I’m on fire! was my first thought.
Then “” some very stupid part of me bubbled up But look at how pretty the blue edges flicker “” and then panic overwhelmed me again as some lizard part of my brain scrambled to get out of the way of I’M ON FIRE.
Everyone else was doing so, and it looked as though they hadn’t lost any seconds to contemplation of the prettiness. Wren had drawn up short, ten feet away, her fists balled as she stared at me, the two new guys on either side, each with a hand on her shoulder. They exchanged glances, blinked as though surprised, and stepped back. Wren kept staring. She swallowed, and the snake tattooed along the side of her neck writhed.
The troupe is half human, half Underpeople, though June’s as human as they come. The latter hate flame, most of them, it’s hardwired in. Most of them faded towards the back of the crowd and one of the mini elephants squealed admonition in the scuffle of movement.
Roto was the only one who came forward. His eyes were wide and panicked, his lips curled back in alignment to his stiffly leaning ears, his whiskers silver lines against his dark cheeks.
He said, “Meg, what’s happening?”
It was so unfair. How was I supposed to know what was happening? I didn’t have a clue. I opened my mouth to say that, but all that came out was an agonized shriek, even though I felt no physical pain. It was just a howl of frustration and want and loneliness, all the loneliness of having the circus as my family but no one mine, no one bound to me by blood, so I never knew where I’d fit.
Something cool around my shoulders. June, wrapping me in a silvery blanket.
“I need you to take a deep breath,” she said.
I tried, but the sound kept coming out.
She laid her hand over mine. “Breathe.”
Flames danced over her skin where it touched mine. The blue fabric of her jacket began to smolder, flaring orange and sparking along the line of the hem.
“Breathe.“
Nothing physical but that coolness against my back, as though the blanket were drawing the flame inside it. But in my head, something slammed down so all my consciousness went to breathing, to the act of pulling in the air, feeling it rush into me, my ribs dwelling to contain as much as possible, holding it for a beat and then releasing…
“Okay,” June said. “Okay, Meg.”
I blinked. The flames were gone, but the hem of her jacket still flared orange one last second before dying away.
“You’re tired. I’m putting you in Nursie.”
I tried to protest. Riding in Nursie was boring beyond belief. One of her settings had gone wonky and she treated everyone as though they were a six-year-old. But at the same time, I realized, it sounded so good, lying down in darkness and not thinking for a while.
Before I knew it, I was tucked in Nursie’s depths. Vanilla scented mist sprayed down around the couch.
“Now I’m going to tell you the story of the Brave Little Kitten,” she announced.
That was all right. At least it was one of the comprehensible stories. But something else caught my attention. I rolled closer to the hatch opening, trying to hear out.
Outside, June shouting.
“All right! These fellows either lair nearby or they’re affiliated with the town.”
Nursie said, “Once upon a time “””
“Wait,” I said. “Nursie, can I have a drink of water first?”
The story paused as a cup rattled into the dispenser and began to fill.
June said, “Either way, we can’t go back “” you know that as well as I “” and it’s better to make these disappear and keep moving rather than have others come look and find us with them.”
Muffled agreement. Nursie said, “Drink your water, Meg.”
I drank it as slowly as I could, but all I heard were doors slamming and engines starting again. I felt dizzy. It was hard to swallow.
Warm vanilla sprayed me again as I set the cup down.
Nursie said, “Blood pressure dropping.”
Something snaked from the ceiling towards me. I heard Nursie’s voice, as though from a very far distance. “Administering sedation.”
...
I’d been feeling queazy for miles “” too much fresh fruit last town, trying to pack in as much as I could “” so finally I tapped Roto on the shoulder and we left the bus during a stretch and pee break. Big Fredo was driving the tents truck and he had a sweet spot for Roto, so he let us climb up into the sheltered spot just behind the cab, where we were sheltered from the wind but still could feel the bite of the air and where, if I needed to, I could lean out and vomit into the sandy gravel of the road.
It made me feel better almost immediately and my mood, which had been gloomy and self pitying (or so Roto kept informing me), lifted, as though the high blue sky overhead were pulling it upwards.
Okay, maybe I had been being kind of a bitch. I shrugged at Roto in apology and he shrugged back. That was one of the nice things about Roto. Once a fight was over, it was done with. It was a quality I envied, and couldn’t begin to claim. I was capable of holding a grudge for years, and had all my life, even though that was only fifteen years so far.
He grinned sideways at me, whiskers twitching, and leaned back to let his upper torso, bare except for the stripes of dun for, smolder golden in the sun. I settled back myself, though I stayed in the shade.
