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  “They were all over the place Ross and I come from,” Summer said. “Mom said that in our town, they had to shut up all the livestock, even the bulls, before sundown. Right, Ross?”

  Ross couldn’t meet her eyes. His chest and throat tightened, making it hard to speak. “I don’t remember.”

  “Of course you don’t,” Summer said impatiently. “You were too little. But Grandma would have told you. You remember that, right?”

  The only thing that stopped Ross from getting up and leaving was that it would draw even more attention to him. Staring at the table, he muttered, “No.”

  Summer’s voice rose with anger and frustration as she said, “You don’t remember Grandma telling you about sand tigers. You don’t remember the Norms trying to kill us. What do you remember?”

  “What?” Rico exclaimed.

  “The Norms tried to kill you?” Yolanda said indignantly.

  “That’s horrible,” Becky murmured.

  Summer smacked Ross on the arm. “I asked you a question, Ross. What do you remember?”

  The harder he tried to recall his grandmother telling him about his town, the harder it was to remember anything at all. Especially with his sister and the entire school watching him fail at what a ten-year-old could do with ease: remember their own lives. Humiliation burned through his body, making his eyes sting and his vision blur.

  What was wrong with him?

  “Nothing!” Ross burst out. “I don’t remember anything, all right? Stop asking me!”

  Ross had no idea how Summer or anyone was reacting. He wouldn’t look up now if he had a pistol held to his head.

  Summer spoke again after a moment, sounding more confused than angry. “Well, anyway, the Norms tried to kill all the Changed in my town.”

  “A Changed person tried to take over our town.” Will Preston’s accusing tone was just like his father’s. “Maybe something like that happened there.”

  “Are you blaming people for being murdered?” Yolanda demanded. “People like—”

  “I want to hear the story,” Rico interrupted. “Summer, did you have to fight your way out?”

  Ross cautiously looked up, his heart pounding from anticipation and dread. He desperately wanted to know what had happened, but he had a feeling that once he’d heard the story, he’d wish he hadn’t.

  Summer finished a last leaf of watercress kimchi and licked her fingers. “I wasn’t actually born yet, but Mom told, uh . . .”

  She broke off, then licked her fingers again with a flourish, as if challenging everyone to mind her manners. But no one spoke. They obviously all wanted to hear her story.

  “Yum,” Summer announced loudly. “Well, Mom told me the story. There were never many Changed people in our town. Maybe one family in ten. And the town was much smaller than Las Anclas. Mom said most Norms never liked us—they just put up with us because they needed every hand to keep the town going.”

  She glanced at Ross, who hastily ducked his head. His muscles were so tight, his jaw ached and his hands were shaking. He pushed them against his thighs, hoping no one would notice.

  Mom said. Ross couldn’t remember a single thing Mom had said, or even the sound of her voice.

  Summer went on, “Mom said she only found out exactly what happened afterward. We’d had a drought for three years in a row. One greedy Norm guy started secretly meeting with other Norms and blaming it on the Changed, plus everything else bad that had ever happened. He said we were using our powers to drive out the Norms. He convinced them that if they kicked out all the Changed, the drought would end. And also, then the Norms could take over everything that the Changed people owned, houses included.”

  “I’ve heard of that happening,” Brisa said. She sounded unusually subdued. Becky reached out to clasp her hand.

  Ross wished Mia were there to hold his hand. Then he glanced around for Jennie. But she was out of reach, watching and listening intently—not just Summer, but the entire school. Jennie had to be a teacher now, not a girlfriend.

  Ross was so tense that he flinched when Summer spoke again. “A mob of Norms got together in the middle of the night and started rousting the Changed families out of bed. Mom said she realized later that they probably hadn’t intended to kill anyone, just to kick them out. But of course, some of the Changed started fighting back. At the time, all Mom knew was that she got woken up by yelling and fighting. Dad’s Change was that he could only see heat—if everything was cold, he was blind. He looked out the window and said there were hot spots all over town: people running around and houses burning.”

