Quintus Octavius had been staring at the same blank spot on the table for twenty-six minutes.
“Banana,” he said, for the twelfth time.
He held his breath.
Nothing happened.
Again.
Quin opened his eyes as wide as he could. Maybe he wasn’t staring hard enough. Drops of liquid gathered at the corners of his eyes. His eyebrows ached.
“Banana,” said Quin, a little louder this time.
His nose twitched. He opened his eyes even wider still. Something was about to happen; he could feel it.
Someone behind him snorted. Quin froze. He hadn’t realized there was anyone else in the room.
“I think you almost had it that time,” said his sister, Davinia. Quin could hear the laughter in her voice.
He sighed. “What do you want, Dav?” he asked, keeping his gaze fixed on the table.
“I just want to help,” she told him.
“I don’t want your help,” said Quin.
“Maybe you should try something else,” said Davinia, ignoring him. She held out her hand. “Like an orange. Or a melon.”
Quin watched as the air shimmered and the fruit thudded softly on the table.
Then Davinia held out her hand again. “Though a banana does sound good to me,” she said with a sly grin…
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