Infinity Son by Adam Silvera (some good books to read .TXT) 📕

with an application. I thought it was to work with him, but nope, just an opening in the gift shop. Wasn’t what I wanted, but it was a foot in the door.

My coworker, Sergei, is working the cash register. My anxiety spikes as he side-eyes me, and I pick at my cuticles before clocking in and taking over the register so he can handle some business in the office. The shop is busier than usual, thanks to some kid’s birthday gathering, but I knock out the line in minutes and get everything back in shape.

We only carry phoenix merchandise, and if I was better off, I’d be cashing my checks and giving them right back to the museum to buy these prints all done by local artists. I tidy up the ash-tempest plush dolls and restock the common ivories, which are top sellers even though they’re more snow white than they should be. I’m taking inventory with a faux-phoenix feather pen when Kirk walks in.

Kirk is short, with a thick beard that reminds me of Dad, and he’s always dressed in an oversized suit. I wonder if he’s hiding his body too, or if he doesn’t know how to shop for himself. None of it is my business, and this is the same kind of nonsense that invites people to comment on my own body.

You’re like a skeleton.

You need to eat more.

You look sick.

You’re so gaunt.

Normally whenever Kirk swings through the gift shop, he checks in on how his nonfiction book about one of his expeditions is selling—never well—but I know today is different.

“I’m sorry for giving that guy a tour,” I immediately spit out, since he’s no doubt here to remind me of my place. “I couldn’t beat the combo of him being interested in phoenixes and looking like that. If I’d known he was such an idiot about blood alchemy, I would’ve backed off.”

“Other countries have their own corruptive figures, but nothing in recent memory in the way of Keon, or even devastations like our Blackout, for that matter. They don’t understand how tense it’s gotten here in the States.” Kirk opens his folder, turning past pages of sealed crates and guard services. “I still don’t have an opening for you in the Sunroom, but I could use some assistance on a project that might bring in enough money to refresh our exhibits.”

“I’m in,” I say. “I mean, I don’t know what it’s for, but I’m game.”

“Something extraordinary. The museum will be hosting a gala toward the end of the month, but it has to remain a secret for the next few days. This is going to be the celebration of a lifetime. We’ll be witnessing the hatching of a century phoenix.”

“Say what?” I never thought I would see a century phoenix at all, let alone the birth of one.

Kirk’s eyes gleam. “It gets better, Emil. Century phoenixes are an exceptionally rare breed, as you may know. It certainly doesn’t help that they don’t often reproduce when they do respawn, but this blue egg was feathered.”

I give myself a second to figure out what that means, but nothing. I know I shouldn’t compare my knowledge to someone who has a master’s degree in Creature Sciences and years of experience raising phoenixes and building habitats, but every time I don’t know something, it’s hard to appreciate it as something I learned, and instead I feel stupid for not knowing it already. “What does that mean?”

“A century phoenix’s egg is only feathered when it’s a firstborn.”

“So this is the phoenix’s first cycle of life!”

“The world will be able to witness Gravesend’s first breath.”

“Where is the egg now?”

“Gravesend is being guarded by Halo Knights in a secure location. She’ll remain there until it’s time for her birth, to protect her from the traffickers and Blood Casters who will no doubt try to hunt her down once we announce the purpose of the gala. We’ll tend to her here for the first month before releasing her into the wild.”

I think about the specters with phoenix blood who made headlines this week.

“On the news, they said a specter regrew his arm before he died, but his fire looked like it came from common ivories or crowned elders or halos. The regeneration doesn’t make sense, right?”

Kirk looks around the shop, like it’s been on his mind too. “Nothing is more important to a specter than power. It doesn’t surprise me when anyone works around the clock to make the impossible possible, the way Keon did when he had his first blood alchemy breakthrough. My hunch? Someone has found a way to double their abilities. The world is always changing, and I believe we’re about to be audience to a particularly dark turn of history, especially with the Crowned Dreamer rising. Let’s brace ourselves and pray no one messes with Gravesend.”

It’s rare that I keep secrets from Brighton, but I’m holding this one close to my chest. He’s bouncing to Cali in two days, and this is my chance to grow. To transform. My own little rebirth as I study hard in school—for real this time, no giving up after a week—and prep for Gravesend and straight wow Brighton when he sees what a phoenix pro I’ve become. I got to get in good with Kirk, because it’d be a legit dream to hit up Brighton, invite him back to New York, and hook him up with some behind-the-scenes exclusives of Gravesend’s journey for his series.

If I can pull this off, maybe, for once, I’ll stop feeling like a little brother who is years younger, even though we were born seven minutes apart.

Maybe I’ll stop feeling like the sidekick.

SixCelestials of New York

BRIGHTON

My last full day in New York is off to a rough start.

Today marks six months since Dad died. Ma cold-shouldered me because I chose to keep packing instead of talking about my feelings. Then I tried to distract myself with some instant gratification online, posting a new profile; there’s no high