  Once Summer mentioned Dad’s power, Ross remembered it. But it meant more now than if he’d learned it before he’d come to Las Anclas. Ross too could see heat when he was linked with the crystal trees. His father was dead, but not entirely gone: Ross could see as he saw. That realization was so overwhelming that he missed Summer’s next few sentences.

  He forced himself to pay attention as she went on, “A Changed friend of hers banged on the door and shouted that the Norms were killing all the Changed.”

  Summer spun around to stab a finger at Ross, making him jump. “Mom and Dad and Grandma grabbed you. And ran.”

  Images flickered in his memory, quick as lightning. Gray ash drifting down on his father’s black hair. Bodies lying still in the street. Little black pools reflecting the firelight.

  That must have been blood.

  Once he had that thought, the memories faded.

  “And then my family split up,” Summer said.

  Another memory thrust itself to the surface: his grandmother’s strong hands yanking him off the ground. His face buried in her shoulder. Her jolting strides as she ran. His father moving away as he helped Ross’s mother into a grove of trees, as arrows zipped through the air all around them. Ross reached out his hand . . .

  Summer’s voice broke through the memory. “The Changed who made it out of town hid in a tunnel in an old mine, but Grandma wasn’t there. Once things seemed to die down, Mom went to look for her and you.”

  Ross gritted his teeth as she again pointed at him. It was hard enough having to hear this story without her calling everyone’s attention to him every few minutes.

  “Mom’s Change had to do with her eyes, too,” Summer said. “When Dad first came to town, they spent hours talking about how the world looked to them. It was how they fell in love. Her eyes were golden as an eagle’s, and she could see an ant dance on a hillside a mile away.”

  Little Tonio Riley piped up, “Pa can do that! But his eyes are brown.”

  “She saw that half the town had burned down,” Summer said. “The crops had burned, too. And she saw a gang of Norms closing in on the tunnel at the other entrance. Before she could do anything, they threw in a bunch of barrels of gunpowder and lit the fuse. The whole tunnel collapsed. Mom had to run for her life. She never found Grandma. Or you.”

  Summer stared straight at Ross, her tone and black eyes accusing. “She didn’t hear about it till years later, but the town never recovered. Everyone died or left. It’s a ghost town now.”

  “Ghost town? Cool!” Will Preston exclaimed.

  Jose spoke in a calm tone that was more crushing than if he’d yelled. “Changed people getting murdered is cool?”

  Before another argument could break out, Jennie stepped between Jose and Will. Like Dr. Lee had, she spoke in a tone that could not be disobeyed. “Recess is over.”

  Everyone but Jennie and Summer took off. As he left, Will remarked to the boy beside him, “If the Changed people had just left, nothing bad would have happened.”

  Summer started to rise, radiating fury. Jennie grabbed her shoulder, forcing her back into her seat.

  “Will’s only eleven,” Jennie said. “Argue if you want, but no fighting. It’s not fair. He wouldn’t stand a chance.”

  Summer settled down, but Ross was sure it wasn’t because of Jennie. He could feel her gaze on him like a pair of burning coals. It made him feel guilty.
He wanted to leave. He wanted her to go. He had to say something, but he had no idea what.

  He’d finally learned the story of his past, but it was only a story. He knew now that Mom’s eyes had been golden, but he still couldn’t picture her face.

  “You can go inside now,” Jennie said to Summer.

  She let out a long-suffering sigh, but hitched her pack over her shoulder and leaped toward the schoolhouse.

  Jennie sat beside Ross. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I wasn’t sure if I should let that go on or not.” Jennie looked as uncertain as Ross felt. It wasn’t an expression he’d often seen on her face.

  “You chose right. I did want to know what had happened.” Ross pressed his hands to his eyes, trying to push back the memory of his father lying dead. Out of everything he couldn’t remember, why couldn’t he have lost that memory, too?

  “I remember . . .” He hesitated, distrustful of anything in his mind, then went on. “Yeah. I’m sure this happened. I touched my father’s body. The blood was still wet. Mom couldn’t have been far away. If we’d gone in the right direction, we would have caught up with her. I should have known—”

  Jennie put her hand on his shoulder, squeezing his tight muscles. “How old were you, Ross? Four? You couldn’t possibly have known. Anyway, you weren’t making any decisions. Your grandmother was. Remember what happened to me after the battle? Once you start blaming yourself for stuff you had no control over, there’s no end to it. You didn’t set those fires. You didn’t blow up that tunnel. And you couldn’t possibly have known that your mother was still alive. Ross, none of that was your fault.”

