A Fractured Light (Beautiful Dark)

moment. But something wasn’t working. Instead of Asher’s face, I saw Devin, kissing me hard, running his fingers down my arms. . . .
    “Eat my powder, Skye,” Ellie called, sailing ahead of me.
    “Not likely!” I shouted. But it was too late. I’d never be able to catch up to her. I saw clouds rolling in, dark and ominous. Reminding me that if I lost focus for one fraction of a second, I could lose everything.
    And when it was a matter of life or death, losing everything wasn’t how you wanted things to end.
    At the finish, Ellie whooped, pulling up her goggles and throwing her fists in the air.
    “Good job, El!” my teammates called from where they were watching. God, why were they so obvious about picking sides? I swished over the finish and scrunched to a stop on the hard snow, panting.
    “Nice job, Skye,” Ellie said, skiing up to me. “Looks like you may have some competition after all.”
    “Really?” I asked, looking behind me. “Where?”
    She huffed and skied off to rejoin the team.
    I threw my head back and tried to get a grip on the rolling clouds, but they kept churning above me, closing in. It started to snow. Great , I thought.
    The last race of the season was five days away. And I was determined to win it. Not only that, I was going to control my dark powers once and for all.
     
    After practice, Aunt Jo sat with me while I ate lunch and griped about the team. “I don’t know why they hate me now,” I mumbled through bites of leftover pasta.
    “People hate what they think is a threat,” Aunt Jo said in an annoyingly rational voice.
    “Do you have a masters in I’m Always Right or something?”
    She laughed. “No, Skye, but you left the team—that was something you chose to do. You left them. Then you swoop back in and expect that everything is going to go back to normal. But it takes time for that to happen.” The subtext of her little speech was crystal clear. My life wasn’t just waiting for me with open arms. I had to work at regaining everyone’s trust. She leaned across the table and took my hand, fork and all. “Give them time,” she said. “They won’t hate you forever.” I sank back into my chair and polished off the rest of the pasta.
    “Whatever happened to Devin, Skye?” she asked, catching me off-guard. “He was one of the two new guys you were spending time with, wasn’t he?”
    “He was,” I said. He still is , I wanted to add. But I kept that to myself. Cassie would yell at me. Dan would take Cassie’s side. And Asher—
    Asher would never look at me again.
    What had happened in the woods the night before—that could never happen again. Whatever I had once wondered about between me and Devin was in the past. If I tried to revive it now, it would only lead to trouble. And trouble was what I was trying so hard to avoid.
    “Which one was he again? Snowball Fight?”
    “Yes.” I twirled my fork along my empty plate, not offering any more information.
    “Got it,” Aunt Jo said, taking the hint. “Shutting up now.” We sat in silence for a few seconds. “That Asher’s pretty cute, though.” She frowned to herself. “He’s charming, and he knows it. The flowers . . . and the sweater . . .”
    “He just wanted to impress you,” I said. “And can you blame him? You glared at him all night and barely gave him a chance!”
    “He’s your boyfriend! Of course I’m going to be judgmental. I’m not going to tell you what to do, but I want what’s best for you.”
    “And you don’t think he is?”
    “He’s just so charming, Skye. Don’t let him pull you along with whatever he has planned.”
    “Who said I am?” I felt my temper rising, and tried to calm my mind, focus my emotions. Keep control , I told myself. Don’t let go.
    “No one, but I see the way you are with him. You’d do anything for him. Just make sure it’s the right thing.” She stood up.
    “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said hotly.
    “Then why are you getting so defensive?” Aunt Jo crossed her arms and gave me a pointed look. “Why would you care if there wasn’t a kernel of truth to it?”
    I took a few deep breaths and tried to keep my voice as calm as possible as I said, “I’d rather be in love and make the wrong choice once in a while than always be right and be alone.” I pushed my chair back and walked out onto the deck. I felt the slight tug of guilt at what I’d said, but I didn’t dare turn around and admit defeat. How