The Shimmers in the Night Read Online Free Page A

come through.
    Not that she knew what she’d seen. But it had been a glimpse into something. She hadn’t made it up.
    And that meant the ring had to have powers: her mother had given her a talisman, not just a good-luck charm. She’d suspected before, but she hadn’t known for sure. In a way, she thought curiously, she hadn’t wanted to know. In a way, she had ignored the evidence.
    The vision had to have something to do with Jax’s theory about her mother’s discovery, the so-called source. Which she’d been thinking about when she slid the ring onto her finger. That wasn’t a coincidence, either.
    It was all starting again, she thought, and felt the tiny hairs lift along her arms. She didn’t know whether to feel excited or stubbornly rooted to the ground.
    It wasn’t that regular life fell away; it was that new elements appeared without warning.
    It was the possible, opening up in midair.

Two
    Clothing-stuffed backpack over her shoulder, Cara rang Hayley’s doorbell for her ride to school. There they would get on the charter bus that would take the team onto the mainland and finally into Boston.
    It was so early it was dark out, with the first pale streaks in the sky; Cara was still rubbing the sleep from her eyes when Hayley’s mother answered the door with her lips lined in purple and her hair done up in a sixties beehive.
    Hayley’s mom ran a beauty salon along Route 6, a salon with a lot of fake flowers in it where young women got their nails done and old ladies got their hair washed a lavender color and set into wavy helmets. Cara and Hayley had asked her what the reason was behind that old-lady blue hair situation, but Mrs. M never explained it too well. It seemed like a ritual from ancient times—the equivalent of a secret handshake. In any case, Mrs. Moore’s own hair was always elaborate and tacky, like a Gaga wig but maybe without the irony.
    â€œCome on in, Cara, hon!” she enthused in her Georgia accent.
    It turned on into own and in into Ian. Come own Ian!
    â€œThanks,” said Cara.
    Hayley’s mom often made Cara feel a bit embarrassed—though not as embarrased as Hayley felt. Mrs. M. was nice, no argument there, but she was also shiny and loud and stood too near, where Cara’s mother was soft-spoken and, like a chameleon, always seemed to match wherever she found herself.
    â€œWould you go on up and get her, sweetcakes? I’ll be waiting out in the car,” said Mrs. M, and pulled on a lumpy fur jacket Cara really hoped was fake. It had animal tails dangling.
    Cara dropped her bags and took the stairs two at a time. Hayley was one of those people who always made you wait—at least, if she was involved in a momentous decision such as what to wear. In restaurants, she was the one still studying the menu when everyone else already had a plate in front of them.
    â€œHay! Time to go!” called Cara as she swung past the shag-carpeted landing and into the upstairs hallway.
    Hayley’s door was open, showing a wall of celebrity collages. She cut up the gossip and fashion magazines her mom’s clients left in the salon.
    â€œI’m coming! Geez,” said Hayley.
    In fact, she wasn’t coming at all. She was posing in front of her full-length mirror, admiring herself in a leisurely fashion and rocking an eighties outfit. She had feathery earrings dangling from her ears and an asymmetrical, triangle-shaped coat that looked, to Cara, on the ugly side.
    Of course, she would never say that to Hayley. It wasn’t that Hay’s feelings would be hurt or anything. Far from it. She’d just roll her eyes at Cara’s poor fashion sense and give her a lecture on glamor and trends and the importance of retro. But Cara also knew that Hay’s elaborate outfits were carefully chosen at thrift stores. They didn’t have the money for brand-new clothes.
    â€œWe have to go now,” said Cara.