On my right, past Roto, was the steep downward slope of the cliff, covered with slides of shale and wiry brown bushes and past that, a blaze of sunlight on the ocean, dazzling and headache inducing. I looked away and up the mountainside. We were swinging out and around a curve before going inward and Sieg, who was the pace setter up front in his jeep, was, in my opinion, taking it a little fast.
That’s how I saw it. Flash flash. Two blinks of light from far up the mountain ahead of us. Then again. Flash flash.
I squinted up the mountain but didn’t see it again. But I crawled forward, clinging to the netting that held the ranks of tents in place, and tapped my knuckles hard on the cab’s back window. Kali was riding shotgun, her own window open and dreads flying back in the wind. She twisted around to slide the window open.
“I saw someone signaling up ahead,” I shouted.
“We’re on it,” she shouted back. Big Fredo tapped the bead in his ear. Someone else must’ve seen it as well, and gotten to our radio network faster than I had. That was always the story. I was never the hero. My spirits sagged again.
Kali slammed the window shut and turned back to watching the road ahead. I made my slow return to Roto. It seemed to me we had sped up a little but I couldn’t be sure. Maybe it was just my own anxiety.
Roto gave me a questioning look.
“They’re on it, she said.” I shrugged. Not like we could do much about anything. Better to move forward with our eyes open than let them know we had spotted them and they should open fire.
A faded blue sign flickered past. “Rest stop 1 mile Gas Services”
“You know that’s where they’re going to try to hit us,” Roto said. He stopped lounging and leaned forward.
“Yeah, but what else can they do? There’s no other place to turn around.”
We both wriggled back as far as we could, putting furled canvas between ourselves and possible missiles. The smart-canvas of the main tent might stop a bullet but the thick rolls of more ordinary heavy fabric would still foil arrows or darts.
My stomach wasn’t queasy anymore at all. Instead, hot bile chewed at the back of my throat and worry threaded all my bones. We hadn’t brought weapons with us from the bus; June doesn’t like us carrying them around, but when we’re traveling, we’re supposed to have something with us.
Roto had claws and teeth. I had nothing but my own blunt fists and wits.
Gravel hissed under the wheels as we swung left and slowed. I tried to peer out.
Roto put his palm on the top of my head and shoved downward. “Don’t be an asshole, Meg.”
We held still. I could hear the other cars and trucks pulling in, slowing. The turnaround must have been blocked, otherwise Sieg would have used it to lead the whole convoy to circle back as quickly as he could while Vera had our backs. But stopping there meant there was some sort of blockade.
A voice from up ahead. A man’s voice, and one that had meanness in it despite the pleasantness of the words. “And a good afternoon to you folks!”
Car door slamming and then the crunch crunch of footsteps, barely audible over the sound of the last few stragglers pulling in. I knew that if I looked back people would be fanning out as best they could. We all drilled aon what to do on occasions like this, but I’d only been in a few fights. And not since I had become, technically, an adult.
But surely an adult would have known enough to carry at least a knife with them. I glanced over at Roto and was relieved to see that he looked as anxious as I felt.
June’s deep voice, carefully modulated and empty of emotion. “Afternoon, gentlemen.”
I angled my line of sight upward, hoping to catch a glance of Vera. So much depended on what these bandits were carrying. Hopefully, just a few guns, but probably a bit more than that.
“We were just discussing how it looked as though your trucks were too heavily loaded,” the voice said. “We thought maybe we could help you out, maybe take some of the livestock. That way you’ve got less to feed, we’ve got more to feed ourselves with.” He laughed, the sort of laugh where you could easily imagine the sneer that came with it.
June’ voice, so polite. “I’m afraid that the livestock are members of the troupe as well.”
The man mimicked her. “I’m afraid that you don’t have a choice.”
“That’s a point of debate,” June said. “Vera, now.”
Not many people have seen any of the old war machines. Some were disabled, others disabled themselves. We don’t know what side Vera was on back then. Just that she was on ours now.
Enjoy this sample of Cat’s writing and want more of it on a weekly basis, along with insights into process, recipes, photos of Taco Cat, chances to ask Cat (or Taco) questions, discounts on and news of new classes, and more? Support her on Patreon..
...
I found these books as part of the reading list in the back of Jacqueline Jackson’s Turn Not Pale, Beloved Snail. They are why I’ve always wanted to go to Finland.
What: Moomintroll and the other Moomins are odd creatures living among a cast of equally odd characters: the Snork Maiden, the Fillyjonk, the Hemulen. The books need not be read in consecutive order. There’s quite a few of them, including Comet in Moominland, Finn Family Moomintroll, Moominpappa at Sea, Moominsummer Madness, Moominvalley in November, Moominland Midwinter and Tales from Moominvalley, some of which are available in cartoon form as well.
Who: Again kids as well as those who love literature written for kids will love these. There is a quiet charm and gentle oddness to the Moomin books that is enthralling.
