“He looked at the boy with the knife to his throat, the boy whose black eyelashes feathered down against his cheekbones as he glanced away from Kit, and he felt something like a shock of recognition pass through him.
He thought, Howbeautiful.”
“Ty raised his head. Kit got a quick flash of the color of his eyes: true gray, that gray that was almost silver.”
“Ty smiled. It was a genuine, light-up-your-face-type smile, and it made Kit remember the first time he’d met Ty. Ty hadn’t been sitting on him then, but he had been holding a dagger to Kit’s throat. Kit had looked at him and forgotten the knife and thought, Beautiful.”
“Ty laughed. The salt air had tangled his arrow-straight black hair, and his eyes glowed like the moonlight on the water. Kit just stared, unable to think of anything else clever to say, as Ty gently placed the starfish back in its tide pool.”
“Ty climbed up onto the porch beside Kit and sat down. He smelled faintly of desert, sand and sage. Kit thought of the way he’d liked the sound of Ty’s voice: It was rare to hear someone get that kind of sincere pleasure out of simply sharing information.”
“Ty shook his head again. His black hair was sticking to his forehead. Kit frowned. He wanted to grab Ty and drag him out of the Market to somewhere it would be calm and quiet. He remembered Ty saying that he hated crowds, that the sheer noise and confusion was “like broken glass in my head.”
“Ty was leaning forward, his arms clasping his body tightly. Kit wanted to reach out, wanted to put his hands on Ty, wanted to tell him it would be all right, communicate it in a way that startled him.”
“He looked anxious, the shadows under his eyes more pronounced. Kit wanted to go across the table and put his arms around Ty the way he had the night before, on the roof. He felt intensely protective of the other boy, in a way that was strange and unnerving. He’d cared about people before, mostly his father, but he’d never wanted to protect them. He wanted to kill anyone who would try to hurt Ty. It was a very peculiar feeling.”
“Ty smiled, and despite everything that was happening, it made Kit want to smile, too.”
“He knew he ought to feel exhausted, but there was something about Ty’s energy, the brightness and concentration of his focus, that worked on Kit like caffeine. It woke him up inside with a sense of promise, as if the moments in front of him suddenly held endless possibilities.”
“Your whole family would miss you,” said Kit, “and I would miss you.”
I learned not to trust people; I learned not to believe what they say but to watch what they do. I learned to suspect that everyone is capable of living a lie. I came to believe that other people - even when you think you know them well - are ultimately unknowable.