Miss K lifts the wicker chair as easily as a glass of port.

She levitates it to the ceiling, spins it right then left, then lowers it between the paperbacks without straining a muscle, which she has very little of.

"Now, I want you to try it, Ivy," she says, as she relaxes against her headboard. "For an object this size, you'll have to do more than tease your magic out. I want you to let your emotions help you, preferably a strong one."

I glance around the room at the framed embroideries, antique perfume bottles, and fragile trinkets, one of them from my mother. "Are you sure you trust me with your furniture, Miss K? The largest object I've levitated is Uncle Francis's workshop stool. I don't think I'm ready to move a heavy chair in a room full of precious heirlooms."

"You're just levitating it, not dancing with it, dear."

Kitty giggles from the umbrella chair. She was invited to 'sit in' on my lesson to give her ten-year-old opinion. I'm not so much worried about her opinion as I am about her blabbing to Della if I smash something.

I block out the distraction of their scrutinizing stares as magic flows into my hands like a swift running stream. I don't even have to use a strong emotion, although I have plenty to choose from. Before I know it, I'm warm and tingly and ready to go. I visualize the chair rising off the ground and the first thing to fly is the seat cushion. It whizzes over Kitty's head and thumps against the wall behind her.

"Sorry. I thought it was attached," I say.

Kitty raises her eyebrows but she can't hide the smile on her face. The chair rattles against the wall as I extract it from between the leaning towers of paperbacks. It's hard work, and my arm muscles clench like I'm actually picking up the chair. As I strain, I'm reminded of the time I had to pick up Eric after the landslide buried him, but I quickly push away the thought when I remember how lifeless he was, like this chair.

"Excellent," Miss K gushes. "How do you feel?"

"Like I'm holding the chair in my arms. Should it feel that heavy?"

"It will get lighter once you find your balance. See how long you can hold it there. This kind of practice will help you control your magic when you need to use more of it."

Fatigue sets in as she talks, and the chair wobbles and smacks the wall. If I wait until I'm spent, the towers will never survive. I lower my hands and the chair slides back down, taking only one paperback with it. Not bad for my first time.

"That was close," I say, shaking the numbness out of my fingers.

"Good effort, Ivy. Please, try again." Miss K says, smiling politely. She doesn't look as impressed as I am.

The elder offers little reprieve over the next half hour. She keeps me lifting, lowering, hovering, and guiding objects to different locations in the room until she releases me with a wave. I collapse into a chair like a tent after a tornado.

"You've improved since this morning, Ivy," she says. "I couldn't be more pleased. And, as I watched you practice with such determination, I was reminded that I wanted to give you something." She points to a shelf next to the window. "There's a worry doll wearing a red felt dress sitting up there. It was made by your mother when she was just seven years old. She was very good with her hands, even then."

Of course, it had to be a worry doll. Mom made them to sell at the farmer's market. I remember her hunching over her craft table, folding pipe cleaners and wrapping yarn. My legs have trouble carrying me over to it, probably on account of all the furniture I just moved, but maybe for another reason. The shelf happens to contain an extensive collection of dolls in every size, color, and dress pattern, but I recognize the worry doll right away. It isn't as fancy as the ones I remember Mom making to sell, but, at age seven, she was probably just learning how to make them. My throat tightens as I reach up and wrap my fingers around the tiny figure. It seems unreal to hold something that had been in Mom's hands.

"I used to have one of her worry dolls," I say, although I only hear the words in my head. "She made it for me when I was five. I named her Maya. She had brown hair and wore a blue felt dress. Her head was wrapped in a strip of lime green cloth because it was my favorite color. I kept that doll in my backpack the whole time we were on the run. Now, she sleeps with Mom under the lava."

I hadn't meant to ramble, but my speech brings on a quiet that falls like a fart at a funeral, as Grandpa Floyd would say. I walk over to Miss K, keeping my head down so I don't have to meet anyone's eyes, since mine are watering. Her gift is more than I could ever repay. But what will Clove say when she sees it? The doll is no different than the embroidered pillow with the fancy 'D'. I can't tell Clove that Miss K knew my mom. She'd think I was lying, or Adeline would convince her that I'm lying. She'll accuse me of being Miss K's new favorite.

"I really love it," I say, blowing a bit of dust off the doll's yarn head. "But, to be honest, if Clove found out you gave this to me, she'd probably hate me forever. She thinks you like Della better than everyone else because you gave her an embroidered pillow with her initial on it."

You idiot, Ivy. Way to blab in front of Kitty.

I glance at Kitty, ready for the glare, but she's rubbing her eyes. Is she wiping tears out of them?

"I understand your apprehension," Miss K says. "Would it be better if you left it with me? You can always come in and hold it whenever you're missing your mom."

I bite my lip and walk it back to the shelf before I change my mind. Actually, I wish I'd never seen it.

Liar.

