Free Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea by April Genevieve Tucholke

girl. And . . . wait for it . . . these boys are saying that it was the Devil.” Luke laughed. “The Devil . Can you believe it? One of the journalists hanging out in the café was Jason Foster—he was that great runner in high school, Violet,you remember? Went to State and everything.Anyway,now he’s a journalist,and man,was he loving this story. The Devil. What a town we’ve got here. Portland is going to eat this up. Backwards No-Account Echo Kids See Prince of Darkness in Town Cemetery. ” 
    River stretched, long and slow, like a cat. “It seems that a lot of kids go missing in this town,” he said, very casual and nonchalant, leaning back with his arms tucked behind his head and a smile on his face.“First Blue,and now the Devil?” 
    I opened my mouth to tell Luke about Jack, and his gang of stake-wielding boys, when Sunshine appeared in the bedroom doorway, long brown hair swinging over a white jersey dress that hugged her curves in the exact right way. 
    “Hey,” she said, looking around at my rumpled nightgown and River, shirtless, still in bed. “No one was at the Citizen,so I came over here.Have you heard what’s going on in town? I went in to buy some almond milk for breakfast and everyone was running around, talking about some girl that’s gone missing and how the cemetery is full of kids with wooden stakes, trying to kill the Devil like he was a vampire. Did I miss the Apocalypse or something?” 
    The four of us went into the kitchen, and River made coffee and omelets. He was pretty quiet, his attention focused on frying the eggs, so I was the one who told Luke and Sunshine about our visit to the cemetery the night before. I thought Sunshine might get upset, considering she hallucinated Blue in the tunnel not twenty-four hours earlier, and him being an accused child-stealer, but she seemed to have moved on. She just laughed along with Luke at the idea of Satan in Echo. 
    “As if the Devil wouldn’t have a better place to spend his time than our cemetery,” Sunshine said. “He could be roaming the seedy back alleys of Paris, or stealing souls in a New Orleans graveyard, or running around the red-light district in Amsterdam. But no . . . he chooses Echo , the fool.” 
    Luke smiled,his eyes taking in the way Sunshine’s second bases bobbed about in her dress when she laughed. 
    “Speaking of the City of Lights,” I said, “Luke and I saw An American in Paris in the town square last week. It was—” 
    “Stupid,” Luke said. 
    “Liar.” I handed him an omelet. “You loved it. It was about a poor painter in Paris, and you were mesmerized. By the way, I saw that your information packet from the Sorbonne arrived in the mail a few days ago. Thinking of applying, brother?” 
    Luke pretended not to hear me. 
    I smiled,a River-smile,very sly.“Well . . .I don’t know why you’d want to study in Paris anyway, when Italy was the true birthplace of art. Dad always said—” 
    “You and the Italian Renaissance, Vi. You’re just like Dad. Both of your styles evolved from raping French Impressionism, no matter what you say about Italy. Mom knows it. I know it. End of discussion.” 
    I smiled, not slyly this time. It always pleased me to get Luke talking about art. Seeing that Sorbonne packet in the mail had thrilled me to pieces. 
    I took a bite of River’s omelet.It was delicious,salty and buttery, with a kick from a chopped-up onion and a little grated Parmesan. 
    I thought Luke might be pissed at River, because he found me in his bed. Last fall, Luke dumped me in the blue guestroom’s closet with the square-jawed, overconfident Sean Fry. Luke and Sunshine laughed and laughed as I banged around, knocking hangers to the floor as I dodged Fry’s fearless lips and expectant arms. But after Luke let me out, when Fry cornered me in the kitchen and tried again, Luke punched him in the face. 
    Luke didn’t seem mad at River, though. He liked him, I think. He even asked him how