Why: Read these for enjoyment, or to take apart and see how Jansson has rendered our world in charmingly fractured form. Read them to see an example of children’s books that knock your socks off with charm.
When and where and how: Read Moominland Midwinter when it’s snowy and solitary outside and you want to imagine the lonesome Groke wandering in search of warmth. Really it’s not so much a question of when to read them as when they’ll return to you, at odd moments on the ferry or seeing a wave crest.
#sfwapro
...
I blogged last week about some of my favorite YA of 2013 and I wanted to add some more books to that list. These are all books that I wold’t have run across if I hadn’t been reading for the Norton jury, and I’m very pleased to have found them. With each I’ve identified both the genre (fantasy vs. science fiction) and the gender of the lead character, since I know that may affect some buying decisions.
For what it’s worth, the overall breakdown here is: 4 male authors, 7 female authors; 6 fantasy, 5 sf; and
5 female leads to 6 male leads.
The Woken Gods by Gwenda Bond. Fantasy, female lead. I love the premise: “Five years ago, the gods of ancient mythology awoke around the world.” This is the setting for seventeen-year-old Kyra Locke’s adventures in search of her missing father and his secrets.
Homeland by Cory Doctorow. Science fiction, male lead. The sequel to Little Brother, Homeland stands on its own legs, with plenty of action and a lead character, Marcus Yallow, who is beleaguered by questions about releasing information in a plot that seems extraordinarily timely.
Maggot Moon by Sally Gardner Science fiction, male lead. An outstanding voice and unusual premise make the story told by social outcast Standish Treadwell well worth picking up. This was a 2014 Michael L. Printz Honor Book.
When We Wake by Karen Healey Science fiction, female lead. When sixteen-year old-Tegan Oglietti is unexpectedly moved forward a century in time, she finds herself in a future that’s far from benign, and one that will force her to act in order to keep others from sharing her fate.
Summer Prince by Alaya Dawn Johnson Science fiction, female lead. Johnson’s past books have been terrific and this one is no exception. It’s an interesting take of a future society that is fresh and well-written.
September Girls by Bennett Madison Fantasy, male lead. This book is set on North Carolina’s Outer Banks and therefore had me from page one. It’s a beautiful, evocative book that treats mermaids in a poetic and (I would argue) feminist take that is gorgeous and has a fabulous mythic quality.
Far Far Away by Tom McNeal Fantasy, male lead. The narrator is the ghost of one of the Brothers Grimm…and it goes from there. There’s a slight resonance with Neil Gaiman’s American Gods that comes at a jarring moment, but overall, a terrific and interesting novel.
A Corner of White: The Colors of Madeleine, Book One by Jaclyn Moriarty Fantasy, female lead. I don’t even know how to begin to describe this book, except that it is well written and playful in a way that sometimes is not associated with young adult books. Really lovely.
More than This by Patrick Ness Science fiction, male lead. I will admit I don’t usually like books where the protagonist wakes up amnesia, because it’s a situation that’s been done to death. But the place where Seth awakens is odd enough that I reluctantly found myself drawn into his explorations.
Man Made Boy by Jon Skovron Fantasy, male lead. Boy is, in fact, Frankenstein’s monster, and his plight is touching and funny and lovely, particularly when he runs away with the granddaughters of Jekyll/Hyde. This is a funny book in the way funny books should be, and will make your heart hurt even while you’re laughing.
In the Shadow of Blackbirds by Cat Winters Fantasy, female lead. Reviewers aren’t supposed to talk about the book as a physical object, but I still want to note that this is a handsome book with evocative illustrations that really add to the experience. Sixteen-year-old Mary Shelley Black has been sent to San Diego during the Spanish flu epidemic in 1918. When she begins to hear the voice of her recently-killed lover, she becomes involved with the Spiritualist movement. Rich historical details add a lovely texture to the book as well.
...
This year I’ve been reading for the Andre Norton Award, which has been great in that a ton of books have arrived and insane in that a TON of books have arrived and need to be read. I wanted to call out some of my favorites so far.
#sfwapro
...
Want access to a lively community of writers and readers, free writing classes, co-working sessions, special speakers, weekly writing games, random pictures and MORE for as little as $2? Check out Cat’s Patreon campaign.
"(On the writing F&SF workshop) Wanted to crow and say thanks: the first story I wrote after taking your class was my very first sale. Coincidence? nah….thanks so much."
(fantasy, short story) A few weeks after my grandmother’s death, her quilt began crawling from her bed in the early hours and roaming downstairs. You’d hear the rustle as it went past the door, and in the morning find it curled somewhere, like a dog that had died of a broken heart in the night.
This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply. This site is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to Amazon.com.