We skipped breakfast and went straight into getaway mode.

I loaded my suitcase into the back of the 4Runner and waited outside, occasionally glancing over my shoulder to make sure the odd truck passing on the main road wasn't Dixon's mom—or a black-and-white cop car. After she basically broke into our house for a business meeting, I didn't trust a soul in this town.

Pine came outside and jogged down the porch steps, hauling a duffle bag full of hand-me-downs from Dr. Jacobs' son over his shoulder. He'd picked out some black athletic shorts and tied his thick ginger hair back into a short, loose ponytail. Had to admit, he cleaned up nice. But I could tell he'd dressed himself, because his red-and-white Glen Rose Tigers jersey was on backwards.

Without football pads, the old uniform should've been baggy. But Pine's big shoulders and barrel chest filled it out. He wasn't that tall, but now that he wasn't hidden under a cape or a blanket, I could tell he was built like a tank.

As he closed in on the car, he must've caught me staring. He looked down at himself, trying to figure out what was wrong. What?

Heat washed up my throat. "Your shirt." I turned and flipped the tag on my tank top. "This thingy goes in the back."

He pulled out the neck of his jersey, puffed his bangs out of his eyes, and frowned. With a grumble, he chunked his duffle into the trunk, then tugged his thick, freckly arms into his sleeves and wrestled the shirt around.

I focused on the ground while he got that, uh, figured out.

A feather tumbled across the drive, marshmallow white with dusty brown bars. I caught it under my shoe and picked it up before it blew away. It was big.

Once Pine finally got his shirt on straight, I showed it to him. "Do you know what this came from?"

Might be hawk. Or owl. He took it from me. Shook his head. I don't know the animals here.

"You can have it if you want."

He ran his fingers up the quill and smoothed the ruffled feather. Thank you. He seemed quieter than usual. Stuck in his head.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

I don't feel good.

"Did you swallow your toothpaste earlier?" I leaned against the car. "Because you're supposed to spit it out."

He rephrased. I don't feel good about letting the Crow walk free.

Couldn't help but notice he didn't answer my question. "Me neither. But if Dixon's mom is behind Crow, and half this town is behind her, we're kind of outnumbered."

Pine closed his hand in a fist. Which is why we have to find him first.

The heavy brow ridge hidden under his bangs intensified his death glare. But in the shadow over his eyes, I noticed a little glimmer of fear.

"I hear you. But I'm with Mom on this one. We need to regroup with my dad and make an actual plan. If we're gonna beat Crow, and all the people who want to keep him alive, we have to be smarter than them." It wasn't until now that I noticed the laces on his sneakers weren't tied—just tucked into his shoes. "Plus, you could use a day to get your footing."

He let out a sigh and slumped against the 4Runner. His weight actually shifted the car a bit.

What I didn't say out loud was that I wasn't even sure we'd be allowed to come back here. As bad as I screwed things up, I kind of wondered if Mom and Dad would even let me out of the house again. Being at the center of so much trouble, I was starting to feel like a bad kid.

The front door opened. Finally. Mom set her suitcase on the porch and let Dr. Jacobs and Martina out before she locked up.

"I'm just as rattled as you are," Dr. Jacobs said. "Christine and I never saw eye-to-eye, but I didn't think . . ." She trailed off. "I wouldn't have invited your father to work with us if I knew about . . ." She stalled again, and this time she sputtered out. It wasn't like her not to have the words.

"No." Mom put a hand on her arm to reassure her. "I know."

"And never Cecelia." Dr. Jacobs lowered her voice, but it was backed with all the intensity of a swear. "Never."

"I just . . ." Mom pulled her keys out of the lock and carried the suitcase down the steps. "You lost your job. I feel like it's all our fault."

I crossed my arms and kept my eyes on the ground. We were here because of my magic. My mistakes. And I couldn't help but think that Mom really meant it was all my fault.

"Don't cry for me," Dr. Jacobs said. "I ain't sorry. I'd rather retire than work for that witch. She's crazier than a jackalope."

"About that." Mom heaved her suitcase into the back of the car. "We should probably compare notes."

"No kidding." Dr. Jacobs reached up and slammed the trunk shut. "I'll call you."

