“And this doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that my stepmother opposed your last Assembly proposal, right?” Alex sounded furious. Call decided that maybe it was important after all.
“Watch yourself,” Mr. Rajavi said. “Remember what I told you about respect?”
“What about respecting what your daughter wants?” Alex asked, his voice rising. “Kimiya? Tell him!”
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Kimiya said. “I just want everyone to stop yelling at one another.” After many years of arguing with his own father, culminating in the terrible argument that he couldn’t even think about without feeling sick to his stomach, Call knew this wasn’t going anywhere good. Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door to the room and looked at the four of them with the most confused expression he could muster.
“Oh, hey,” Call said. “I’m sorry. This house is so big that I keep getting turned around.”
“Callum,” Mrs. Rajavi said, forcing a smile.
Kimiya looked ready to cry. Alex looked ready to hit someone; Call recognized the expression.
“Oh, hey, Alex,” Call said, trying to think of a good reason to drag him out of there before he did something he regretted. “Can you come with me for a second? Aaron wanted to, uh, ask you something.”
Alex turned that furious expression on Call, and for a moment Call wasn’t sure he’d made the right decision. But then Alex nodded and said, “Sure.”
“I’m glad we had this talk,” Mr. Rajavi told him.
“Me, too,” Alex said between gritted teeth. Then he walked out, forcing Call to scramble to catch up.
Alex stalked out onto the lawn, heading toward the stone fountain. When he got to it, he kicked it hard and yelled something Alastair had forbidden Call to ever utter.
“I’m sorry,” Call said. In the distance, he could see Aaron and Tamara throwing sticks to Havoc on one of the far lawns. Fortunately, they were out of earshot.
“Aaron doesn’t really want to see me, does he?” said Alex.
“Nope,” said Call. “Sorry again.”
“So why’d you pull me out of there?” Alex didn’t look angry now, just curious.
“Nothing good was going to happen,” Call said firmly. “That wasn’t the kind of fight that anybody wins.”
“Maybe,” Alex said slowly. “They just — they make me so angry. They’re all about putting on a show. Like they’re perfect and everyone else is less.”
Call frowned. “What do you mean?”
Alex cut a glance toward Aaron and lowered his voice even further. “Nothing. I don’t mean anything at all.”
Alex clearly thought that Call couldn’t understand. It would be useless to explain that it might seem like Tamara’s parents liked him, but they wouldn’t if they knew the truth. They might not even like Aaron if he wasn’t the Makar. But Alex would never believe that a little kid like Call had big enough secrets to matter to anyone, even if he did.
It was only a few days later that Call had to pack up his new clothes and get ready to head back to school. He stuffed himself with sausages and eggs at breakfast, knowing it was going to be a while before he saw non-lichen-based food again. Aaron and Tamara were already wearing their green second-year Magisterium uniforms, while Alex and Kimiya were in fourth-year white and glowering at each other.
Call sat there in his jeans and T-shirt, feeling very out of place.
Alex gave Call a pointed look, as if to say, You’ll never be good enough for them either.
Mr. Rajavi looked at his watch. “Time to go,” he said. “Call?”
“Yeah?” Call turned toward Tamara’s father.
“Take care of yourself.” There was something in his voice that made Call unsure if the words were kindly meant, but maybe he was just letting Alex get to him.
Everyone headed for the foyer, where Stebbins, his bald head gleaming, was assembling their bags. Aaron and Call both had new duffels, while Tamara and Kimiya had matching sets of snakeskin luggage. Alex had a suitcase with his initials, ATS, on it. He picked it up and headed for the door.
Once outside, Alex started down the driveway. Call realized with a jolt that a white Mercedes was waiting at the end of the drive, its motor running. Alex’s stepmother had come.
Kimiya gave a little gasp. Stebbins looked wistful.
“Nice car,” Call said.
“Shut up,” Tamara muttered. “Just because you’re obsessed with cars.” She gave Stebbins an odd warning look, which Call didn’t have a chance to parse. Too many other things were happening at once.
Kimiya was chasing after Alex, oblivious to the fact that everyone was now gawking at the two of them. “What’s wrong?” she asked when she caught up to him. “I thought you were going to ride with us on the bus!”
He stopped in the middle of the drive and turned on her. “I’m keeping my distance, just like your dad wanted. Anastasia is taking me to the Magisterium. Summer’s over. We’re done.”
“Alex, don’t be like this,” she said, looking stunned by his anger. “We could talk about it —”
“We’ve talked enough.” He sounded as if he were choking on hurt. “You should have stuck up for me. You should have stuck up for us,” he told her, hoisting his bag up on his shoulder. “But you didn’t.” He spun away, stalking off down the driveway.
“Alex!” Kimiya shouted. But he didn’t respond. He reached the Mercedes and climbed inside. It sped away, sending up a cloud of dust.
“Kimiya!” Tamara started to run toward her sister, but her mother caught her by the wrist.
“Give her a moment,” she said. “She probably wants to be left alone.”
Mrs. Rajavi’s gaze was bright and hard. Call decided he had never been so uncomfortable in his life. He kept remembering Alex saying, “Kimiya, tell them,” and Kimiya not saying what he’d obviously wanted her to say. She had to be afraid of her parents. Call wasn’t sure he blamed her.
After a few minutes, a yellow school bus pulled through the gates of the Gables. Kimiya came back into the house, wiping her eyes against her sleeve and sniffing brokenly. She grabbed her luggage without looking at anyone.
When her mother reached out to put a hand on her shoulder, Kimiya shrugged it off.
Call knelt down to unzip his bag to make sure he had everything. He zipped it back up, but not before Mrs. Rajavi had caught sight of his knife, glinting atop his clothes.
“Is that Semiramis?” she asked.
Call nodded, zipping the bag up hastily. “It was my mother’s.”
“I know. I remember when she made it. She was a very skilled metal mage.” Tamara’s mother cocked her head to the side. “Semiramis is named for an Assyrian queen who turned into a dove when she died. Callum means dove, too. Doves stand for peace, which is what your mother wanted more than anything else.”
“I guess she must have,” Call said, feeling even more uncomfortable that her scrutiny had turned to him, and also a little sad that this woman had known more about his mother than he did.
Mrs. Rajavi smiled down at him, brushing a lock of his ink-black hair out of his eyes. “She must have loved you very much. And you must miss her.”