Dark Star by Bethany Frenette

“I mean—something she’s not saying.”
    “And so it makes perfect sense for you to go back there,” Gideon retorted. “What are you going to do? If there’s a problem, I’m sure your mom will look into it. Or tell the cops.”
    But aside from warning me away, my mother hadn’t said anything. And she couldn’t be everywhere at once. Minneapolis wasn’t a small city, and there was St. Paul to look after, too, and the suburbs.
    “I’m going to find out,” I told Gideon. “I think I can help.”
    I had to go with instinct on this one. And if there wasn’t anything to it, if I was wrong, at least I’d know.
    Gideon was less convinced. “Help how? You don’t even know what happened.”
    “Hence going to find out.”
    He hesitated, leaning back in his chair and giving me a dubious frown. “You sure you’re not just out to prove something?”
    I matched his frown. “Like what?”
    “I don’t know, that you’re a badass like your mom?”
    He had me there. I would’ve liked nothing more than to have been parceled out a share of my mother’s abilities, and he knew it. “Well, there’s nothing like having a superhero in the family to make you feel inadequate,” I admitted. “But that’s not what this is about.”
    “You swear?”
    “I swear. It’s just—it’s something I need to do.”
    Gideon sighed noisily, shaking his head. “Then I suppose I’d better go with you.”

9
    Fall announced its presence overnight.
    I woke Friday morning to the wind beating against my window and a dense cloud cover blotting out the sun. A cold rain began before Gideon arrived to pick me up in the morning, and by the time school was over, the streets and gutters were full of wet leaves. Thunder rumbled, low and ominous as night fell. The sky looked bruised. Suitable weather for Halloween, I thought.
    By six that evening, I was beginning to wonder if it were some kind of sign. As a rule, I didn’t believe in omens, since nothing in life had taught me that nature was a better predictor of the future than my own intuition, but I began to feel a hint of unease. Still, it was only a storm. I wasn’t about to change my plans because of a little water.
    Mom had been complaining about the storm since I arrived home. Being a Guardian meant going out even when the weather was nasty, but—as my mother often told me—that didn’t mean she had to like it. Fall and winter had the effect of making the Guardian lifestyle seem a lot less glamorous, even if the cold didn’t affect her the way it did me.
    At least the rain gave me a convenient excuse to have Gideon pick me up at my house, thereby avoiding questions from his various family members.
    “Honey? Are you still getting ready? Gideon’s here.”
    I jerked slightly. I’d been sitting on my bed, trying to come up with some sort of plan for the Drought and Deluge. Just because I went there didn’t necessarily mean I’d discover anything. Last time, I’d had trouble sensing anything in the crowd.
    “Almost!” I called down the stairs, which was a complete lie. I darted across the hall to what had been Gram’s room.
    After Gram died, Mom and I had boxed up most of her things. I’d taken her books, and Mom kept some of her jewelry, but almost everything else had either been sent to the basement or given away. Only a few of her belongings remained, tucked away in her room, quietly gathering dust. Though I hadn’t been in her room for months, I remembered what it held. I pushed the door open and felt for the light switch.
    “What’s your costume?” my mother called up to me. She probably hadn’t meant to shout, but her voice was strong. It was a good thing we had few close neighbors.
    Gideon’s words were quieter. “She’s going as Teenage Angst,” he said.
    “A clever disguise,” my mother remarked.
    “I heard that!” I shouted at them, then turned my attention to Gram’s room.
    The air was dusty. One of the light bulbs had burned out, and though the