Martina came up to me and Pine. "Hey. Before you go." She pulled a Sharpie out of the pocket of her pajama pants. "Sign my cast?"

After a morning like this I was kind of surprised I could still smile. "Yeah."

I wrote my name in big, loopy cursive and dotted the I with a heart.

"You're unfired, by the way." She took the marker back and capped it. "Not that it makes a difference. You know. Since now we're all fired."

Having the Tenontosaurus fiasco scrubbed from my record should've lifted the tonnage crushing my chest. But after I caused her and Dr. Jacobs so many problems, getting invited back to the lab just swelled the lump in my throat. Even if it was just an honorary thing.

Still, she didn't seem to think I was more trouble than I was worth. And that mattered. A lot. "Thanks," I said.

Dr. Jacobs came up beside Martina. "I don't think Christine actually fired you."

She scoffed. "She'll write me a pink slip as soon as she remembers my name."

"That's what I mean. You could work there forever."

Mom hugged Dr. Jacobs, shook Martina's hand, and opened the driver's side door. "We're outta here."

I popped the backseat open.

Pine climbed in and clasped his hands in his lap like he didn't know where to put them. He tucked his elbows and shoulders tight, all stiff and claustrophobic.

"Well," Martina said, "it was fun while it lasted."

"For sure." I slid in beside Pine and paused with my hand on the open door. "Hey, if you notice anything weird while I'm gone—"

"I'll call." Dr. Jacobs nodded to Mom through the window. "Cross my heart."

Martina flexed her cast, showing off my signature. "Paleo Team sticks together."

I mirrored her fist pump. Really, I was just buying time to loosen my choked-up throat. "Paleo Team forever."

Dr. Jacobs stuck her thumbs in her belt loops. "See you around, sweet pea."

I shut the door and showed Pine how to buckle up. When the 4Runner rumbled to life and rolled forward, he dug his fingernails into the seat and sank back into the cushion like we were pulling Gs.

I bumped his arm and mustered a smile to let him know we weren't about to die. But when I turned for one last look out the rear window, the tears I'd been pushing back welled up full force.

In the driveway, Martina fumbled to light a cigarette. Dr. Jacobs pulled her hat down low over her eyes.

As we pulled onto the main road, I shut my eyes and breathed through a twinge of knife-twisting guilt.

I was leaving this town so much worse than I found it.

***

The next thing I knew, Mom was shouting. "Pine!"

I jolted awake in the backseat. "Huh? What?"

Pine snapped to attention so suddenly he bonked his head against the window. He rubbed his forehead and hissed through his teeth.

"Sorry." Mom caught my eye in the mirror. "He can't hear when you're asleep."

I squinted at her, still bleary-eyed. "Okay?" Why did we have to test that?

We were riding the rollercoaster highways that curved through Dallas, passing historical red-brick buildings, loud billboards, and glassy skyscrapers that caught the sunshine.

Mom glanced over her shoulder. "Pine, sweetie? Are you okay?"

Pine nodded, focused on the skyline outside, but he looked kind of pale. He ran his fingers up and down the feather I gave him, ruffling and smoothing it over and over again. If I didn't know any better, I'd think he was carsick, but I doubted Dramamine would fix whatever he was going through right now.

"We're almost there." Mom took the next exit.

"I thought we were going home," I said.

"Your dad and I decided not to risk it until things cool down." She spun the wheel, turning into the parking lot for a tall hotel. "Plus—neutral ground."

Mom and Dad dropped me off at each other's places all the time, but if they had to spend more than five minutes together, they met up on neutral ground. Restaurants. The park. My school. I guess it was one of the rules that kept their coparenting machine chugging along.

We pulled into one of the parking spaces near the front, and I spotted Dad right away. He sat on a bench under the covered entrance, typing on a tablet, still wearing his slacks and button-down from the clinic.

I threw my seatbelt off and burst out the door. "Dad."

"Cee." He set his tablet aside and met me halfway, and when he caught me in a big hug, he lifted me off my toes. His strong arms squeezed me tight and his beard scratched my cheek. He smelled like coconut oil and beach-themed cologne. "I missed you," he whispered.