  “No?” Ross got up. He had to get away, to breathe. To be alone. “Tell that to Summer.”

  Chapter Eleven: Jennie

  The bleak anguish in Ross’s face made Jennie hurt as much for his sake as when she’d first heard that he’d been captured by Voske. She longed to run after him. But she was losing classroom time, and she’d lose more getting the younger students to settle down and focus on something other than Summer.

  Jennie retreated to the schoolhouse and raised her voice over the buzz of talk. “We still have lessons. Anyone who keeps wasting time now stays after to make it up, while everyone else watches the Ranger selection ceremony.”

  Instant quiet fell. She gave out assignments, then observed the busy classroom. Felicité was absent, probably out campaigning on the theory that she was as good as graduated. Jennie was fine with that. Everyone else, even Henry, got to work, from little kids puzzling over their letters to teenagers doing math. Summer’s glossy head bent over a slate as she chalked a simple equation.

  Jennie couldn’t help wishing someone would act up so she’d have an excuse to stay and supervise rather than attend the ceremony. She couldn’t bear the thought of watching from the sidelines as the other Rangers welcomed their new brothers and sisters. No matter how much loss and grief and guilt was tangled up with her time with the Rangers—Sera’s death, Jennie’s breakdown, the endless terrible choices she’d had to make, and finally getting banned for life—she loved them, too. She’d loved being one.

  Jennie bit her lip, forcing her emotions down. So she wasn’t a Ranger. She was lucky to have a meaningful job that she enjoyed. And, she reminded herself, one where she’d never have to make snap decisions with other people’s lives depending on her choice.

  Her gaze stopped again on Summer. When Ross had first come to the classroom, he’d known the advanced math and science that a prospector needed. But he knew no history and couldn’t read. Summer, four years younger, was nowhere near as far along in math and science, but could read and write easily. She also knew some history. Jennie wondered where she had learned what she knew, but Summer wasn’t saying.

  Several hours later, the big pocket watch on her desk ticked out the time to go. Time to face it.

  “School’s out,” Jennie called. “Good work, everyone. And good luck to the candidates!”

  Chalks and slates clattered as everyone clustered around the Ranger candidates: Jose, Sujata, Brisa, Meredith, Tommy, and Henry.

  Henry gave a war whoop, pumped his fist, and charged out the door. The other candidates followed, visibly excited but, unlike Henry, also nervous. Jennie couldn’t imagine Henry being chosen. Whatever else she could say against Mr. Preston—and there was plenty—he’d never put the town’s safety in the hands of a boy who couldn’t bother to show up for practice on time and didn’t take it seriously when he did.

  Jennie grimaced as she wiped down the chalkboard. After days of inner struggle, she had decided to vote for Mr. Preston. Much as she despised Felicité, she had to agree with her campaign speech. Mr. Horst simply wasn’t qualified. And though Jennie would never forgive Mr. Preston, she trusted him to protect Las Anclas.

  All the same, she’d never tell anyone how she had voted.

  She reached out with her mind and pulled at the chalks, smiling as they flew into her hand like a storm of frost-bitten sticks. The slates followed. Once they were stacked, Jennie left the schoolhouse, sure that she’d dawdled enough that no one would be around to ask where she was going.

  Paco and Jose were waiting for her.

  They didn’t seem to be together so much as standing near one another. She turned to Jose first. “Is there a problem at home?”

  “No.” Jose shifted from foot to foot, his skinny body tense. “Jennie, you’re coming to the Ranger ceremony, right? Whether I get in or not, I’d like you to be there.”

  The hope on her foster brother’s earnest face made Jennie’s perspective shift, as if she’d looked into a magnifying glass. The Ranger ceremony wasn’t about her. It was about the hopes and dreams of Jose, her brother, who would be hurt if his big sister didn’t show up. Meredith and Brisa and Paco might not take it so personally, but they were her friends, too. They’d be disappointed if she skipped something so important to them.

