“Persephone said, “What an unpleasant young man.”Calla let the curtains drift shut. She remarked, “I got his license plate number.”“I hope he never finds what he’s looking for,” Maura said.Retrieving her two cards from the table, Persephone said, a little regretfully, “He’s trying awfully hard. I rather think he’ll find something.”Maura whirled toward Blue. “Blue, if you ever see that man again, you just walk the other way.”“No,” Calla corrected. “Kick him in the nuts. Then run the other way.”

“Maura whirled towards Blue. "Blue, if you ever see that man again, you just walk the other way.""No," Calla corrected. "Kick him in the nuts. Then run the other way.”

“So I take it you and Gansey get along, then?” Maura’s expression was annoyingly knowing.“Mom.”“Orla told me about his muscle car,” Maura continued. Her voice was still angry and artificially bright. The fact that Blue was well aware that she’d earned it made the sting of it even worse. “You aren’t planning on kissing him, are you?”“Mom, that will never happen,” Blue assured her. “You did meet him, didn’t you?”“I wasn’t sure if driving an old, loud Camaro was the male equivalent of shredding your T-shirts and gluing cardboard trees to your bedroom walls.”“Trust me,” Blue said. “Gansey and I are nothing like each other. And they aren’t cardboard. They’re repurposed canvas.”“The environment breathes a sigh of relief.” Maura attempted another sip of her drink; wrinkling her nose, she shot a glare at Persephone. Persephone looked martyred. After a pause, Maura noted, in a slightly softer voice, “I’m not entirely happy about you’re getting in a car without air bags.”“Our car doesn’t have air bags,” Blue pointed out.Maura picked a long strand of Persephone’s hair from the rim of her glass. “Yes, but you always take your bike.”Blue stood up. She suspected that the green fuzz of the sofa was now adhered to the back of her leggings. “Can I go now? Am I in trouble?”“You are in trouble. I told you to stay away from him and you didn’t,” Maura said. “I just haven’t decided what to do about it yet. My feelings are hurt. I’ve consulted with several people who tell me that I’m within my rights to feel hurt. Do teenagers still get grounded? Did that only happen in the eighties?”“I’ll be very angry if you ground me,” Blue said, still wobbly from her mother’s unfamiliar displeasure. “I’ll probably rebel and climb out my window with a bedsheet rope.”Her mother rubbed a hand over her face. Her anger had completely burned itself out. “You’re well into it, aren’t you? That didn’t take long.”“If you don’t tell me not to see them, I don’t have to disobey you,” Blue suggested.“This is what you get, Maura, for using your DNA to make a baby,” Calla said.Maura sighed. “Blue, I know you’re not an idiot. It’s just, sometimes smart people do dumb things.”Calla growled, “Don’t be one of them.”“Persephone?” asked Maura.In her small voice, Persephone said, “I have nothing left to add.” After a moment of consideration, she added, however, “If you are going to punch someone, don’t put your thumb inside your fist. It would be a shame to break it.”“Okay,” Blue said hurriedly. “I’m out.”“You could at least say sorry,” Maura said. “Pretend like I have some power over you.”

“Do you know, it's really hard to be a parent. I blame it on Santa Claus. You spend so long making sure your kid doesn't know he's fake that you can't tell when you're supposed to stop.""Mom, I found you and Calla wrapping my presents when I was, like, six.""It was a metaphor, Blue.""A metaphor's supposed to clarify by providing an example. That didn't clarify.""Do you know what I mean or not?""What you mean is that you're sorry you didn't tell me about Butternut."Maura glowered at the door as if Calla stood behind it. "I wish you wouldn't call him that.""If you'd been the one to tell me about him, then I wouldn't be using what Calla told me.""Fair enough.”

“The best-case scenario here is that you make friends with a boy who's going to die.""Ah," said Calla, in a very, very knowing way. "Now I see.""Don't psychoanalyse me," her mother said."I already have. And I say again, 'ah'.”

“Are you really going to work in that?" Maura asked.Blue looked at her clothing. It involved a few thin layering shirts, including one she had altered using a method called shredding. "What's wrong with it?"Maura shrugged. "Nothing. I always wanted an eccentric daughter. I just never realised how well my evil plans were working.”

“She said, “Do you see how I’m wearing this apron? It means I’m working. For a living.”The unconcerned expression didn’t flag. He said, “I’ll take care of it.”She echoed, “Take care of it?”“Yeah. How much do you make in an hour? I’ll take care of it. And I’ll talk to your manager.”For a moment, Blue was actually lost for words. She had never believed people who claimed to be speechless, but she was. She opened her mouth, and at first, all that came out was air. Then something like the beginning of a laugh. Then finally, she managed to sputter, “I am not a prostitute.”The Aglionby boy appeared puzzled for a long moment, and then realization dawned. “Oh, that was not how I meant it. That is not what I said.”“That is what you said! You think you can just pay me to talk to your friend? Clearly you pay most of your female companions by the hour and don’t know how it works with the real world, but . . . but . . .” Blue remembered that she was working to a point, but now what that point was. Indignation had eliminated all higher functions and all that remained was the desire to slap him. The boy opened his mouth to protest, and her thought came back to her all in a rush. “Most girls, when they’re interested in a guy, will sit with them for free.”To his credit, the Aglionby boy didn’t speak right away. Instead, he thought for a moment and then he said, without heat, “You said you were working for living. I thought it’d be rude to not take that into account. I’m sorry you’re insulted. I see where you’re coming from, but I feel it’s a little unair that you’re not doing the same for me.”“I feel you’re being condescending,” Blue said.In the background, she caught a glimpse of Soldier Boy making a plane of his hand. It was crashing and weaving toward the table surface while Smudgy Boy gulped laughter down. The elegant boy held his palm over his face in exaggerated horror, fingers spread just enough that she could see him wince.“Dear God,” remarked Cell Phone boy. “I don’t know what else to say.”“Sorry,” she recommended.“I said that already.”Blue considered. “Then ‘bye.’”He made a little gesture at his chest that she thought was supposed to mean he was curtsying or bowing or something sarcastically gentleman-like.”