Mom came up to meet us, shadowed by Pine. "Hey, Cal."

Dad put me down. He and Mom never hugged anymore, but when they met face-to-face, they always dapped. "How you holding up?" he asked.

"It just gets weirder and weirder." Mom rubbed her neck like she was trying to work out a crick. "Did you bring your work stuff?"

"It's upstairs." He picked up his tablet and finally noticed Pine—who was being awfully quiet. "Hi, there." He held out his hand. "My name is Calvin. I'm Cecelia's dad."

Pine hesitated for a second before placing his feather in Dad's waiting palm.

I really needed to teach him about handshakes.

Dad tried to appreciate the feather for a second before giving it back. "I'm an ear doctor. Evelyn told me you're hard of hearing. Is that right?"

Pine gave him a nod, all yes-sir-no-sir.

"Well, we're checked in. Why don't we head upstairs, and I'll take a look?"

We got our bags and went inside, past the front desk and a wishing fountain in the lobby, and piled into the elevator. I offered to let Pine press the button for our floor.

The second the elevator shifted, he slammed his back up against the wall. He white-knuckled the railing as we rose.

"It's okay," I said. "We're just going up." I had to get better at warning him about this stuff.

Dad led us to a suite with two rooms, one for him and Pine and one for me and Mom. This was gonna be one awkward sleepover.

We went into Dad's room, where he'd already set up some equipment on the desk. He sat in the rolling chair and offered Pine the sofa by the glass door that looked out on the balcony. I sat on the bed while Mom unpacked in the other room.

"Let's take a look." Dad pulled an otoscope out of his bag and peeked into Pine's ear. After a moment he let out a long, low whistle.

I crisscrossed my legs and hugged a pillow in my lap. "What?"

Dad checked the other ear before he set his otoscope aside and rolled his chair to fully face Pine. "Do you spend a lot of time in the water?"

Pine nodded. When we met, he told me he swam almost every night, trying to reach the fires across the ocean.

"Do you get a lot of earaches?" Dad asked.

Pine nodded again, tacking an unspoken heck onto that yes.

Dad leaned over his knees to level with Pine. "You have exostoses. Big ones. Some people call it surfer's ear."

"He's not gonna know what a surfer is," I predicted, just a microsecond before Pine asked, What's a surfer?

"If you spend a lot of time in cold water, your ear bones grow to protect the soft parts that help you hear. The more you swim, the more the bone grows, and the smaller and smaller the opening to your ear gets. That blockage can make it hard for sound to get through. We could break down those growths with surgery"—this time Dad caught himself before Pine asked—"which is where we'd put you to sleep and shave down the bone with a small tool."

Pine shot a glance at me, looking a little sweaty. I don't think I want that.

Dad must've noticed the look on his face because he added, "That may not even be possible, at least not right now. Cee's power complicates things. If we did remove the exostoses, I'm not sure if the magic would just rebuild them right away."

I shrugged. I didn't know.

"The other problem is, if your body was destroyed somehow, and you came back, we'd have to do that surgery all over again. And considering everything you're going through right now . . ."

We did have a lot going on. And just like my chances of getting kidnapped or killed by Crow, Pine's chances of getting poofed were—well, higher than zero. Maybe it would be smart to put surgery off until things settled down.

Pine rolled his feather between his fingers.

"What are you thinking?" I asked.

What's the point of this? he asked. I can hear through you. It works.

The question kind of caught me off guard. But I relayed it to Dad.

"What if you want to do something without Cecelia?" Dad asked. "Like travel far away? Or get a job?"

Pine stared at the floor.

"Plenty of people go their whole lives without hearing," Dad said. "And if that's what you want, that's okay. We'll help you. You can read and write or learn sign language. But if you want to live here, it will be much easier if you find some way to communicate." He nodded to me. "Without her."

To be honest, when I brought Pine back to life, I wasn't really thinking about the long game. I never imagined him going to school or joining a sports team or growing up—if he even could grow up. I was just trying to prove he and Crow were real to get Mom back on my team.

When I looked up, I noticed Mom in the doorway, watching me. And I realized she'd already thought all of this through, inside out and upside down.

