The Unready Queen, стр. 8
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,” Mrs. Silva called, walking up the center aisle.
“Good morning, Mrs. Silva,” the class replied as one.
“Take your seat, please, Hana. Thank you. Hat off, Oscar. Quiet, everyone. Quiet down. Okay. We will be starting with vocabulary all this week, so please have your workbooks out.”
As the class shuffled into their places, Tinn glanced down at his fingers. The ink had made a jet-black stain about the size of a half-dollar. He blew on it to dry it.
“Page seven, please, everyone,” announced Mrs. Silva. “Are we all there? Good. Eunice, would you read the instructions at the top of the page, please?”
Tinn flipped to page seven—but then froze, staring at his hand again. The mark on his fingers had spread halfway down his palm. Ugh. How? It had been only the smallest drop of ink. As he stared, the blackness crept farther, and with it grew a cold lump in Tinn’s chest. That wasn’t ink—his skin was changing.
No, no, no, he thought. Not here. Not now.
“Very good. Thank you, Eunice,” Mrs. Silva said. “The first word is abate. Oscar, will you please read the definition of abate out loud for the class?”
Please stop. Please stop. Please stop, Tinn urged the stain, but the darkness continued expanding, wrapping around Tinn’s fingers like an inky glove. He could feel the magic prickling across the back of his hand. This can’t be happening. He stuffed his arm under his desk. His heart was pounding. Evie glanced over at him and Tinn felt sick. Had she seen? Had anybody seen? Why had he sat at the front of the class? This was a terrible idea. He needed to get out.
“Thank you, Oscar. Very good. The next word is aberration. Let’s see. Tinn?”
“Huh? What?” Tinn’s face felt clammy. Was it changing? Was his skin transforming right in front of his teacher, turning into shadowy obsidian like it had on that horrible night in the forest? It was, wasn’t it? She was staring right at him.
“Aberration, Mr. Burton. If you don’t mind.” Mrs. Silva tapped his workbook. “Page seven.”
“I—” The classroom was too hot and the walls were starting to spin. “I—” Everyone was definitely staring now. “I need to—bathroom. Please. I need to go to the bathroom. Now.” He stumbled out of his desk, stuffing the treacherous hand under his armpit as he raced out of the room.
THREE
Tinn took deep breaths as he slid into the gap between the old supply shed and the back wall of the schoolhouse. He slumped down with his back against the cold bricks. The air was cool and earthy, and tall tufts of grass and wild daisies had grown up enough on either side to provide a natural blind in case any passersby should glance in his direction. He could still hear the quiet murmur of class in session on the other side of the wall, but it sounded far away, like it was somebody else’s world and not his. Tinn put his head on his knees and tried not to cry.
Why was this happening now? For weeks after he had learned he was a changeling, Tinn had tried to do magic. He had fantasized about what it might be like to control it. He had stared at his face in the mirror and concentrated with all his might. In the beginning, nothing had happened. Now and then he had managed a glimmer of a tint to his hair or a hint of color in his cheeks—nothing like the wild, uncontrollable changes that had taken over his whole body in the Deep Dark. He might have quit trying entirely except that Cole told him that when he was sleeping, sometimes his ears went pointy or his toes blended in with the bedsheets. This news had made Tinn equal parts excited and nervous.
His mother had allowed him to visit the goblins a handful of times during the summer, and with Kull’s help, Tinn had twice managed to make his face go all green, but it had been like flexing a weak muscle. The moment he stopped concentrating, he went back to looking like himself.
The upside had been that, in the absence of any noticeable magic, his life had been able to remain more or less the same. He had been able to walk down the street with his family and start school in the fall like nothing had changed.
Except that it had changed.
Something inside him had shifted, and he couldn’t put it back. After thirteen years of neighbors whispering about a monster hiding among them, Tinn’s secret was about to become everybody’s news. His breath came in shallow gulps. Evie was going to find out. He would give anything not to let Evie find out.
He lifted his head. The prickling feeling had stopped. Maybe it was over. Tinn glanced down at his hands. The left was its usual pale pink, but the right was now so dark it didn’t even look real. It looked like a hand-shaped hole in the universe. He felt ill.
The back door of the schoolhouse opened, and Tinn stuffed both hands into his lap and tried to make himself as small as possible. Footsteps neared the shed. They paused.
Please be Cole. Please be Cole.
“Tinn?” It was Evie Warner.
Tinn’s stomach attempted to fold itself gracelessly into a paper butterfly.
“Oh.” Tinn’s mouth was bone-dry. “Hi.”
Evie pushed past the tall grass and squeezed in behind the shed.
“Don’t come over. I’m . . . I’m sick. You’ll catch it.”
“No, you’re not,” said Evie.
Tinn swallowed. “I might be.” With the way his stomach was churning, it was only half a lie. He put his head between his knees.
“It’s okay,” said Evie.
“It’s really not,” said Tinn. “You don’t understand.”
“That’s true.” Evie was quiet for a few seconds. “Do you remember last year, when I was new? Do you remember the first time we talked back here?”
Tinn took a deep breath. “Egg toss,” he said.
“Egg toss,” agreed Evie.
“We lost,” said Tinn.
“We played,” she said. “You played. With me.”
“You didn’t want