inside-out, backward shirt, scratched-up glasses and tight-fitting jeans. “Joy and I share the Malone metabolism,” he said between bites and adjusted his raggedy red friendship bracelet over his wrist. Joy was surprised he hadn’t ditched the thing while at college. It was so summer camp. “Besides—” he swallowed “—I had to keep up. Back in middle school, Joy’s appetite put me to shame.” He glanced at Gordon. “There’s nothing worse than being out-eaten at the school’s pie-eating contest by your pipsqueak little sister.”
“Ha ha,” Joy said, but she couldn’t help smiling. This was something that phone calls and IM chats couldn’t replace—the feeling of being in the same room, riffing off one another, sharing memories, teasing, being together. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed it until just now.
Stef clapped his hands together as he swallowed the last bite. “Okay, I hate to be incredibly rude, but I need to collapse on my face,” he said. “But before I go catatonic, I want to give you your present.”
“You brought me something?” Joy asked.
“Yep! And it’s bigger than a bread box.”
Joy clapped her hands and squealed at Monica. “I’m getting a present!”
Gordon laughed. “I think you just turned six,” he said. “I could see pigtails and everything.”
Joy stuck out her tongue as Stef hooked her elbow, propelling her into the kitchen. “Come over to the window,” he said.
“The window?” Joy asked nervously as the four of them crowded together and craned over the sink. Joy swallowed back the momentary jitters she experienced every time she came near the kitchen window. Her mind played tricks as her brain mixed a wild concoction of fear and memory, leaving Joy half expecting to find another message written in light or a monster’s giant tongue about to shatter the glass.
Shaking off her first memories of the Twixt, Joy looked down into the courtyard. It looked completely ordinary with a fat couple sunning in folding lawn chairs as three kids chased each other with Super Soakers near the parking lot.
“You got me a water gun?” she guessed.
Stef pointed. “No. There. In the corner.”
Joy stood on her tiptoes, spying Stef’s used Kia. “Is it in the car?”
Stef dangled keys from his fingers. “It is the car.”
Joy screamed. “I get your car?”
“With a quarter of a zillion miles on it. I was going to trade it in, but Mom and Dad agreed to buy it off me and give it to you.” He dropped the keys into her palm. Joy bounced in her shoes. “I’ll help you clean her up before I pick up my new one at the dealership, but then she’s all yours,” he said. “Be careful with the driver’s side window—it sticks.”
Joy wrapped her arms around Stef’s chest.
“Thankyouthankyouthankyou!”
“You can thank me by giving me oxygen.” He laughed as though pained and ruffled her bangs. “Okay! Now that I have officially won the Best Brother Ever Award, I would like to thank the Academy before I grab another couple slices of pizza and go to bed.” Stef pinched his lip and nodded to everyone. “Nice to see you, Monica. Nice meeting you, Gordon. Nice surprising you, Joy. My pillow awaits.”
Joy gave Stef a parting kiss on his scruffy cheek.
“Thanks, Stef! Welcome home!”
“You’re welcome and good night.” He waved as he dragged his duffel bag into his room, across the hall from hers. The door closed, and they all heard a thump.
“Well, he seems nice,” Gordon said. “So when do I get a car?”
“Care to take us for a spin?” Monica asked.
Joy swallowed some of her excitement. She’d promised Ink she’d stay home.
“Not until after Stef helps me clean it,” she said. “You know how he is.”
“He’s a slob,” Monica translated for Gordon.
“Like you should talk,” Gordon said. “My mother would kill me if my room looked like yours!” Monica poked him in the gut. He poked her back. Monica squealed. Joy tucked the keys in her pocket and sauntered back to the den. She had her own car. Stef was in his room. Her dad was due home soon, and her friends were laughing in the kitchen—it was a perfect ending to an almost-perfect night. Joy smiled as she closed the pizza box.
All it was missing was Ink.
* * *
Joy was late to work. She logged in at the exact moment she realized she’d forgotten to wash her apron. There were splashes of dried coffee and smears of dirt and what smelled like marinara on the pocket. She soaked a dish towel and hurriedly scrubbed at the stains.
“Someone’s here for you,” Neil said, tapping her shoulder with his cheat sheet. “Table Four. Asked for an ice water, hold the glass.” His voice dipped in sympathy. He’d been her senior server when she’d started at Antoine’s, and he still tried to keep an eye out for her. “What a way to start the day.”
“Are you kidding me?” Joy peeked around the counter to see who was at the two-top and stared. Invisible Inq was quietly kicking her heels under her seat, chin propped on the back of her interlaced fingers, smiling.
Joy tied off the bow and grabbed her check cover, swallowing panic. No one should be able to see Inq except her. No one without the Sight...
“Don’t forget your ice water,” Neil said as he went to fold napkins.
Watching Neil out of the corner of her eye, Joy stopped at the fill station and scooped some ice cubes onto a saucer, placing a teaspoon on it for good measure. The freezer wasn’t the reason chills swept over her body as she marched to Table Four.
The wily Scribe twinkled and waved her fingers.
“Hi, Joy!”
Joy didn’t know whether to put down the saucer or not, as if leaving evidence would confirm that she was certifiably crazy to the rest of the staff. Fortunately, it was still early, and the café was all but empty.
“What are you doing here?” Joy said under her breath.
“I thought I’d come visit you at work,” Inq chirped. “Make sure that you were okay. I heard pillow talk that you had a bit of excitement yesterday, and Ink asked me to check on you.” She eyed the smeared black apron. “Nice digs.”
Joy held her temper, knowing she had to choose her words carefully when speaking to invisible people, especially Inq.
“This is not a good time,” Joy whispered, trying to think of some reason she could give for standing in the middle of the restaurant talking to an empty table with a saucerful of ice in her hand. Did Neil realize that Table Four looked empty? Did he have the Sight? Had Joy put him in danger by leading Inq here? Had she exposed herself by admitting that she could see Inq, too? Joy was one of the rare people born with the Sight who had managed to keep her eyes from being cut out. Joy’s mind drifted to the four-leaf clover in her bag.
“Yes, well, that’s the trouble with mortality, isn’t it?” Inq said smoothly, opening her menu. “So much to do, so little time.” She smiled again. “I hear Antoine’s makes a passable frittata.” Joy was about to snatch the trifold menu out of her hands when Neil walked by. Inq turned to him boldly. “Excuse me,” she said. Joy froze. “Could I trouble you for a new napkin?”
Neil handed one of his freshly rolled cloth napkins to Inq and gave Joy a conciliatory “What can you do?” shrug before continuing on to Table Ten. Joy stared at Inq, who dabbed demurely at the corner of her lips.
“He can see you,” Joy said under her breath. “How can he see you? Does he have the Sight?”
Inq blinked her