Grandpa would have.

I should have. But I didn't.

Mom came over and dropped something into Dad's hand. A pair of hearing aids. I recognized them from the bowl on Grandpa John's side table, where they'd sat for months next to his old phone, doing nothing for nobody.

"What do you think?" she asked.

Dad ran a hand over his beard. "I could reprogram these and see if they make a difference." He showed them to Pine. "Things won't sound quite the same, but you will hear something. Do you want to try?"

Pine bit his lip and looked out the glass door to the balcony. The only thing to see from here was the hotel's reflection in the skyscraper across the street.

"Why don't I get them set up, and you can see if you like it?" Dad said. "If you don't want them, we can figure something else out."

Pine nodded.

"Give us a second, Cee." Dad opened his tablet and plugged it into the equipment on his desk. "We're gonna do a quick hearing test."

"Sure." I gave Pine a mental poke. I'm gonna break our connection for a little bit.

Okay.

Mom and I left to hang out in the other room. She switched the TV on and played a movie with the volume way down, but it might as well have been infomercials. I ended up just going out on our balcony and standing in the hot summer wind, listening to far-off car horns and watching pigeons take off from the building across the street.

The glass door slid open. Mom stepped out with a puff of ice-cold AC.

"We decided you should have your phone back, with everything going on." She offered me my cell. "Your dad figures we should be able to stay in touch if something happens."

"Oh. Okay." I took it back, but I didn't feel anything. Except maybe a little dread about reading Dixon's texts—if I hadn't scared him off with Worm Facts, anyway.

"Pine seems overwhelmed," she said.

"I don't blame him."

She slid the door shut and leaned on the railing beside me. "What about you?"

Guilt crept up me like a vine and wrapped around my neck. I folded my arms. "I just want him to be okay."

"This is why your grandpa never messed with human soulshine." Mom sighed and rubbed her forehead. "It gets complicated."

Add Pine to the scoreboard. One more person's life screwed up with my signature on it. I'd been on a roll this summer.

"Hey." Mom put her hand on my shoulder. "We'll all look out for him. Just give it some time. He'll be okay."

All I could do was hope so. "Okay."

"Sooo." She pitched her voice high, drumming her fingers on the railing. "Turns out he's kind of cute, huh?"

"Oh my gosh." The topic hit like a cashew to a nut allergy. Every inch of my skin broke out in cringe chills.

Mom shrugged. "Just thought I sensed some chemistry there. Might be wrong."

I put my hands in the air and swiveled for the door. "I would rather be on fire than talking about this."

"Aw. Come on. It's me, your mommy."

I reached for the sliding door, but it opened before I could touch the handle.

"Cee." Dad stepped back to let me in. "I need to borrow you."

"Yes. Thank you." I powered into the hotel room. "Get me out of here."

We all went to Dad's side of the suite, where Pine sat on the couch, head tilted, fiddling with the hearing aid hooked around his ear.

"Hey," I said.

He looked up at the sound of my voice like I startled him.

"You can hear me?" I asked.

He shut his mouth. Gave me a nod.

I sat in the office chair across from him and scooted in close, reopening our private mind channel. "Do you like it?"

Sort of. He dropped his gaze to the floor. I don't know yet.

Something was still bothering him. The same thing that had been bothering him all day. And the more I studied his face, the more I wondered if it was really just culture shock.

Maybe it was something he didn't want to talk about in front of my parents. Maybe he didn't want to talk about it at all.

I picked the soft, striped feather up from where he'd set it aside on the couch and offered it to him. "We'll figure it out. You and me."

He took the feather from me and stroked it down the quill.

But this time, as his fingers ran down its length, it just—disintegrated. The shaft crumbled from the top down like a burnt match, until all Pine had in his hand was a pile of glittery, reddish soil and tiny flecks of leaf litter.

Pine snapped his eyes up to meet mine. I stared back, slack-jawed.

We'd both realized at once. That feather was made of—

"My magic," I whispered.

The Crow, Pine said in my head. His name swept through me like a cold front.

That feather hadn't come from any ordinary bird. In fact . . .

It might not have come from a bird at all.