Infinity Son Adam Silvera (classic books for 12 year olds .txt) 📖

The girl doesn’t move out of the way, and she phases through the car as if she’s nothing but wind.

“Please, please, this might be our only chance to see what she knows!” Maribelle’s eyes fill with more and more tears the farther we get from the block. “She could clear our parents’ names!”

Iris groans in pain. “I know you have no problem watching me die, but we have two rescues who’ve survived not one but two fights against specters today. It’s imperative that we get them to Nova.”

“What’s Nova?” Brighton asks.

“Our headquarters,” Iris says. “We have a lot to catch you up on, Emil.”

ThirteenNova

EMIL

The world passes by in blurs as we drive to Nova. My nausea is next level with Atlas driving like enforcers are tailing us. If Iris wasn’t so obviously doing her best to not howl in agony, I would’ve begged to pull over to force myself to throw up. I need this painful stretch of a day to be over already. But even as we get closer to Nova, I have a feeling the Spell Walkers are pushing me deeper into the chaos, not protecting me from it.

Maribelle is wrapping up a call with Wesley Young as we enter Brooklyn, going in on him for not making it to the mission to retrieve me on time. She instructs him to pick up Ma from the hospital and get back quickly before hanging up to make another call. She lets someone at the haven know that Iris was wounded by Stanton’s basilisk acid and will be in serious need of healing. If someone as powerful as Iris is fading in and out like this with her spell-proof skin, I would’ve been a goner. It’s hard to stomach a stranger getting hurt for me.

We pull into the parking lot of a lively gas station in Bed-Stuy. Just as I’m starting to feel nervous someone will recognize me, a massive flash swallows us whole. I shout and shield my eyes, bracing for an explosion.

“It was only an illusion,” Atlas says.

I open my eyes, and the gas station behind us is now abandoned and run-down with shattered doors, as if it’s been looted. “So it’s safe?”

“To the best of our available abilities,” Atlas says.

“One day we’ll find a solution where we don’t have to worry about sellouts,” Maribelle says.

Iris groans as she presses her jacket against her wound. “Don’t restart this fight when my shoulder is literally melting, Maribelle.”

“I’m not going to let you forget how three of our people died because you swore a superintendent would rather do the right thing than be rich,” Maribelle says. “That wouldn’t have happened if I was in charge.”

“But you’re not, and everyone is thanking all the stars for that one.”

I don’t know a damn thing about the history between Maribelle and Iris, but I would’ve expected the daughters of Spell Walkers to be there for each other during their time of grief. Not going to lie, it’s hard holding hope in a team with this kind of energy.

We drive up a hill and park in front of a two-story building where there’s a dangling sign for Nova Grace Elementary School for Celestials. I’ve long outgrown expecting the Spell Walkers’ hiding spot to be a floating structure, but I still expected it to have a little more style, like some astronomy skyscraper with all the latest tech. It’s all good; a school where celestials are able to practice their gleamcraft a little more freely is going to be its own sight to behold.

Everyone gets out of the car, and as I enter Nova, I truly feel like a character straight out of a fantasy book who discovers he’s special and is now going to attend a school to hone his powers. Except there’s nothing remarkably fantastical such as moving staircases or glowing wells to greet me. The hallway appears to be like any other school with a little celestial flair: posters on mindfulness when it comes to using gleamcraft in public, reminders on when to wear half capes, sign-up sheets for after-school training with savants, and more of that nature.

A young woman with brown skin and shoulder-length black hair runs out of the auditorium aiming a wand that glistens with the same rose quartz gems found in her necklace. “Password.”

Atlas turns to Maribelle. “You have it, right?”

“No, we were all in a rush to save Emil,” Maribelle says. She points at Iris. “Your girlfriend is in pain, Eva. You might want to get to work.”

“Password,” Eva says again as the tip of the wand glows. Her hand is shaking, and she doesn’t take her teary eyes off Iris. “Give me the password. Come on, this is serious.”

“Feather of fire,” Iris breathes as she sinks to her knees.

Eva throws down her wand and is immediately at Iris’s side, inspecting her wound.

“Maybe take them to their room?” Atlas asks.

“Good call,” Maribelle says before instructing us to follow her, but we continue to stare in wonder. “Trust me. You don’t want to stick around. Healing isn’t pretty.”

We keep peeking over our shoulders and can only make out Eva leaning over Iris with her hands pressed against the wound. As we head up the steps, screams echo through the hall. It reminds me of Ma’s cries when she learned Abuelita passed; I’ve never been able to get that out of my head. “Is Iris okay?”

“Iris will be,” Maribelle says.

“What was the holdup with the passwords?” Brighton asks.

“Precaution. We’ve been betrayed a couple of times.”

As we walk down the hall, Maribelle tells us the story of how their West Harlem haven was infiltrated because of a trio of celestials who were in their care. They were so paranoid about getting caught and detained that they signed up to become enforcers instead who were rewarded with high salaries and health insurance. To prove their loyalty, they exposed the haven. I don’t understand celestials who become bodyguards for politicians who are campaigning against