Page 34 of The Cupid Chronicles

“I think dinner is served.” Matteo spins around and sets two plates in front of us. When I catch his eye, I see a hint of knowing, almost like he’s intentionally rescued me but is trying to pretend he didn’t.

My stomach swoops at the thought, even though it’s completely unproven.

People show you who they are. Plain and simple. And Matteo showed me plenty.

Why do I have to keep reminding myself of that?

But as he sits down next to Winnie, across the table from me, I start to wonder if Matteo didn’t show me who he really is at all.

Chapter Ten

Matteo

Iris read the newspaper.

She read the paper, and she . . . understood it? Did it move? Did it fly around? Did the words disappear from the page like they do for me?

Had to.

Had to.

There’s a soft meowing at my leg, and I feel tiny pricks of claws on my sock. I reach down and gently pull the kitten from my leg and drop it, pointing it in another direction.

She read the paper, and it told her what to do, and she did something about it.

I knew things were starting to happen to her when she tried to stop me in the hallway. I recognized the familiar panic behind her eyes. Still, I thought I did a great job covering up the fact that I knew exactly what she was talking about.

But now? What the heck made me quote the last line of the article? I basically admitted out loud that yes, I am here because of the newspaper. And yes, I pretended not to know what she was talking about.

My mind spins back to my own introduction to these nuisances. I tossed the first newspaper in the trash, the same way I would any other junk mail. The next day, it was back in front of my door.

This went on for days, and every time I thought I’d finally succeeded in getting rid of the papers, they would multiply and reappear. On a table. On a nightstand.

One morning it was in the fridge.

Clearly, something was trying to get my attention.

Had the same thing happened to Iris?

Had to.

One time, when I was trying to make sense of what was happening, my grandpa paused on the other end of the phone, then said, “Some things about The Serendipity don’t follow traditional rules of logic, Teo. Best to embrace the magic.”

“I don’t believe in magic,” I said.

He laughed at that. “Nobody does . . . until they do.”

Real deep, old man. Real deep.

But his words turned out to be true. I had no idea what to do . . . until I did. But I don’t talk about it. Not with anyone.

Ever.

Because the few times I’ve broached the subject, I’ve been met with skepticism and concern, and I don’t need to give anyone more reasons to worry about me.

Not only that, but people don’t seem to remember anything I tell them about the magic, so what’s the point? This magic, whatever it is, is not something that wants to be found out. Which is why I acted clueless when Iris asked about the newspapers.

But after all this time, the magic is suddenly including someone else—her.

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