a Sorry-in-the-Vale interlude
in which I offer a missing scene from Sarah Rees Brennan's Unspoken.
Chapter Twenty Eight and Three Quarters:
Through the merest hint of a sliver of an eye, Angela made out the numbers on her alarm clock: 2:17 a.m. It was not an hour with which she had previous acquaintance, and now that she was finally experiencing it, she found it as deeply unpleasant as she had always imagined it would be. But sleep, her oldest, most dependable friend, was deserting her, driven away by a terrible new foe: magic. Certainly she had once been a little girl who longed for the ability to wave a wand and change people into pigs or banish them to some faraway place from which they might never return, but actual magic (as Angela could have predicted) turned out to be nowhere near so nice. Instead it meant dead girls and her best friend having a crazy stalker boy talking to her in her head, and being awake at times no Montgomery was meant to see, worrying.
Who knew how often magicians would kill, once they had started? Kami was safe, for now - otherwise Jared would be pounding on Angela’s door or setting large portions of the town on fire - and Rusty was home where she could protect him, but there were others. There was Holly, for instance, who had already been attacked once, and whose family could not necessarily be relied upon. Who could at that very moment be bleeding out in a horrid hut in the woods full of splinters and mold. The thought seemed uncharitable - Holly had after all been able to save herself once already and should perhaps be given more credit - but people had let Angela down before and, as the numbers on her alarm clock grew even more depressing, she was unable to banish the image entirely.
Eventually she gave in and heaved an arm toward the nightstand in search of her phone. She hated texting - typing out words was an unreasonable amount of effort even when it could be divided between all ten fingers - but anything was better than lying awake like a common insomniac.
everyone still un-murdered on your end? she sent. Only then did her under-rested brain inform her that Holly could well be asleep (as all reasonable people should be), and that empirically speaking, not-texting-back due to being asleep was quite difficult to differentiate from not-texting-back due to being dead.
But a minute later her fears about Holly’s reasonableness were proved baseless as her phone chirped with an incoming message. Haven’t even had to use any more shoes. And then: I just woke up from a dream where I could hear Princess Zelda’s voice in my head, but all she ever said was ‘Blood! Blood! Blood!’
Angela, taking this as further proof that imaginary friends were not to be trusted, felt pleased with herself for never having had one. and that was out of character? she inquired.
Course it was. She used to like tea parties & flower chains & swimming. We did cross-species water ballet.
Angela relaxed into her pillows and smiled. bet you were a disgustingly adorable child
& you were probably a beautiful little monster. Did you have an imaginary friend?
no, when i was 7 my best friend was my sleeping bag, i took it everywhere Angela lay the phone down next to her and hitched her quilt up over her shoulders, fondly remembering the soft, dark depths of the sleeping bag and the hundreds of happy hours they had spent together.
After a pause during which Angela’s eyelids began to drift shut, her phone chirped again. I liked magic better when it was in books, Holly had written. You never bother imagining how unsettling it all is when it’s the other, creepier people with the crazy powers.
Angela felt that magic could use a good punch in the face if it thought it could both keep her awake and upset Holly. i know six ways to break a man’s spine, which is about as much power as i need, she replied. most men don’t even have six spines.
I would rather have you on my side than all the evil magicians :) Holly told her. We will bring the murderer to justice and then ride off together on Princess Zelda. Or her much-larger cousin.
Angela hummed drowsily to herself, feeling warm and unaccountably safe. it’s a - she deleted a word - plan. though I’d settle for riding off on your motorbike in a pinch.
When Holly replied a few minutes later, the phone’s chime was not enough to reverse her slide into slumber.
###
At the top of the hill, Jared lay awake and felt the warmth of Kami’s sleeping mind lapping against his own. He watched the shadows of the ceiling and wondered how many more nights he would have that comfort, though in his heart he knew the answer. Not enough.
Chapter Twenty Eight and Three Quarters:
Through the merest hint of a sliver of an eye, Angela made out the numbers on her alarm clock: 2:17 a.m. It was not an hour with which she had previous acquaintance, and now that she was finally experiencing it, she found it as deeply unpleasant as she had always imagined it would be. But sleep, her oldest, most dependable friend, was deserting her, driven away by a terrible new foe: magic. Certainly she had once been a little girl who longed for the ability to wave a wand and change people into pigs or banish them to some faraway place from which they might never return, but actual magic (as Angela could have predicted) turned out to be nowhere near so nice. Instead it meant dead girls and her best friend having a crazy stalker boy talking to her in her head, and being awake at times no Montgomery was meant to see, worrying.
Who knew how often magicians would kill, once they had started? Kami was safe, for now - otherwise Jared would be pounding on Angela’s door or setting large portions of the town on fire - and Rusty was home where she could protect him, but there were others. There was Holly, for instance, who had already been attacked once, and whose family could not necessarily be relied upon. Who could at that very moment be bleeding out in a horrid hut in the woods full of splinters and mold. The thought seemed uncharitable - Holly had after all been able to save herself once already and should perhaps be given more credit - but people had let Angela down before and, as the numbers on her alarm clock grew even more depressing, she was unable to banish the image entirely.
Eventually she gave in and heaved an arm toward the nightstand in search of her phone. She hated texting - typing out words was an unreasonable amount of effort even when it could be divided between all ten fingers - but anything was better than lying awake like a common insomniac.
everyone still un-murdered on your end? she sent. Only then did her under-rested brain inform her that Holly could well be asleep (as all reasonable people should be), and that empirically speaking, not-texting-back due to being asleep was quite difficult to differentiate from not-texting-back due to being dead.
But a minute later her fears about Holly’s reasonableness were proved baseless as her phone chirped with an incoming message. Haven’t even had to use any more shoes. And then: I just woke up from a dream where I could hear Princess Zelda’s voice in my head, but all she ever said was ‘Blood! Blood! Blood!’
Angela, taking this as further proof that imaginary friends were not to be trusted, felt pleased with herself for never having had one. and that was out of character? she inquired.
Course it was. She used to like tea parties & flower chains & swimming. We did cross-species water ballet.
Angela relaxed into her pillows and smiled. bet you were a disgustingly adorable child
& you were probably a beautiful little monster. Did you have an imaginary friend?
no, when i was 7 my best friend was my sleeping bag, i took it everywhere Angela lay the phone down next to her and hitched her quilt up over her shoulders, fondly remembering the soft, dark depths of the sleeping bag and the hundreds of happy hours they had spent together.
After a pause during which Angela’s eyelids began to drift shut, her phone chirped again. I liked magic better when it was in books, Holly had written. You never bother imagining how unsettling it all is when it’s the other, creepier people with the crazy powers.
Angela felt that magic could use a good punch in the face if it thought it could both keep her awake and upset Holly. i know six ways to break a man’s spine, which is about as much power as i need, she replied. most men don’t even have six spines.
I would rather have you on my side than all the evil magicians :) Holly told her. We will bring the murderer to justice and then ride off together on Princess Zelda. Or her much-larger cousin.
Angela hummed drowsily to herself, feeling warm and unaccountably safe. it’s a - she deleted a word - plan. though I’d settle for riding off on your motorbike in a pinch.
When Holly replied a few minutes later, the phone’s chime was not enough to reverse her slide into slumber.
###
At the top of the hill, Jared lay awake and felt the warmth of Kami’s sleeping mind lapping against his own. He watched the shadows of the ceiling and wondered how many more nights he would have that comfort, though in his heart he knew the answer. Not enough.