Kitty gets up from the umbrella chair and walks over to inspect the worry doll. Her eyes are definitely wet. "It's okay to feel sad about your mom, Ivy. Whenever I miss my mom, I look at her picture and listen to the music box she gave Grandma when she was a little girl." She points to the gem-encrusted music box sitting next to an empty wine glass on Miss K's nightstand. "Sometimes I pretend it's her singing to me. She had a beautiful voice."

Kitty glances at her grandma, every emotion clear on her youthful face. She rushes over to the bed and dives on, burying her head in the pillows. Miss K pats her back and whispers her sympathies.

"Thanks for the lesson," I say, because everybody is having a hard time not crying and I should go. "And thanks for letting me stay here. I never thought I'd find a place where I felt at home."

I leave the warmth of Miss K's room and climb the stairs. I'm exhausted and Clove should be too. Hopefully, she won't want to share her exploits with me. What I really need is an evening of friendly conversation. What I'm greeted with is Clove, Jessie and Adeline sitting on Clove's bed having some kind of powwow. I almost back out and give the excuse that I need to use the bathroom, but I'm not an idiot. I can't hide in the stupid bathroom. I sit in Clove's chair and let them glare at me. You'd think I'd taken a basket of kittens to the river and drown them. Clove's bed sheets are piled next to her dresser. Knowing I won't be sleeping on sheets stained with...whatever, makes me feel a little better, although her accusatory gaze has me thinking I might need to find another bed to sleep in.

"I've noticed you're spending a lot of time with Miss K lately," Clove says finally, blinking her movie star eyes at me. "I guess she's found a new favorite."

"No, Clove. That's not it at all."

"What is it, then? Enlighten us," she says.

Damn. Why didn't I plan ahead? Where's a worry doll when you need one?

"It has to do with Della. Miss K wants me to work harder at being friendly to her. We also talked about my role here and when I'd start...entertaining." I make it sound like they're getting privileged information, like Miss K is lecturing me, not playing checkers with me.

Jessie nudges Clove. "I knew it had something to do with Della. You owe me five candy corns."

"If you recall, it was me who said it had something to do with Ivy getting busy, now that she's broken in." Clove offers me a half smile, like she's letting me off the hook. I don't feel reassured. "You still haven't shared any details with us about your exploits with Captain Scavenger. It's part of the gig, you know. We share ours with you and vice versa."

"You don't have to share your exploits with me," I say. "I've got a good imagination."

That didn't come out right.

"What's the matter? Are you squeamish of a little fucking?" Adeline finally finds her voice. Her angry voice. "I'm getting really annoyed with your goody two shoes attitude and your sob story about losing your virginity to a stranger. You're living in a whorehouse for Chrissakes. You need to start acting like a whore."

"Do you have to put it so bluntly, Adeline? It makes me feel cheap," Jessie says.

"We are cheap! And replaceable. We're cheap, replaceable whores who fuck strangers to stay alive!"

"Jesus, Adeline. Announce it to the whole fucking world why don't you?" Jessie's face burns red as she walks to the door, glancing over the balcony. Adeline isn't deterred.

"What world?" she growls. "This stupid mountain we're stuck on? There's nothing else out there. This whorehouse is our world. And guys come in here to get their rocks off and pretend we give a shit about them. But every now and then..." She pauses to catch her breath, sounding like she's on the verge of crying. "Every now and then, a guy will decide he likes you, and he'll keep coming back to you until you're not strangers anymore. It doesn't matter that he's an asshole to other people. If he's decent in the sack and you have fun together, that's the best you can hope for." She glares at me with venom in her eyes.

"Adeline, I'm sorry about what happened with Rake," I say, because I know exactly who she's talking about. "You have to believe that I didn't ask for that."

"I don't have to believe anything!" she yells, like we're all deaf. "There are no rules anymore. Do you know I haven't stepped foot outside this house since I got here. I'm a prisoner on a planet that might swallow me any minute."

Adeline trembles like a fish on a pole and Clove scoots closer to her, patting her hand. "There haven't been any quakes here in over a year, Addie. It's your choice to stay cooped up inside the house. Ben and Mitch have asked you plenty of times to go to the square."

"The square is a dump. The whole outpost is a dump. And the ocean keeps creeping up the mountain. One of these days it's going to be at our doorstep."

"I heard the water level has stabilized," Jessie says, smiling at Adeline in spite of her friend's current belligerent state. "I heard it from a guy who used to be an oceanographer."

Adeline stands and wipes her arm across her face, leaving a wet trail on her skin. "At least that's the story he told you while he was fucking you. Don't believe anything those fools tell you. They're all lies. Life is one big lie." She storms out of the room, stomping all the way down the stairs to let the house know she's pissed off.

Jessie shakes her head at the sound of Adeline's slamming door. "I think she fastened her bra too tight this morning. It's cut off the circulation to her brain."

"She probably just needs a couple days off," Clove says, as she starts unpinning her twist.

