processing and is worried Kristen will keep talking. But Tracker keeps looking.
“Kristen,” she says, after way too much time, “what do you mean, it all goes away?”
“What – first off, I was the chosen one for an idiot frat boy who then went on to try to literally enslave the world to follow his and his dad’s stupid rules,” Kristen says, ticking it off on her finger. “Then, because I decided to peace out on Helio, my parents decided I wasn’t worth the effort of parenting anymore. Two of my gods died. I’ve died twice trying to save the world.” She sits down on the bed, closer to Tracker than she means, but it’s muscle memory. Her body alone knows that the closer she is to Tracker, the more at home she’ll feel. “I’ve died twice saving the world, and it feels like it helped everyone but me.”
Tracker reaches out and Kristen automatically leans in. She probably shouldn’t have, but Tracker still smells like that apple hair mousse stuff and she always liked it. “Tell me more,” Tracker says quietly.
Kristen sighs and pulls back after the moment of indulgence. “The Bad Kids are going to the same college, but we’ll all be in different departments. We only get to see each other once a week on whichever day our Party Dynamics class meets.” She can’t meet Tracker’s eyes. “What if they find another person, a cleric who hasn’t killed two gods?”
“To be fair, you’re also a cleric who has resurrected two gods,” Tracker says.
“Okay, well, that was all of us,” Kristen says. She looks at Tracker. “What if they decide it’s not worth it and they leave?”
For the first time, Tracker looks fully confused. “What? Why would you think that?”
“Because everyone always leaves,” Kristen says. She feels more defeated than she should. She just graduated from high school. She did something big. Instead, she feels wrong. “Or they give up, like my parents.” She chokes back tears. “And I can’t do that again. I can’t be left behind again.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Tracker says. “Not unless I had to.”
“But you did. You left,” Kristen says. She has to stand up. It’s hard to resist the urge to drop and do twenty pushups, but she prevails. “Again. The first time, we both moved on. We figured it out. We tried – and then this past – the summer.”
Tracker winces.
“Okay, good to know I’m not the only one who found those two months awful,” Kristen says. She begins pacing again, anxious energy building worse than lactic acid. “But you left again. After.” She looks up, and Tracker is sitting there on her bed, like she belongs there, like she’s always been there. And she does and she has, and she doesn’t and she hasn’t. “And you came back and – Christmas.”
It’s clear she’s trying to keep a more serious expression, but there’s a flash of yellow again in Tracker’s eyes and Kristen isn’t strong enough to keep resisting. She has to get it out now. “Christmas,” Tracker says gently, “was the first time in a long time that things felt right.”
“You can’t say that,” Kristen says. She leans against the door. She’s still in her graduation robes. She’s still dressed to leave high school and leave so many things she loves behind. “You can’t say it felt right when you left the next morning”
“I had to!” Tracker says. “We had a war on all fronts, and Helio had made his move. Galicaea needed me in Fallinel. You and I both know those elves weren’t prepared to lead themselves.”
“You could have stayed,” Kristen says. It comes out as barely more than a whisper. “You didn’t.” She can’t look at Tracker. Not right now.
It feels like a decade passes in the silence between them. Kristen won’t look first. She’s said her piece. It’s Tracker’s turn.
“I know,” Tracker says. “I wanted you to come with me. But it – it wasn’t fair.”
“You – what?” Kristen has to look at her now. “You wanted me to come with you?”
“I couldn’t stay, and you couldn’t leave,” Tracker says. “And – and if I didn’t go back to help, then there wouldn’t be a chance for whatever happened next.” She’s keeping her face very carefully blank, and Kristen hates it. “If I stayed, we were all dead. If I left, you would hate me. But if I asked you to leave everything, you’d hate me more.” She swallows. “I hate making those choices, Kristen. But when you’re here to save the world, sometimes the right choice for everybody is the wrong choice for you.”
“You should have asked,” Kristen says. “Tracker, if you had asked, I would have come with you.”
“And that’s the problem!” Tracker stands. “If I asked you to come, you would have dropped everything to do it. And then – and then you would have regretted it.” She exhales and runs her hand through her hair. “That’s why I didn’t ask. You deserved to graduate. You deserved to figure out who you are without me to, like, mirror or whatever.”
Kristen frowns. “You think I’m just your mirror?”
“No!” Tracker holds her hands up. “God, no. But we got together when we were really young and you were as inexperienced as they get, and I worried that I – that you were building too much around me without building anything around yourself.” To Kristen’s shock, the first tear drops down her cheek. “And you did, Kristen. Look at everything you did without me.” She laughs, a little staccato, and Kristen doesn’t know what this feeling is flooding her entire body. “Class president. Resurrecting a god – again. Building a pantheon of goddesses right in time to defeat Helio and Sol. Defending Elmville and, hell, Solace from all kinds of armies.” She rubs the tears from her cheeks. “You never needed me, Kristen. I didn’t want you to think you did.”
