Fated

shoes—a pair of soft black ankle boots I picked up in Spain—knowing I should make a stab at doing my homework but ruling it out just as quickly. Fact is, I’ve already read the assigned book for English, and I solved the math equations well before I left class. As far as history and science are concerned, I’m pretty sure I can wing it. Turns out I learned more in Internet school than I realized. Either that or my new school is completely pathetic.
    I haul myself up, lean back against my headboard, and decide to work on something more useful, like magick. Merging my energy with the dream catcher that hangs over the window, focusing hard as I feel the lilt of its feathers, the light sway of its fringe—watching as it lifts itself from the hook, hovers for a moment, and then makes its way toward me …
    “ Nieta ?” Paloma knocks once before opening the door and peering inside, her sudden arrival prompting me to slam the dream catcher between my palms and shove it deep under my pillow where she can’t see it.
    My breath coming too fast, my cheeks flushing red, having no good reason to hide it from her, and yet doing so anyway.
    Though I should’ve known better. Paloma’s gaze is all-seeing. Glancing between the empty hook over the sill and me, she says “So, tell me, how was your first day at school?”
    I sigh. Shake my head. My eyes meeting hers when I say, “Terrible.” Figuring there’s no use lying, no point in pouring a thick coating of sugar over it. But just after I’ve said it, I realize the word may have been a bit overstated. It wasn’t all bad. While Xotichl and Auden were definitely a little heavy on the lovefest—meeting them was still one of the brighter spots.
    The other bright spot was Dace, though I’m not quite ready to admit that—or at least not in that way.
    Paloma sits beside me, the mattress dipping ever so slightly under the weight of her tiny frame. “So, your first day was so horrible you chose to fortify your ego with magick?” She thrusts her hand before me, demanding the return of the dream catcher we both know I hid. And though her words seem judgmental on the surface, her eyes tell a whole other story—they’re brimming with compassion, letting me know she understands all too well.
    I slip my fingers under the pillow and hand over the goods, watching as she moves toward the window and puts the dream catcher back in its place, as I say, “I met Cade. Again.”
    She nods. Flicks a finger against the dream catcher’s fringe, watching it sway back and forth. “And?” She turns to face me.
    “ And, if I didn’t know better, I’d think he was devastatingly handsome and utterly charming. I’d think I was the luckiest girl in the world to have a boy like that notice me. But since I do know better, he just gives me the creeps.”
    “Good.” She nods. “No matter what happens, you must never forget that.”
    I gaze down at my hands. Pick at a loose string on my blanket. “I met Dace too, and he’s just like he is in the dreams. And every time I try to get an impression of him…”
    Paloma returns to the bed, where she sits at the foot.
    “Well, the impression is always … good. It’s the opposite of Cade, and I need to know more about him. We have a class together, so there’s no way to avoid him, though I’m not sure how to handle him.”
    She nods, folds her hands in her lap, eyes flashing when she says, “Dace is not your enemy.” She pauses, allowing the words to sink in. “The reason I warned you about Cade and not Dace is because Cade is the one you must watch. Don’t ever forget that, nieta. And never confuse the two, no matter what.” She rubs her hands over her dress, fidgets with the hem, then after rising from the bed, she heads for the dresser, where she stands before Django’s picture and says, “I didn’t tell you earlier because…”
    I clutch my pillow and wait—wait for something to happen, for some big revelation. But for a while anyway, all I get is a view of her back.
    “They’re only identical on the surface.” She sighs, the sound heavy and deep, belying some hidden meaning she’s not sure she’ll reveal. “They were raised separately, didn’t meet until their first year of high school. Cade grew up with his father, Leandro—while Dace was raised by his mother, Chepi. They’ve had very different upbringings, which makes for very different views of the world.”
    “Why were they raised separately? Why didn’t