Jessie covers her mouth with her hand, offering a fake yawn. "Yep. That's got to be it. I'll mention it to her in the morning. I'm going to call it a day. Pleasant dreams, girls."

I move from the hot seat over to Clove's bed, where she has started a pile of bobby pins. "What's going on with Adeline? Was she really that hung up on Rake?"

"It's not Rake. She's been a little off since she got here. Her entire family was buried under the landslide that nearly killed her. We've all had our brains scrambled. Some of us just handle the nightmares better than others. It really does help to talk about stuff, Ivy. Maybe someday you'll be able to share the demons that haunt you. And if you don't feel comfortable sharing them with us, the guys can be good listeners too."

Clove tries to look sympathetic but it's her showbiz face. Is that her defense? Is this an act for her? A performance? She scoops up the bobby pins and walks to her dresser, depositing them in the top drawer. I can tell she's bugged at me for not baring my soul about my magic night with Bastian, but the girl hasn't shared one thing with me. Does she even take her own advice? Maybe she doesn't trust me yet. Maybe I need to go first. The magic of that night has worn off anyway.

"Will you promise not to say anything to Bastian if I tell you what happened?" I say, before I can talk myself out of it. "He'll probably never speak to me again."

Clove nods and smiles as she changes from a royal blue, scoop-back dress into her nightgown. "I won't even tell the other girls if you don't want me to. Actually, that's a lie. I'll have to tell them. Or you can do it if you want to." She plops onto the bed, tucking her feet under her. "And don't worry about Bastian, he probably thinks you've already spilled your guts."

Ugh.

"I'm not sure where to start. What do you want to know?"

"Start with kissing," she says. "Is he a good kisser? I don't usually let guys kiss me on the lips. Too personal. But since you two already had a history..."

She raises her eyebrows, probably anticipating a story of romance, while I'm feeling the sting of Bastian's rejection like it's happening all over again. Of all the questions she could have asked, why that one?

"Actually, he never kissed me on the lips, just other places."

"Really? That's interesting." She looks at me and pouts. Does she feel sorry for me? "So, where else did he kiss you?"

"Pretty much everywhere, except the most private part." I glance down at my lap and she nods her understanding.

"What was your favorite place?"

"Probably the neck. He spent a lot of time kissing my arms and neck."

"That's so romantic, like eighteenth century shit. Look, I've got chills." She holds her arms out to show me the goose bumps. "Did he undress you or did you undress yourself?"

"He undressed me. I was too nervous to do it myself."

"You'll get over that. Some guys like it when you undress in front of them. So, what happened after he undressed you? Did he just get down to business or was there foreplay?"

"You mean, like kissing?"

"Kissing, touching, licking, sucking..."

"Yes," I say, before she can add to the list. "But he did most of it."

"And...did you like it?"

"Yes, although I can't imagine a stranger doing those things to me."

"But Bastian is practically a stranger to you. What makes him different?" She doesn't wait for an answer. "Don't get hung up on him, Ivy. It's not conducive to our line of work. Just be grateful you had a decent guy to help you through your first time and move on."

There she is again, the Clove who acts like she's immune to feelings. Maybe I don't want to move on. Maybe I want to get hung up on Bastian. I just need to figure out how to get him hung up on me.

"What kinds of things do guys like, Clove, as far as sex?" I know I'm crossing into embarrassing territory, but how else am I going to desensitize myself?

"Sex is a broad topic, and guys have different preferences, but I've yet to meet a guy who doesn't like a blow job. And it really gets them off when you swallow. Personally, I'm not worried about impressing anyone. I usually go outside and spit over the balcony. Of course, that's only for the guys I know. The others don't even get the option. Didn't Bastian ask you for one?"

I block the image of Clove hanging over the railing spewing into the bushes as my cheeks burn like a kettle on the coals. "No. He probably figured it would be too much for my first time. I got a little woozy after...after we had sex. That was humiliating."

Like this conversation.

"Don't worry about it. Bastian was a virgin once too. If you ever get a chance to hook up with him again, go down on him. It's probably why he stayed with Della so long. I can't think of any other reason why he'd want to hang around that witch." She fluffs her pillow and lies down. "Don't you feel better now that you got that off your chest? We're all here for you. If you ever need any pointers, you can ask us for advice. We've done it all."

Clove appears to be satisfied with my story and I stand to get undressed, taking advantage of the lantern before lights out. Does Della really give Bastian blow jobs to keep him around? Will it work for me? I've never done it before and the thought makes me shiver. Is he worth trying to persuade with sex? I'm still pissed at him. Sadly, it doesn't keep out the memories of his bare chest pressed against my bare chest and his soft mouth whispering into my ear, telling me my skin tastes like candy. I need to hold onto those memories and let them fuel me until I see him again. Then I'll remind him how sweet I taste.

PLAYLIST SONG: Plan A by The Dandy Warhols