Free The Dream Thieves by Maggie Stiefvater Page B

in the sudden whiff of air freshener — that was the family trips to New York.
    Home was so close at night. He could be there in twenty minutes. He wanted to smash everything off these shelves.
    Noah had wandered down the aisle, but now he gleefully returned with a snow globe. He stood behind Ronan until he pushed off the shelf to admire the atrocity. A seasonally decorated palm tree and two faceless sunbathers were trapped inside, along with a painted, erroneous statement: IT’S ALWAYS CHRISTMAS SOMEWHERE.
    “Glitter,” whispered Noah reverentially, giving it a shake. Sure enough, it was not fake snow but glitter that precipitated on the eternal holiday sands. Both Ronan and Chainsaw watched, transfixed, as the colorful bits caught in the palm tree.
    Farther down the aisle, Gansey suggested to the phone, “You could come stay at Monmouth. For the night.”
    Ronan laughed sharply, loud enough for Gansey to hear. Adam was militant about staying at his place, even though it was horrible. Even if the room had been a five-star accommodation, it would have been hateful. Because it wasn’t the bruised home Adam desperately and shamefully missed, nor was it Monmouth Manufacturing, the new home Adam’s pride wouldn’t allow. Sometimes Ronan thought Adam was so used to the right way being painful that he doubted any path that didn’t come with agony.
    Gansey’s back was turned to them. “Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Ramirez? I didn’t talk to anyone at the church. Yes, twenty-four hundred dollars. I know that part. I —”
    This meant they were talking about the Aglionby letter; both Ronan and Gansey had gotten matching ones.
    Now Gansey’s voice was low and furious. “At some point it’s not cheati — no, you’re right. You’re right, I absolutely don’t understand. I don’t know and I won’t ever.”
    Probably, Adam had made the connection between his rent change and the tuition raise. It wasn’t a complicated assumption, and he was clever. It was easy, too, to hang it on Gansey. If Adam had been thinking straight, though, he would’ve considered how it was Ronan who had infinite connections to St. Agnes. And how whoever was behind the rent change would have had to enter a church office with both a wad of cash and a burning intention to persuade a church lady to lie about a fake tax assessment. Taken apart that way, it seemed to have Ronan written all over it. But one of the marvelous things about being Ronan Lynch was that no one ever expected him to do anything nice for anyone.
    “It wasn’t me,” Gansey said, “but I’m glad it happened that way. Fine. Take from that what you will.”
    The thing was, Ronan knew what a face looked like, just before it was about to break. He’d seen it in the mirror often enough. Adam had fracture lines all over him.
    Next to Ronan, Noah said, “Oh!” in a very surprised way.
    Then he flickered out.
    The snow globe crashed onto the ground where Noah’s feet used to be. It left a damp, wobbly ellipse as it rolled away. Chainsaw, shocked, bit Ronan. He’d squeezed her as he leapt back from the sound.
    The clerk said, “Come on .”
    She hadn’t seen the travesty. But she clearly knew one had occurred.
    “Don’t get excited,” Ronan said loudly. “I’ll pay for it.”
    He would have never admitted how his heart pounded in his chest.
    Gansey turned sharply, his face puzzled. The scene — Noah absent, ugly snow globe rolled half under a shelf — offered no immediate explanation. To Adam, he said, “Hold on.”
    Abruptly, Ronan’s entire body went cold. Not a little chilly, but utterly cold. The sort of cold that dries the mouth and slows the blood. His toes went numb, and then his fingers. Chainsaw let out a terrified creaking sound.
    She cried, “Kerah!”
    He laid a frozen hand over her head, comforting her, though he was not comforted.
    Then Noah reappeared in a violent sputter, like the power crackling back on. His fingers clutched