Read A Drop of Night for Free Online

no.
    â€œYou know,” he says, as if pondering some major philosophical revelation. “You’re a weird one. Normal people would be like, ‘Yayyy, going to France with an awesome person named Jules and also exploring a two-hundred-year-old site, yayyy!’” He waves hishands with each yay . “I can’t figure you out.”
    â€œI can’t figure me out, either.” I watch a twisted old tree by the side of the road grow closer, larger, gone. “Also, normal people didn’t go on this trip. Just so you know.”
    He’s probably making a face, being weirded out. I don’t care. I do care, but at some point you have to stop caring, or you become Chernobyl-dead-zone levels of crazy. I am excited to be here. I can’t wait to get into the palace, start discovering things, forget about New York, forget about college and the next sixty-plus years of my life that I have yet to muddle through. I just don’t know how to communicate that to people.
    â€œSo, what are you here for?” Jules asks. “What are your stakes?”
    I jam my feet up onto my seat and stare at the tips of my sensible brogues. I can’t actually tell him. What am I going to say, that I’m being all Huck Finn and running away? Rebelling against the status quo, searching for redemption, trying to find an identity outside of being a punching bag for my dysfunctional family’s psychoses? Because that’s what I’m here for, and I don’t need him to tell me that what I really needis therapy/some people have actual problems/those shoes are Prada, how could you possibly be unhappy?
    â€œI’m here for the experience,” I say. Lie. “And to practice my signature forging.” I sling a wrist across my forehead. “Those selection rounds, whew ! Got any dotted lines requiring signatures from parents and guardians? I’ll sign them for you.”
    â€œYou forged your parents’ signatures? Do they even know you’re here?”
    â€œThey think I’m in Azerbaijan. I left a note.”
    â€œCan I ask you a question?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWhat’s wrong with your parents?”
    â€œLook, Jules? You’re nice and everything, but you need to mind your own business.”
    The Mercedes rumbles through some road construction. Bright cones flicker past like little lighthouses, gone in an instant. My chest feels tight. I don’t look, but Jules’s expression is probably bordering on disgust by now.
    â€œWell, you certainly look like you’ve had a rough life,” he says. “Malnourishment. Constant threat of war. No clothes but what you could scrounge out ofthe charity bin. How did you ever make it this far . . .”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œNothing. D’you think it’s strange they’re letting teenagers into a find like this? I mean, they could have gotten some veterans. Famous art historians or something. Doesn’t it strike you as odd?”
    I squint at him. “There are going to be famous art historians and veterans. Dorf’s here. And anyway, we worked for this. We have qualifications. I’m sorry you have such a low opinion of your skills, but I feel like I’ve earned this.”
    I don’t. I don’t feel like I’ve earned anything.
    â€œYou’re saying you’re right up there with the greats and they couldn’t have gotten anyone better if they tried?”
    â€œI’m saying , no one’s been down there yet,” I snap. “I’m saying there haven’t been many tests or age verifications, and no one knows anything until we get down there and start combing the place. So until then, yeah, teenagers are a great option. Good night.”
    I curl myself into the corner, and I feel empty, straight-up miserable. Four chances of friendship down, zero to go. Good job, Ooky. Diligent as ever.
    There’s this special talent humans have that they can be