The Scorpio Races

by Maggie Stiefvater

It is the first day of November and so, today, someone will die.

I don’t think often on my father’s body strung out through the reddening surf. Instead, I remember him as he was before the race: afraid. I won’t make the same mistake.

She is my mare and my best friend, and I keep waiting for something bad to happen to her, because I love her too much.

There are moments that you’ll remember for the rest of your life and there are moments that you think you’ll remember for the rest of your life, and it’s not often they turn out to be the same moments.

Neatness makes me feel like I have to be on my best behavior. Clutter is my natural habitat.

She had a short fuse this morning, because it was a day that ended with y, you see.”

“Boys,” she says, “just aren’t very good at being afraid.”

“Well, your face looks like it remembers a smile,”

I wonder how long it will take for me to feel as adult inside as I look outside.

“It’s easy to convince men to love you, Puck. All you have to do is be a mountain they have to climb or a poem they don’t understand. Something that makes them feel strong or clever. It’s why they love the ocean.” I’m not sure that is why Sean Kendrick loves the ocean.

This island is a cunning and secretive thing. I can’t say what it has planned for me.

I whisper to the sea three times. Once I ask that Corr will be meek and good, so they’ll have no reason to use the bells and magic that he so despises. But twice I whisper for him to be despicable, so that they’ll beg for me to come back.

“She’s blind. She was aiming for my ear.”

“We quarreled,” Holly says. “It’s a smaller island than I imagined. But don’t worry, my dollar bills mean that our friendship will endure.”

His wife’s the brand of Christian that forbids a gathering that involves young women dancing in the streets but not races where men die.

I’d always thought I was above being fascinated by anyone but myself.

It strikes me as a strange, luxurious statement. It assumes you’ll have not only that moment when you take the first bite but then enough moments in front of it for that mouthful to become a memory. My future’s not that certain that I can afford to wonder what will become of the taste later. And in any case, the November cake tastes plenty sweet to me now.

I’m quite happy for the smile, because Dad told me once you should be grateful for the gifts that are the rarest.

I say, “I will not be your weakness, Sean Kendrick.” Now he looks at me. He says, very softly, “It’s late for that, Puck.”

“That tomorrow we’ll rule the Scorpio Races as king and queen of Skarmouth and I’ll save the house and you’ll have your stallion. Dove will eat golden oats for the rest of her days and you will terrorize the races each year and people will come from every island in the world to find out how it is you get horses to listen to you. The piebald will carry Mutt Malvern into the sea and Gabriel will decide to stay on the island. I will have a farm and you will bring me bread for dinner.”

“I’m sorry I made such a hash of things,” he says. “I should’ve trusted you both more.” I wish that he’d said it before, before he was sad and scared. But I’ll take it now.

He looks at me. “You look just like Mum right now.”

It is the first day of November and so, today, someone will die.

“Now, there, you see? So you were lying to me when you told me it was the freedom you wanted. We’ve discovered it’s not about the freedom at all. I call that progress.”

“You didn’t have to. I’ll come back next year and you’ll have a nest of horses outside your window and Puck Connolly in your bed and I’ll buy from you instead of Malvern. That’s your future for you.”

“The future sounds much kinder in your accent.” I sigh and reach for my jacket.

“What I need is for your mother to have thought a little harder nine months before your birthday.”

Sean reaches between us and slides a thin bracelet of red ribbons over my free hand. Lifting my arm, he presses his lips against the inside of my wrist. I’m utterly still; I feel my pulse tap several times against his lips, and then he releases my hand.

I feel the island underneath me, and Sean’s mouth on my lips, and I wonder if luck will be on our side today.

My mother always told me that you should wear your best clothing when you are angry, because it would scare people.

The tea is almost precisely like drinking a scone or licking the carpet.

I loved how they formed their own identity quite separate from the “Mainland,” no matter what that mainland might be.