  “Of course I’m coming, Jose,” Jennie said. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

  “Wish me luck!” With a look of relief, Jose ran off before he could hear her response.

  “I came to ask you, too,” Paco said. “Were you really planning to go all along?”

  “No,” she admitted, after making sure Jose was out of earshot. “But I’ve got a brother and friends who want me there. And to be honest, I don’t want Mr. Preston thinking I’m a coward.”

  “No one would ever think that.”

  Jennie studied his unsmiling face, trying to see an echo of his mother. But Sera’s easy smiles, once so much a part of Paco, were gone, leaving only Voske’s sharp bones and upswept eyebrows.

  Paco’s dark eyes were his own. His emotions were impossible to read, but she sensed some intense feeling. Loneliness? It was strange not to know. He used to be so expressive, speaking with his face and body—and most of all, his music—more eloquently than with his words.

  She spoke impulsively. “I wish Yuki was here.”

  Paco didn’t react. At least, not visibly.

  “But I’ll be there,” Jennie concluded, feeling awkward.

  “Thanks.” Paco walked away quickly, alone.

  By the time Jennie reached the Ranger yard, the sun was sinking toward the ocean. Last summer, it would have still been high overhead, and she would have come to start Ranger practice.

  She turned her thoughts firmly to the present. The families of the candidates were gathered around, along with most of the town’s teenagers and kids old enough to be excited, and a host of curious townspeople. Ross, Jennie noticed, was not there. Mia and Summer were, though separated by the crowd.

  Ross must have been desperate to be alone after hearing Summer’s story. Jennie couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for him to think himself solitary, discover a sister and have her reject him, and then have his lost history dropped on him like a boulder. Jennie was so lucky to have a family who loved her.

  Chill washed through her nerves as she thought again about Sum
mer’s story. The murder of the Changed, the destruction of the town . . . It couldn’t ever happen to Las Anclas. The Changed were too large of a minority—one-third, not one-tenth. But it was horrifying to think that nothing but their sheer numbers protected them. If the Rileys were the only Changed family, would they live in fear of being rousted out of town some night? Ten years ago, Jennie had watched Mr. Preston drive away the boatful of desperate Changed people from Catalina.

  Everyone old enough to vote remembers that, Jennie realized. Summer’s story would be all over town by the end of the day. Would it be enough to swing the election?

  Mia beckoned frantically. Jennie hastened to her side, placing one more body between Mia and Summer. Though Mia probably didn’t need to worry about Summer. The girl was totally focused on the Ranger candidates. She’d gotten an earful about the Rangers from the other students, and though it would probably kill her to say anything good about Las Anclas, she obviously thought fighters were cool.

  A shout rose as the Rangers ran onto the field and lined up. They were in full uniform, weapons included. If Jennie had been with them, she’d have worn her sword in a harness across her back. And she’d have stood beside Indra, tall and proud with his machete glinting at his belt, looking toward Sera at the head of the line.

  But Jennie and Indra had broken up, and Julio Wolfe stood where Sera should have been. There was no place in that line for Jennie anymore.

  “Quiet!” Mr. Preston called through his bullhorn. When the crowd of spectators had ceased whispering, he handed the bullhorn to Julio. “Candidates, step forward.”

  Except for the distant cry of seagulls, there was no sound as the seven candidates formed a line. They wore practice clothes and bore no weapons. They hadn’t earned them yet.

  “Meredith Lowenstein,” Mr. Preston said. Even without the bullhorn, his voice carried easily across the crowd.

  She stepped out once more, a small, determined figure. Her copper hair glittered in the setting sun as she stood alone, awaiting her fate.

  “You’ve done very well in training,” Mr. Preston said. “I have no issues with your discipline or your physical skills. You’d make a good Ranger. However, you’ll make a great archer. I have to consider not only the Rangers, but the defenses of the entire town. I’m turning you down for the Rangers only because I think your skills are more needed elsewhere.”