Kristen watches her. And watches. “Tracker,” she says quietly. “I never needed you. Not like that. But I always wanted – I always want you.” She forces herself to meet Tracker’s eyes. She wants Tracker to see her when she says this. Not matter what the outcome. “I always love you. But you’re the one who left.”
Tracker nods. “Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, I know. I’m not sorry, though.” Kristen doesn’t know what expression is on her face, but it makes Tracker panic. “No, not like that! I mean – if it meant you could find yourself and build your life without me, then it was all worth it.” She takes a shaky breath. “Every single night I woke up reaching for you was worth it.” She smiles. “Because look at you, Kristen. Look at everything you can do.”
“Are you going to leave again?” Kristen asks.
Tracker shrugs. “Maybe, for a little bit. To finish up in Fallinel. It should be quick, though.”
“Are you,” Kristen says, and she walks up to Tracker, “going to leave me again?” She gets right into Tracker’s space.
Tracker shakes her head slowly, eyes right on Kristen. “Never again,” she says, and it feels like a promise. “Not unless you ask me to.”
Falling into Tracker shouldn’t still feel this easy, this familiar, this right. It’s been months since the last time and a year since the time before that. It’s been lives and heartaches and exes and breakups and gods and monsters. And Tracker still feels like home.
They tangle the same blankets, touch the same skin, draw the same sighs. They curl together when they’re sated and exhausted, Kristen still desperate to feel the warmth of Tracker’s skin against her own.
“Not like last time, right?” Kristen asks. She traces I love you into the skin across Tracker’s ribs and wonders when she’s allowed to say it out loud again.
“Hmm?” Tracker looks at her, an arm behind her head and her gaze on Kristin.
“Christmas you left the next morning.” Kristen adjusts herself, props her head up on her elbow. “Is that what you’re going to do now?”
“What?” Tracker sits up. “No. No, I’m not leaving. We went over everything, like, half an hour ago.”
Kristen allows herself a smile. “Maybe you were just trying to get in my pants.”
Tracker snorts. “I always want to get into your pants.” She reaches out and brushes some hair from Kristen’s face. “But that was secondary to everything else.”
“Stop being romantic,” Kristen demands. “We just fucked.”
“Never stopped us before.”
Another ten minutes and the two of them are a giggling, boneless mess.
“Okay, people are absolutely going to realize we’ve been MIA by now,” Kristen mumbles. Her mouth feels a bit numb. Worth it. “We should get dressed at the very least.”
Kristen checks her phone when her clothes are back on, only to find half a dozen texts from various group chats. “Oh, we’re in trouble,” she says. The Mordred Manor Fam group chat in particular has two separate messages of Sandra Lynn texting variations of Kristen Applebees if you don’t show up at Krom’s in the next thirty minutes so help me god.
“We have, like, five minutes before Sandra Lynn sends out a search party for us,” Kristen says. She shows the text to Tracker.
“I can’t read that,” Tracker says, and she takes the phone to read while Kristen tries to find her shirt.
“Hey, Kristen?”
“Yeah?” Kristen asks. She knows her wallet is on the floor somewhere.
Tracker wiggles her phone. “Why’s Fig asking you when the wedding is?”
Kristen snatches the phone out of Tracker’s hands. “Why were you so desperate to see me you planned a whole surprise for my graduation, hmm?”
“Fair point.” Tracker leans in and kisses Kristen, soft and sweet. Like they used to every morning before Kristen would go to school. “To be fair, though, you were the one who said you wanted to marry me first.”
“I was sixteen and stupid,” Kristen retorts.
“And now you’re eighteen and…?”
“Shut up and get dressed,” Kristen says.
They manage to get to Krom’s just as Sandra Lynn is stomping out the door. Relief paints her face for the briefest of moments, but it’s quickly replaced by mild fury. “Kristen goddamn Applebees, where the fuck have you been?”
“Sorry, Sandra Lynn,” Tracker says, stepping in front of her. “It was my fault.”
“Damn right it was your fault.”
Kristen isn’t sure what she expected, but Sandra Lynn steps forward and yanks Tracker into a hug. “Hey, kiddo. I missed you.”
Tracker’s expression is a little baffled but she leans into it. “Hey, Sandy.”
“Don’t call me that,” Sandra Lynn laughs. She pulls back and takes Tracker in. “You got taller than me. I didn’t say that was okay.” She sighs deeply, then looks at Kristen. “Separate bedrooms. You hear me?”
“I mean, we’re legal adults.”
“Not under my goddamned roof,” Sandra Lynn says. But she is smiling, so that might be a good thing. “Come on in. Krom let us block off a whole group of tables.”
Tracker grabs her hand as they walk in behind Sandra Lynn. It feels like, to Kristen, like the beginning of the rest of her life. As she looks at everyone she realizes something so suddenly it hits like a brick.
No one here will leave her.